Steven nodded, put the truck in gear, and released the brake. Her final statement echoed in his mind. “Wherever we decide to live, I know I’ll be happy.” He wished he could make the same claim.
Alexa
After serving supper to Grandmother, Steven, and Anna—Grace and receiving Anna—Grace’s promise to clear the table and wash dishes, Alexa darted upstairs to change for her evening with Briley. She tossed her twill skirt and long-sleeved T-shirt in the dirty clothes basket, then stood in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear. Even though this wasn’t technically a date, she wanted to look nice. But not too nice. So she wouldn’t make Briley think she thought it was a date. She laughed at herself. “Just pick something!”
She chose her ankle-length, straight, tan corduroy skirt and topped it with a sweater of deepest turquoise. The sweater’s nubby texture and cowl neck provided a perfect setting for a multicolored gauzy scarf, which she looped around the cowl and left the ends dangling. Kind of like the ribbons from a Mennonite cap. Brown slouch boots completed her outfit.
In the bathroom she released her ponytail and brushed her hair until it snapped and glistened. For a moment she considered leaving it down, but the rubber band had left a crimp. So she touched up the ends with a curling iron and finger-combed it back into a tail. She gave her reflection a thorough examination and decided the loose curls made the hairstyle a little less stark. She’d do.
She glanced at the clock. Six twenty-two. Eight minutes to spare. She giggled. If she wore makeup like Nicole Kirkley, she’d need another thirty minutes to get ready. Sometimes it really was simpler to be Plain. She returned to her bedroom and slipped the strap from her hobo-style purse over her shoulder, then headed for the stairs. As her foot descended on the first tread, her cell phone rang out with Beethoven’s “Für Elise”—Mom’s ringtone. She stopped, fished out the phone, and pressed it to her ear.
“Hi, Mom!”
“Hi, honey. Are you busy?”
Alexa grimaced. “Actually, I’m getting ready to grab some dinner in Wichita with a friend. But I have a minute or two.”
“I won’t keep you long then. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be in Arborville for Thanksgiving.”
Alexa released a squeal. “I’m so glad!” Then she remembered why Mom had been uncertain about coming. “Did Bridget’s daughter have her baby already? Is everyone all right?”
“Bridget’s daughter hasn’t had her baby yet, but—”
The doorbell rang. “Hold on a minute, Mom. Let me answer the door, and then you can finish your sentence.” She bounded downstairs and swung the door open. Briley stepped over the threshold, bringing the spicy scent of aftershave with him, and her jaw dropped in shock. Unwittingly her gaze traveled from the toes of black leather cowboy-style boots up the length of creased black trousers, along the line of a boldly splashed yellow, turquoise, and fuchsia silk tie falling across the button placket of a sheeny steel-gray shirt, and finally to his freshly shaved, smiling face. His leather bomber jacket lay draped over his bent arm in readiness.
She gulped. A man didn’t spruce up like that on a Friday night for anything except a date. A real date. Suddenly she felt very dowdy and way too young.
“Alexa?” Mom’s voice came through the phone.
She held up her finger and mouthed to Briley, One minute. He nodded, and she rushed into the little enclosed landing at the base of the stairs. “I’m here.” She tipped sideways to peek at Briley, who’d moved to the window and seemed to be examining the shadowy side yard. Merciful heavens, no man had the right to look that good in a shirt and tie.
“Okay. I’ll be in Arborville for Thanksgiving, and then I might be moving back there.”
Alexa jolted upright. “What? Why?” Briley turned and sent a worried look in her direction. She angled herself toward the corner and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Why would you leave the hospital? You love that place!”
“It would take too long to explain right now, and you have someplace to be. But save a room for me, Miss Innkeeper.” The forced joviality in Mom’s tone stung Alexa’s heart. “I’ll call tomorrow and we can talk more then, okay?” She disconnected the call.
Alexa dropped the cell phone into her purse and moved slowly into the front room, her thoughts churning.
