by Amberlee Day
“Okay,” Cleo said warily.
“Help me hold him,” Van said. “He’s familiar enough with the routine that he knows when we’re about done. If I don’t hold him tightly enough, he makes a—”
When Samson suddenly decided to exit the shower, and Van in his vulnerable kneeling position was knocked over, Cleo saw a wet, messy disaster was imminent. She threw herself at the scrambling, soaked dog, and tried to hold on. She may as well have been trying to stop a buffalo.
“—run for it,” Van finished. They both sat on their backsides, drenched and defeated, listening to Samson slip and slide as he hurried back to his beloved library fire.
Lily came around the corner just then, eyeing the wet trail the Great Dane had left, and her uncle and mermaid on the mudroom floor. “You should have waited for more towels,” she chastised them. “I don’t think he was dry enough.”
Van was the first to laugh, that deep, happy sound that came from his belly and touched every fiber of Cleo’s being. She laughed too, uncontrollable giggles, and Lily just stood watching them and shaking her head.
“And I’m supposed to be the kid here,” she said. “Who’s going to clean up this mess?”
Cleo wiped her eyes, trying to regain composure. “Here, pass me a towel. I’ll start.”
Van rose, and helped her to her feet. His eyes found hers, the laughter still twinkling there. The feel of his touch on her skin warmed her, sped up her heart, and made her want to throw her arms around him.
Instead, she took the towel Lily handed her. “Thank you. If you want to start here, Lily and I will try to clean up Samson’s path before someone slips.”
Lily’s hand went to her head. “This isn’t going to be fun.”
“Maybe Mrs. Fortney could help, too?” Cleo suggested.
“I’ll recruit some help, as soon as I see someone,” he said, disappearing around the corner. Lily hadn’t moved yet. “Come on, Lily Bean. We’re hunting wet dog today.”
Cleo tousled the girl’s hair as Lily turned to go. “Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Cleo said.
“Yeah, maybe Samson didn’t leave a wet trail through half the house,” Lily said, making Cleo giggle once more before tackling the soggy room.
LILY AND VAN HAD MADE considerable progress, despite having to go back for dry towels twice. Even with a housemaid’s help and one of Gus’s men, Samson had made a mess for the record books. They were mopping the front hallway when Lily said, “My bedroom remodel’s almost done, Uncle Van. You should come see it.”
“That’s great, Lily.” His good spirits had been dampened somewhat from working on his hands and knees for so long. Wasn’t that the point of hiring people, so you didn’t have to do the messy work? “Let me know when you’re finished, and I’ll come.”
“You know,” Lily said, “tomorrow’s the fourteenth.”
“I suppose so.”
“It must be hard for Cleo to be stuck here on Valentine’s Day, without someone to take her out on a special date.”
“Valentine’s Day?” Van hadn’t thought of Valentine’s Day in years, except for an annual box of candy for Lily. The thought of Cleo having a special date gave his stomach a lurch. “Does she date someone in Florida? She’s never mentioned if she does.”
Lily kept her head down, working at the floor. “Nope.”
“How do you know?”
“I asked her.”
Van sat back on his heels. “Of course you did.”
“You know what would be nice,” Lily said, her voice an unnaturally casual tone, “is if you take her out to dinner.”
Van eyed his little niece, who still wasn’t looking up. “Why do I have a feeling you’ve got something up your sleeve?”
“My sleeve is wet.”
“What I mean is, why would you want Cleo and me to go out to dinner? That almost sounds like a ...”
“Like a date? Don’t be silly. You told me you don’t date, Uncle Van. It would just be a nice thing to do. Cleo might not be opposed to dating like you are, but there’s nobody else here to treat her special on Valentine’s Day.”
“Hm.”
“But you know what?” Lily asked brightly. “Maybe there is somebody else who could take her out to dinner.”
That stomach lurch came back. “Who?”
“Rodney.”
