by Valerie Tate
And on that happy note, he turned and led the way to his office.
Chapter 16
‘The little bugger is damned hard to catch’, he thought.
It was the second time he’d almost had him, only to lose him up the tree at the last minute. He’d waited half the night the last time, with nothing to show for it but sore feet. The old bitch with the yappy dog was watching the house again, too, so he’d have to be careful to stay out of sight.
“Here kitty, kitty, kitty ... Here, Marmalade ... Come see what I have for you in this nice sack … Here kitty, kitty … Come down here, you rotten cat!”
Just like the last time. Sittin’ in that tree, laughing. And what’s with those birds? I thought birds slept at night. Flyin’ from tree to tree … squeaking … Oh, no! Not birds, BATS!
Chapter 17
The next week was spent in feverish activity. Pete called and met James and they hit it off immediately. Pete was interested in design work for furniture that would appeal to a younger market using pine and maple which would make it less expensive. They also discussed updating the look of their traditional pieces while still retaining the quality the firm was known for.
At the end of the week Pete went home to pack his belongings after extracting a promise from Chris to help him find an apartment in town. James and Chris worked out a budget and conditions for a business loan to start the apprenticeship program, and a number of exclusive furniture stores James contacted expressed interest in carrying the line. By Sunday Chris was as excited as James with the progress made.
A beaming Mrs. Stuart let him in. “Welcome, laddie! My goodness but you look pleased with yourself, and I guess you’ve a right to. Mr. Dunbar is that pleased with what’s happening to his business and Alice, why she’s as proud as a peacock of him. Even Miss Alicia has lit up like an electric light, and I don’t mind telling you, I’d begun to wonder if she was all there, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, she’s definitely all there.”
She was standing at the top of the stairs, slender and lovely in a pale mauve dress of some clinging material that molded itself subtly to the graceful curves of her body. A string of pearls lay around the ivory column of her throat, and her hair was drawn up into a crown of soft, blond curls. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks grew pink under his appreciative gaze. Mrs. Stuart discreetly left the room as she descended the stairway.
Alicia had watched for Chris’ arrival from the Widow’s Walk at the top of the house. She’d thought of little else since that night in the garden. It had been a long time since any man had had this kind of effect on her - the butterflies in her stomach, the overwhelming desire to see him and at the same time the fear that it would, once again, go all wrong.
The fact that she had punched him on the jaw didn’t make things any easier. She still cringed every time she thought of that moment. It was as if all of the anger she had kept hidden, kept bottled up inside, had exploded out the end of her fist right into his jaw.
She had barely managed to look at him since that night. She couldn’t begin to imagine what he must think of her. How ironic. The one man she had finally begun to have feelings for was the one who probably thought she was deranged. It took all of the strength and courage she possessed not to turn and run back to her room.
She hadn’t thought that she would ever feel this way again. When it came right down to it, she hadn’t really wanted to. It meant putting herself out there - no defenses, vulnerable - and it frightened her. But at the same time, she felt alive again and if she wanted to keep feeling that way then she had to take the risk.
Chris, seeing her standing there, was certain that his heart had skipped a beat. What did it matter that she had a mean right hook? He could take a punch. He grinned at the thought, and seeing that grin, Alicia’s feet that had seemed incapable of movement, suddenly regained their normal use. She took a deep breath, put on her best smile and went down the stairs to meet him. Where her feet were leading her, she didn’t know, but she felt they were leading her in the right direction.
“Welcome back, Chris. It’s so good to see you.” She smiled impishly. “I wouldn’t blame you if you doubted my sincerity after the way I’ve behaved the last few times we met, but I can never tell you how much I appreciate what you’ve done for my dad. You’ve given him hope again.”
“I just gave him the idea. He’s done all the work, and if it’s successful, it will be entirely his own doing.”
She led him through the dining room out into the garden. “Even so, we know how hard you’ve been working for us, and I want you to know we’re grateful. Even Marmalade’s been behaving himself lately. He’s around somewhere. I expect he’ll pop up sooner or later. Mother’s so happy these days that nothing he does bothers her and it’s really taken the wind out of his sails.”
Laughing, they strolled through the flowers and down the path to her ring of birches. The scent of roses followed them, filling the night air with their sweetness. They sat companionably on the little bench while Chris worked up the courage to apologize. But before he could speak, she seemed to come to a decision herself because she took a deep breath and stood up. “Chris, I feel I owe you an explanation of why I acted the way I did when you kissed me.” She hesitated again, wringing her hands.
“You don’t owe me any explanations. I was the one who got out of line. I came here tonight to apologize to you.”
“No, it was just a kiss. I don’t know what came over me. I shouldn’t have hit you. You asked me a question that day. Why did I come home when Mother sent for me? Well, I wasn’t quite honest in my answer.” He looked at her questioningly. “You see, when I was at college, I met a man, Andrew. He was in one of my classes and we had a number of mutual friends, so we ran into each other quite often. It wasn’t his fault.” She turned away and he waited at the edge of his seat to hear exactly what wasn’t ‘his fault’. “I fell in love with him, desperately in love, or so I thought. I mean, I’d had boyfriends before and thought I’d been in love, but when I met him, it was different. I was sure he was ‘the one’. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t love me.”
