My heart hammers at the thought of using the stove. “I’ll try. And really, how hard can it be?” I ask, picking up the bag.
“Exactly. You just add water and stir.”
As I locate a pan, I watch as Stephen lays out the sandwich fare. Ham, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes, some grassy-looking stuff. There’s thick, crusty bread that he’s going to need to slice.
“Pheebes, where are the measuring cups?” I call to her. She has these really cool headphones that let her hear outside noises.
“The cupboard above the stove. Left side.”
“Thanks.”
I open the door and there they sit.
Measuring carefully I add the water to the pan, before dumping in the dried soup mixture. I turn on the burner.
Stephen is slicing the bread, and his light blue T-shirt does nothing to hide his muscular arms. I find it hard to look away from him. His movements are so graceful. Always. It doesn’t matter what he’s doing.
“We can eat on the terrace,” Stephen says. “It’s nice enough out. Not too hot.”
“Sounds good. As long as we can get five around the table.”
“Five?”
“Yes, five.” I nod my head toward Phoebe. Remember? I mouth.
He nods. “I’ll grab a chair from another table.”
“I’m sorry to be a bother.”
Phoebe’s little-girl voice cuts through the air, causing my heart to drop. “You aren’t a bother. Don’t think that.”
“Well, I’m not supposed to be here. Is my mommy going to be home by Christmas? Will Santa know I’m here instead of in my apartment?”
I walk over to where she sits on the couch and sit next to her. “Honey, Santa knows where to find you. I promise.”
“Can you promise my mommy will be home?”
Hesitating, I look at Stephen who is shaking his head. “No,” I say. “I guess I can’t promise she’ll be home, but I can promise Santa will find you.”
“I miss my mommy.”
Her voice is soft, like it’s on the verge of tears. I can’t blame her. Here she is, left in the care of the man who employs her mom, and a woman she met yesterday. “I know you do. I’m sure she’ll call soon, and you can talk to her on the phone.”
She doesn’t respond. Her little feet keep kicking in time to the beat I barely hear through the headphones.
A sizzling sound interrupts my daydreaming.
“Ah, Cheetah, it’s boiling over.”
I see a flash of Stephen moving across the kitchen to the stove as I leap off the couch. Steam rises from the pan on the stove, while liquid runs down the side. Stephen turns off the burner, and I grab a towel.
“Rule number one,” he says. “When stove is on, stay in kitchen.”
My face heats in embarrassment. The towel quickly becomes soaked as I clean up the mess. Looking into the pan I see little white chunks bobbing in murky water. “I don’t think this is done.”
“Not hardly.”
“What’s burning?”
Phoebe’s voice carries in from the keeping room.
“Burning?” I repeat, seriously wiping up the mess on the stove. “Nothing’s burning.”
“Smells like it.”
Stephen laughs. “You’re right, but it’s okay.”
I carry the sopping towel to the sink and wring it out. Stephen steps around me and pulls open a drawer.
“Here’s a clean towel.”
“Thanks.” I take the towel from him, wipe the bottom of the pan with it, then set the pan back on the burner and turn it on low. “What do those directions, say again? How long do I cook this?”
The crinkle of the bag indicates Stephen is reading. “Twenty minutes.”
“Fine. I’ll stay right here for twenty minutes, then.”
“And stir,” he says.
“And stir.”
I must admit it’s much more fun watching Stephen make the sandwiches than it is watching the soup that won’t boil. After he finishes he places the sandwiches, cut in half no less, on a big platter.
“This isn’t boiling.” I stare into the watery mess.
“You probably need to turn it up.”
“And risk having it boil over again? I don’t think so. But this is taking forever and I wanted to change before your boss gets here.”
“Change?”
“My clothes. Freshen up a little, maybe?”
“I’m not taking over your lunch job.”
The loud noise of the doorbell slices through any answer Stephen might have been about to say.
He looks at me. “They’re early.”
I look at the clock. “Thirty minutes.”
“I’ll answer the door.” He walks out of the kitchen.
