by Debby Mayne
They reached the sprawling yard in front of the mansion, and she put out her hand.
“It was nice meeting you, Drew.”
He took her hand but just held it for a moment. “Yes. Do you think you’d like to get together for coffee or something tomorrow? Maybe after work? That is, do you have specific working hours, or—”
“Oh. I can’t tomorrow. I actually have a pretty full schedule right now. Harvey has some business meetings going on here, and I need to feed everyone. Maybe in a few days? The weekend?”
“Saturday? Sure. You want to give me your number?”
They pulled out their phones and exchanged numbers.
He made a point of walking away when she did, rather than standing there and watching her leave. He was in too good of a mood now and didn’t want her to see just how happy she had made him. Too obvious, and too soon.
He wanted to at least save some surprises for the next time they met.
Chapter Eleven
Nikki wrestled with opposing emotions on Saturday morning. She busied herself by making raspberry blintzes for Harvey, but her thoughts kept bouncing between her plans to meet Drew for coffee later today and her disappointing loss of the house. She couldn’t seem to shake the latter.
“What can I help you with, Nikki?” Harvey broke into her concentration when she brought his breakfast to the dining room.
“Hmm? Oh, Harvey, I’m sorry. Am I that obvious? I thought I was more poker-faced than that.”
“I’ve never been a fan of poker.” Harvey sipped his coffee. “And I hope you feel comfortable enough here that you don’t feel the need for pretense around me. You’ve been a bit off your game the last couple of weeks.”
She gasped before she caught herself. “Have I? You should have said something earlier! Have the meals—”
He put up his hand to stop her. “I don’t mean your work, dear.” He leaned back where he sat at the head of the table and gently patted his stomach. “Do I look as if I haven’t been eating well?”
Nikki laughed. If there was one thing Harvey was not, it was portly. He was actually very slim and seemed in fine health, especially for an eighty-eight-year-old man.
“No,” he said, “I mean your—your…” He put up his palms, waiting for the right words to fall. “You usually give me a harder time than you’ve been doing lately. You’re being far too nice. Almost polite. And that tells me there’s something wrong.”
Nikki rested her hand on her hip and smiled. “Harvey, you’re the most unusual boss.”
“Thank you. I aim to be. Now come and tell me what’s wrong.” He patted the table, and she sat down adjacent to him.
“Well, there are two things, really.”
“Two men?”
“No, not two men! There’s more going on in my life than romance, you know.”
“I’d say everything but.”
She straightened, her eyes wide. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t get out enough. Even Laura seems to go out on dates occasionally, and she has far less joie de vivre than you do.”
Laura. Harvey’s all-business personal assistant. Wow. She had less joie de vivre than a post. Harvey’s comparison rankled Nikki.
“It just so happens that one of my issues does involve a man.”
“Ah!”
“And it’s good.”
“What is, dear?”
“Uh, the issue. I mean, I have a date with him later this afternoon, actually. After you leave for your…whatever. And I’m looking forward to it.”
“So what’s the issue?”
“No issue, really. I’m happy about that. So happy that I’ve been preoccupied lately. In a good way.”
“Wonderful!”
“But that might be part of what you’ve noticed. Maybe I’ve been off my game because I’m thinking about him. Drew.”
“Well, that’s fine. And if things work out with this Drew fellow, I’d like you to feel free to have him come around so I can meet him. I already know he has excellent taste.”
Sometimes Harvey reminded her of her grandfather. She smiled. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”
“And now the second thing? I gather it’s the one that’s put that frown on your face the last few weeks.”
Nikki sighed. “You remember when you hired me and I told you I wanted to eventually put an offer on the house my great-grandparents built?”
“Yes. Lots of good family memories, you said. Such an admirable goal for a young person. While others are out buying fancy sports cars and throwing money away on technological fads, you’re trying to preserve the best from your past. I like that.”
She laughed. “Thanks. But I do have an iPhone, you know. And my BMW isn’t exactly an economy car.”
“Yes, but I’m sure that’s only because I pay you so exorbitantly. If I didn’t, you’d still be focusing on that house at the cost of those amenities. Am I right?”
“I would have been. But that’s all over now. Someone got in there and made an offer on the house before I was able to.”
Harvey had a forkful of raspberry blintz at the ready, but he set the fork back down. “I thought you told me the market was dead on the place. Am I remembering wrong?”
“No, you’re right. No offers at all, as far as I know. And the house has been on the market for more than a year. But someone showed up out of the blue, with the full asking price. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Gone.”
He studied her for a moment before he picked up his napkin and wiped his hands, as if he were ready to leave his breakfast and take action. “Let me make some phone calls—”
“Oh, Harvey, I don’t think so. I really appreciate it, but the contract was put on the house weeks ago. My Realtor would have called me in a flash if the house became available again. For all I know, they’ve already closed the sale.”
“Well, maybe not. I’m not saying I would do anything unethical, but if there were the slightest chance of having the contract fall through, maybe I could influence—”
“No. Thanks. Just thinking about doing something like that gives me an upset stomach. I don’t think God would want me to get the house that way. I need to trust that there’s a reason I didn’t get the house. Maybe I’m putting too much store in an earthly thing.”
