by Nancy Radke
Quickly she copied the measurements onto her planning papers—window sizes, room sizes, door openings. If Zack only knew, he was saving her a tremendous amount of work. She would’ve had to measure everything to estimate the amount of materials needed.
As usual she became so involved she forgot the time. It was almost ten when she tried the radio and again got no answer.
Carefully she picked up Zack’s plans to put back into the case, then stopped, aghast. Somehow she had reversed them. At first she’d flipped each one over as she looked at it so that they’d stay in order.
But as she became engrossed in what she was doing, she’d set them on top of each other...and when she’d pulled two out of order to get a measurement, she hadn’t put them back where they belonged.
How could she have been so absent- minded? And after she’d promised, too! He’d kill her!
Her stomach tightened as she remembered spilling coffee on one of her father’s Navy reports. His anger had raged for days. Afterwards he brought it up every time she failed to meet his standards.
He always wanted things shipshape. It hadn’t affected her mother, who was born neat and orderly, but Jennel needed a certain amount of cozy clutter around to be creative. As soon as anything was spic and span, she put several objects on it, hiding the bare, unfriendly surface. She scattered things all over while working, organizing only when the project was finished.
There was no way she could remember how to restore the original order of Zack’s plans, so she put them back in the case, resigned to seeing him furious.
She stopped long enough to get a drink and ease the kinks out of her neck. When she felt calmer, she returned to her task.
Jennel sketched the house plan twice, to memorize it. Then she closed her eyes and pictured each area, imposing on it the opposite personalities of husband and wife. It was easy to put Zack in. Jennel had to fight herself from leaving it just like he planned. She knew she had to change it enough to make Mrs. Van Chattan happy.
The rooms floated before her, ideas clamoring to be expressed. Apricot, wine, and taupe shades were more acceptable to men, with a touch of pink in some of the patterns. Light creams on the walls rather than the stark whites Zack had used.
The entrance and study could be left just as Zack planned them. The biggest changes would take place in the bedroom, bath and dining areas.
The boat swayed and Jennel slipped her notes into her case an instant before Zack opened the door. She had left one of his plans out—the main floor plan—and looked up from it as he entered, his masculine presence sending a rippling tremor of awareness down her spine. Realizing that her own reactions were weakening her resolve, she went immediately on the defensive.
“You’re back.”
He was smiling broadly as he took off his coat and carefully hung it up, not seeming to notice her sharpness. “Yep. Hungry?”
“No.” She glanced at her watch. “Is it noon already?”
Cocking his head to one side, he looked her over inquiringly. “Did you put up your feet, like I told you?”
She had forgotten, and the fact was written on her face. “No.”
He shook his head in exasperation as she swung her feet up onto the seat cushions.
“I like your plans,” she said, deciding to get in some points before she told him what she’d done to them.
“Good.”
“But...uh...” He didn’t say anything, just nailed her with a look of such dour contemplation that she chickened out and tried another topic.
“Mrs. Van Chattan...with her hobby, you know; she’ll need a room for it....” His puzzled face announced that he didn’t know what she was talking about. “Or didn’t you know?”
“No, I didn’t. What kind of hobby?”
His look of alert concentration showed he was listening. Zack was a good listener. He took what you said, mulled it over in his mind and came to his own conclusions... but at least he listened.
“She collects antique dolls. Some of them are extremely valuable...she has them in large glass cases. And she restores them...she has boxes of materials, wigs and arms, and she does the dresses herself.”
Zack frowned. “He didn’t mention it to me. How big a room do you figure she’ll need?”
“Twelve by twelve. Her cases on two walls and a workbench on another. She could also use a small table and chair in front of the window.”
He scowled down at the plans. “And just where would you put this room?”
Well, if he was going to ask, even a tad sarcastically...? “There was a sewing room in the old floor plan. You’ve brought it into the main bedroom as a closet. It’s smaller than I would like—”
“Too small,” he retorted. “And the master bedroom needs that extra closet space.”
“Then how about taking it out of the living room?” Which was where Jennel wanted it to go. “Surely they won’t need that much dining space...she could have a small sitting room next to it...” With her finger she started to sketch on the plans in front of her.
“I’m surprised you haven’t drawn it in already.” His comment was sarcastic and critical, even when delivered in such an indolent manner.
“Oh, no! I’d...I’d never do that!” She was shocked at the idea of even touching another person’s plans with a pencil.
“Huh! I’m glad you have some restraint. Let’s see....”
Her temper flared, as, humming softly to himself, he took a soup can out of the cupboard, opened it and poured the contents into a bowl to heat in the microwave. “Chicken noodle. I carried most of the grub up to the house, so our variety here isn’t much.”
Practicing the restraint he had congratulated her on, Jennel didn’t throw anything at him. She even waited until they had finished eating before asking, “Don’t you think that’s a good place for her two rooms?”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He mumbled the words, giving no indication of his feelings. Frustrating man! “Well, where would you put them?” she persisted. He paused, then reached for his coat.
“I’ll mention it to John and see if he wants to add the room...or rooms. Satisfied?”