Briley flopped his jacket over the arm of Grandmother’s chair and crossed the floor to meet her. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Yes.” She laughed nervously. “I don’t know.”
He touched her arm, just a brush of his fingertips against her sleeve. “Do you want to cancel? I’d say we could do this another time, but …” His lips curved into a half smile.
How could she refuse to go out with him when he’d fixed himself up like a GQ model? He’d even done something different with his hair—bringing a few strands of his bangs to the side so they formed an imperfect rooster tail that was somehow perfect in its rakish appearance. She shook her head, laughing softly to keep from crying. “No, we can go.” She took a step back and gave him a deliberate, teasing head-to-toe look. “That is, if you don’t mind being seen with me. I didn’t realize this was going to be a dress-up event.”
He grinned. “So, are you sayin’ I look good?” He drew out the word and struck a pose.
She burst out laughing. Her worries over her mother’s odd phone call shifted to the back of her mind for a few seconds. Instead of answering his facetious question, she moved to the coatrack and unhooked her unpretentious trench coat. Briley bustled over, plucked it from her hands, and then held it for her.
As she slipped her arms into the sleeves, he said, “You look very nice, Alexa—as pretty and fresh and unspoiled as always.” Heat flooded her face, but she appreciated his gesture and the kind words delivered without so much as a hint of teasing. He’d promised to behave like a gentleman, and so far he’d hit the mark.
Remember, Alexa, this isn’t a date!
She turned to thank him, but Grandmother rolled her chair into the front room, stopped next to Briley, and began an inquisition.
“So you’re going to Wichita, hmm? What exactly are your plans for my granddaughter?”
Briley stood erect. “Dinner at an Italian restaurant.”
“Is there drinking there?”
“Probably, but we won’t be in the bar, and I won’t order alcohol.”
“Are you only going to dinner?”
“Possibly a movie afterward. It’ll depend on how long it takes us to get served and what’s playing.”
Grandmother shook her finger. “Nothing R-rated, young man.”
Briley saluted.
“You’ll watch the speed in that sporty car of yours, and you’ll make her wear her seat belt?”
“Of course I will.”
“You’ll wear yours, too?”
“Always do.”
“And you’ll treat her like the lady she is—no shenanigans?”
“Not one shenanigan. I promise.”
Grandmother nodded. “All right then.” She looked at Alexa and held open her arms. “Give me a hug.”
Before Alexa could move, Briley bent over and embraced Grandmother. Alexa got a glimpse of Grandmother’s stunned face over Briley’s shoulder, her arms still widespread. The hug was short—perhaps two seconds—and he stepped aside.
Grandmother stared up at him, her jaw hanging slack. Then she snapped her mouth closed, fixed her face in a scowl, and pointed at Briley. “That, young man, classifies as a shenanigan.” Then her lips formed a grin. “But I’ll forgive you. Come here, Alexa.”
Alexa leaned in for a hug. “We won’t be late.”
Grandmother patted Alexa’s back. “Have fun.”
Briley grabbed up his jacket and shrugged into it, the motion very masculine and self-assured. He touched his hand to Alexa’s spine and turned her toward the door. “Here we go.”
Alexa drew in a deep breath. Here we go …
Briley
The entire ride to Wichita, Ale
xa sat with her hands linked tightly in her lap and her gaze aimed out the side window. Tension oozed from her stiff frame, and Briley developed a knot between his shoulder blades in response. Either she was really uncomfortable with him, or that phone call had rattled her good. He wished he knew which was the cause. He tried twice to get her to talk—loosen up a little bit—but his efforts failed.
In times past if a girl showed herself uncooperative, he just took her home and wrote her off. He considered taking Alexa home. But not out of anger or frustration. More out of sympathy. The unusual emotion surprised him. He deliberately tamped it down. He had a story to complete. This wasn’t the time to get all sappy and soft. Even so, when they pulled into the restaurant’s parking lot and he’d killed the engine, he rested his fingertips on her shoulder and said, very gently, “Hey.”
She turned to face him, the silky ends of her ponytail drifting across his knuckles.
