Summertime Dream (6 page)

The front stairs opened on the second floor to their first pleasant surprise.

“Oh, I love this room.” What she wouldn’t give to have space like this for her own books.

A large, round library encircled the stairs, with curving floor-to-ceiling built-in mahogany bookcases and four doors to rooms set into the cases. Books, stacks of magazines, and newspapers crammed the shelves. Two wide halls opened from the library. One led to tall double windows at the front of the house. The other led to a bathroom, a possible sewing room, and the spiral stairs.

Of the four spacious bedrooms, only the room nearest the bathroom was remotely habitable. Under the flashlight beam, the pale gray and lavender decor gave the room a calm, melancholy air. A lavender bathrobe hung on the back of the door. Slippers peeped under the dust ruffle. The bed was stripped bare to the sagging mattress. Perfume bottles, a hairbrush, medicines, and more dead roses arrayed the dresser.

Christopher shook his head. “More roses. Weird, right?”

“This must have been Mrs. Falk’s room.”

They followed the front stairs to the third floor. Sunlight pouring in through unboarded windows made this floor nearly bright enough to turn off the flashlight. An airy screen of mullioned glass panes with an open doorway divided the front hall from the vestibule holding the spiral tower stairs.

She was sorely tempted to make the climb, but the spiders had gone wild with the webs in there like a scene from some horror movie and did she really want to attempt the narrow winding stairway in heels and a dress? They settled for peering up into the tower.

As they opened each door, the third floor proved the most cluttered. The first front bedroom looked like perhaps a young man’s room. Water stained plaster, exposed laths, and peeling paper and paint marked where the storm had damaged the slate roof.

“Maybe my great-uncle’s room?” Christopher moved on to the second front bedroom. From the glimpses of wallpaper, curtains, and feminine dresser they caught through the stacks and piles, this might have been his grandmother’s bedroom.

The third and fourth rooms might have been a nursery and playroom. At least, most of the clutter was all baby furniture, toys, and other childhood items. There was another bathroom at the back, with stacks of shutters and more cardboard boxes.

“How did one old lady collect so much stuff? This is nuts.” Christopher turned the doorknob to the last room by the back stairs, but before he’d pushed the door halfway, hit something solid.

Shadows rustled in the dark room and burst at them in a chaotic flurry.

Margie yelped and whirled to escape, only to crash into Christopher and reflexively flung her arms around him.

Bats, oh she hated bats.

****

Christopher held Margie close. His own heart was pounding from the disturbed bats, but more from the perfect fit of Margie in his arms as she clung shaking against his chest. “You okay?”

She choked off a sob and her voice squeaked out, “Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Sorry I’m such a cowardly explorer. I’m scared of bats. And for no good reason.”

“No problem. They startled the heck out of me, too. They’re gone now. We scared them more than they scared us.” His consoling back pats had shifted into traveling caresses. He stilled his hand at her waist.

Her fingers tightened on him. “I should probably warn you I’m also ridiculously terrified of mice and spiders. Sorry.”

He chuckled. “And you volunteered to explore with me?”

“I was attempting to make a few changes and kick off a new be-brave episode in my life.” She laughed unsteadily. “It’s off to a sad and rocky start.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s head down and get some fresh air.” He reluctantly released his embrace and slipped his hand around hers. Her relieved sigh rocked him with a rush of warmth.

Back outside, they sat on the front steps. After the house’s stuffy, oppressive heat, the warm breeze brushed welcome coolness against his sweaty skin. He wiped a hand over his forehead. This humid heat took some getting used to. “I need a shower.” The house had left his slacks and shoes a dusty mess.

“Me, too. I’m afraid I’ve moved a stage or two beyond glowing, as Mom calls it.” Margie fanned a hand at her face, still a little flushed and frazzled. “That was...interesting.”

Sunlight caught in her curls turned her hair to gleaming honey gold. She wouldn’t like what else her curls had caught.

“Yeah, it was.” He grinned, hoping to lighten the moment. “Sit still a moment.”

She squinched her eyes shut. “What?”

He brushed a swath of sticky cobweb from her soft hair and quick wiped his hand on the step.