Van snorted. Rodney couldn’t have been more than nineteen. “Rodney? Gus’s assistant, Rodney? Shovel-snow, change-the-light bulbs, and clean-the-pool Rodney?” A thought struck him. “Why did you mention him? Do Rodney and Cleo talk much when he’s at the pool?”
“Sure. Why wouldn’t they?”
Cleo and Rodney? That couldn’t really be a thing. She had to be a lot older than him, but probably no further apart than Van and Cleo. He tried to picture the two of them together, but that made his stomach sick. He just couldn’t see it. Then again, both Rodney and Cleo were active, fit people. Maybe they had that in common.
“I don’t know if he would ask her out to a Valentine dinner,” Lily said quickly. “I just meant that I’m glad to think that somebody might, if you aren’t going to do it.”
Van frowned, but his heart started to dance at the thought of spending a romantic evening with Cleo.
“What do you think, Uncle Van?”
Van tossed a dry towel at his niece. “I think you missed a spot.”
Chapter 16
Van battled back and forth a bit about Lily’s idea. In the end, he sent Cleo a note when Mrs. Fortney delivered Cleo’s morning oatmeal.
Cleo
As you may be aware, today is Valentine’s Day. I believe this is a holiday celebrated in all of North America. If you are interested in sharing a meal this evening in celebration of the event, please let me know. I’m thinking dinner, but if lunch works better for you, I would be happy to find a time that works.
Respectfully,
Van Rivers
Not too romantic, he hoped. Cleo responded with a note of her own, dropped off with Leonard.
Van
I had not noticed the date, but I’m relieved to hear that Canadians celebrate Valentine’s Day as well. Dinner would work fine for me. If you could let me know the time and place to meet, I’ll pencil you in.
Best wishes
Mermaid Cleo
Van scratched his chin. He suddenly wished he’d kept a copy of the letter he sent. Had his been this oddly formal, and Cleo meant to match the tone? Or was she back to worrying that he was out to seduce her, and kept her response cool?
He shrugged off the concern and let the anticipation of an evening alone with Cleo buoy him up. She’d said yes, after all. That was the thing to focus on, that and deciding just what their evening plans were going to include.
Lily had suggested he take Cleo to a restaurant, but the afternoon weather forecast showed a big storm front coming in. No, whatever the evening entailed, it would have to be at home. He wasn’t used to planning romantic dinners, though, and wasn’t sure where to start. He decided there was really only one source in the house who knew Cleo better than he did, so he headed to the school room.
Van found Lily focused on her history homework. She only glanced up when he came in. “Yes?”
“Do you have a minute?” He took a seat on the striped loveseat next to her desk. It took her a moment before she stopped typing and gave him her full attention.
“For you, I always have a minute,” she said.
A sad smile touched Van’s face. “How is it you’ve come to be such a young lady, Lily Bean? Where did the little girl go?”
“I’m growing up,” the tiny blonde said matter-of-factly. “What did you want to talk about, Uncle Van?”
“I need your help. Remember your idea about me inviting Cleo to a Valentine’s dinner? Well, I asked her, and she said yes.”
Lily’s eyes brightened, but her expression didn’t change. “That’s nice,” she said, a little too disinterestedly.
Van tilted his head. “Lily Rivers, are y
ou plotting something?”
“What do you mean? You asked her out. I only suggested it.”
“I mean, are you thinking there’s a chance that Cleo and I ...? I’ve told you, I’m not interested in really dating someone.”
“I know.” Lily leaned back in her chair and studied him. “Not that you’ve ever explained why, but yes, you’ve told me that.”
“I have other priorities.”
“Okay.” She said it like it was an invitation for him to explain, but he didn’t.
“Anyway,” Van continued, “Now I’ve asked her, and I need ideas.”
“Like what?”
“Like ... what does she enjoy? At meals she seems to like about anything, but I want to know her favorite foods. And what does she enjoy doing? She went ice skating with us, and we watched that movie together.”
“And she played that game of Life with us, remember?” Lily giggled. “You ended up in the poorhouse.”
