She could think of nothing to say. Just what is he proposing? That maybe I should move in with him? That thought was ridiculous.
“I mean, Althea, would you go out with me again? Maybe start over on the other foot? We sort of got onto the wrong one.”
She considered him soberly over the top of his file, holding his contract, recalling their few dates, the dinners and dancing. It had been fun, and there had been no need, no desire, to get serious. Well, why not? I don’t go out anywhere. But now there’s Miles. Maybe. She pushed Miles into another part of her mind, in spite of the haunting song he had written for her, the intoxicating kisses, the promise of so much more. But it was just a hinted at promise, an implication. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since Saturday, but, she had never heard from him. He had never called her, just showed up when he felt like it. She asked, “What do you have in mind?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know, like we did before, dinner somewhere nice and then The Club afterward for drinks?”
That sounded okay, fun and safe, and she needed a break. She asked, “When?”
“I know you have to work at the stand and you have all that farm stuff, but . . .” he smiled slightly. “How about tomorrow, Friday? There’s that group at The Club we liked, that trio that played the fifties hits. They’ve come back . . .”
She recalled the three older musicians. They were indeed good, and played very danceable music. She relented and decided to take the chance. Why not? Barry’s not a bad sort. “Friday would be fine.” She put his contract on the desk. “You still have the security deposit. Do you want to use that for the last month’s rent?”
“Oh, sure, that would be great. I hadn’t thought about that. And I’ll pick you up on Friday. Around sixish?”
“I’ll be at the stand. As usual.”
He pushed himself to his feet. “Thanks, Althea. We can go to that restaurant again, the last place we went.”
“Sure, Barry, I’d like that. Do you want to sign here?” She indicated the papers in her hand.
He reached across the desk for the contract and pen and regarded the papers. “Just take up where we left off?”
She wasn’t too sure about that. Many things had changed in the last three months. “I’ll have to think about that, it’s been so long, but I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Great.” He put the contract down on the desk. “I understand.”
She watched him scribble his name, added her signature below his and handed him his copy. “We’re all square.” She wondered if they really were. “It’s been nice having you as a customer.” It was what she always said when a deal was closed.
He grinned at her, finally relaxed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, and thanks.”
She returned his smile without answering. She could think of nothing to say. She watched the door close behind him and then went back to her paperwork. What have I gotten myself into? Do I really want to out with him, after Miles? Do I want anything after Miles? Do I really want Miles?
Miles promised so much and gave so little. He had offered her a glimpse of ecstasy, then casually withdrawn it. It’s his arrogance. His self-assured assumption that I’m waiting for him, that I’ll always be there in the arbor when he decides to come. That writing a song will be enough.
She sighed. Maybe writing a love song was enough. For now. No one had ever kissed her as he had. No one had ever affected her like that. But would he be back, even if he had promised? She didn’t know. With Miles, she admitted reluctantly, she really knew nothing. Or about him. Maybe a fun and casual evening with Barry would help her see her way more clearly. She hoped so and mentally crossed her fingers. And how would Miles react if he heard she had gone out with someone else? She didn’t know how he would find out and she didn’t know how, or if, she could tell him.
At closing time on Friday afternoon she walked down to the stand, dressed casually in a print cotton skirt and a rose-colored shell. She had added a string of gold beads that had belonged to her grandmother and dangling earrings, just dressy enough for the occasion.
Connie, who was closing the stand, eyed her speculatively. “Who’s the lucky guy? I didn’t know you were dating.” She laughed. “Not Miles Davidov, I would guess. He doesn’t seem the sort.”
“No, not Miles.” She hesitated, wondering how much to say. “I’m going out with Barry Sanford again. He came into the office to close his account with us and asked. For old times’ sake.”
“Um.” She studied Althea for a long minute through narrowed eyes. “I kind of liked Barry. Seemed like a sensible sort. Proper business man, well-connected.” She paused, looking closely at her. “Miles comes in once in a while and asks about you.”
“Really? Asks how?”
Connie shrugged. “Just conversation.” She turned away. “I know he comes around on weekends. Ed mentioned it.”
“He has. But he’s never asked me out or anything.”
“Give him time and he probably will. He’s an odd one.” She added enigmatically. “And about as handsome as they come.”
“That he is.”
“But handsome is as handsome does. Ed likes him. He was impressed by his mechanical know-how, I think Ed called it, when he found out what was wrong with the pump when nobody else did, or could. They talk once in a while about tractors or something.”
Althea nodded. “That was impressive.” She tried to find another word, although Miles was impressive in several ways. “And he writes music.” She didn’t want to think about Miles tonight. Tonight was Barry’s.
Connie asked, “Really? I know he plays with that odd group somewhere. Glo mentioned it.”
She hadn’t known that Glo talked to Connie. She said, as noncommittally as she could, “And quite nicely, too.”
Connie laughed. “Playing or songwriting?”
“Both.”
A dark blue Honda sedan pulled into the parking area, stopped, and Barry climbed out.
