Seaspun Magic

by Christine Hella Cott

  After a whole week Arianne still didn't have a clue as to what Leo did for a living, or why he seemed to spend all hours strolling the beach. That's where he went every morning, taking the path toward the old fort. She was dying to ask him what he did all day and tried to envision him as everything from a shoemaker to a count. This particular guessing game entertained her quite a lot of the time.

  Larry called in the meantime. The dance wasn't this Saturday; he'd made a mistake. It was next Saturday, so did she still want to go?

  Arianne pointed out that she hadn't agreed to go at all yet, and turned him down. She simply couldn't seem to work up the proper amount of enthusiasm, and figured she might as well not waste his time. He sounded far more surprised than crushed by her refusal, probably expecting that she received so few invitations she would pounce on his, handsome devil that he was.

  It was true that she received few invitations, but, then, Port Townsend wasn't big on available menfolk, and those who had expressed an interest she hadn't cared to encourage. What with the difficulty of owning a sixth sense, the failure of her marriage and the most visible hitch to a fresh romance, baby Rae, she had little room for romance. And she was in no particular hurry to change this state of affairs.

  Saturday morning, after dining on steak and eggs, Leo invaded the kitchen to seek her out. Rae had just that minute fallen asleep against her shoulder for his morning nap, so she didn't get up from the rocking chair. Her coffee cup stood where the gypsy crystal had been a week ago.

  "Thanks for breakfast. It was delicious—as usual."

  "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she returned quietly, smiling because he sounded so sincere. Her fingers continued to stroke the soft baby curls at Rae's nape. His little pink mouth was open, and in his sleep he began to dribble on her shoulder. Arianne hoped Leo didn't plan to stay long.

  He saw what was happening and immediately handed her a tissue, and she suddenly regretted feeling put out about his presence in a part of the house that was deemed private, by tacit agreement.

  "I'm staying another week," he went on, and placed an envelope beside her coffee cup.

  "But—"

  He interrupted her. "I know Jill McKinly's coming home today... but you're not going to make me move now? Now that I'm settled?"

  Looking straight up into a persuasive, dazzling pair of pale-jade eyes, Arianne didn't say anything right away. Had there been any reason, no matter how small, that she could have used to convince herself to make him move, she would have used it. Technically he belonged at Jill's, now that she was returning. If he had angered her just once, or been inconsiderate, or complained about something—anything—she would have said, "I'm so sorry. Please take that pay envelope next door." As it was, she had nothing to back up the wild, irrational desire to say it, anyway.

  "All right," she said, finally giving in to those steady eyes. "You can stay." Wondering how she was going to explain her change of mind to Jill, she went to get up from the chair, but with the weight of the baby she was unbalanced. Putting out a hand, Leo helped her up. "Thank you." She wasn't exactly pleased, though.

  "You're welcome," he replied ever so politely, so that she gave him a quick look. Was he making fun of her?

  She wouldn't be surprised. "Tell me, how do you know exactly what I want for breakfast each morning?"

  She gazed at him in astonishment.

  "I mean it. Every morning I've thought I'd like to have this or that, and I'll be damned if it's not ready and on the table when I get down here."

  Inadvertently she must have read his mind and made what he'd wished. She hadn't even been aware of what she was doing! Of all the idiotic mistakes! "Oh... urn... lucky guesses?"

  "One or two lucky guesses, okay, but seven—seven in a row?"

  "There—there are only so many things one has for breakfast," she argued.

  "But every morning, it's been different."

  She sighed. She shouldn't have told him he could stay.

  "I guess I'll just have to be careful what I wish for...." He left, smiling.

  A few hours later she was telling Jill that she shouldn't have let him stay.

  "Nonsense! Of course you should have! So what if he finds out you have ESP? What's he going to do about it? And honestly, right now I'm glad not to have him. With Erin still in bed and Lucy teething, well, I've got my hands full!"

  Jill was slim, pert and pretty, and her dark hair was as short and straight as Arianne's was long and curly. She reminded Arianne of a bird; she couldn't sit still for long and was always flitting about. She had been recounting her week in Seattle when Arianne had interrupted her. Now she returned to it.