“As long as Mrs. Van Chattan is.”
“Clyde Brekley should pick you up before I’m back. You can change bandages at Friday Harbor and wear your tennis shoes on the flight to Seattle.”
She wasn’t going to Seattle. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she’d completed her job here. Mrs. Van Chattan deserved...
Her body stiffened defensively as he picked up the main floor plan and pulled the others out of his case to roll them all together, stopped, and reviewed the order. The lines of his mouth straightened as she held her breath.
“I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything different...from you,” he accused her with a hardening in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I can explain—”
“Don’t bother!” He rolled them up and thrust them into the case with a finality emphasized by the rigid carriage of his body. “I don’t want to hear it. Just be gone when I get back.” He left without saying goodbye.
He was gone, and, wonder of wonders, without exploding. Jennel let out her breath. The anticipation had been a lot worse than the reality, but then, she hadn’t spilled coffee on his plans. Her emotional reaction to what she thought he might do had left her shaken. She would have to stop comparing him to her father.
If she was going to get this job done, she would have to stop thinking about Zack, period! And that was about as easy as kicking a habit. Thinking about him was addictive.
Once more she tried to raise Clyde Brekley, but without success. It worried her, but the plans dominated her thoughts, pushing her concern to the background. Swiftly she sketched ideas as they flowed forth, each one incorporating Zack’s pure lines with her touch of velvet.
It was a good thing she’d copied and sketched like mad all morning. All the information from his plans was where she needed it...on her papers and in her head.
Zack was als
o in there. With an effort she pushed his image out of the kitchen, busy with his cast iron griddle, and plunked Mrs. Van Chattan there instead. He was a nuisance, popping into every scene.
In the breakfast nook of the remodeled house, she ignored the large painting he had planned and instead drew in a series of small prints, delicate and light...water colors she had already purchased in New York. Valences cut the severity of the windows and decorative lighting replaced the hard commercial globes Zack had used. She could see the fabrics she would need, the glowing colors mellowing the atmosphere of the home. As usual, when ideas piled one on top of another, each one sparked off two or three more, and a rush of excitement swept over her. Totally immersed in her work, she looked about in confusion when Brutus barked. When she heard her name, she hastily slid her papers out of sight. “Who is it?”
“Clyde Brekley. Zack said you needed a lift back to Friday Harbor. You didn’t stay long.”
Groaning inwardly, Jennel opened the door and stepped out onto the deck. Brutus joined her, tail wagging in delight. She patted his head as she surveyed the charter captain’s weathered features and engaging smile with its deep lines of laughter. His dark hair, lightly peppered with gray, curled down into his collar. He was middle-aged, jovial, and with a flair for mischief— reminding Jennel of her uncle. Clyde’s boat was tied to the opposite side of the float.
She smiled warmly, welcoming him with outward composure as her mind raced for an excuse. “I’ve been trying to reach you all day, Mr. Brekley. I, er...I’m planning a surprise, for Zack; and, uh...to do it, I have to remain here. So I won’t be going back. Uh...I’ll pay for your trip out, if that’s okay. Come aboard.”
“All right. Can’t stay long...getting dark. I’ve got radar and sonar, but these waters call for a good eye, too. There’s lots of logs floating around right now.”
He turned to look out over the water, gray eyes narrowed in thought. “You’re going to stay awhile, eh? Good fishing in these parts. Think you’ll catch anything?”
It sounded like fun, but... “I haven’t time to fish.”
“Everyone’s got time to fish. Especially a pretty woman like you.”
“Not me,” she objected. “I’ve work to do and besides, I don’t have a license.”
“Some fish...you don’t need a license to catch; only a license to keep.” There was a sly, knowing tone to his voice that baffled Jennel, as if he knew something of importance she should know.
“Really?”
“Uh-huh. And there’s sharks out here—”
“Sharks?” Her voice rose in protest. Who would want to catch a shark?
“Little, friendly fellows. You might try for one of them,” he suggested with a wink. “Some of ‘em like to get caught.”
Laughing, Jennel wrote a check on Mrs. Van Chattan’s account and handed it to him. “I’ll leave the sharks alone.”
“They’re fun to catch.”
“Not to my way of thinking!”
“Well, have fun while you’re here. Zack’s got a good boat...nice place to stay, but it needs a woman’s touch, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it’s lovely, but he keeps it neater than I ever would.” She paused, gathering her courage. “He’ll probably call you and want to know what happened. Could you tell him you had motor trouble or...or something?”
It was clear to see that suggestion didn’t go over very well. His bushy eyebrows almost met in frowning thought. “Well, now...I don’t want to—”
“How about just saying you had some minor difficulty,” she interrupted quickly. “Please. You mustn’t say I wouldn’t go.”
“Well...”
“Please?”
“Run that by me once more,” he requested, regarding her with suspicion. She hadn’t figured on him accepting her flimsy reason, but it was still worth trying.
“I’m planning a big surprise for Zack.”
“A surprise, eh?”
