Speaking of sleep… “Is there some reason you’re ignoring me, Boots?”
Nothing—not even a whisker flicker. That cat was good. Or she was out of her mind. He hadn’t really caused Bruno’s accident—had he?
“Was that Bella Casteleoni, dear? Earl and I so enjoy her restaurant. ” Mrs. Gray walked back in the kitchen and Jolie shook of the ridiculous thought. Boots was a kitten, not some imp in disguise.
She turned her attention to Mrs. Gray and explained about Bella’s dilemma.
“This Friday?” Mrs. Gray wrung her hands. “Oh dear.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Well, you see, Charles wanted us to come back this weekend and babysit so he and his wife could go away for a few days. The new baby and all, you know. And, well, since you’re here, I called him yesterday and said that it wouldn’t be a problem. But now Todd will be all alone.”
“You mean Todd hasn’t been alone in two whole years?” That might be a bit obsessive for everyone concerned. “Wait a minute. Yes, he was. The morning I got here. You’d left already.” She stopped—the condition he’d been in when she’d gotten here didn’t bolster her argument.
Perhaps leaving him alone wasn’t such a good idea.
“It’s not that, dear. But Earl and I won’t be around and you could both be here, all alone, over the whole weekend… ”
“Mrs. Gray, I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” It was one thing to be in the moment with Todd, to wish and think what-if thoughts, but to actively pursue something she wasn’t sure was in her best interests—
Mrs. Gray wrung her hands. “Oh, but Jolie, one can hope, you know.”
Oh, Jolie knew all about hoping and Todd.
“Mrs. Gray, really. I’m here to do a job and that’s it. Regardless of who hired me. It’s awfully nice that you consider me worthy of Todd—” and, gosh, it truly was—“but I just don’t think he’s at that point yet.” Though, apparently his body was on the mend quite nicely. But Mrs. Gray didn’t need to know that.
I notice you didn’t say a thing about you not being ready for the match, Naughty Girl mocked.
Go away. Maybe that’s because I am ready.
You did not just say that!
It wasn’t often she could pull one over on Naughty Girl.
“Please, Mrs. Gray, go to your son’s house. Let him and his wife have their weekend. Think of it as matchmaking for them. Who knows? Maybe you’ll get another grandchild out of the bargain.”
Mrs. Gray smiled. “Now wouldn’t that be nice.”
“I’ve got it!” Todd shoved open the French door to the kitchen behind her, almost sending it—and Mrs. Gray—careening into the wall.
Jolie cringed, expecting to hear the shatter of glass at any moment.
“Got what, dear?” asked Mrs. Gray.
He strode in, picked up the older woman, spun her around, gave her a kiss on the cheek, then repeated the whole exercise with Jolie.
“I’ve got it,” he said again, smiling away.
“Got what?” Mrs. Gray repeated.
“It,” he said as if “it” were a common everyday occurrence one got.
“It?” Poor lady was so confused.
“It,” he repeated.
“Oh, I get it,” Jolie jumped into the “it” fray. “It.”
Todd smiled her way and crossed his arms in front of him. “It.”
She beamed back, happy for him.
“Would one of you kindly explain to me what ‘it’ is? All sorts of horrible medical possibilities are running through my head.” Mrs. Gray leaned against the granite counter with a hand over her heart.
They laughed as Todd gave her another hug. “Not to worry, Jasmine. Nothing deadly. I’ve simply gotten that elusive something I’ve been trying for when I’m sketching Jolie.”
Mrs. Gray looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language. “And what exactly is that, Todd?”
“Can’t explain it. It’s an essence about her. Part of her. And I couldn’t get it. Until—” he wagged a finger at Jolie—“I added the paint. Oil, in this case.”
“Oh really? So I’m right, am I?” She was entitled to her moment of triumph.
“Go ahead and gloat. I feel like I’m on top of the world.” His fingers traced up her arm. “Just like I did the day I painted my first sunset and the colors blossomed before my eyes and I could feel the heat of the waning sun.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful, Todd.” Mrs. Gray clasped her hands together, her eyes darting between the two of them.