Chris breathed a sigh of relief. Was that all?
“He just thought of me as a friend.”
“The man must have been crazy.”
“Thank you, but he just didn’t feel the way I did. The strange thing was that at first he seemed to. I mean, I thought he was really interested. He always seemed to be popping up wherever I was. He’d asked me out a few times before I finally said I’d go out with him. I even met his parents. That whole last year we were inseparable. Maybe I was so crazy about him that I didn’t want to see that he just didn’t feel the same way about me. At the end of school, I was sure he was going to ask me to marry him but then he merely said good-bye, wished me well, hoped we’d see each other again sometime and walked away. I felt like I’d been hit by a truck. I was crushed. My world had just come to an end. It was heart-breaking and, at the same time, humiliating. It’s funny. In books the heroine always has half-a-dozen would-be lovers on a string but by the end of the story she always gets the one she wants, no matter what terrible trials and tribulations she’s had to go through. No-one ever has a heroine that just isn’t wanted. I thought my life was over. I couldn’t have what I wanted most, so I just stopped wanting anything. I couldn’t face further rejection or humiliation, and I guess, deep down, I believed that he didn’t love me because I wasn’t lovable.”
She took a deep breath. She might as well get it all out.
“I’m not blind. I have mirrors. I know I’m pretty - tall, slim, naturally blond. It’s nothing I can take credit for. I was born this way. Most women have something about their bodies that they don’t like. This one has big hips, that one has an unfortunate nose, another has fat knees. I’m lucky. There is nothing I’d change. I never even had to wear braces. My friends were always a little jealous. But that’s what made his rejection so much worse. I couldn’t tell myself, ‘Well he do
esn’t want me because of my heavy thighs or small breasts’. There was nothing physical I could blame it on. He’d obviously been attracted to me at first. He’d pursued me hard enough. But once he got to know me, spent time with me, he didn’t want me. Obviously there must be something wrong with me, with who I am, not what I look like. Something that makes me undesirable or unlovable. Once I’d reached that conclusion, nothing else seemed very important. When Mother sent for me, I was too miserable to care what I did, too miserable to even think about asserting my independence, and so I came home.”
“What kind of insensitive creep would do that to a girl like you?” he asked hotly.
“He wasn’t a creep. I couldn’t have loved him if he’d been a creep. It would have been easier if he had been. But he was a great guy who just didn’t love me. The trouble was, the way we ended didn’t stop me from loving him. If we’d had a big, blazing row, maybe it would have burned itself out. I’d have been angry and hurt. I would have called him names, looked for all the faults that I’d ignored, and eventually I would have got over him. But we didn’t. It would have been easier if he’d been dead. At least I’d have had closure.”
Privately Chris thought that seemed to be an awfully extreme break-up scenario, but he wisely kept the thought to himself.
“But this way there was always the hope we’d meet again and things would be different. I used to fantasize that one day the doorbell would ring and he would be there, telling me that he’d missed me, had always loved me and couldn’t live without me. And so, ever since, I’ve compared every man I’ve met to him, and none of them could stand the comparison.” She shook her head ruefully. “How could they? I was comparing them to a memory - a knight in shining armor, a prince in a fairy tale, a perfect creature whose faults I hadn’t known or had over-looked. That’s why I over-reacted the way I did when you asked me what had happened to the prince and then kissed me. I was furious because I felt like such a fool. And then I started to think about what I was doing to myself. I had cut myself off from any feelings. I’d built a wall around my heart and hidden behind it. You know the song that goes ‘Who needs a heart if a heart can be broken?’? Well that had become my mantra. I’ve been such an idiot. And I’m not getting any younger.” Seeing she was serious, he smothered a smile. “I suddenly had a picture of myself ten or twenty years from now, still dreaming about a man who was married with half-a-dozen kids, while I had passed by any chance I’d ever had for happiness. It was a scary picture. It really shook me up - shook me out of - what did my grandmother call it? - my ‘perennial slumber’.”
“ ‘The mirror cracked’?” he quoted softly.
“Exactly,” she said, thrilled that he’d understood. “Just like the Lady of Shallot! I’ve been living life through a reflection and I’m not going to do that anymore,” she stated emphatically.
“Your grandmother would be very pleased and very proud of you.”
“I hope so. Anyway, I hope you’ll understand, and forgive the way I treated you.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” and as there’d never be a better time, “Since you’ve decided to mend your ways, will you have dinner with me one evening next week?”
“I’d like that very much,” she said, blushing. “We’d better go back now. I’m sure my parents will be wondering what’s become of us.”
James and Alice were waiting for them in the conservatory, a very different couple from the one he’d first met. Relaxed and smiling, they were sitting together on the couch. She was leaning affectionately against James’ shoulder while he talked animatedly. They looked up as the young people entered and smiled in welcome.
