Lissa looked thoughtful, as if the idea of a stocking packed so full that gravity might have an impact was something she’d never contemplated before.
Was that shadow in her eyes just a trick of the light, or did she really look sad? Kurt wondered if she even owned a Christmas stocking. If, in fact, she’d ever had a stocking….
Don’t even start thinking of that pathetic little tree and how woebegone it looked, he told himself. You’ll only get yourself in deeper trouble.
The maître d’ in charge of the hotel dining room greeted Kurt soberly. “We don’t see enough of you these days, Mr. Callahan. Your grandmother has her favorite table. Would you like me to show you over?”
“No, thanks—I remember.” Which was not exactly a feat, considering that he’d been coming to Sunday brunch here with his grandmother for years on his summer visits. Certainly since he was old enough to appreciate ice cream sundaes with all the trimmings, even if he hadn’t yet learned to enjoy crab, sushi, quiche, or a good many of the hotel’s other specialties. What astounded Kurt was that even if he turned up just once a year the maître d’ called him by name. Did the guy have a notebook of mugshots tucked under the reservations calendar?
He forgot the maître d’ as he approached the table. His grandmother was nowhere in sight, but Lissa was sitting with her back to him. Beyond the arched curve of the chair he could see only that she was wearing some kind of black sweater thing that hugged her figure. Her hair, short as it was, was upswept today, in a style that might have made anyone else look like they’d stuck a finger in an electrical socket. Lissa, on the other hand, looked as if she were wearing a flaming tiara. And between the hair and the high collar of the sweater a bit of the back of her neck, porcelain-ivory and delectable, peeked out and seemed to beckon to him.
Kurt wondered what she’d do if he slipped up behind her and dropped a kiss on that tempting spot just above her nape. Shove a seafood fork into him, most likely. In any case, it wasn’t as if Marian and Mindy and Ray were around, needing to be impressed, so he’d be far better off keeping his hands—and lips—off. Besides, he had things to talk about with this young woman, and kissing the nape of her neck would only distract him.
Lissa looked up. “You’re a bit late. Busy at the grand opening?”
“It’s even crazier than yesterday was.” He pulled out a chair beside her. “Actually, I’m surprised you’re on time, with the mess you were in when I left this morning.”
“Oh, it’s still a mess. I just walked out and left it. That’s the only house I’ve ever seen which has a linen closet the size of a bedroom.”
“Wait till you get to the attic. There are built-in cedar-lined chests up there. What does she keep in the linen closet, anyway?”
Lissa gave him a gamine grin. “Linens, of course. There are towels in every color of the rainbow—and most of them have never been used. She still has the ones she got for her silver wedding anniversary. Did you know they used to package towels wrapped up in coordinating satin ribbon inside the boxes, with little bows and everything?”
“Towels come in boxes? I figure I’m doing well if they get onto the rack instead of the floor.”
“If I find any that are already mildew-colored, I’ll save them for you,” Lissa said dryly.
“Very thoughtful. Where’s Gran?”
“Trying to decide whether she’s going to have breakfast first or just start with the seafood, I think.”
“Good. I want to talk to you.”
“Kurt, if you’re going to start up that business about Ray and Mindy again—”
“Nope. I want to talk about lawyers. Why did you suggest to Gran that she needs one?”
Lissa hesitated and looked past him. Kurt was almost disappointed. He’d expected her to have an easy answer, even if—especially if—it wasn’t quite a real one.
His grandmother had paused beside the table, resting a hand on his shoulder to keep him from rising. “I saw you come in, Kurt, but the chef was telling me how he makes his remoulade, and I didn’t think I should just walk away in the middle of such an impassioned and poetic description.”
She’d seen him come in? It was a very good thing, then, that he’d suppressed that urge to kiss Lissa’s neck. Not that it had been anything more than a fleeting thought, he reassured himself. He’d never seriously contemplated acting on it.
“Don’t just sit there—let’s eat,” his grandmother said cheerfully.