“But that’s just it, dear. You were putting store in those memories, not the house, per se. Right?”
She didn’t even have to think hard about the answer, so she had a pretty good idea where it came from. “I can still have the memories, Harvey. I think I have to let my desire for the house go.”
Now Harvey sighed. “All right. If you say so.” He picked his fork up again. “But you let me know if there’s any way I can help out. I want you to get back to harassing me again.”
She mustered a smile for him. “Fine. Eat those blintzes, for goodness’ sakes. I slaved for hours, and you’ve let them get cold. How’s that?”
He considered her remark before giving a brief shrug. “It’s a start.”
* * * * *
Harvey’s concern and offer of help hadn’t come as a surprise to Nikki. That all fit his personality perfectly. Still, he had perked up her attitude considerably. That—coupled with the anticipation of her coffee date with Drew—had her in good spirits that afternoon when she headed out of work. She was a little early, but that just helped her to feel relaxed about the date. She tended to stress when she ran behind schedule.
She took one last check of herself in her car’s rearview mirror before she headed toward Ashworth’s Drug Store. She had suggested to Drew that they meet at the old-fashioned soda fountain in the shop rather than at one of the trendy coffee bars in town.
“The place has been here all my life,” she’d told him on the phone earlier that week. “I think you’ll get a bigger kick out of Ashworth’s than one of the modern coffee bars. It’s a little like a scene from It’s a Wonderful Life.”
That had been a test, of course, whether Drew knew it o
r not.
“Oh, yeah! Where Jimmy Stewart worked as a kid.”
Ah, well done. Sounded as if he liked old movies, as she did. “Exactly. You’ll see what I mean. And if you’re nice, I might even treat you to a hot dog.”
“Please. Don’t insult my sense of chivalry.” He spoke with mock indignation and bluster. “If any hot-dog buying goes on today, I’ll be doing it, young lady. And I’ll hear no more about it.”
So Nikki drove away from Harvey’s thinking of nothing but seeing Drew and getting to know him better. Still, she never drove past Grampa and Granny’s house—as she would always think of it—without giving it a wistful glance.
And this time she saw several men walking into the house. Without a second thought, she pulled over onto the other side of the road. They had left the front door open, as if they planned to walk right back out again, but no one exited while she watched. They had been dressed casually, in jeans and T-shirts. Could someone actually be moving in already? It had only been…what, four weeks? Five? She couldn’t remember when Estelle had dropped the bomb about her losing her house to that…that house swiper.
Her house. Ugh. She simply couldn’t shake that proprietary feeling. She clearly needed to pray about that.
And she would. But not just now. Right now she was dying to see who the usurper was. She shut off her car and stepped out before she could change her mind. In fact, the closer she got to the front door, the more steam she seemed to build up and the more aggressive she felt toward whoever had ruined her well-laid plans.
An older, wiry, leather-skinned man wearing a ball cap stepped out of the house just as she walked up the porch steps. She hesitated, midstep.
The man tipped the brim of his cap at her and gave her a friendly smile. “Afternoon.”
“Oh. Yes. Good afternoon. Are you the, uh, person buying this house?”
He cocked his thumb over his shoulder. “Nope. You’ll find him inside.” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the rolled-up sleeve of his T-shirt.
“Thanks.” She stepped to the front door and experienced such an emotional rush of memories that she literally had to stop moving. It used to be so natural, entering this home without knocking. Knowing her great-grandparents would welcome her anytime. Now she was about to barge in on someone else’s property. Or what would soon be someone else’s property. She couldn’t stand it. Maybe she should just leave. The last thing she wanted to do was become a crying, slobbering mess in front of some stranger who was clueless about her connection with the house.
She heard voices, although she couldn’t hear what they were saying. It sounded as if they were back in the kitchen. Her kitchen.
Ugh. She had to do it. She tapped on the frame of the front door, still uneasy about walking in. “Uh, hello?”
No answer. Not even a pause in the discussion back there. She knocked more loudly and spoke up.
“Hello? May I—?”
“Just go on back there, miss.”
Nikki turned and looked at the fellow on the porch. She wanted to tell him to stop flicking his ashes on the porch. But it wasn’t her porch.
He lifted his chin to point at the inside of the house. “They can’t hear you. But go on back. They won’t bite.”
Huh. It wasn’t their bites she was worried about.
She stepped in and headed toward the kitchen. Just being in here now, under these circumstances, made the loss feel so acute. She clenched her jaw to keep from getting too emotional. She reminded herself that she would still have her memories even if she didn’t have the house.
As she reached the kitchen, she heard one of the men say, “Hey, listen, I have an appointment. You go ahead and lock up when you go. Maybe give me a call tonight and let me know how long you think it will take to gut the kitchen.”
Gut the kitchen! Granny’s kitchen?
She heard his steps as he spoke, and he walked out of the kitchen and nearly collided with her.