Althea said, thankful for the interruption. “Here’s my date. You don’t mind, do you, my leaving you with closing up?”
“Have fun,” Connie said. “You deserve some.”
But as she got into the car, she looked beyond Barry for a moment. Miles was standing by the arbor watching them. He looked fixedly at her, then turned abruptly and left. Althea let Barry help into the car and close the door behind her.
What, she wondered, was Miles thinking now? Had he been waiting for her as he usually did? Will I see him again? She regretted for a moment her decision to go with Barry, but her stubborn sense returned. It’s his own fault. I can do as I please. That’s what he does. But that small corner of her heart reminded her that he had written her a beautiful song. And his kiss had awakened, restored, and revived her old longing for a lover in the rain. Just what his song had unknowingly said.
BARRY AND ALTHEA
The restaurant was as she remembered it, quietly elegant, tables well spaced, lighting subdued, waiters both friendly and polite. She declined alcohol and asked for coffee. Barry ordered a piña colada.
She picked up the menu. “Have you been here since . . .”
He didn’t look at her. “No. I haven’t had any reason. Busy, you know.”
“Me, neither. I don’t do restaurants very often. Too much to do.”
“I suppose. Gardens in the summer, tending the stand. All of that.”
“All of that. Yes.”
He seemed to run out of chatter and concentrated on the menu. “I think I’ll have the baked haddock. I remember they do it well.”
Fish wasn’t her favorite and she seldom ordered it. “The stuffed pork chops sound delicious.”
He didn’t answer that. She thankfully saw the waiter approaching with the beverages and closed the menu.
When the waiter had taken their
orders and gone, Barry asked, “Has the dry weather affected you much? Your gardens? The weather people are calling it a drought.”
“I guess it is, but my water supply seems to be okay. At least for now.”
“That’s good.” He seemed to be in control of himself again, more assured. “It was kind of fun, interesting, to walk through them last spring when everything was just coming up.”
She laughed. “Now much of that is gone and the rest is getting ready to pick. Like tomatoes and cucumbers.”
“I’ll have to drive out one day and take another look.”
She smiled at him. “Any time.”
The conversation felt forced, stilted, and Barry seemed ill at ease, sitting stiffly, sipping at his drink. She asked, for want of a better opening, “So, how’s your work? You were into some kind of new program, I remember.”
He smiled, relaxed against the chair back and put his drink down. “Fine. I went through that training I’d started, what I told you about, moved to another division.” His tone was self-assured again, comfortable. “It’s all coming along well. We have a couple of new products.”
“That’s great.” She smiled at him, picked up her coffee cup, and realized that she didn’t care all that much. “It’s always nice to see progress.”
He leaned toward her, his eyes bright. “That’s another reason for moving to my own place. Better job, better pay, more to offer, you know. Going up in the world.”
She did know, and thought she knew where he was heading. She didn’t want to go there, at least not right now. How do I steer him off that line of thinking about me? Before she found a neutral comment, the waiter appeared with a basket of rolls and their salads. Relieved, she said, “That bread smells wonderful.”
“It does.”
The bread was soft and warm, and she spread the butter lavishly. “Sometimes it’s really nice to go to a good restaurant and let other people serve you good food. Things you wouldn’t cook for yourself.” She wondered if that sounded as inane to him as it did to her.
He agreed, helping himself to a roll. “We could do this more often, you know.”
She took a generous bite of the roll. “But there is the problem of work, and other commitments, and having time.”
He sighed. “Yeah.”
She relented. She was here with Barry and she needed to be polite. She had no idea where Miles might be, what he was doing, or who he was with. He has never made any commitment where I’m concerned. But he had been there in the arbor watching them leave. “So, let’s make the most of this evening. I haven’t been to The Club since we went last spring, and you know I love to dance.”
“I remember.”
The meal was as good as she expected it to be, and she indulged afterward with a piece of marvelous strawberry cheesecake and another cup of the excellent coffee. She listened to Barry’s small talk about his job, his prospects, trying not to encourage him too much. They talked about the weather, the Red Sox, although she was not a fan. He at least deserved her undivided attention. And she attempted to provide it. It’s only for this evening, isn’t it?
The combo at The Club played the kind of music she liked to dance to and she gave herself wholeheartedly to the enjoyment of it. Barry was an expert dancer, and she fit into his arms, following his lead through complicated steps of new dances with little problem. The music was lively, invigorating, and she let it fill her heart and soul, lifting her above the problems of the day. That is what music is for. What Miles told me.
He had intruded on her mind again and she put him firmly away.
When Barry left her at her door, she accepted his goodnight kiss and promised to consider another night out. But it, he, wasn’t what she wanted.
She thought about it after she had gone to bed, when sleep didn’t come easily. She attributed it to the stimulation of the music, the excursion into a kind of life she had once enjoyed but no longer wanted. At least not with Barry Sanford.
Then there was Miles, watching them from the arbor. He had been too far away for her to see his expression.
