Edwina

by Patricia Strefling

Chapter 38

  “Okay, enough. Leave.” She forced herself to stop driving around Niles, her hometown. The sun was high in the sky already. She’d driven past the elementary school, the high school, the old house where she grew up, and the park. It was time to go. Swinging the steering wheel, she headed for the highway.

  Once on the road, she allowed herself to cry. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, not from sadness as much as gratefulness that she had been given such a good life when so many had not. She thought of April. By now April would have read her note. That made her happy.

  Cecelia met her at the door, and Edwina walked into her arms. That was totally unexpected.

  “What? Are you having second thoughts, Ed? Because if you are, you don’t have to go.”

  Well that was totally out of her sister’s character.

  “I’m going, Cecelia,” Edwina stated firmly. “Right now I could use some of your chicken salad. Do you have any?”

  “Do birds fly?” Cecelia shot back. Edwina headed for the kitchen.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Spencer smiled. He was chopping vegetables at the island.

  “What have we here?” She snatched a carrot stick.

  “The best chef in Chicago. Hey, now there’s a name. Think it would work for my cooking show?”

  “You and Cecelia. Between the two of you, you’re going to own half this side of Chicago!”

  “That’s the plan,” he said. “Now wash your hands and put that apron on, we’re going to make soup.”

  “Soup? Yum. What kind?”

  “My steak and vegetable, of course. Plain and simple, but with two secret ingredients. It’ll make you want more.”

  “That won’t be a problem.” She laughed and tied the apron around her waist.

  Exactly an hour later, the three were eating the best soup she’d ever tasted and chicken salad sandwiches. Cecelia had even taken two hours off for lunch so she could be here.

  “So what’s this I hear about your knight stowing you off to his castle?” Spencer winked.

  “It’s not like that. And besides, I won’t be staying at his castle, I’ll be out on his farm.”

  “Farm! Are you sure you can leave all this for that?” He waved his arm in a half circle.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Ah, the fear factor is about to settle on you.”

  “No... no it isn’t. I won’t let it.”

  “Good, because I want that Volkswagen.” Cecelia and Edwina laughed together. “See, I told you he’s unmanageable,” Cecelia said. After lunch Spencer cleaned the kitchen, demanded the keys to her car, kissed her good-bye, and swinging the keys in his hands, went out the door to work. He had smacked her right on the mouth. She had been taken aback at his soft lips. Right before he shut the door, he gave her a look. She detected a slight sadness.

  Oh boy, now her knees were shaking again. She’d been kissed exactly three times in her entire life. Once Billy Bartlett had kissed her at recess when she was nine, and then at her high school prom, her date Jason... couldn’t remember his last name. She hated that kiss. And then today. That last one had been the best one.

  Shaking her head, she dug into work. Cecelia had asked if she minded changing the bed sheets in the Yellow Room and the Rose Room. “I had guests last night and Spencer has to go to work. . . .”

  “Of course, I’ll do it.”

  She hustled to the linen closet, which was as large as her bathroom at her apartment—her old bathroom at her old apartment—and pulled the expensive bed linens into her arms. She made quick work of it and then wandered to the kitchen. The least she could do was fix supper for Cecelia.

  The cupboards revealed nothing of substance. Perhaps they could get a pizza. The phone rang.

  “Ed, we’re going for dinner tonight at Rex’s. Did you pack the black dress?”

  “Of course I did. I’d never leave it behind,” she said quietly.

  “Good. I’ve invited several people from work. We have a very short meeting, and then I want you to join us.”

  “You sure? I don’t mind sticking around here,” she tried.

  “Not this time, Ed. This is our last night together for a while.”

  “All right. What time? I’ll dress and meet you there.”

  “You’re going to walk?”

  “Why not?”

  “Well, it’s not fashionable to walk around town in dress clothes. Why don’t you have the doorman—”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll walk. It’s only five blocks.”

  “Okay.” Cecelia gave in, but Edwina could tell she didn’t exactly approve.

  What had ever happened between the Scot and her sister, she didn’t know and didn’t want to know. Cecelia, unlike her in every way, had not mentioned the Scot. Perhaps they had a secret rendezvous planned—to fly back and forth across the Atlantic with a huge love affair in the making.