I stay beside the stove.
Sounds of greetings float in from the foyer area. I can imagine warm hugs being given. Maybe a stern look from Gary to Stephen, unless Gary’s totally forgotten about the Zaunesia incident.
“Where’s that fiancée of yours?” The female voice rings to me. I hope Phoebe doesn’t pick up on all this talk.
“In the kitchen. Stirring the pot, so to speak.”
The sound of Stephen’s voice causes a quickening inside me, and his innuendo doesn’t escape my notice. I still don’t understand how a man can affect me so much in such a short span of time. A man who doesn’t even want me here.
I hear the sounds of footsteps crossing the tile.
Stephen steps into the kitchen first, somewhat blocking their view of me. “Gary, Alice, I’d like you to meet Jenny.”
He then walks over to stand by me. I watch the expressions on Gary and Alice’s face carefully. Yes, both, at once. Their responses mirror each other. Smiles and curious gazes change with a quick intake of breath, my scar doing its job beautifully.
Alice is the first to speak. Her right hand quickly covers her heart as her lips slowly form the same smile she walked in here with. “Why, hello. It’s nice to meet you, Jenny. I’m Alice. Alice Tatum.”
She steps towards me holding out her hand. With my left hand still stirring the soup, which has yet to boil I might add, I shake her hand with my right hand.
Gary is right behind her, his face familiar from the Skyping incident. As Alice steps back I shake Gary’s hand as well. He is bold in his perusal of my face.
My gaze locks with his. His brown eyes hold compassion, not pity. He’s an older man, more handsome in person than on the computer screen. Brown hair boasting more than a few silver strands is neatly cut, unlike Stephen’s wild, unruly hair.
Gary’s face shows signs of time, weather, laughter. A good face to have at his age. A life well lived.
Alice, on the other hand, has a face that says I’ve had work done. Her impeccable skin, no wrinkles and perfectly applied makeup don’t reveal any clues as to what she’s really like.
What she’s been through.
“I knew you looked familiar.” Gary turns to Stephen. “This is one secret you shouldn’t have kept.”
“Gary, there’s no secret.” Stephen moves toward me.
“Not anymore,” Gary says. “Why didn’t you say she’s the Simply Midnight Jenny Harris?”
I laugh. “Probably because I don’t model for them anymore.” My hand instinctively rises toward my face.
“Jenny.” Stephen’s rough, strong fingers clasp mine, pulling my hand down. “No more, okay? I’ll hold your hand all day if that’s what it takes.”
He’s now looking at me with an I’m-sorry look. I’m not sure if he’s playing this out, or if he’s really sorry. I am sure that his hand holding mine causes me to become nervous. Causes me to lose focus.
Causes me to wish that Stephen was mine.
Because I can tell he’s a protector by the way he has embraced the Phoebe situation. When he loves something or somebody, it’s important to him. He’s a man of integrity and to be honest, I don’t know too many of those.
The ones I thought had integrity have disappointed me one at
a time, leaving the field void of players.
“I don’t mean to delve anywhere I’m not supposed to, but Stephen, come on, your fiancée is not somebody you keep hidden.” Gary’s tone could be considered challenging if there were something to challenge.
And he used the f word. Fiancée.
A wrong I need to make right because Stephen’s honesty and integrity won’t let him lie to his boss, even if it will save his job, or whatever he’s in danger of losing.
But I need a little time. And it’s not helping that Gary is so enthused about the fake engagement.
The warmth of Stephen’s touch spreads through my body. I’m auto-stirring with my other hand, but I’m surprised my body heat hasn’t melted the plastic spoon I’m using to stir the soup.
“Smile.” Gary holds up his phone like he’s going to take a picture.
“No pictures, Gare,” Stephen says.
“Come on. I just upgraded my phone and want to check out the camera.” Gary drops his photographer stance, a puzzled expression crossing his face.
Phoebe walks around the island. “You can take my picture even though I can’t see it.”
The look on Gary’s face can only be described as priceless. “Who are you?”