He smiled what he hoped would be interpreted as an encouraging, friendly smile. “If you’re not up to an evening out, you can tell me. I won’t hold it against you.” But Len would hold it against Briley.
She sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Is it me?” He sniffed his armpit. “I showered and everything, but …”
His teasing did the trick. She laughed and lightly swatted his forearm. “It isn’t you, goofy. It’s my mom. That phone call.”
“Ah.” He formed a concerned grimace without effort. “Bad news?”
A frown pinched her brow. “I can’t be sure. She said so little. But what she did say makes me wonder …”
“Wonder what?”
She shook her head. “It’s silly to sit out here and talk. We came to eat, right? And I smell garlic bread. Can we go in?” Her lips formed a weak grin. She was trying to lose the doldrums.
He’d meet her halfway. “Absolutely.” He hopped out and trotted around to the passenger side. He opened her door, giving a little bow as he did so, and she rewarded him with a more genuine smile. Clouds hid the stars from view, but round lamps mounted high on poles sent down as much light as an overhead sun. Their short, plump shadows accompanied them across the parking lot.
The foyer, lit by odd half-shell fixtures pointing toward the ceiling, seemed inadequate after walking under the spotlights outside, and Briley blinked a few times before he felt comfortable guiding her over the marble floor to the greeting counter. “Hi. Table for two.”
“Name, please?” The greeter, a woman probably in her midtwenties, gave him a bold assessment.
Briley, embarrassed for Alexa, fidgeted beneath the girl’s flirtatious grin. “Forrester.”
She winked—winked!—before shifting her attention to the plastic board under her fingers. “It could be up to thirty minutes until we have a table ready for you.” She locked gazes with Briley, not even glancing in Alexa’s direction. The girl was cute—wavy blond hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head with a few strands loose around her face and makeup artfully highlighting her big blue eyes and heart-shaped face. But the blatant way she ignored Alexa set Briley’s teeth on edge. The girl fluttered her eyelashes. “You can wait at the bar if you like.”
Briley shook his head, unnerved by the girl’s attention but unsure why. What had happened to the Briley Forrester who knew how to take advantage of girls foolish enough to throw themselves at his feet? He put his hand on Alexa’s back and aimed her for the foyer. “No, thanks. We’ll wait out here.”
He settled her on one of the pair of padded, armless settees inside the front door, then slid in beside her, keeping a good foot’s distance between them. He frowned, recalling the way the greeter had eyeballed him and looked past Alexa. “I’m sorry that girl was so rude,” he said without thinking.
“You don’t need to apologize for her behavior. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Alexa held her hands outward in a gesture of acceptance. “You’re a good-looking guy. Girls are bound to notice.”
He considered thanking her for the compliment, but she’d spoken so matter-of-factly, he wasn’t sure she meant to compliment him. He stretched his arm along the back of the settee and rested his ankle on his knee. “She had two customers standing in front of her. She should have acknowledged you, too.”
Alexa just shrugged, apparently unconcerned. So he decided not to worry about it anymore. But he wouldn’t give that girl the time of day, either. “While we’re waiting, why don’t you tell me about that phone call from your mom. It might help to get it off your chest.”
She bit the corner of her lip. “I don’t know …”
He gave her shoulder a light flick with his finger. “C’mon. Tell Big Brother Briley all about it. You’ll feel better.”
Her eyebrows rose, and a wry grin twitched on her lips. “ ‘Big Brother Briley’?”
He laughed, pleasant memories marching through his mind. “At my last foster home—I lived with a lady we all called Aunt Myrt—I was the oldest of all the kids. Kind of everybody’s big brother. I liked it.” With a jolt he realized he had liked it—liked the way the younger ones looked up to him, came to him with their problems, tried to emulate him. Not that he’d always set the best example. He pushed that remembrance aside. “Since I never had real brothers or sisters, Aunt Myrt’s other foster kids became my family. But I haven’t been able to play big brother to anybody since I moved out on my own.” He flicked her again, twice, then poked her. “So c’mon, Alexa, let me relive those carefree days. Tell Big Brother Briley what’s worrying you.”