With her honing in on the location of his hand, Jolie was wondering what exactly the “that’s wonderful” was about.
“It does feel pretty wonderful,” he said, his pearly whites gleaming. “So wonderful, that I’m just going to grab a sandwich and head back into my studio. I probably won’t make it out for dinner.”
“We’ll send a tray up then.” Mrs. Gray looked at Jolie, pointedly. “Jolie can bring it up.”
Nah, she wasn’t matchmaking much, was she?
Chapter Twenty-Nine
With Todd at work in the attic and Mrs. Gray doing whatever she was doing (“catching up”—yeah, right), Jolie sat down to give Annie and Tom some of Mrs. Gray’ words of wisdom.
One can hope.
Well, sure. One could. But hope alone wasn’t going to work everything out, not without some help from “one.” In order for Annie to have her happily-ever-after, she was going to have to metaphorically straighten her backbone and tell Tom what she wanted out of life and where he fit in. Proactive instead of reactive. No more waiting for life to hand her the lemonade—she was going to make her own.
Hmmm. Make lemonade. She’d heard that analogy before.
Well, heck, she could “make lemonade,” too. Or, if she chose not to, she could let the ingredients sit and rot.
One can hope.
Hope hadn’t done anything all by itself at any point in her life. Hope had always needed a nudge. And if she was going to write Annie with determination, she darn well better take her own advice. It was all well and good for Todd not to be sure, to “take it as it goes,” but she was done being buffeted by others’ wishes. It was time she stood up for hers.
“Mrs. Gray.” She strode into the den where Mrs. Gray had situated herself for an afternoon of lust, lies and improbable plot lines—AKA the afternoon soap lineup. “Would you mind watching Boots for me?”
“Who? Oh, Boots.” Mrs. Gray slid in the recliner, straining her eyes from TV’s top vixen who held a gun on yet another unsuspecting husband. Couldn’t the woman be more inventive? “Well, certainly, dear, but why don’t you join me?”
“Thanks, but I don’t think so.” Jolie had had enough with improbable plot lines in her own reality to want to watch them on television. Besides, she had lemonade to make. “I have errands to run. I’ll be back in time to take Todd’s tray in to him.”
“All right. Just plop Jonathan on my lap, then. Have a nice time, dear.” It was probably the fact that the vixen decided to pull the trigger that had Mrs. Gray so distracted to call Boots after her old cat. She must really miss him.
***
Melanie zoomed Jolie on over to the local mall in search of figurative lemonade. With Todd’s house as sterile and empty as it was, her first step if she wanted to envision herself in his life (and she did), was to be able to envision herself in his home. But at present, it wasn’t really a home. Just a shell where he bided his time. So, as an investment in her future, albeit small (to be in line with her budget), she was setting out to make his house a home.
In a fine arts store she found a nice selection of discounted art deco pictures, two of which would go in Todd’s den, another for the dining room, and another for her bedroom. His landscapes were understandably off-limits, but surely all pictures couldn’t be.
Just as she was leaving, she found a group of decorative plates with a French bistro theme that would be perfect in the kitchen.
A fabric store d
own the way had some pre-made tab curtains in a bold splashy material that would look really cute in the studio. Not feminine at all and certainly busy enough to hold her attention during four hours (groan) of sitting.
Next door to that was a bath store. She loved scented candles and potpourri. Niceties she never had growing up, which was why she’d had a large selection in her apartment before the fire, so she picked up some lavender candles for her bathroom, some sandalwood ones for Todd’s (not that she’d been in there, but, as Mrs. Gray said, one could always hope) and some vanilla ones for the kitchen. Boots should like those.
She returned in time for the dinner preparation. She looked in on Mrs. Gray (a familiar theme song blaring away on the telly), and found that the older woman and Boots had decided to take a nap. Mr. Gray was in there on the sofa, too. No wonder Todd offered them a room. Picture-hanging was out for the moment, though the candles did make it to their respective rooms, which was more than she could say for the three sleeping in the den.