She didn’t know who looked more shocked, but Drew’s expression was definitely full of surprise and utter confusion.
“Nikki!”
“You?” She struggled with the disorientation of seeing him here, when she’d pictured him at the soda fountain, possibly waiting for her.
He broke into a grin. “How did you know to find me here? I was just about to head for the soda shop.”
And finally it settled in on her. “You!” She tried to tame the anger in her voice. “You’re the one who’s buying this house?”
She watched confusion cloud his expression.
“Uh, yes. I actually closed on it yesterday. It’s a great house, don’t you think? I was going to invite you to come see it after coffee. Is—is something wrong, Nikki? You okay?”
He was so clearly proud of the place. And he wanted to share his new homeowner’s joy with her. With a jolt, she got a heaven’s-view picture of her outraged heart, and the heat in her face was suddenly more about shame than anger.
“I, um, yes, I’m fine. I knew the house had been sold, and I—I was curious about who the new owner was. You’re right. It’s a terrific house.”
He looked away from her and took in the big, empty place. “I know there’s a lot of work to be done. You know, repairs and remodeling. But there was something about the place that caught my attention right away. I’d love to restore it to its original charm.”
She released a resolute sigh. How could she fault the guy? Yes, he had stolen her dream, but only because it was the same dream he had. Kind of.
A quick prayer passed through her thoughts.
Lord, please help me to be gracious here. It’s not Drew’s fault that I lost the house. Well, it is, but he didn’t mean to rip my heart out. I’m sure he’d feel awful if he knew. No point in both of us feeling awful. But I definitely need You to step in here and keep my mouth shut for me. Truth be told? I’m fighting the temptation to spoil his joy just a little bit.
Chapter Twelve
Nikki was right. Ashworth’s did remind Drew of those soda-fountain scenes from It’s a Wonderful Life. He was glad to sit across from her in the booth so he could look directly into her deep brown eyes—except for the fact that she immediately focused her attention on what was happening outside the window.
“Sometimes I come in here on my own just to relax. I like to sit and watch the people go by.” She tucked her long dark hair behind her ear, and he noticed a small scar at the edge of her eyebrow. He felt an odd relief at that small imperfection.
She sipped her coffee and gave him a comfortable smile before she glanced back out the window. “I always see the same small group of people at work. This is a nice change.”
The day was working its way toward sunset, and a peach-colored light filtered through the window and warmed the color of her face. He liked how delicate her features were. And her short, frilly dress made her look like a dancer. She had a classic beauty about her, but he loved her artistic bohemian flair too.
She turned and caught him staring at her. He started speaking right away to try to cover that. “People-watching. Yeah, I can imagine you’d get stir-crazy working in someone’s house like that.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”
“No, not stir-crazy, that’s not what I meant—”
“It’s a huge house, after all,” she said. “So no, not stir-crazy.”
“Bored. You get bored.”
She frowned, and he did too. They both chuckled uncomfortably.
He shook his head. “Ignore me. I blurted the first thing in my mind because you caught me staring at you. I didn’t want you to think I was some, uh…”
“Weirdo?”
He laughed. “All right. Let’s go with that.”
“I guess if you’re concerned about seeming like a weirdo, you’re probably not a weirdo.”
He waggled his eyebrows at her. “Ah, so my plan is working!”
Yes, delicate features enhanced by that smart, sardonic smile.
“So what prompted you t
o walk into my house today?” he asked. “That was such a pleasant surprise.”
The smile wilted. It was followed swiftly by a frown and finally replaced by a wide-eyed innocence that didn’t look altogether genuine.
“I was…curious. I knew the house had been on the market for quite a while, and when I saw people there, I just wanted to see if the new, um, owner was there.”
“Small world, huh?”
She gave a little cock of her head. “You have no idea.”
He wondered if she was referring to the fact that he kept showing up where she was—at church, in the various parks around town, in front of her house…. He really could be giving her the wrong impression, he supposed. Except in the case of his house, he was there first, so she couldn’t blame him for that one.
“So, you’ve noticed the house before, huh? Have you lived in Cary for long?”
She nodded and still looked a bit on guard. Maybe she had her awkward moments on first dates too. “Yeah, I’ve lived here my whole life. Well, except for when I left for college—”
“At?”
“Johnson and Wales. In Charlotte. A small private university. So I still wasn’t terribly far from home, really. And then I worked for Armand in Charlotte for several years—trained under him, actually. Armand Gaudet. Ever heard of him?”
“Sorry, no.”
She shrugged. “It’s an industry thing. I’ve probably never heard of the titans in the engineering field either. Or even the small fry.”
“Ah, the small fry.” He gave her a casual salute. “That’s where you’re wrong.”
She laughed. “So you’re the small fry?”
“Mr. Fry at your service.” He put out his hand as if to shake hers.
She played along and took his hand. He wasn’t sure, exactly, who was in charge at that particular moment, but neither one of them released the other all that quickly. At once, the friendly gesture felt intimate enough that they both reacted. Judging by the heat rising up his neck, he figured he reddened as much as she did. But he was as pleased as he was embarrassed.