Calculated Risk (8 page)

An apology on her lips, she glimpsed his smile. Was that smugness? So, that's how it was.

She leaned toward him, holding onto the railing, and spoke in her most casual voice. “Just so you know, your sister and mother think we're engaged. I overheard them in the kitchen, earlier.” She held up her left hand, flashing her pearl solitaire toward him, and fluttered her fingers. That should wipe the smirk off his face.

It did. His jaw dropped an inch.

 

 

 

 

5

 

Cisney's attic-room door closed above. Nick stood motionless at the bottom of the stairs. His family thought he was engaged to Cisney? What made people think a pearl ring was an engagement ring? And why hadn't Cisney switched the wretched thing back to her right hand?

He hooked his thumbs on his pockets. This was not good. It was one thing for Mom to like Cisney. He could deal with that. But now with an engagement planted in her mind, removing her notion he and Cisney were made for each other would be like raising the Titanic.

How could he save the family from disappointment, short of giving in and falling for Cisney? Considering the tension in their last exchange on the stairs, he wasn't in a giving-in or falling-for mood, much less holding a civil attitude toward the woman.

She'd amused him when she'd quipped about torturing him to talk during the trip here, but referring to him as a notch on her challenge belt was brutal. Had defending himself against her affront goaded her into declaring war—flashing that blasted pearl ring of hers?

He shouldn't have brought her home.

Lord, I want to call in troops for battle. Please douse my anger.

He stood a moment and let his irritation dissipate.

Cisney's tearstained face while she wailed about Jason's dirty actions plunked into his mind. Cisney was fragile and vulnerable right now. He shouldn't have let her challenge-belt statement get under his skin. Circumstances called for him to
remain the adult.

He let out a heavy sigh. No easy solution came to mind to rectify the engagement mess. He'd have to take Mom aside and set her straight. Watch her face crumple as he destroyed her hopes.

With his hands jammed in his jeans pockets, he walked to his room—his and Tony's room for the holiday.

When he opened the door, Tony looked up while stuffing the tails of his corduroy shirt into his slacks. “Hey, Nick. Why so glum?”

That's all he needed—the third degree. “Just thoughtful. Nice socks.”

Tony pinched the crease in his pant leg and drew up his slacks to expose his argyle socks. “You know me, I'll try anything to keep in style, plus these were the only extra socks Grandpa had with him. No way was I asking Dad for a pair and taking his ribbing.”

“You know where my sock drawer is. Nothing has ever stopped you from taking what's mine.”

“Your drawer was the first place I looked. Except for a couple of pairs of sweat socks, it's empty.”

“That's right. I cleaned out my drawers the last time I was home. Sorry.”

“No problem. I'd hate to have missed out on these jewels.” Tony flashed his argyles again. “So, you're engaged, finally. I can't wait to meet Cisney.”

Nick raised his face toward the ceiling and forced air through his lips. How long would it take him to gather his gear to camp on the pontoon at the other end of the lake for the next two and a half days? “I'm not engaged to Cisney. She's a co-worker who had no place to go for Thanksgiving.”

Tony perked up. “Really?” He stretched out the word. “Because you dragged her away earlier, I couldn't get a good look at her. Is she plain or ugly, or just plain ugly?”

“She's attractive.” The kind of attractive that could reel a man in before he got to know the whole package, if he wasn't careful.

“Is she dull?”

Nick unbuttoned his shirt. “Never a dull moment around Cisney.” She'd provided an action-packed Thanksgiving morning he'd not forget.

“Does she laugh like a hyena?”

“Her laugh's nice enough.” Wait ‘til Tony heard the girlish giggle at the end of Cisney's laughter. His cousin would spout off one of his crazy stories to keep her laughing just to hear that giggle.

Tony followed him into the bathroom. “Does she curse like a sailor?”

Nick turned on the shower. “Depends. Do you consider ‘gracious me' curse words?”

