Unexpected

by Karen Tuft

  Neil looked up from his plate. “But this Natalie is immune to your magnetic charisma, and we know this how?”

  “I asked her to dance. Well, technically, I asked Mom to dance, and she blew me off and told me to find another partner. Natalie was in the room, so I asked her. We danced; I swung her around, plied her with my best moves, and used all my charm. To no avail.” He smiled with mock chagrin.

  “How’d y’all like my pie?”

  Ross forked up a huge bite and winked at LaTaundra.

  “Honey, if I weren’t already married, I’d be down on my knees begging,” Neil said.

  LaTaundra grinned and threw a hand on her hip, striking an alluring pose. “I could fatten you up plenty too, sugar. You all just bones. But you’d have to fight my man DaRonne for me, and DaRonne would knock you into next week. He don’t like sharing me with no other men. Even if they do appreciate my fine cooking skills.”

  Neil threw his hands over his heart as LaTaundra turned and left them again. “Wounded!”

  “DaRonne is one lucky guy. And Janis will be relieved, I’m sure,” Ross said.

  “Mmm. So what’s the next step with this Natalie?” Neil asked.

  “There is no next step. I only thought you’d find the story entertaining, considering my history with women,” Ross said.

  “She seemed to be spending a lot of time in the kitchen with the kids. Doesn’t that seem unusual for a guest?”

  “She was working for us that night. Part of that included supervising the grandkids, I guess. My sisters made the arrangements.” Come to think of it, if Natalie had been involved with the grandkids too, she’d done even more than he’d realized. He was glad the check he’d written for her had been a generous sum.

  “So, tell me. Is she someone you could see yourself dating or in a relationship with?” Neil asked.

  Ross realized he’d let his guard down too far with his old bishop and had said too much. He could tell where this line of questioning was leading. And the answer, not that he was going to share it with Neil, was that the kind of relationship he intended to have with Natalie Forrester was the employer/employee kind. She was attractive, yes, with her blonde hair and curvy figure and her big green eyes, and, yes, her talents had surprised him. But being a single mom with three kids, one of them old enough to be serving a mission, was enough of a warning sign to make anyone stop and consider what a date with her might mean.

  “It’s not what you think, Neil. Natalie is my housekeeper. I get the impression she was lucky to even graduate from high school. That is definitely not the type of woman for me, no matter how green her eyes are.” Ross paused and waited to see if his old friend planned to argue the point with him. He didn’t, and Ross relaxed. “Now tell me how Janis and the boys are doing.”

  After finishing catching up, they dropped cash on the table to cover the tip. It had been a quick lunch, both men with fully booked afternoons, and Ross was taking an early flight out the next day.

  They shook hands and said their farewells, but Neil seemed reluctant to leave.

  “Ross,” he began. “I know it’s a sore subject, but I need to ask. Do you ever hear news about Liz?”

  “Elizabeth Turner Bancroft, attorney at law,” Ross said, trying to keep the acid out of his voice. “Last I heard, she’d accepted a position with a Boston firm. But that was a few years back. Why bring her up now?”

  Neil grimaced. “The gossip around town is that her firm is opening an office in Manhattan and she’s on the short list to relocate here. Whether she does or not remains to be seen. But I thought you should know.”

  Despite himself, Ross’s stomach knotted. He’d moved on from Liz years ago. And yet, hearing Neil talk about her brought some of the pain back. He fought it. “Well, then, it’s a good thing I’m spending most of my time in Utah these days, isn’t it?” He pulled Neil in for a quick hug. “I appreciate your concern for me, Neil, more than you know. But I’m fine. It’s been a long time. I’ll see you the next time I’m in town.”

  Neil looked relieved. “I’m glad to hear it, old friend. And next time you’re in town, you’re coming over to the house for a home-cooked meal. Janis will insist on it.”

  “It’s a deal,” Ross said.

  As he pushed his way through the revolving door of his building, Ross tried to reassure himself that he’d been telling Neil the truth when he’d talked about Liz.