  "I swear your mother is a saint, Arianne! She must be the warmest, most cheerful, most soo-oothing person I've ever met. And Lucy just adored her!"

  "Everybody just adores my mother," Arianne agreed abstractedly.

  "There I was, absolutely worried sick about Erin and—you're not listening, are you?" Jill charged.

  "Hm? Yes. Yes, I was! You were worried sick.... When he made his reservations did he tell you what he did for a living?"

  "No, I don't think so. I don't remember if he did. Why don't you have a casual look through his things? That'll give you a clue."

  "But I never go into his room!"

  Jill rolled her eyes. "Silly, you have to change the sheets!"

  "Oh. Yes, well, I have to remember to do that today. But snoop? I couldn't! I won't. I can't! It—it wouldn't be right. What if he noticed I'd been snooping? I'd die of embarrassment!"

  "Then use your ESP."

  "You know it never works for me. Not when I want it to, anyway, only accidentally, like with his breakfasts. Any sort of personal desire immediately throws up a sort of smoke screen I can't see through. What a damned nuisance!"

  "I wouldn't complain if I were you. I sure wish some of it would rub off on me!"

  "You wouldn't say that if you knew the agony it's caused me!"

  "Well...it doesn't seem fair that it works fine for everybody but you. That's a mean trick!"

  "My mother says it's for self-protection. Can you imagine knowing everything that was going to happen to you before it happened? It would be awful!"

  "Yes, but think of the money you could make. One little trip to the racetrack and—whoopee! By the way, I think Rae has it."

  "No!" Arianne cried. "Don't say that!"

  "Honestly, when you went upstairs to see Erin, I swear he said, 'Phone,' and then it rang."

  "But he might have been saying anything! You know how babies talk, and—"

  "You might as well get used to it, Arianne. Your mother told me everybody in your family from as far back as you can remember had the sight. Why wouldn't Rae?"

  They both looked at him, playing with Lucy on the floor at their feet. He was six months older than Lucy, but far bigger already. He looked so ordinary, just like any other child, that Arianne was reassured. She was about to say so when Jill sighed, making her look up.

  Staring absentmindedly at the playing children, a frown of dejection on her brow, her friend suddenly looked so unhappy that she caught Arianne by surprise. Jill was generally a positive, outgoing sort, and she'd said nothing about troubles or woes. Perhaps she was exhausted, Arianne thought, and decided to cut short her visit.

  "You know, I still don't think I should have let him stay. Even if you didn't want him, I should have told him to go to one of the motels."

  "Now what?" Jill sighed, rolling her eyes again.

  "It's just that every morning Rae's been going into the dining room for Leo's breakfast. I can't keep him out of there, and if I put him in his playpen he screams and screams. He just wants to be with the guy, and Leo keeps on insisting he be left to do what he wants."

  "How absolutely dreadful!" Jill said sarcastically.

  "You don't understand. He has a way with kids. They really get along. What if Rae gets too attached?"

  "But how long is Leo staying?" Jill pointed out reasonably. "Another
week?"

  "Yeah... I guess it's nothing to worry about."

  "So are you going to snoop in his dresser drawers?" she teased as Arianne bundled Rae into a blanket for the quick walk home.

  ''I certainly am not!''

  "Staid motherhood has made you boring, Arianne!" remonstrated Jill. "You'd probably discover what he does all day long. Like maybe he's a marine biologist and pokes at anenomes and starfish for hours on end."

  "That sounds more logical than anything I've dreamed up," and Arianne smiled.

  ***

  The temptation to snoop was almost irresistible, especially since it would have been so simple. After all, Arianne had the perfect excuse: she did have to change his sheets, provide a fresh pile of towels and dust his furniture. But she didn't snoop; she merely kept her eyes open for clues.

  She learned nothing she didn't already know. His clothes were all of the best quality, and he had a beautiful slender gold waich, which he'd left lying on the dresser. He was trusting to leave such valuables lying about—or else very well-heeled. What evidence there was pointed to the latter. Somehow she didn't believe Leo Donev was trusting.