She threw together a light and fluffy dinner of a Spanish potato omelet, tomato/cucumber salad, and focaccia with pesto.
“It smells wonderful, dear,” Mrs. Gray said, rubbing her eyes, waking at just the right moment. “Is there anything you need me to do?”
“Nope. We just have to wait for the omelet to cool to room temperature. That’s how it’s best. In the meantime, I’m going to hang the pictures I bought.”
“Earl, go help the girl.”
“That’s okay, really. I can do it.”
“Nonsense, Jolie. We want to help.”
Jolie shared a smile with her. She knew all about the help Mrs. Gray wanted to give.
“Perhaps I could use a step ladder,” Jolie conceded.
Mr. Gray went on his merry way to get a ladder while Mrs. Gray gave her a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?” Jolie really did not want the hug to end.
“For trying to make this house a home.”
“Oh, well, they’re just a few things, nothing—”
“I’m not talking about the pictures, Jolie, though they are a nice touch.”
“You’re not?”
“No.” Mrs. Gray smiled and stepped back, linking their hands. “I’m thanking you for loving him, of course.”
“How… how do you know?” Was it written on her face? Jolie hearts Todd?
Mrs. Gray cupped her cheek just as her breath hitched and her throat closed with something suspiciously like tears.
“It’s perfectly obvious and perfectly understandable, dear. And perfectly acceptable.” Boots twined around their ankles as Jolie’s insides went all warm and mushy. “Even your gua—er, kitty here can tell.” Mrs. Gray picked him up. “Right, Boots?”
Boots stretched out to lick Jolie’s nose. There was something weird with this animal.
“So.” Mrs. Gray handed the kitten to Jolie then assembled a dinner tray for Todd. “Why don’t you take this up to him? Earl and I can handle hanging the pictures.”
Somehow the woman made the switch of kitten for tray all the while ushering Jolie toward the door which, conveniently was opened by Mr. Gray at just the right moment.
“Have fun,” he said with a wink.
***
Jolie opened the door to the attic and saw Todd’s face shadowed like a black and white photograph in the light cast by the chrome floor lamp. He was bent over the canvas, one paintbrush between his teeth, another whipping over the canvas, a palette in his other hand, deep lines of concentration crisscrossing his forehead. He dabbed at the palette, then back at the canvas, and that lock of hair fell forward again. He flicked his head to move it out of his way.
His eyes met hers.
Wine sloshed over the edge of the glass as the tray trembled in her hands. “Dinner.”
Eloquence personified.
“Gweat.” He slid the brush from his mouth. “I mean, great.” Down went the palette and brushes onto the stool, and he headed toward her.
She held out the tray like an offering at church, and, yeah, worship came to mind. She couldn’t help it. He looked so darn yummy all rumpled like that, with a rainbow of paint slashes on his t-shirt, mussed hair, and another pair of brushes sticking out of his shorts pocket. But most of all, there was peace in his eyes. The haunted look she’d first met was gone.
“I didn’t realize it was that late.” He took the food, his fingers brushing hers. “Thanks. This looks delicious. Want to join me?” He looked around, then smiled sheepishly. “I guess I need to get a table. Sorry, I hadn’t thought about eating in here.”
“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll, um, eat later. I’ve got some writing to do.”
He raised the tray, tomato salad corner a tad higher than the rest. “This?”
“What?”
“Are you including this in the cookbook?”
Yeah, guilt razored down her spine. “The cookbook. Right. Yes.”
He squinted at her, all six-foot-four of him hunkering down to meet her gaze. “Are you okay?”
Define okay. “Certainly. Fine. Why do you ask?”
“You’re not your usual foaming-at-the-mouth self. And I mean that in the best possible way.” A dimple glimmered in his cheek.
Of course she smiled. She liked that he teased her. She liked that he liked to tease her.
Oh, heck. She liked that he liked her.