Van grimaced, remembering the board game. He hated to lose. “Yes, we did that too. But what does Cleo like to do for fun? Besides swimming.”
Lily’s eyes brightened again, and this time a wide smile lit her face. “I have an idea.”
She returned to her computer, and within a few clicks had just what she was looking for. Van peered over her shoulder. “Yes,” he said. “That gives me a good direction. Thanks, Lily Bean. Don’t let me forget to bring you your box of Valentine chocolates later.”
“Oh, I won’t,” she said. “We women do like our Valentine’s Day to be special you know.”
VAN’S NOTE HAD SAID dinner, and Cleo hoped he realized that she didn’t have an extensive wardrobe with her. Her order of winter clothes had arrived a few days earlier, and it included a wintery red A-line dress, tight black leggings, and tall black boots. Not super dressy, but it was pretty and she’d been looking forward to wearing it. She styled her brunette-and-blue hair in long, loose waves for the evening, and while she borrowed her black false eyelashes from her mermaid costume, she kept the rest of her makeup pretty simple. She hoped it was enough to match whatever Van planned for the evening.
He’d said to meet her at the top of the main staircase. As she headed that way, a little nervous and a lot excited, she giggled. His note had been so formal. It was almost as if one country had invited another to a diplomatic dinner. But then again, they were Canada and the United States. Maybe that’s why he’d written it so formally, to be funny. Teasing, she’d written an equally formal note back, but in reality, she was thrilled that Van wanted to spend a romantic evening with her. She knew he was as drawn to her as she was to him. Electricity sizzled between them whenever they were together, and the looks he gave her confirmed it. What she hoped to find was that he was developing deeper feelings for her as well. While they’d only known each other a few weeks, she only knew that every time she thought of Van, she was filled with warm happiness.
Cleo knew no one was perfect. She’d been around Van several times already when he’d begun to lose his cool, but he always found a way to tone down his temper again. He worked hard, she could see that. He had a good sense of humor, he was a nice person, he carried a handkerchief, he was good with children, he had impeccable manners ... She sighed. She may have been looking through rose-colored glasses, but she was really having trouble coming up with things that were wrong with him.
Cleo leaned on the upstairs railing, looking at the details in the expansive entryway. Footfalls below made her catch her breath, thinking it might be Van, but it was just Mrs. Fortney. She didn’t look up, so Cleo silently watched her pass out of sight. That morning when Mrs. Fortney delivered Van’s note, Cleo joked that she was living the classic governess/master-of-the-house story, and that perhaps she should worry about Van trying to seduce her.
Mrs. Fortney had said, “I think not. If he did, I’d be shocked. Mr. Rivers is a gentleman. More likely it’s his sense of tradition than anything that’s prompted the evening.”
There was something more in the housekeeper’s eyes that Cleo couldn’t quite read, but she didn’t worry about it. She soaked in the happy feeling she had hearing Mrs. Fortney defend Van. Clearly, he’d earned her respect, and that told Cleo a lot.
Opposite her spot by the railing, the high windows above the front door showed a blizzard starting. Cleo was thankful to have a spot in this warm house, away from the weather, and the whole world, even. So often she went through her days in Florida putting on a false smile, wading through the petty jealousies and competition that often came up with work, and the loneliness she felt the rest of the time. Out of habit, she kept her head down to avoid real interaction. But these weeks at Eagle Hill, she’d felt happy.
Something brushed her elbow, and at the same time a voice spoke into her ear. “Spying on Mrs. F?”
Cleo jumped, and turned to face Van. She wondered if he could see the thrill that pulsed through her at his nearness—and if he did, did she mind that he knew? “Not on purpose,” she said. “Just waiting for my Valentine date.”
She’d said it lightly, with a smile, but for some reason Van’s jaw tightened. “It’s not a date,” he said. “It’s just an evening.”
A pinprick of disappointment stabbed at her good spirits, but didn’t sink them. “Of course,” she said. “Lead the way.”