“What’s it going to be?” Kurt asked. “Breakfast or seafood?”
“Neither. It occurred to me that life is short, so I’m going straight for the dessert bar and see how much I can pile on a plate.” She marched off across the ballroom.
Kurt got himself a Belgian waffle, loaded with cream and picture-perfect fresh strawberries and blueberries. Lissa, he noted, had filled a plate with steamed seafood. It was probably not the sort of thing that came her way frequently, he thought—and told himself not to let sympathy get in the way of good sense. He looked over his shoulder and, not seeing his grandmother, started in again. “Tell me about the lawyer, Lissa.”
This time she didn’t even pause. He was annoyed with himself for giving her time to think. He’d handed her an opportunity to come up with a good story.
“Maybe you didn’t know that your grandfather’s name is still on the deed for the house? Hannah’s isn’t.”
Kurt choked on his coffee. “It can’t be. He’s been dead for thirty years.”
“It probably hasn’t been any trouble all this time, but I thought she should get legal advice before she tried to dispose of a house that she technically doesn’t own. It will be easier to work out the fine points beforehand rather than when there’s someone impatiently waiting to move in.”
He couldn’t exactly argue with that. Still…. “You know, I can’t quite see that subject coming up in casual conversation.”
Lissa shrugged. “She thought it might be a problem, so she asked me.”
“Then why hasn’t she done something about it before now?”
“Because it was too much trouble. Haven’t you noticed how good she is at starting projects and then not finishing? There are half-made crafts and half-knitted sweaters all over the house, and—Here she comes.”
His grandmother had been as good as her word. Kurt had never seen so much whipped cream on one plate. He ate his waffle slowly and thoughtfully. Janet had said the lawyer had been Lissa’s idea, but from Lissa’s description it sounded as if his grandmother had been the one to broach the subject. He wondered which was closer to the truth.
When Hannah finished the last bite of her peach cobbler and went back for seconds, Lissa watched her go out of sight and then said calmly, “I also suggested that she get legal advice and talk to an accountant about setting up a trust for Janet. But apparently by the time we got to that subject Janet had stopped listening.”
“You knew she was eavesdropping?”
“I wouldn’t call it eavesdropping. She was clearing the breakfast table at the time.”
So Janet hadn’t been listening at the keyhole after all. And if Lissa had been talking openly, knowing quite well that the housekeeper was there—well, that put an entirely different light on things.
Unless she was far more cunning than he’d given her credit for…. “A trust for Janet?” he asked.
“To provide some security for her in retirement.”
“Janet’s retiring?”
“What did you expect her to do?” Lissa said dryly. “Sign up at the employment agency for a new position?”
“No, I expected her to go with Gran.”
Lissa shook her head. “In the retirement village everything will be provided. Hannah won’t need a housekeeper or a cook—that’s the whole point of the place—so Janet would be like a fifth wheel.”
“So Gran is going to a retirement village? The last I knew you were insisting that she intended to move in with me.”
“Perhaps she thought with Mindy around she
’d be in the way.”
“Don’t threaten me with Mindy. I’m going to get something else. Should I bring you another plate of crab and shrimp, or would you like them just to wheel the cart over here?”
She didn’t take offense. “I am being a bit of a pig, aren’t I? I think I’ll have a salad next, and then one of those cream puffs that Hannah obviously liked so well.”
“Have two—they’re small.” When he returned with a plate of rare roast beef and all the accompaniments, his grandmother was nowhere to be seen. Kurt looked around in puzzlement. “Gran didn’t go back to the dessert table for thirds—did she?”
“She hasn’t come back at all.” Lissa’s eyebrows drew together. “I was watching for her while I was at the salad bar. I thought she’d probably just stopped to talk to a friend, but I hadn’t realized how long she’s been gone. Kurt, what if she’s had another dizzy spell?”
“Possibly brought on by an overload of whipped cream,” Kurt said dryly. “I doubt it. If she’d collapsed, we’d have heard the uproar.”