“This is Phoebe,” Stephen says. “And she can’t see the photo because she’s blind.”
“My mommy had to go to Mexico, so I’m staying with Mr. Stephen and Miss Jenny until she comes back. They said Santa will be able to find me.”
Gary and Alice are shooting glances between me and Stephen.
Stephen speaks. “My housekeeper Teresa had to go to Mexico yesterday because her parents were in an auto accident. Phoebe doesn’t have a passport, so she’s staying here until Teresa can return.”
“But Santa will find me.”
“Of course Santa will find you.” Alice’s voice drips with the tone people use when speaking to small children. Phoebe’s not that small. “He knows where all the children are.”
“And he’s going to bring me everything I asked for.” Phoebe smiles widely after she speaks, and it dawns on me that I have no idea what she wants for Christmas and I doubt Stephen does either.
He’s going to have to ask Teresa when she calls. Without warning, the whole Christmas thing becomes very real. I’m in a house with a child, who’s expecting Santa Claus just like every other child.
“Cheetah, the soup.” Stephen’s voice calls out and for the second time in less than twenty minutes, the soup is boiling over.
WE ARE NOW sitting on the terrace, sandwiches, soup, coleslaw and lemonade in front of each of us.
Stephen’s sandwiches look delicious, the lemonade looks refreshing as does the coleslaw. And my soup, well you can say it looks interesting.
“Stephen, I must say, it’s so endearing the way you call Jenny, Cheetah.”
Alice speaks, carefully, slowly. There is no way any of us will miss what she has to say.
Phoebe laughs. “Cheetah. That’s funny. Isn’t that an animal?”
“It is,” Stephen answers.
I’m doing well to sit here amongst all these people I don’t know. I also have the admitting that “I lied” issue hanging over me until I can get Alice and Gary out of Phoebe’s earshot.
Stephen looks quite comfortable. Relaxed, at home. Well, he is at home. And he’s been around Phoebe for a while. He also knows Gary and Alice.
And he didn’t lie.
“Are the things in the soup supposed to be crunchy?” Phoebe asks.
“Things?” I ask.
“Yeah. The water part tastes good, but the things in there are crunchy.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “You don’t have to eat it.”
I don’t dare look at Gary, Alice, or Stephen, all witnesses of my great cooking failure.
“Stephen and Jenny. You two lean in together. I want to take that picture now, if you don’t mind.” Gary holds his phone up.
Stephen looks at me and raises his eyebrows before he focuses on Gary. “Jenny doesn’t like having her picture taken right now, Gare. Sorry.”
“Just let me take one picture of you two together, I’ll forward it to the people who can forward it to King Jarvis. I think he’ll see that he was mistaken when he accused you of, let’s say, consorting with his daughter.”
“Somehow,” Stephen says, “I don’t think a picture is going to do the trick.”
“Nonsense. It may not do all the convincing, but it will start the ball rolling if nothing else.”
Stephen looks really uncomfortable. And it’s my fault. I have to speak up now. Phoebe or no Phoebe. “Um,” I start. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Can it wait until after Gary takes the picture?” Alice asks. “It’s going to be the only way I can convince my friends that Stephen is taken. They’ve been after me for a long time to fix him up with their daughters, nieces, you name it. If they know anyone single, they’re asking.”
I breathe deeply of the cool Florida night air. “That’s the thing. He’s not taken. So you don’t need the photo.” What a mess.
Gary sets his phone on the table, while Alice sits up straighter.
“Not taken?” she asks. “What do you mean, dear?”
I shake my head and avoid all eye contact. Even Phoebe who can’t see. Trying to steady my nerves, I blurt out the words, “I lied to you. I’m sorry.”
“You lied, Miss Jenny?” Phoebe asks. “Lying is not good.”
“I know, honey. And I’m sorry and now I’m apologizing.”
“That’s good,” she says. “I’m done with my lunch. May I be excused to go listen to my music now?”