  Chapter 13

  The first thing Ross noticed when he walked into his home from the airport was a stack of money sitting on the kitchen table with a note from Natalie simply stating, “Too much.” He thumbed through the bills, quickly calculating that she had deducted what would have amounted to her hourly rate for both her time at the party and the Saturday she had spent helping his mother. The balance was now in his hands.

  He shook his head and chuckled. He couldn’t help it. He was mildly irritated and begrudgingly impressed. She hadn’t waited for him to return to ask him to write a different check. That would have required a confrontation with him, something he already knew she would avoid if at all possible. It had also allowed her immediate access to funds he was sure she needed without waiting for him to return from his trip. Since his trips were frequent and frequently long, this was a prudent step on her part if she needed the money quickly. She may not have a college education but she was no dummy, this one.

  What would happen, he wondered, if he were to force a showdown about it with her? The thought was intriguing. He, seasoned attorney that he was, wasn’t one to back away from a confrontation. But Natalie Forrester would wriggle and look for an escape. That could be interesting. His previous encounters with her had all been fairly amusing. He hadn’t been this entertained in years. He’d forgotten how it felt, actually. And it felt pretty good.

  By the time he’d showered and checked his watch, he’d decided he was going to do it. He’d promised Brett he’d catch part of his football game because the season was winding down, but he figured he still had a small window of time before heading to the high school. He was going to face her down about the money. She was being foolish. He didn’t need the money, and she did.

  But more than that, he felt devious and slightly wicked. He never knew what to expect from her, and the thought of pinning her strategically and watching her try to maneuver out of it made the legal shark in him smile.

  He pulled up in front of her tiny home fifteen minutes later. Her little Ford Focus sat in the driveway, so he was fairly certain she was there. He briefly wondered why she didn’t park in her garage, but the thought passed as he rang the doorbell. He waited a few minutes and was about to ring again when he heard, “Come on in!”

  Ross quietly shut the door behind him. He could hear Natalie talking, apparently on the telephone, then she yelled, “I’ll be right there! Get comfy.” So he did.

  He hadn’t really paid attention to Natalie’s home when he’d been here before, so he took a moment to look around. The living room was exactly that—a “living” room. It breathed. The furniture was clean but worn, arranged for comfortable conversation over a faded carpet, the striped slipcover on the sofa mostly neat, with a slightly sat-in look. Pillows in bold florals added energy but also looked soft enough to stick behind his head while reading a book. And on the subject of books, there was a large stack on an end table next to a unique, eye-catching lamp. He browsed through the stack: Jane Austen—no real surprise there—a compilation of Greek myths, a paperback copy of Othello, and The Great Gatsby. Pretty eclectic, he thought. There was a comprehensive volume on ancient civilizations, and, of all things, a how-to book on papier mâchè. He picked it up, thumbed through the pages briefly, and noticed it was a library book. They all were.

  There were framed photographs on the wall, as well as on the simple wood mantel above her fireplace. Some black-and-whites of Natalie’s girls and a tall, dark-haired young man he assumed was her missionary son. Funny, Ross thought. He had pictured her son looking different—more like her. Ross
noticed a closely cropped photo of a grizzled old man, his light eyes piercing and direct. It was the type of photo he thought could win an award of some kind, somewhere.

  Who was this Natalie Forrester who cleaned his house, tap danced horribly, and carved pumpkins into works of art? He glanced toward the kitchen; he could hear her still speaking on the phone. He didn’t want to eavesdrop, but she wasn’t really trying to keep her voice down either.

  “It isn’t worth it . . . I have talked to him. I talk to him more than I’d like . . . no . . . Dad, no. I have to keep the girls’ feelings in mind. I can’t just . . . I appreciate it, really, but I’m fine. We’re fine. No, don’t you dare. You need that money for . . .” There was a long pause. Ross felt uncomfortable listening, but the room was small, and the sound carried without much effort on Natalie’s part. “I’ll only send it back if you do. I mean it. I need to go now; I have company. No—heavens, no! Not that kind. Tori. Yes, I’ll tell her. Love you. Talk to you soon.”