“But if she felt faint and got herself to the ladies’ room….” She was out of her chair. “I’ll check.”
But she’d taken only a couple of steps when the maître d’ approached, a folded sheet of stationery in his hand. “Mr. Callahan, your grandmother asked me to deliver this to you.”
“Does she need help?” Lissa asked anxiously.
Kurt opened the note. “Apparently not. She says she needs to do some shopping and she’ll take a taxi home when she’s done.”
“I thought she was dead set against taxis?”
“Only when it suits her purpose, I suspect. She goes on to say: And if you’re wondering why I don’t have Lissa drive me, it’s because it’s Lissa I’m shopping for. Have a good time, children. And don’t miss the peach cobbler.” He dropped the note on the table. “No wonder she had dessert first.”
“I wonder where she went. I could still catch her, maybe.”
“If you can figure out where to look. There must be a half-dozen department stores and a couple of hundred shops within six blocks of here. Relax and enjoy your salad. She doesn’t want you.”
“She hired me to drive her around.”
“Apparently you get a day off for good behavior. What’s the matter, really? Don’t you like gifts? For somebody who’s as nuts as you are about Christmas—”
“Not from her,” Lissa said. “I mean—of course I like to get things. But she doesn’t need to buy me anything. She’s already given me a wonderful gift.”
He was taken aback for an instant. Then he realized that of course she didn’t mean anything material. He couldn’t help but wonder, however, exactly what it was that Lissa saw as the “wonderful gift” Gran had given her. He listed the possibilities in his head. Two weeks away from that frightful boarding house, a salary which he suspected would be far above her normal pay, an old-fashioned Christmas with food and decorations galore….
“What did she give you?” he asked idly. “The SUV?”
Her gaze froze him in his chair. He wondered how anything as friendly and warm as her eyes could turn to icicles without warning.
“Thanks for reminding me,” Lissa said. “Since I have a vehicle at my disposal, I don’t have to stick around for this sort of treatment. And I have an errand to run. Excuse me, please.” She pushed her salad away.
Kurt put out a hand. As his fingers brushed her wrist he could feel the surge of her anger like an electrical charge. “Stop. Lissa, I apologize. I shouldn’t have said that.”
She stayed in her chair, but she looked like a bird perched on a wire, ready to fly. “You’ve already had one chance to be nice today. Why should I give you another one?”
He looked at her with the most endearing expression he could manage. “Because I’ll bring you a cream puff.”
Lissa laughed. “You’re an idiot.”
“Yes. But I’m a charming one. What’s the errand?”
She had relaxed enough to pick up her fork again. “I’ve got the first load of sheets and towels to drop off at the homeless shelter downtown.”
“That’s in a rough neighborhood.”
“Not much worse than the one I live in.”
He frowned. “And those people are addicts and ex-convicts—”
“Who know perfectly well that they have to behave or they’ll get thrown out.”
“It’s the ones who aren’t in the shelter who worry me. Driving a brand-new expensive SUV through that kind of territory is asking for trouble.”
“At least I don’t have to worry about a flat tire,” Lissa pointed out. “And before you start ragging on me because I was originally planning to take Hannah along this afternoon, believe me—she’d have been under orders to stay in the car with the doors locked.”
Somewhat to his surprise, that aspect hadn’t occurred to him. He finished his roast beef. “I’ll go with you.”
She looked startled. “That’s not necessary. You have a car here.”
“I’ll come back and pick it up.”
“I was going to stop at my place for a minute. It’s almost on the way.”
“So we’ll stop.”
“You need to get back to work.”
“This store will run all next year without me in the building. It can survive for an hour right now. But one thing’s non-negotiable.”
She looked doubtful.
“I’m driving,” Kurt said. “Do you still want that cream puff, or are you ready to go?”