  Time to make a list. Such foolishness was none of her business, and the Scot had made it clear. She was the employee, he the employer. She would do well to remember that.

  Okay, I’ll need to buy my own things. Shampoo, laundry soap, dryer sheets. Did the Scot have laundry facilities at the farm? She certainly hoped so, for as sensible as she was, she loved her washer and dryer. And a microwave. Those things she couldn’t live without. At least she didn’t want to.

  Then there would be a few groceries. How far was the grocery store? Was she responsible for them, or did the Gillespie’s take care of the pantry?

  Not to mention she would need to find out about health insurance and maybe even a small car. She would have the cash from the sale of the Volkswagen. Her bank account was to remain safely in Niles. She could live for quite some time on the few thousand dollars she had in her possession. Not to worry.

  There were so many things she hadn’t thought about. And, feeling a bit proud and scared at the same time, at least she had made a decision.

  Dinner was elegant, as usual. Cecelia always picked the nicest places. Although her sister had been right about one thing. Walking in the black dress that tickled her ankles was not exactly fun. She’d stuck her Birkenstocks on because they were so soft and carried her good shoes. That had not looked exactly proper, her waltzing down Michigan Street in Tan walking shoes and a black dress, shoes dangling from her fingertips—even she knew that.

  Now she had the unfortunate problem of having to carry a pair of shoes for the entire evening.

  “What have we here?” Spencer had joined them as a surprise. He was looking under the table.

  “Stop,” she shushed him.

  “You can’t wear a pair of shoes for ten minutes without taking them off,” he whispered.

  “Five minutes... and you’re right.”

  “Of course I am,” he shot back. Several people in their fine suits kept Cecelia’s attention for most of the evening, which left her and Spencer to talk. “She sure gets around, your sister.”

  “I know. She does well for herself, don’t you think?” He shrugged. “If this is what you want out of life.”

  “What do you want?” Edwina wanted to know.

  “Kids, a wife, good family life.”

  “In that order?” she teased.

  “Of course not.” He shot her a side-glance. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t know.... I just want to mean something to someone, I guess.”

  “So that’s why you took the job with your knight.”

  “He’s not my knight. Stop saying that.”

  “Looks like it to me.”

  “Well, he’s not. It’s not anything like that at all.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything, Winnie. Just wanted you to go into this thing with your eyes wide open.”

  “I am.” She felt stubborn.

  “I don’t think you are.”

  “What makes you say that?” She was whispering louder now.

  “You care for this guy. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “
You cannot see anything in my eyes. He likes Cecelia, not me.” Spencer gave her the look. The one that says, You don’t know what you’re talking about.

  “What?” She hated being cornered.

  “Take a walk with me.” He stood and pulled back her chair.

  He leaned over and whispered something to Cecelia. Her sister, stimulated by the conversation, barely noticed they’d left. Spencer had her elbow and was leading her toward the front door.

  “We can’t just leave and come back in. This is a restaurant—an upscale restaurant,” she whispered, skidding to a stop just short of the door.

  “We can do whatever we want.” His warm hand slid down her arm and took hold of her wrist.

  “Come on, talk to me.”

  “What do you want me to say, Spencer?”

  “Tell me you want to go.”

  “I do.” He’d won. Before they’d reached the end of the block,

  he stopped, pulled her to him, and kissed her. Right there on Michigan Street.

  “I thought so,” he said and began walking backward, the wind blowing blond strands into his blue eyes.

  She caught up with him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You kissed me back.” His smile widened across that pretty face of his.

  “I did not.... I’m not used to being kissed. That’s all.”

  “Oh, yeah right. Like you’ve never been kissed.”

  “Well, not very many times,” she had to admit. Her artless chatter inspired him to go on.

  “Nothing wrong with that. I have four sisters, remember? I know what they think of girls who kiss every guy they meet.”

  They walked in silence for a few minutes. It was true what Spencer said. She had kissed him back... at least she had liked the kiss. Very much.

  Why had he done that now? Just when she was leaving. He was so... so like someone she could like, maybe even love, but he was way above her station. Too handsome. She’d never be able to keep a boyfriend like him for long.

  “I can see your mind working, Winnie.” She smiled and kept walking.