“It’ll take several days. He thinks I want to leave, so he’ll keep calling. If you could keep telling him you’ll come...then when it’s too late, call and say you can’t...” Her voice drifted off. It sounded foolish even as she said it.
“How long you plan for this to go on? Days? Weeks? I have my reputation to uphold.” For some unknown reason, he appeared to be giving it serious consideration.
“Just a few days. Will you do it?” she inquired eagerly. “I’ll explain to Zack, afterwards, that you were helping me.”
“I guess so. If it’s not too long. I’m known for being dependable. Although Zack won’t mind, especially after he gets his surprise. It is a surprise, you say?”
“Uh-huh. Sort of like a...a birthday surprise. He’s not to know anything about it.”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Birthday, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. For a few days.”
Jennel couldn’t believe it’d been so easy. “Great! Now, how can I get hold of you when I really do need you to come?”
“Simple. You call. I won’t come when Zack calls.” He gave her his call letters and wished her good fishing, swinging his boat away to the north to avoid being seen by Zack and his men.
Jennel hoped she wouldn’t get him into trouble. But now she had the time she needed, and that was what mattered most.
After Clyde had gone, she suddenly realized how exhausted she was. She’d been running all day on nervous energy and the excitement of creativity. Carefully putting away her work, she lay down on the bunk with her feet up, intending to rest for a few minutes before fixing the evening meal...and fell fast asleep.
Zack woke her, his hand on her shoulder, and she blinked her eyes, fighting off the lethargy of the afternoon nap. In her sleep- drugged state, all she could think about was: What a wonderful way to wake up!
“What happened?” she asked, looking upward at his tall form in the subdued light, thinking he’d come back early. Then she realized it was almost dark outside.
He would expect her to be gone with Clyde. She shook herself awake, trying to clear her mind. He’d be angry at her. What should she say?
Chapter Six
Jennel sat up quickly, her mind searching for the right words. Zack mustn’t find out she’d asked Clyde to stay away. “It’s late. What...where’s...?”
She must have appeared completely bewildered, for he was quick to answer. “Clyde’s not here. He called while I was eating supper with my men.”
“Oh...Clyde! Of course. Clyde was going to pick me up.”
“Yes. He can’t. I’m sorry. Looks like you’ll have to stay another night.” His deep voice was apologetic, as if he thought she wanted to go. It was hard to act disappointed.
She rubbed her face as she yawned to cover her relief. “What happened?”
“He had some kind of schedule foul-up but should be able to come tomorrow, early. I told him we’d manage.”
That was good of Clyde. Jennel hadn’t thought of asking him to go so far as to come up with an excuse. Her story must have been so simple as to sound plausible.
She hated to think what would’ve happened if Zack had returned expecting her to be gone. As it was, she refused to think what would happen if he ever found out that Clyde had come and she’d sent him back.
Zack was a man you wouldn’t want to cross. A strong, decisive, straightforward man who would likely throttle her when he found out she’d altered his designs while he wasn’t looking.
She didn’t want to make him angry at her...she just wanted to save her company and make Mrs. Van Chattan happy at the same time. Surely a few diversionary tactics could be forgiven with those goals in mind?
“How’d the cable laying go?”
“Typical.” He shrugged, evidently used to taking things as they came. “There were several big boulders my men couldn’t move on this end, so I’ll have to bring a backhoe over. We’re trenched to the water’s edge on the other side. Tomorrow, we should be able to lay both cables at once.”
“I see.”
“I tried to call the Van Chattans, but couldn’t reach them. His secretary said they were en route to L.A.”
Was that good news...or bad? “So you weren’t able to ask them anything?”
“No. How’d your day go?”
“Just fine. Although I must’ve been more tired from the trip than I thought...or else just lying down in the cabin made me sleepy. I don’t usually fall asleep in the afternoon.”
He was being friendly, sociable, polite. So nice it made her feel guilty. It was much easier planning devious things when he was being difficult.
He had already had supper, so when he said, “Hungry?” she replied, “Not much. I’ll make a sandwich or something for myself.”
“How’re the feet?”
“Fine. Just a little sore. I’ll make sure I wear my tennies if I ever have to cross those rocks again.”
He was in a good mood, whistling as he rearranged things to give them more cabin space. “I’m going to fish ‘til dark. You want to join me? I’ve got more than one pole.”
“I don’t have a license.”
“You don’t need one as long as you leave the restricted fish alone.”
“Thanks, but not tonight. I haven’t fished since my dad took me years ago when I was a child. All I remember is that I fell into the lake.”
“Were you standing up?”
“No. I was trying to see the reflection of my face in the water and lost my balance.” She had always been an inquisitive person, a seeker of beauty. She’d been fascinated with how a motor worked, delighted with the varied shining colors of a bird’s feather, and awed by the sparkle of sunlight on water.
He was grinning smugly and with sudden insight, she asked, “What were you doing when you fell in?”
His hazel eyes twinkled, his entire face changed as the dancing smile darted across it. “The first time? Trying to untangle my fishing line. The second? Trying to catch my boat before it drifted away.”