  He was always on the alert. That didn't mean edgy. Oh, no. He was as easygoing as a summer's day. But all the same, she was sure those eyes of his saw everything. And his presence—vital, sharp, astringent, exhilarating. He made her want to wake up, look around and shake the sleep from the eyes. He was definitely a heavyweight in the aura department. She felt him a mile away!

  How strange it was to have a man in the house again... after two years. It was the same, and yet totally different. These days there was a tingle in the autumn air, a sense of anticipation.

  Since she was always up and awake when he came home at night, he started to join her in the living room before going upstairs to his room. The few words they usually had grew to many more. After several days more she learned that he came from a large family, part Hungarian and part Czechoslovakian; he was second-generation American and that's why he had no accent. Home for him was Brooklyn, where most of his family lived. Presently he resided in California. He still hadn't divulged what he did there, or why he was so far from the place now.

  In the mornings, after being gleefully entertained by Rae through breakfast, he disappeared down the path that led through the blackberry briars to the beach. Part of the old fort was visible from the house: the barracks, white and trimmed in green, neat and very pretty; and closer, the row of officers' houses reaching to the sea. The admiral's house, naturally, was the nicest. It was the one on the beach, and since it was the nearest, it partly disappeared behind the slope of the hill and the forest between. When Leo didn't go off down to the beach he went somewhere in his car, but usually he went to the beach.

  Perhaps he had a friend he went to visit in town. Maybe he liked to walk to and from town for exercise.... Arianne scoured her brain for likely alternatives.

  Wednesday night when he came in, he sat down on the couch right next to her chair and leaned on the arm of it, which brought him closer yet. "Arianne." He had her complete attention, and he knew it. "Arianne, if I paid you a hundred and twenty-five dollars a day from now on, would you provide lunch and supper, too?"

  "My! I must still be guessing your breakfasts correctly!"

  "Will you?"

  "I. . .suppose so," she murmured somewhat doubtfully.

  "Is it enough?"

  "Oh, yes. Yes."

  "Can you pack my lunches?"

  "All right."

  "And how do you feel about late dinners? Would that put you out too much, since you have to feed Rae earlier?"

  "No...."

  "You'll eat with me?"

  "But—"

  "In the dining room."

  "Well..."

  "Please?"

  "All right."

  "Goodnight."

  "Goodnight?"

  He flashed a quick grin at her disappointment. "Yes, good night," he repeated softly, and an unexpected quiver raced up her spine. She lost her place in the book she was reading because of it.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  She might still have had a few reservations, but Arianne had to admit to herself that she rather liked Leo Donev. The thought of sharing dinner with him late in the evening wasn't distressing in the least. Of course, she couldn't explain why a sort of breathless excitement gripped her at the mere idea, but she immediately began to hunt in her cookbooks.

  Although there wasn't an ounce of extra weight on him—by this time Arianne had become fully aware of Leo's excellent shape—she'd come to realize he had a big appetite. So the next morning, while preparing his usual hearty breakfast, she packed him a full lunch: soup in a thermos, thick roast-beef sandwiches, a wedge of cheese with carrot and celery sticks and a wide slice of brownie cake to finish it all off. While she put everything in a brown paper bag in the order it was meant to be eaten, she wondered where he would enjoy it. Somewhere along the beach, sitting on a rock and gazing out to sea? On a grassy bank, perhaps, with his back against a tree?

  Dinner was special. She didn't suddenly want to go crazy—certainly not, it was only business—but she did feel this meal deserved something more, even her choice of clothes. She might still be wearing blue jeans, but now she wore them with a bit more attention to her accessories. She didn't go particularly elaborate on the menu, but it did seem she had a magic touch with food that week. Everything turned out just right.

  The tablecloth was always fresh, but she didn't overdo the setting with fancy touches. A handful of daisies sometimes, but no candies. And he did like wine with the evening meal. Three days in a row she was seen in town, going into the specialty liquor store, where she hadn't been more than four times in two years.