She expected they would head downstairs to one of the many rooms she had yet to become familiar with, but when Van offered his arm, he led Cleo down the upstairs south wing, where the larger bedroom suites were.
“Interesting,” Cleo said. “Since I know you wouldn’t lead me to anywhere inappropriate, such as your bedroom, I’m guessing there’s some part of the house in this direction that’s intended for entertainment.”
Van chuckled. “You do speak your mind, Cleo.”
“I try to. Life’s easier when we’re up-front and clear.”
“I couldn’t agree more, although sometimes a bit of discretion can be a good thing.”
What does that mean? Does he think I’m crass? “I didn’t mean—”
Van paused and gave her a frank look. “I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else. I didn’t mean you.”
Cleo nodded, but she was confused. Just when she thought she understood Van Rivers, he said something cryptic like that. She shook it off, determined to enjoy the evening.
As Van led the way down the hallway, past a great many doors, Cleo chatted about her first synchronized swimming lessons with Lily. “She’s got a knack for it,” Cleo said. “Of course, that’s what I’ve been secretly leading her up to.”
“Your evil plan? To get my niece involved in synchro?”
Cleo laughed. “You make it sound like a ridiculous word. For the record, I didn’t make it up. Synchro is a legitimate nickname used for the sport.”
“You have to admit, it sounds a little silly. Don’t you think?”
“No, Van, I don’t think nicknames are silly. Or should I call you Vandermeer?”
Van cringed. “Nobody calls me that.”
“Maybe not, but it’s your name.” She enjoyed his reaction when she teased him. “I had Uncle Google investigate you.”
“Okay, you’re right. Sometimes there’s a good reason for a nickname. Synchro. I guess I just need to get used to it.”
“Nothing like saying it to get used to it,” she said brightly.
They’d reached the far end of the hallway, a place Cleo had never been to before. Two doors faced them, a large one straight ahead, and a smaller one to the right.
“Which way?” Cleo asked. “Or do I get to pick? Door number one, or door number two?”
“I don’t recommend door number two,” Van said. “It’s just another staircase down to the kitchen hallway.”
“Really? I don’t remember seeing a third set of stairs.”
Van opened the door so she could look. Inside, a narrow stairway spiraled downward. “There’s a door at the bottom,” he said. “You’ve passed it before. It’s just outside the mudroom. It’s
really meant as a servants’ back way up here. Not very fancy.”
“Then let’s go with door number one.”
“Door number one it is.”
That door also opened to a stairway, a wide one that led up to a landing and then back again the other direction, to a room infused with soft white lights, old-timey romantic music, and the swirling motion of the snowstorm outside.
“An atrium!” Cleo exclaimed. “It’s gorgeous.”
“It is, isn’t it? My father had it built for my stepmother originally. She didn’t like winter sports, and spent a lot of time in here in the winters when she felt cooped up.”
“Have your parents been gone long? You’ve never spoken of them.”
“They’ve been gone about six months.”
Cleo jolted. “Both of them? So recently?”
Van laughed and reached over to touch one of her curls, making her knees go weak. “They’re in Europe,” he said. “Since my father turned the business over to me, he and my stepmother travel most of the time. They spend a month in Venice, two months in Versailles. Right now they’re with friends in Copenhagen, something about supporting a new museum exhibit.”
Cleo nodded. “You said stepmother. Did she raise you?”
“They married when I was a teenager. She’s a good person. She’s always done her best by us.”
“Us?”
Van had turned away, straightening items on a beautifully laid wooden table. “Lorraine and me. Lorraine is my sister, Lily’s mother.”
“Oh.” Cleo had somehow forgotten that Lily would have had a mother, or anyone in her life other than Van.
Before she could ask any more questions, he pulled out a chair for her. “Shall we eat? It looks like everything’s hot, and Mrs. Fortney said we definitely wouldn’t like to eat this cold.”
When they’d settled down at the table, Van took the cover off a large platter. It was filled with stuffed, crunchy tacos. Cleo gasped. “How did you know? Tacos are my favorite.”