“Now there’s my Jol… ie.” He lowered the tray and the smile faded from his face.
Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
And was she his?
It was one thing to make lemonade out of her own lemons, but what if his were sour?
“Actually, I am fine. Just have a lot on my mind.” And there went Mouth off and running. “I just remembered I’m supposed to go to Bella’s Thursday afternoon to help her prepare for Friday night’s party. Mrs. Gray said they’re going away for the weekend, but I’ll be sure to have your dinner ready before I go, and— ”
“Jolie.”
Her lips clamped shut.
He took a sip of his wine. “Do whatever you need to. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure?”
A soft smile flickered across his lips. “I’m sure.”
Now that “sure” sounded sure.
Chapter Thirty
After a busy two days helping Bella, Jolie dragged her tired toes across the driveway into Todd’s house. Thankfully, he’d moved on to the painting portion of his career comeback, so he hadn’t needed her in the studio, but Bella sure had.
The hostess of the big party called Bella with the last-minute news that the guest of honor was allergic to shrimp, so Bella and Jolie had no sooner had everything prepared than they had to do it all over again. The honoree couldn’t touch anything that had even breathed the same air as the shrimp, so to be safe, they’d scrubbed down the kitchen and utensils and donated everything they’d already prepared. Chloe’s girls and the people in a few homeless shelters were going to go to bed on very full tummies.
And while the hostess admitted her error and agreed to reimburse Bella, it was still an amazing feat to come up with more menus, more food, and more time to put it all together.
But they had, and they’d done it well. However, it had done Jolie in. She was so tired she could barely stand when she entered the side door.
Boots stretched on the kitchen chair, then pounced down to rub around her ankles.
“Hey, buddy,” she whispered, picking him up. He purred, settling beneath her chin. “Did you get dinner or was Todd too busy to feed you?” She checked the fridge. Sure enough, half a can of cat food remained. She put it on a plate, warmed it in the microwave, and was just about to set it down by the kitchen sink when she looked out the window. Light shone from the studio.
She checked the clock. It was after midnight. Had he been in there all night? Maybe he’d fallen asleep—the sofa was inviting enough. She should go check on him, turn out the light, lock the door, that kind of thing.
&nb
sp; She gave Boots his belated dinner. “You stay here. I’ll be back in a bit.” She locked the door behind her and followed the path to the studio.
It was a beautiful night, a full moon shining brilliantly white in the star-lit sky. The gurgle of the waterfall in the pool whispered along the path and that frog plopped into the pond again. The crickets were quiet, merely a low hum on the air, and the faintest of breezes rustled the leaves. A hibiscus blossom had fallen onto the path and Jolie picked it up. They had such a beautiful scent, even when their one day of life was over. She sniffed it, then tossed it back onto the garden. Maybe it’d be the start of a new hibiscus plant tomorrow.
She tiptoed up the wooden stairs and pushed the door open. There he was, asleep in the chair, an empty plate on the floor next to him, a beer bottle on its side beside it. Mrs. Gray must have sent dinner up before she left.
Jolie carried one of the orange throws over to him. He looked so peaceful. His face was relaxed, even the laugh lines by his eyes were almost gone. She bit back a laugh, remembering how indignant she’d been that she didn’t have any lines. His certainly added something to his face. Character? Wisdom? She wasn’t sure, but she did know she’d like to see those lines deepen over the years.
That lock of hair was finally out of his face, curled above his forehead, sitting there, just waiting for Todd to change position so it could fall down again. His arms rested in his lap and she had to stop herself from picking up his hand. Such talented fingers, so finely muscled and strong, yet so gentle on her skin.
His legs flared, heels touching. The man even had nice feet. Naked, of course, but that was to be expected.
She smiled. Thank goodness he was asleep because she was sure everything she felt for him was visible in her eyes at this moment.
She took one last lingering look—and a slightly unsteady breath—then draped the blanket over him. He murmured something and she froze in place.
Beauty and The Best (Once-Upon-A-Time Romance) Page 24