A shudder ran through her, and she covered her face with her hands. “Please, oh, please, don’t tell me there was a spider in my hair. Or spider webs.”

“Just a dust bunny.” Choking down laughter while lying wasn’t easy, but her fear was real for her, and he managed a straight face. “Just dust. It’s all gone now.” He touched a kiss to her cheek.

She peeped up at him, smoothing her hands over her skirt, and her flush returned. “Um…So, what do you think of the house?”

He looked around the jungle of landscaping gone to ruin, the cracked brick steps under his feet, and the peeling paint on the porch and crumbling driveway slabs. The rollercoaster of emotions he’d been riding all day took a sinking plunge.

“I have a shitload of work ahead here. I should just call one of those companies that empties houses. Only, blindly trashing everything feels wrong. You’re right about there being decent antiques in there. There has to be family stuff I should keep, and there might be items your historical society or library would like. I’ll have to go through every last thing, but I only have a week. I wasn’t expecting this much of a...challenge.”

He still could hire a company, and give them instructions to empty the place, but a strong urge pressed him to do the work himself, to stay, investigate his grandmother’s hidden past, and learn some of his family history. Yeah, and to continue enjoying Margie’s company was part of this urge.

You could extend your stay.

That would complicate his work schedule more than he had already by squeezing this trip into his calendar. But...

Taking the time isn’t out of the question.

No. He wasn’t giving up his vacation. He needed to keep focused. Unforgettable kisses notwithstanding, Margie wasn’t a temporary fling kind of girl. Heck, he wasn’t even a fling kind of guy. He was….

How about hopeless? In a rut? Come on, when are you going to loosen up and live a little?

No. Friends and hands off was the only option.

“I can help. If you’d like. I’m not working at the moment.”

Relief jolted him. “Thanks, that’s very nice of you, but I don’t want to impose.” Yeah, actually, he did. If he had to beg, borrow, or hire her.

“My volunteering’s not you imposing. You need help and I don’t go back to work until August. I have plenty of time.”

“You’ll brave the bats, mice, and spiders?”

Her smile bloomed. “Well, I can’t promise brave, but I’ll try to grin and bear it and not freak out too much. I may be a fraidy-cat over silly things, but I am very organized and come from a long line of expert spring cleaners. Plus, you’ll be there to protect me from the creepy crawlies, right? Also, you’d be giving me a thrill to poke around through the house and its history that’s intrigued me all my life.”

His heart just warmed up. Yes, he could hire someone, but the opportunity to spend more time with her was irresistible. He grinned. “How can I say no to giving a pretty woman a thrill?”

She giggled lightly. “Great. It could be fun, you know.”

Fun? Not the word he would use for the work ahead. But Margie...In her feminine, floral dress, sandals, and neatly polished nails, she made an utterly sweet and appealing picture.

Hey, a week, remember. Don’t even go there. You’re only here until Sunday
.

“You have work clothes?”

She blushed, tugging self-consciously at her dress hem. “I like dresses, I know. However, I do own jeans and work boots.” She wiggled her fingers. “And I wear gloves.”

Yeah, he’d like to see her in jeans. “First step tomorrow, I’ll unboard the unbroken windows. Getting some light and air into the place will help. I’ll have to search around the place for tools or hit a hardware store before I can get to work. Considering the mess, buying them would be more efficient.”

“Let me ask Dad if we can borrow his tool box and ladders. That way you don’t need to buy any tools until you see what’s already in the house. He’s not working on any project at the moment, so it shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“That would be great, thanks.” He stood and offered her his hand.

She slipped her hand in his and rose daintily. “I was wondering...” Her shy smile grew.

“Yes?” With her in her heels and standing on the step above him, her rosy mouth was temptingly in line with his.

Her blush deepened. “Would you like to go out to dinner tonight? I mean you have to eat, and you were probably going out anyway, and I thought, maybe you’d like some company? I could show you around town a little. Unless you already had plans?”

“I’d like that, a lot.” Without thinking, he grazed his lips over hers. Her mouth was soft and welcoming. At her sweet sigh, sweat, dust, and annoyances all faded from his mind and keeping the kiss light was difficult.

When he finally stepped away, she gave him a smile that wrapped his heart in warmth. “Sealed with a kiss.”