  Ross grabbed the closest magazine, which thankfully was the Ensign and not some woman’s fashion rag, and proceeded to look busy reading. He figured it would create a more believable picture than perusing a book on papier mâchè.

  He glanced up at her gasp, innocent expression firmly in place. He started to smile until he saw the look on her pale face. It held more than just a look of surprise, which was what he’d expected to see. Layered on top of it was a world-weariness he’d not expected. He’d never seen it on her before. It twisted something inside of him.

  “You’re not—” she started.

  The phone rang.

  She took a moment to check the caller ID before answering the call. “Tori,” she said quietly, and then she was silent, just listening for a few minutes. Ross laid the Ensign down on the table and straightened. “No, it’s okay. Tell her I hope she feels better soon. We’ll do it another time. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She closed her cell, obviously distracted.

  “Big plans cancelled?”

  “Just a girls’ night with my friend.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” She seemed to realize suddenly that he’d shown up unexpectedly at her house and asked warily, “Why are you here?”

  Ross knew her earlier phone conversation with her dad had included a confrontation about money. From the looks of her, she didn’t need another one, not even in jest. His wicked plans of torture dissolved on the spot. He would play straight with her. “I got home from D.C. today and saw that you’d left money on my kitchen table.” He held his hands up, palms forward, when she started to object. “I was going to hassle you about it. I’m not going to now.”

  “It was too much!” she said indignantly. “I couldn’t take that kind of—”

  “You worked for it.”

  “I don’t charge that much for what I do.”

  “Maybe you should in this case.” He gave her a teasing smile. “At the firm, we constantly factor in damages for pain and suffering.”

  “Helping with your mother’s party wasn’t painful.”

  “Maybe not for you, but it saved me a boatload of pain and suffering to have you help her, and you should be compensated for that.”

  “Do you know what the hourly rate would have been if I’d taken that money?” She looked like she wanted to start pacing, but she stood there stiffly instead.

  He shrugged. “Roughly.” He hadn’t figured it out to the penny, but he was aware of how much he paid her on an hourly basis. His check for the party had been for significantly more, but he’d felt relief that it had gone well—and was over.

  “It’s what professionals, doctors, you know, that type of—make. I don’t—” She was struggling to find the words. “I’m not—” Her mouth was a firm line, but he thought it quivered a little. She raised her chin just a little. “You don’t pay someone like that just to clean toilets.”

  “I don’t think you realize—”

  “Housekeepers aren’t worth that kind of money.”

  “Okay.” What’s the big deal if she gets a little windfall? he thought, feeling irritated now.

  “And I won’t take charity, not from you. Not from anyone.”

  “Okay,” he said again. He took in her face, her determination and pride, and his irritation evaporated. “Good for you,” he said.

  “Don’t patronize me!” Her face flushed pink, then paled. She expelled a huge breath and walked to the window. “I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way. I’m sorry.”

  Ross studied her tense shoulders, watched her massage her temples. He had a fleeting urge to rest his hands on those shoulders and ease the burden that seemed too large for them. It would just be a friendly, comforting gesture from an employer to an employee. Nothing more. And yet, some very primal instinct warned him that if he did, he would be stepping on dangerous ground, ground he had long avoided. He compromised and offered conciliatory words instead. “I’m sure it was the disappointment from having to cancel your plans and the shock of seeing the big bad wolf at your door.”

  She tried to smile. He gave her credit for that. He almost saw that single dimple start to emerge.

  “Whatever the reason, there is no excuse,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “All is forgotten.”

  “And you’re not exactly the big bad wolf.”

  Yeah, he figured her big bad wolf was some jerk of a guy with the last name of Forrester.

  Suddenly, she brightened. “You can do me a favor, since you’re here. I have a gift for your little niece. Will you take it with you? Will you be seeing her anytime soon?”