She drew in a breath, and her lips parted as if ready to speak. The doors opened, and two laughing couples spilled into the foyer, their arms wrapped around each other’s waists. Alexa watched them pass, her lips clamped tight. He inwardly groaned. Why’d those people have to interrupt right then? They’d stolen the moment.
Then Alexa shifted to look at him and said, without any warning or preface, “I’m worried she’s going to give up something else she loves.”
Briley’s reporter nose began to itch. Fiercely. He rubbed it with his finger. “What’s that?”
“Her job.”
He leaned in and lowered his voice. “What else has she given up?”
Twin tears winked in the corners of Alexa’s dark eyes. “Her … her daughter.”
The answer didn’t make any sense. “What—”
“Forrester, party of two.” The greeter’s voice intruded. She sashayed so close her bare knee exposed by her short, tight, black pencil skirt brushed against Briley’s shin. She leaned in and whispered, “I bumped you up. Shh, don’t tell.” She touched her lips with her finger and winked again.
Briley cleared his throat and shifted his leg away from her. “That isn’t necessary. We can wait.”
The girl shrugged, the movement somehow provocative. “The booth is a smaller one, kind of a tight fit for four, so …”
Briley looked at Alexa. She made an it’s-up-to-you face. It would be easier to talk within the private confines of a booth. He stood. “All right then.”
Alexa rose, and Briley gestured her forward, putting her between him and the greeter. Apparently the pushy girl finally got the message, because she stuck her nose in the air and returned to her place behind the greeting table.
A slender young man carrying a pair of menus led them between tables to the back wall where an empty booth waited. Briley gestured Alexa to the first bench, and he slid onto the second. He couldn’t wait to return to their conversation. It took great self-control to patiently allow the server to share the evening’s special, which was portabella-stuffed tortellini, lightly coated with a rich asiago cheese, tomato, and basil sauce and served with braised steak medallions.
His description complete, he asked, “What can I bring you to drink?”
“Water with lemon, please,” Alexa said.
“The same,” Briley said, even though he preferred a soda.
“And would you care for an appetizer—mozzarella sticks or fried mushrooms?”
Briley looked at A
lexa. She shook her head. He turned to the waiter. “No appetizer.”
“All right. I’ll be back in a few minutes to take your order.” The kid scurried off.
He’d never cared much for tortellini—too doughy—but Briley decided to order the special so he wouldn’t have to waste time looking at the menu. He set the plastic-covered parchment aside, propped his elbows on the table, and leaned toward the fat jar flickering with an LED light in the middle of the table. “Okay, you’ve got to explain yourself. Your mom gave up her daughter?” He raised one eyebrow and forced a short chuckle. “Then what are you—an imposter?”
In the muted light of the restaurant, Briley watched Alexa’s face turn pale and then brighten with splashes of red. She aimed her gaze at the menu and chewed the corner of her bottom lip. His curiosity mounted even higher. He reached out to lower the top edge of the menu and capture her gaze.
“Alexa?”
Tears flooded her eyes. “That’s exactly what I am. An imposter.” A strangled sob broke from her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth and fled the table.
“Alexa!” Briley charged after her, nearly plowing down the server who’d returned with two tall glasses of water. He ignored the kid’s startled face and followed Alexa’s escaping form, aware of the curious glances of other patrons observing their progress. He could imagine what they were thinking, and a wry thought formed in the back of his mind—Sure am glad I’ll never see these people again—as he caught up to her and took hold of her elbow.
She wriggled. “Let me go, Briley, please?”
He held tight. “No.” A good reporter wouldn’t lose the chance to uncover the whole story. And a good big brother wouldn’t let her run off upset and crying.
A middle-aged man in a three-piece suit bustled over to them. His nametag identified him as the manager. “Is there a problem here?” He dipped down slightly and peered into Alexa’s face. “Is this man accosting you, miss?”
When Grace Sings Page 28