by JoAnn Durgin
“I’ve got it, thanks all the same. Not to be rude, and call me impetuous, but I have a bone to pick with him.” Brushing past Rosalinda, Vara hoped she wouldn’t be considered rude since Minnesotans budged, not barged. Oh well, she was a girl from Florida and operated on a whole different level.
Stalking through the open doorway into the living room, Vara spied the man of the manor standing in front of his architect’s desk. He’d moved it from his study so he could better help Rosalinda keep an eye on Charlotte. He’d explained the positioning of the desk was to catch the natural light. But Vara knew better. She figured Thornton’s underlying motive was to get those heavy drapes parted so the morning sun could stream through the leaded, beveled glass windows, brightening the room, as she’d discussed with Rosalinda. What a guy.
“Thornton, you’re a hero!” Behind her, Vara heard Rosalinda’s quiet amusement.
He turned to the beat of drums pounding a loud rhythm in her ears and a smile that made her heart happy. The man wore a faded pair of jeans and a plain gray T-shirt exceptionally well. The fact that he was barefoot with slightly mussed morning hair certainly did nothing to diminish the appealing image. Vara tried not to stare and forcibly closed her mouth lest she water that fine Oriental carpet. She’d never drooled over a man in her 30 years, but the casual, relaxed version of Thornton Fielding tugged on her from the inside out in the best of ways.
No doubt about it. She was falling for this guy in spite of her better instincts and normally sound judgment. Falling fast and falling hard with intelligent, funny, compassionate, self-effacing, talkative, challenging, and handsome…Thornton.
“Good morning, Vara. You seem to have something on your mind.” He motioned to the sofa. “Would you like to sit and talk about it?”
“No, thanks. Contrary to popular belief, I can usually speak standing up most of the time.” She unzipped her coat, praying she could follow through. She was about to swoon—sway—as it was, not a promising sign. Maybe it was because of all the things Laura said about him. She’d felt compassion for the lonely little mischievous boy who’d grown into this man looking at her now…like she was slightly off in the head. Perhaps she was.
“I see you’re wearing your Houdini coat today.”
“My what?” Shaking her head, Vara sighed. “Yes, a zipper does make for an easier escape. It’s still too early in the morning for your quick wit.”
“Sorry?” He chuckled. “Bad joke. You’ve kept up with me before, and earlier than it is now. Late night on the town?”
Her lips twisted. “It’s not that early in the morning to fend off thinly veiled attempts to find out if I had a date last night.”
“Then I’ll skip the thinly veiled attempts and skip straight to the hard-core asking. Did you have a date last night?”
Vara resisted moving one hand to her hip and opted for a saucy grin instead. “Not to swell your ego, and not that it’s any of your business—but so that we’re clear—I haven’t entertained flirtations with a man, much less gone out on a date, in more than two years.” Well, slap her forehead and call her silly. What was she thinking admitting such a thing?
“Again…sorry?” He moved one hand over his chest. Now why did he have to go and do that? The action only drew her attention to his plain but fabulously awesome T-shirt. No man had ever worn one so well. “I’m only concerned for your well-being.”
“Save it, Fielding.” When he gestured for her coat, Vara unzipped her coat and slipped out of it. At least that part was easy. He waited with one of those bemused smiles, so she handed it over and then crossed the room to his desk. “May I be nosy and ask if this is a government prototype?”
To her untrained eye, his design was impressive—meticulous and detailed. Not that she was in the least bit surprised. She noted his handwriting was precise and legible, but the letters were squished together. You could tell a lot about a person from their penmanship, although she didn’t have time to study it at length.
“You can be as nosy as you’d like, especially since you’re already looking at it.” Thornton stood so close behind her that his warm breath fanned over her neck. Oh, my. If that didn’t send shivers everywhere. This was getting more dangerous with each passing millisecond.
She jumped. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come back into the room. My turn to apologize for snooping against your will.”