CHAPTER SIX
LISSA COULDN’T BELIEVE she’d agreed to let him come along. What had happened to her, anyway? Had a mere couple of days of the softer life made her less resilient, less self-sufficient? Surely she wasn’t afraid. She walked all over campus and through a less than stellar neighborhood at all hours of the day and night. Why hadn’t she just told him she could handle this by herself?
At any rate, if she’d felt the need for a bodyguard Kurt wouldn’t have been her first choice. Oh, his muscles were impressive, and so was his agility—if she’d needed a reminder of that, seeing him on the climbing wall would have done the trick nicely—but he wasn’t the bruiser type. He so obviously preferred charm to brawn as a method of getting his own way….
It might be amusing, though, to see how he handled himself in a squabble. Not that there was going to be one.
She also had to admit that it was also just plain nice to have an extra pair of hands as he supervised the unloading of the SUV while she filled out the donation forms. The whole thing took less than fifteen minutes.
As they pulled away from the shelter, Lissa said, “You see? I didn’t need a bouncer along after all.”
“Maybe not. But there’s no telling what might have happened if I hadn’t been there.”
“Are you in training for the Olympic competition for largest ego, or what?”
“There’s a medal for that?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it—and you don’t even need to practice. You’re a shoo-in.”
His smile made her want to reach out and flick a fingertip across the dimple in his cheek. “What are you going to tackle next?”
Lissa found herself frowning. “I’m not sure. Hannah hasn’t given me any kind of agenda, and she seems to have gotten distracted by the whole Christmas thing. She spent the morning putting together Christmas baskets for me to mail tomorrow. And she wouldn’t even have thought of the linen closet if I hadn’t finally tackled her and demanded that she put me to work.”
“It just occurs to me to wonder—if the linen closet’s empty….”
“It’s not, actually. There’s another whole load to take to the women’s shelter.”
“Gran owed two entire carloads of sheets and towels? Do you want to take care of that right now?”
Lissa shook her head. “I know the director, so I’ll take things there tomorrow—I don’t get a chance to talk to her very often anymore. Besides, you can’t help with that one because they don’t allow men on the
premises.”
“Why not?”
“Because so many of the women are there because of violent men, that’s why.”
“Oh. Of course. Where is she coming up with these charities? Throwing darts at the phone book? Or is it you who’s making the list? If you know the director—”
“I know lots of people—and there is the little matter of matching up what Hannah has to give away with what clients can actually use.”
“Well, that should keep you entertained for a while. If the linen closet’s going to be empty, does this mean I can’t have clean sheets for the rest of my stay?”
“Of course you can,” Lissa said heartily. “You can wash the ones that are on your bed anytime you like. Washer and dryer are in the basement.”
He slanted a look at her. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I can’t do my own laundry.”
“But will your things still be the same color when they come out of the washer as when they went in? Seriously, Kurt—when was the last time you were in that basement?”
“I don’t know. A few years, probably.”
“Well, neither your grandmother nor Janet should be running up and down those stairs. I tried to stop Hannah from taking a load of laundry down this morning, and she said she’d been doing it for as long as she could remember and she intended to keep right on.”
The silence stretched out. Lissa had almost concluded that Kurt wasn’t going to answer, when he said, “She intends to keep on? You think she’s starting to waver about moving?”
“Maybe,” Lissa said slowly. “It’s one thing to give away sheets and towels you’ve never taken out of the box, but from here on the decisions will only get harder. It may take her longer than I expected. You’re sure you don’t mind stopping by the boarding house?”
Kurt shook his head and turned toward her old neighborhood.
He might not mind stopping, Lissa thought, but she certainly minded. If she hadn’t forgotten her address book in her hurried move she wouldn’t have gone anywhere near the place. Not until she had to.
In fact, she realized the instant they walked in, though the boarding house hadn’t changed at all, spending two days away from the gloomy atmosphere had made it seem even worse than usual. Dark and dingy, the hallway smelled of one of the residents’ sausage and garlic lunch. She tried to hold her breath while she dug for her key.
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