She closed her eyes, recalled what work needed to be done tomorrow, concentrated on a patch of blue hubbard squash, and finally slept.
MILES’ REACTION
Sunday was overcast but no rain was forecast. It was cool enough, however, to provide a respite from the unseasonably muggy weather of the past few days. Althea spent the morning tending the stand, talking with customers, and catching up on neighborhood news. Ed had been busy on Friday, so she was well stocked with beets and carrots, cucumbers, the end of the corn, butternut squash and a new basketful of fancy gourds – everything she needed and most of what she wanted for mid-September. She needed to think about the coming season, the true harvest, the end of the growing season, but not right now.
There was a crispness in the morning air, and the omens indicated it was going to be a glorious New Hampshire fall. The swamp maples had already turned their usual brilliant crimson and the other maples and birches were showing traces of gold and orange. The ferns along the edges of the parking area were yellow, and the wild asters were coming into bloom, a multitude of shades of lavender and white, with the magnificent New England asters, the Michaelmas daisies, the last to bloom, already in bud. There was a big clump of them at one edge of the parking lot. The pots of mums she had ordered would arrive tomorrow.
After she closed the stand, she stood in front of it for a moment, breathing deeply of the scents of clean air, of mown grass, and the few hardy roses that still bloomed at the base of the arbor, some old variety Aunt Emily had found that lingered until frost. She could see a few of the vibrant pink petals in the foliage as she crossed the lawn.
Miles was in the arbor, sprawled on one of the benches, softly playing his harmonica. She didn’t recognize the tune. She sighed and sat down on the opposite bench, tamping down her pleasure at seeing him. She hated to admit, even to her innermost self, that she missed him.
He glanced at her over his instrument, finished the song with a flourish, and put it down. “So,” he said, “did you enjoy your night out with the business boy?”
She lost what pleasure she had felt in his presence. “Business boy?”
Miles shrugged, grinning at her infuriatingly. “I’ve seen him at one of those companies I work for once in a while. He’s the up-and-coming middleman sort. Rather stuffy, I’d say. Not your kind at all.”
“And how do you know what my kind is?”
He stretched out his long legs, crossed his ankles and leaned back against the cushions. “You’re a free spirit, Althea. You want the wide open skies, the freedom to do as you please.” He paused, eyed her somberly. “To walk in the rain on Thursday.”
She knew that was true, that Barry wasn’t what she needed. Neither are you, no matter how you make me feel. He made her feel good when he wasn’t being overbearingly smug. She hated to admit that he was filling a need. “And how do you know that about Barry?”
“Barry, is it? I never heard his name.” He shrugged. “I guess he’s smart enough, in a pedestrian sort of way. He’ll do well at that place. He’s their sort.” He glanced sideways at her. “Not yours.”
She wondered how much of that he actually knew, how much he was surmising, and just how much was his arrogance and superiority. He did sound a little jealous, and that was gratifying. “So how do you know all that? Seeing you didn’t even know his name.”
Miles picked up his harmonica again. “I can tell by looking, usually. He’s way too serious. Not at all a walk in the garden sort.”
“And just how much did you work with him?”
Miles shrugged again. “Enough.” He blew a few clear notes.
She recognized “My Darling Nellie Gray” and it offended her. No one had bound her in chains and dragged her away. She was nobody’s slave
and had gone with Barry because she wanted to. And would go again. When he put the instrument down, she said, “You do play well, Miles, but I don’t care for that song.”
“Too sad for you, is it?”
She didn’t answer, simply scowled at him.
“So, poor Nellie.” He picked up the harmonica again.
She had to admit that “Wait Till the Sun Shines, Nellie” was much more cheerful, and it was hard not to smile. And if Miles sang it, it would probably sound much like Buddy Holly. He was a very good mimic. And very good at conveying his thoughts this way, through the songs he chose. She didn’t comment.
“So, no more Nellies? Okay. This is more you.”
She tried not to laugh. “My Wild Irish Rose” was much more like Miles. But am I, too? Can I really stand his moods, his oh-so-superiorness? “I think you are the wild one, Miles. I’m pretty tame, right here on the farm. Where I plan to stay.”
He put the harmonica on the bench beside him again. “Don’t you ever long to see the rest of the world? See what’s out there? Experience it all?”
There was a wistful note in his voice, as if he longed to fly away somewhere and couldn’t. Her heart responded to it, in spite of her resolve. She had such thoughts. And going away with him might be kind of fun. Exciting, anyway. If she could only trust him. “Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”
His eyes smiled into hers, and she was once again lost in their gray-green depths. “Just to sit here with you, my Bonny Thea, and convince you that there is more to this world than a vegetable garden.”
She pulled her gaze away and got control of her wits again. “With you?”
“In time.”
She wondered how much time he was allotting to conquering her. How much he enjoyed the conquest and not the capture. She didn’t like that concept and didn’t comment. She was not about to be conquered by anyone, even Miles. Especially not by Miles.
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