“We wondered where you’d gotten to. I hope Alicia’s been entertaining you.” Chris tried not to grin as Alicia curled herself into a chair, and assured them she had. “Good. Alice has been dying to tell you about her plans for the house, so please sit down and I’ll go and ask Mrs. Stuart to bring refreshments out here while I fix the drinks.”
James left to find the housekeeper and Chris sat down in the seat he’d vacated.
“While he’s gone, we can go over the plans I’ve made for the house. They’re really coming along. To begin with, I’ve chosen some new furniture - a couple of sofas and two chairs - and I’ve made arrangements to have the larger of the old sofas recovered. Also, I approached the County Museum and told them that I might be able to loan them some of the older pieces, and they’re thrilled. They’ve been after some of these things for years. The furniture industry has been an important part of the history of this town almost from the beginning and the Dunbars were the first family. They’ve promised to dedicate a ‘Robert and Amanda Dunbar’ room to be filled with pieces from the house.”
“That’s a wonderful idea! Much better than putting them into storage.”
“That’s what I thought. And James thinks he’d like to have a few of the pieces for a showroom at the factory - to show the history of the company and the longevity of the things they produce. We’re going to move Mrs. Stuart into the third floor suite. She’ll have more privacy. There’s a bedroom, sitting room, and a bathroom and she can have her own furniture. It works out beautifully for everyone.”
“You’ve really thought of everything. How long do you think it will take?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve already contacted a local contractor for the kitchen and bathrooms. It will depend on how fast his crew and the painters and paperers can work. At least a month. By that time the draperies and new furniture should have arrived. However, when it’s all done, I’m going to have a special celebration and I want you to be the first one invited.”
It’s amazing how a little redecorating can change, not only the surroundings, but also a point of view. And this was going to be a lot of redecorating.
‘Money well spent,’ he prophesied. ‘Money well spent.’
Chapter 18
He was prepared for him this time. There’d be no going up that tree. As soon as he reached the driveway, he’d grab him, even if it meant leaving the safety of the shadows.
Ah! There he was, strutting across the lawn, tail in the air, just like before, but he wasn’t going to get away this time.
Then, just as he was getting close enough for him to grab him, the cat swerved and headed for the road.
Where’s he off to now? Damn! Smack down the middle of the street, right in the open. But he had no choice. He had to take the chance of being seen. That cat wasn’t getting away again!
Bent almost double, hands outstretched, he took off, loping just behind the waving tail, the light from the antique streetlamps making him glaringly visible to anyone who happened to be looking, but never managing to get quite close enough to grasp it. The cat seemed to know just how far ahead of those reaching hands he had to stay, while still remaining tantalizingly close.
So close … Almost got him that time … Just a few more inches … Damn! Missed again!
He’d had enough of this game. Sprinting forward, he made one giant leap … and missed, landing with a splat face down, spread-eagle on the pavement. Shit, that hurt!
Cursing, he struggled to his feet. His hands and face were scraped and raw. His jeans were torn and he could feel blood trickling down his leg from his right knee. “*!#*!!&! animal!”
Where the hell’s he going now? He turned and saw the waving tail flying along the sidewalk, heading right back home. Damn him!
He limped back the way he had come until he stood facing the house.
Look at him, sitting on the veranda, waving his tail and laughing. If he weren’t so damned valuable…
“I hate that cat!”
Chapter 19
Alice Dunbar could move mountains if she put her mind to it, of that Chris was certain. In the next few weeks the house was bedlam. Marmalade reverted to his old habit of coming and going by the third floor window to avoid the confusion. Alicia and he ate out or at his place a great deal to take the pressure off Mrs. Stuart.
Their first dat
e had been an unqualified success. He had picked her up early, planning to have a quiet dinner at Di Angelo’s and to tell her he had a surprise planned for later.
When they arrived at the restaurant, they were immediately shown to a table in a quiet corner.
“I realize this isn’t very original. There isn’t much choice in this town.”
“Don’t worry. I love Italian food.” She smiled, then asked, “So where are we going after dinner. What’s the big surprise?”
“I’ll tell you later. Now what do you feel like having?”
They both ordered the special, Penne Primavera with grilled chicken and vegetables, and a bottle of wine, and sat back to wait for their salads. There was an awkward silence as he realized how little he actually knew about this girl, but before he could think of something to ask her, as if she had read his mind, she began to speak about her childhood.
“I know that this town lacks some cultural things that someone from the city is used to.” He started to protest, but she went on. “When I was growing up here, I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. My friends and I explored every inch of this town. We learned to swim in the lake at the beach. We saved our allowances to go horseback riding at the stable just outside of town. Saturday nights we followed the Pipe Band down King Street and watched the concert in the band shell in the park. In the winter we did cross-country skiing and skated on the outdoor rink. We were never bored. There was always something to do. And we had a lot more freedom than city kids have.”
He nodded emphatically. “You’re absolutely right. My parents used to rent a cottage here for a month every summer while I was growing up. It was wonderful.”