  She put Rae to bed at eight; by nine, when she served dinner, he was asleep. What an incredible difference it made to her state of mind to have a man somewhere in his thirties sitting opposite her, rather than a boy not yet two. Talk about putting a whole new light on the same old subject!

  The pervading tingle in the air seemed to have entered her bloodstream. The more familiar circumstances didn't make his manner any more familiar, though. He was the same reserved guest... but courteous always, and charming. And while there was a disturbing toughness about him—the broken nose, the weathered tan, the ripple of muscles when he lifted Rae—he treated her with a certain gentleness that proved most difficult to resist.

  Rae and Jinx, her cat, had already succumbed to his natural charm, but Arianne fought to retain her equilibrium against it. She treated him very much like a guest. Their dinner conversation centered around a variety of neutral topics. He wasn't nosy about her past, so she couldn't be nosy about his, much as she would have liked to be. He had never asked if she was married, or where Rae's father was. He never asked anything. So Arianne asked nothing, too, even though the questions trembled on her lips. Even though her dusky black eyes followed him and memorized him.

  When the next Saturday rolled around and she found another pay envelope on the dining-room table for her and she knew he was staying another week, the happiness made her breathless.

  And since it was Saturday, that meant she had to tidy his room again. The sheer temptation to have just a little peek through his suitcases was almost insurmountable. She restrained herself somehow, wishing, just once, that her powers would work for herself. It wasn't fair that she had to carry the burden of her gift and yet not benefit by it!

  Only a couple of hours later, across from Leo at dinner, Arianne breathed a sigh of relief that she hadn't given in to her impulse. She would have hated to sit there guiltily before a regard the inveigling shade of green ocean mist. She could get lost in that mist—and she blinked, reminding herself not to sit and stare.

  He had just asked about her day, and she had told him a little about the shop and her customers.

  "It's not a large store, but you'd be amazed at how much can fit into such a small space. The shelves reach from floor to ceiling and every square inch
is used. Orly stocks halavah from Turkey, licorice from Holland and mustard and truffles from France. Whatever you want he's probably got, and his prices are excellent, because most things can be bought in bulk. I love all the dried fruits and nuts and all the chocolate, but my favorite is the spice department—it takes up the whole end wall of the shop. All things considered, it's a good place to work."

  "Everybody in town must go there sooner or later, so I suppose you know just about everybody and everything that's going on. Anything unusual happening?"

  "Just the usual round of births, marriages and divorces. And, of course, who bought a new car and who was drunk and fell off his yacht last Sunday. I should syndicate a column for the local paper!"

  "And put the town gossip out of business?"

  "There are two of them, actually—two old ladies who live together, and you never see one without the other. 'Doom and Gloom,' Orly calls them." Arianne smiled widely in sudden amusement. "And those nicknames are a perfect fit!"

  "I think I might have seen them. Do they look pretty much the same? One has white hair and the other's is dyed that white-blue shade only little old ladies wear."

  "That's them! Doom is the one in blue. And they might look like your average sweet little old ladies, but they're really not very nice-1 have to listen to them in the shop all the time, and they're downright vicious sometimes."

  "They certainly stared at me."

  "Oh, did they? I'm surprised I haven't heard about you yet, from their viewpoint. That should be interesting!" She grinned across the table at Leo. Their eyes met and right away both of them knew what Doom and Gloom would surmise about their utterly formal relationship. For the barest second his glance flicked down to her wine-wet lips. Arianne's dark eyes slid away from his as he looked upward, and even though she was certain she wasn't blushing on the outside, on the inside she felt the flush of self-conscious, sensual heat.

  Nibbling on a crusty roll she paused and very causally asked how his day had been. And the next minute she was kicking herself for not asking sooner. He didn't seem to mind telling her that he owned a travel bureau and was mapping the immediate area—restaurants, hotels, et cetera—for his business. Plus, he was writing a travelogue on Washington State and had spent the morning at city hall and the library checking historical dates for the book. He was also keeping his eyes open for a likely location for a big new convention center.