“You’re fine. And yes, I’m working on a bid for a government contract. Technically, builders of military and aviation prototypes prefer the terms “experimental” and “service test,” but in explaining it to the general public, it makes more sense to say…” His words trailed as their gazes tangled.
“Functional prototype,” she murmured, hoping she hadn’t been insulted, not that she cared at the moment. “This member of the general public understands that. And yes, it does make more sense.” Her breathing grew shallow, and her pulse had boarded the runaway train. He really needed to stop looking at her like that with those limpid, expressive brown eyes.
Step away from the desk.
“By allowing you to stand here and view my work, you realize I trust you enough to share my secrets.” His voice was low, his lips within an easily kissable distance.
Vara’s eyes widened. “Because you know that I know you could have me killed if I betray you.” She shifted to her other foot, hoping she made some kind of sense. “Something like that.” The man’s proximity truly muddled her mind in the most glorious way.
“You know, when reporters asked astronaut Alan Shepard what he thought about when he sat in the Redstone rocket, waiting for liftoff, he said, ‘The fact that every part of this ship was built by the lowest bidder.’” Sliding his hands down into the pockets of his jeans, Thornton shrugged. “Then again, some say John Glenn said it.”
“Maybe they both said it. It’s a sad fact our space heroes need to worry about such things in the first place. Your point?” Vara never thought she’d be grateful to two astronauts for helping her keep her distance from a man, but the mention of Shepard and Glenn had effectively jump-started Thornton’s internal reset button.
“My functional prototype bids aren’t the lowest, but they’re solid, functional, and as cost-effective as I can make them without compromising safety. I’ve built a solid reputation and have high standards to uphold.”
“Safety in a prototype?”
“The way I see it, my prototype needs to be as safe as the real deal it represents. When human lives and millions of dollars are at stake, I take it seriously.” He narrowed his eyes. “Even in a prototype.”
Vara slowly nodded. “As well you should. I meant no disrespect.”
“None taken,” he said. “I don’t expect others to understand my work the way I do. But it’s important to me that you understand my mindset concerning…what I do.” He sighed and scratched the side of his head, mussing his hair even more.
“I do, Thornton. Your strong work ethic is obvious, and I’m sure that’s a reason why you’re so successful. But first let me make sure I have this straight so I can better understand. You don’t do any of the actual design work?”
“I do to a point, but I follow the original, full-scale designs from software engineers. Early on, depending on the type of aircraft, there are technicians who construct life-sized prototypes with speed and volume production in mind for testing purposes.”
“Which is what you did at Lockheed, right?”
“Exactly. Now I begin work when the final design has been approved, and they’ve started the actual production.”
“Sorry, but you lost me somewhere between life-sized and volume production.” Vara shook her head with a sheepish smile. “Can you maybe put it in Prototypes for Dummies language?”
The corners of Thornton’s mouth lifted, the left side higher than the right. “My purpose is different. In short, my prototypes need to be functional and accurate, but they’re primarily for experimental purposes and then, ultimately, for display purposes much like my sta
tic models. Does that help?”
Not really, but I couldn’t care less. With Thornton so close, yes, it helped, especially since those green flecks had now made their appearance. His explanation hadn’t helped her in the way he’d intended, but it’d definitely done her a world of good. If only he knew.
Vara cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you.” As long as Thornton knew his business, and he did, wasn’t that all that mattered?
“I was about to head into the kitchen for some more coffee. Can I interest you in a cup of java? I’m afraid I don’t know how to make a latte espresso, but I made the coffee. I might be able to rustle up some chocolate chips.”
“That sounds wonderful, but I can skip the chocolate. I take it Rosalinda doesn’t mind you going into the kitchen as long as you stay away from her appliances?”
“You’re a quick learner.”
“I heard you were a curious toddler with a proclivity for taking things apart.”
He chuckled. “And you’re too easily duped by a distraction. Another reason I know you can’t be a spy.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “Don’t think I won’t take a closer look at that design on your desk.”