“Yeah.” He grinned. He definitely was failing on the hands-off plan. He picked up the flashlight and dug out his car keys before he could cave to the sparkling light in her eyes tempting him to steal another kiss. “Okay, time to hit the showers. What time should I pick you up?”

Chapter Three

She’d kissed him again!

Margie brushed a finger over her lips. Sweet bursts of giddiness still hummed through her from his gentle, dreamy kiss. She stepped from the tub and wrapped the towel around her wet hair. She was…happy. This was fun, and nerve-wracking, and astonishing, and not a little scary, and—

The strident notes of Holst’s “Mars” from her cell phone cut through her ping-ponging emotions. Joe. She dragged on her robe and dashed for the phone in her bedroom. Penny scrambled up from where she sprawled on the bathroom floor and raced ahead.

She caught Joe’s call before he went into voicemail. “Hi, what’s up?”

“Where are you and how come you haven’t answered your phone?” Joe barked over the line.

She winced. Couldn’t he talk without yelling? “I’m home and I was in the shower.”

“All afternoon?”

She stooped and stroked Penny. “I was exploring the house with Christopher and my phone was in his car. I know, I know, I should have checked my voicemail, but I asked Amy to let you all know what I was doing. Oh, Joe, the house is totally fascinating! You can’t believe. It’s like a treasure trove of history. I had a wonderful time! Is Dad free? I have a question for him.”

“I don’t like the idea of you being at an empty house with this guy—”

“Joe, he’s perfectly nice. I’ll be helping him with some of the stuff he has to do. The house could be perfect research for my writing. I mean, there is a mystery about his grandma Loretta, right? I have an awesome idea for a new story and I wrote over three thousand words this morning. Isn’t that great? Since you won’t let me back to work, and I refuse to take up daytime television, I need something to keep me from being bored to tears. Can I talk to Dad, pretty please?”

“All right, but I still don’t like it. Hang on, I’ll get him.” Grumbling muffled conversations and normal noise of the restaurant kitchen followed.

As she waited, she opened her closet and contemplated her dresses. It had been a year since she’d dressed with a guy’s opinion in mind. She was already tiring of the jewel necklines and demure collars. But the alternative—no, she was nowhere ready to uncover what she had to face every time she showered and changed clothes. Her wardrobe had never been outrageously sexy, but she’d give anything to wear a normal scooped neckline again.

Well, almost anything. She swallowed hard. The scar marking her saved life ran a tidy, ugly seam down her sternum. That line had divided her life in so many ways and knocked her expectations all a skitter.

What was done, is done. Scarred and healed is way better than perfect skin and dead
.

Very true, but the scar still put a big damper on her summer fashion choices.

Joe’s sharp “What?” dragged her back to the call.

Dad came on. “…and you’re taking antacids too often, that’s what. Hey, sweetie, what going on?”

“Hi, Dad, could I borrow the truck tomorrow, and the ladders, and your toolbox?”

“What on earth for?”

“Christopher wants to start work on the house and I said I’d help him, but we don’t know what tools he has in the house yet and I thought maybe, if you weren’t needing them, he could borrow the ladders and tools for a few days.”

“You’re not getting up on the ladder!” Dad’s voice tightened.

“No, Dad. He is. I’m just helping out. Cross my heart. You don’t need to worry.” While Joe’s cranky hovering bugged the jeepers out of her, she understood Dad’s anxieties still had to calm down and she hated the fear he and Mom had suffered. Now, with Joe’s working himself to death and black moods, it would be awhile before Dad and Mom eased off their worries.

“All right, he can borrow them. Joe and I’ll put the ladders in the truck for you in the morning. That good?”

“Perfect! Thanks, Dad.”

“Are you eating supper here tonight?”

“No, I thought I’d give Christopher a crash introduction to Falk’s Bend while he’s here. I was going to give him a tour around town and then take him to Tootsie and Larry’s place to eat.”

“I suppose. Makes sense in that way, and Tootsie and Larry will be glad to see you. But make your brother happy, sweetie, and keep your cell phone on and answer it, okay? He’s making me nuts. I’ll be needing his antacids soon.”

“I promise. I’m sorry. Thanks again. Love you. See you tonight.”