Great. Why couldn’t she have said that less than a minute ago? Then I wouldn’t have had to admit to lying in front of her. Oh well, my timing is way off lately. Today is no different.
“Sure, honey. Do you need me to go with you?” Translated, can I put off the explanation for a few more minutes?
“I know my way around, remember?” she says as she pushes her chair away from the table and slowly makes her way to the doors that open into the keeping room.
My placement at the table gives me a view of Phoebe as she reaches the couch. She plugs in her ear phones and starts messing around with her tablet where her music is stored.
But I can only look so long before the silence indicates I need to finish explaining my lie. To strangers, no less. Might as well get it over with. “Gary, Alice, I have to confess to you that I lied about Stephen and me. We’re not engaged.”
Alice pats the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “There, darling. You don’t have to create all this drama simply because you don’t have a ring.”
“A ring?” I have no idea what Alice is talking about.
“Yes. I will admit to noticing right off that you didn’t have one, but that’s not the important part.”
Stephen places his napkin on the table. “Jenny’s serious. We aren’t engaged.”
Alice and Gary exchange glances. Gary shakes his head. “Stephen, son, we’re not buying it. I know we’ve only been around the two of you for a short time, but it’s so obvious. Why are you trying to deny it?”
“Deny what? What is so obvious?”
“That you two are completely in love with each other, that’s what. It’s written all over your faces.” Alice has an expression on her face that says “I’m not a fool.”
I look at Stephen who is looking at me. Like he loves me, apparently. Or maybe that’s how I’m looking at him.
Either way, one or both of us have totally confused the Tatums. And now they need to be unconfused. “Actually, we’re not in love. If you want to know the truth, we met only yesterday.”
Gary laughs and elbows Alice. “These kids today. Stephen, I know you don’t want me sending any photos to Zaunesia, but you don’t have to put Jenny up to a falsehood. Just say you don’t want me to send any pictures.”
Wow. This thing is spiraling out of control. Quickly.
“L
isten. I’m friends with his sister, Katherine. I needed a place to hang out, hide out, for the holidays. She thought Stephen was going to be gone, so she gave me his house key so I could stay here. Then Stephen was here, and it has all been nothing but a mess from the beginning. Including me lying to you about our engagement.”
“Why would you lie about an engagement if you just met him?” Gary asks.
“Well, I heard your Skype conversation, and I didn’t want him to be in trouble.”
“Even though you’d just met him.”
I guess it would sound conceited for me to say I have a big heart, but in reality, I do have a big heart. “Yeah.”
Gary shakes his head. “That little girl in there may be blind, but I’m not. No, sir. So have you set a date yet?”
I don’t have to look at Stephen to know he’s frustrated.
“Look,” I say. “You have to believe me. Stephen and I barely know each other. We aren’t engaged.”
“We can appreciate you wanting to keep quiet about your relationship, but I’m afraid the cat is out of the bag now,” Alice says. “Do you want to tell them, Gary? Or should I?”
“Tell us what?” Stephen asks.
“Go ahead, dear.” Gary’s expression clearly says they are sharing a secret.
“We wanted it to be a surprise but couldn’t figure out how to do it, so we’re going to tell you. When we heard the news yesterday, we were so excited we contacted people from Your Life, Wild Life.”
“You didn’t.” Stephen’s tone clearly indicates a less than favorable situation is about to happen.
“Of course we did. We knew everyone at the magazine would be happy for you. So, the whole staff, except for a couple of them who already had firm plans, is coming to Hampton Cove for a New Year’s Eve engagement celebration for you two. We were fortunate enough to have friends in key places, and we booked a room at the Extravaganza Club.”
The little bit of lunch that I’ve managed to eat rolls in my stomach. “You’ve done what?”
Alice reaches over and pats my hand. “Honey, I know we’ve just met, and please don’t think us forward, but Stephen is like a son to us and we want to celebrate with him. You can invite your family and any friends you’d like. Just make sure to let me know how many so I can inform the club.”
Stephen’s soft grasp catches my hand midair and gently steers my hand away from my face.
Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2) Page 6