Thornton snapped his fingers. “Foiled again, but that’s not what I meant. I was referring to the hero reference. I’m only humble to a point, remember.”
“Yes, I know.” She tossed him a grin as they walked into the kitchen together. Even she could recognize her behavior as out-and-out flirting. Seemed there were bigger forces at work here, and her inner resolve was failing miserably.
Vara breathed in the inviting aroma of coffee as she entered the spacious kitchen. For a few moments, she stood rooted to the hardwood floor and simply admired.
Copper cookware hung suspended—not exactly a surprise in this home—from a pot rack above a large island in the middle of the room. Turning slowly, Vara marveled at the sight of the high-end, polished granite countertops and gorgeous, medium wood overhead cabinets and double pantry. The gleaming, stainless steel appliances, including a convection oven and double sink, appeared state-of-the-art.
“This kitchen is fantastic, a veritable cook’s dream. My mom would be beside herself.” An inviting, picturesque breakfast nook called to her from the far end of the kitchen. Drawn toward it, Vara hugged her arms over her middle as she moved forward. Outside the large bay window, snowflakes coated the earth with a fresh new morning blanket.
“Morning by morning, new mercies I see.” Behind her, she heard Thornton opening and closing a door. Seconds later, he draped a lightweight blanket around her shoulders.
“Thank you.” Smiling in her contentment, Vara tugged it closer about her shoulders, snuggling into its warmth.
“You looked cold.”
“I think it was more a shiver of awe.” Turning, Vara drank in the sight of the massive, three-sectioned refrigerator with clear, sliding doors. “I’ve never seen a refrigerator like this outside of a restaurant.” Her breath caught. “It’s even on wheels?”
Thornton nodded as his gaze darted around the kitchen. “I know how you feel, seeing it for the first time. Sometimes I still feel like a kid. Most of the major appliances are made for commercial use.”
“Are you planning on opening a B&B or a restaurant?”
“No.” He chuckled. “This kitchen is Rose’s haven, and Charlotte wanted to make sure it was perfect. I think it was a way she felt she could repay Rose’s kindnesses through the years and…make her happy.”
Thornton’s statement revealed more of Charlotte’s true nature, reinforcing in Vara’s mind how the stroke affected more than her patient’s speech. She’d only come to know his grandmother in the midst of what had to be one of the more challenging times in her life—a tempest in some respects. But Charlotte helped raise the man with her now, a true testament of her strong character and inner strength.
He stopped in front of the refrigerator. “Watch this.” When he slid one of the doors, lights flickered on, illuminating the interior. “LED lighting.”
“Amazing,” Vara said. “Rose must be a very good cook.”
“She could have been a chef.” With a smile, Thornton patted one hand over his flat, trim stomach. “I usually gain a few pounds when I’m home, but this time it’s for a different reason.” Fleeting sadness crossed over his features. “Rose is spending more time with her caregiver responsibilities, so I’ve ordered in meals from The Cherish Diner or made trips into the city to pick up specialty dishes from their favorite restaurants.”
“That’s very thoughtful of you.”
Thornton shrugged, his shoulders appearing broader in light of the morning’s revelations. “It’s the least I can do. I remembered you said the stress can sometimes be overwhelming. I want Nana to eat well, and I don’t want Rose to overextend herself. She keeps everything well-organized and spotless, as you can see. That woman’s a miracle worker, and she keeps me straight. Always has.”
“Surely you have others who help you run the household?”
“A few,” he said. “Primarily a cleaning crew, and a gardener for the warmer seasons, although Rose enjoys working outside in the garden.”
People with money thought nothing of dropping thousands of dollars to maintain their lifestyle. It was a completely different mindset from what she’d ever known. She’d been guilty of faulting some of the doctors at Mercy Grace, Daniel included, for their expensive “toys.” But she also knew they worked tireless schedules to be able to afford such things. God looked at the heart, not a person’s bank account. It wasn’t her place to judge. God expected her to be a wise steward with her own blessings.