  “Probably.” Why would she have anything for his niece? Was this some kind of back door way of ingratiating herself with him? His well-developed suspicions went on alert.

  “Great! I’ll be right back.” She headed through the door into the kitchen.

  Curious, Ross followed. It was an old Formica and linoleum kitchen, but she’d managed to make it cheery. He saw her go through another door, which had to lead to that unused garage.

  “What’s in here?” He peeked in after her and saw worktables and boxes all over the place and no room for a car. That explained the Focus in the driveway. All over the worktables, resting on open newspapers, were white blobs of something in various shapes, roughly the size of his fist.

  She opened a cupboard, removed something small, and was placing it in a brown bag when he came behind her and looked over her shoulder.

  “Let me see.”

  He heard her take a deep breath as she reluctantly drew the item out of the bag. She quietly held it up for his inspection.

  There, in her hand, sat a fairy, or an elf; he wasn’t sure exactly which. She had a round little face with apple cheeks and a mass of auburn hair. She wore a vivid orange dress that plumped out around her and was trimmed with curling grape vines, the purple polka dots of grapes just peeking out along the hem of the skirt and at the neckline. A little crown of vines sat on her head, and tiny pale wings showed from the back. She held a cornucopia filled with red apples and gourds. This enchanting little person had a slightly rustic, nubby texture, and Ross’s hands itched to hold her and look at her more closely. He reached out. “May I?”

  She handed him the little fairy, her hand shaking slightly. Ross wondered why.

  He studied the little fairy and could have sworn it was watching him back. “This is for Lexie? Where did you get it?”

  “Her name is Princess Pumpkinseed, and . . . I made her. Sculpted her. Out of papier mâchè.”

  Ah, the library book. “You made it.” It was a fairly elaborate offering for a kid she’d met only once. He was definitely suspicious now. He kept his voice carefully neutral. “You made a painted sculpture from papier mâchè specifically for my niece?”

  “She’s the one who got my mind working, and the resulting idea it gave me actually solved my Christmas gift problem. So I made a Princess Pumpkinseed for her as a way of saying thank you.” She t
ook the fairy from Ross and placed it back in the bag. “At your mother’s party, Lexie asked me to carve her pumpkin into something not scary. When my girls were little, they would ask me to do the same thing. I came up with Princess Pumpkinseed a long time ago for them.” She smiled, her eyes looking someplace faraway. “My own little spinoff from Celtic mythology. I’d totally forgotten about her. Anyway, I carved Princess Pumpkinseed for Lexie that night and couldn’t get her out of my mind. The princess, that is. So I crafted her out of papier mâchè. It’s inexpensive, and it got Princess Pumpkinseed out of my head through my fingers.”

  She went back to the cupboard, and Ross found himself staring after her. Celtic mythology? “And then I pushed some more papier mâchè around in my fingers, and he showed up.” He was a pear-shaped Santa, plump and purple and looking like he’d delivered toys for hundreds of years. “Now I am making Santas to give as gifts this year, and I owe the idea, indirectly, to Lexie, so I wanted to thank her. It’s silly, but that’s the way it is.”

  He gestured toward the little white blobs on the work table. “These, I presume, are Santas in embryo?” What a convoluted path she had followed to arrive at something like this. Gifts on the cheap that looked like a million bucks. When did she have time to do this sort of thing? The little sculptures were clever, truly. Whimsical and original and artfully done, at least to his eye. “May I have one?”

  She looked shocked. “You want one?”

  “Yes. May I have this one?”

  “All right. I guess so.” She handed over the Santa and watched as he inspected the old elf’s violet-hued robes and frothy beard. “Does this mean I don’t owe you a Christmas present later? This will count as the traditional employee-sucking-up-to-boss holiday gift?”

  So occasionally there was a little bit of spunk and humor in her. “Of course not.”

  “Well, your employer-appreciation-for-not-tap-dancing-in-your-kitchen-ever-again gift had better be pretty darn good, then.” The dimple was there in full force that time.