Laura’s words from earlier came to mind. Thornton had grown up with privilege yet he wasn’t puffed up with pride. It wasn’t arrogance that made his shoulders seem wider. This man accepted his blessings, and he knew how to bless others with the resources he’d been given.
Leaning against the counter, he crossed his arms. “Charlotte wasn’t feeling well last night, so I hope she’s feeling up to a therapy session. I should have checked on her earlier and called you if she’s not. It might have saved you a trip, although…” When Thornton smiled, his meaning wasn’t lost.
“I’m going upstairs to check on Charlotte now.” Coming into the kitchen, Rosalinda reached into an overhead cabinet and then handed her a coffee mug. “Here you go, Miss Vara.”
“Thank you.” Taking it, Vara smiled at Thornton. “Speaking of a quick learner.”
“Rose, are your ears burning? If you heard anything complimentary in the last few seconds, that came from Morton, not me.”
“You are a funny one, Little Man Thornton.” After grabbing a spoon from the drawer, Rosalinda tweaked his cheek and briefly stroked her thumb over the cleft beneath his beard.
He grunted. “Give me a holler on the intercom when Nana’s ready, and I’ll bring her down.” Vara’s heart did a little flip at his words.
“Thank you, dear boy. I took a bowl of hot cereal to her a short time ago, but her appetite seems somewhat diminished today. She dropped her spoon, so I’ll be taking this replacement to her. My apology for the interruption.” With that, Rosalinda headed out of the kitchen.
“If Charlotte’s not feeling up to it, I can head back to the hospital,” Vara said.
Thornton held her gaze. “Why don’t we see what happens in the next half hour? I’m glad we’re getting the chance to talk.”
“I am, too.” Vara dropped her gaze to the black ceramic mug in her hand. With its bright, colorful cats, the mug was unusually heavy and no doubt expensive. Using one finger, she slowly traced the delicate gold outline of one of the cats. “This is very pretty.”
“Are you a cat person?”
“I’ve never had the opportunity to find out,” she said. “We never had animals growing up. It was all my parents could do to keep up with five kids.”
“I can imagine.”
“Did you pick up this mug during your travels?”
He
nodded. “Those are Boynton cats with gold cloisonné. I got the mug from one of the vendors outside the Haymarket in Boston when I worked one of my first jobs after I left Lockheed. May I?” After gently lifting the mug from her hand, Thornton poured her coffee and then doctored it with cream he’d pulled from the refrigerator. Next, he grabbed sweetener packets and retrieved a spoon from a drawer.
“I can add the sweetener, thanks.” Vara reached for the packets, tugging them away from his fingers.
“Sorry. I didn’t even think about it.”
“It’s nice to be pampered, but I’d rather you not see how many of these babies I use.” Shaking her head, Vara smiled. “I realize you’re observant, but how could you know?”
“Three words—Death. By. Chocolate.” His admiring gaze traveled the length of her in her heather green sweater, jeans, and heels. “You might need a little sweetening up, but otherwise, you look great. Morning definitely agrees with you.”
You, too. “Thornton Fielding, are you flirting with me?”
“I sure hope so.” He pushed away from the counter. “I won’t stand watch. After you’re done doctoring, come back into the living room. If you’d like, I’ll show you the plan I’m working on.”
“I’ll be right there.” The man made her dizzy. She focused on tearing open the sweetener packets and sprinkling them into the mug. After rinsing the spoon in the sink, she paused to take a sip and gather her thoughts.
Something had shifted in her relationship with Thornton. Although she hadn’t known him long, their time spent together had been quality. They’d been silly, they’d flirted, but they shared an obvious attraction. They’d also formed a bond. Vara felt an ease with Thornton she’d never felt with another man apart from her older brothers. Their mutual care and concern for Charlotte’s well-being connected them, but Charlotte wasn’t just her patient, and Thornton was quickly becoming a friend. A very good friend. She valued his opinions and ideas. Whether or not anything more than friendship ever developed between them, she would continue to pray for Charlotte and Thornton, all the richer for having known them.