“Then she's got to be dumb.”

“Nope.” He curbed a smile, picturing his meetings with her staff. She was always jumping in and translating his mathematical jargon into her team's lingo.

“OK, then, she must have a boyfriend.”

“I think she's unattached at the moment.”

“Well, man, why aren't you engaged to her?”

Nick laughed. “Until this trip, I've never socialized with her outside the office.” Imagine him engaged to the sticky-note queen.

Tony leaned against the doorjamb. “So you're not interested in her, and she's fair game?”

He should have cut Tony off when he asked about Cisney's looks. She didn't need Tony coming on to her. “She's got a lot going on. I think she agreed to come here to relax and get away from it all.” He pointed to the bathroom door. “Do you mind?”

Tony sauntered out, a huge grin on his face.

Lord, protect Cisney from Tony.

 

****

 

After ducking under the sloped ceiling, Cisney sashayed from the bedroom and entered the bathroom. Hot showers were a godsend. Hers had saved her from a morning gone bad—washed away its ugliness. Now it was time to be the gracious guest. Make up for loading her problems on Nick and retaliating against his smugness. Like always, she'd reacted too fast, but she was back on track. She would be the new, serene Cisney.

Dressed in a coral-colored silk blouse and beige wool slacks that covered her low-heeled ankle boots, she buttoned on a cream-colored knit vest that cinched at her waist. She checked her appearance in the bathroom mirror. Her bangs and extra makeup hid the goose egg on her forehead. And compared to her post-hysteria condition, she looked composed.

Back in the bedroom, she picked up the nightstand's Bible from where she'd tossed it on the bed in her panicked state. She'd held this Bible in her hand during the Jason upheaval, yet she'd cast God's words aside and turned to her cellphone and Nick.

But Nick had directed her to God. A stab of pain radiated through her chest. Talk about smugness. She'd flippantly answered Nick's questions about God's nature. Of course, she'd been distracted by Jason's betrayal. Nice excuse. Would she have been less dismissive if she hadn't been upset?

She sat on the bed and lowered the leather bound book to her lap. Bringing her Bible with her this weekend hadn't crossed her mind, but Nick had packed his. What kind of new Sunday school teacher was she, anyway? At best, she sporadically read the Bible. And then to toss away God's lifeline in a time of crisis. But she'd never thought of the Bible that way. As a resource when trouble happened. Not until Nick had called her attention to what God thought about her situation.

She rifled through the Bible's thin pages. From now on, she'd be an example for her trusting four-year-olds. She'd download a Bible app to her phone so the next time she ran distressed to her phone, it would be to search God's Word. Like Nick, she'd be ready to help someone in need.

Her gaze fell to familiar words. God never tired of reminding His people as He did in Isaiah:
I am the Lord your God.
She read down a few verses.
You are my people.
She belonged to God. How simple, yet profound. Peace swept over her. Her Father in heaven knew what she needed in the wake of Jason's latest blow.

Daddy's face formed in her mind. Disappointment roosted in his gaze and in the set of his lips. That put a damper on her resolutions. After her revelation on the lake, her heavenly and earthly fathers seemed at odds with each other about Jason.

Didn't Daddy have her best interests in his expectations for her life—out of a father's love for his daughter? He was smart and robust and successful in all he did. Everyone liked Daddy, or at least respected him. Wasn't it good that such a man got his way? Actually, Daddy didn't always prevail. Didn't he back down when Mom stood firm that her children would go to church?

Why was she judging Daddy? She hadn't told him about Jason, yet. Her premature call on his reaction to her losing Jason was unfair. It was possible God and Daddy were in agreement.

A faint scent of the yellow roses on the bedside table drifted her way. She smiled. She should get downstairs and join the family. She closed the Bible and stowed it in the drawer where she'd found it.

As she shut the guestroom door, her pearl solitaire caught her attention. Should she return the gossip-churning ring to her right hand? If she did, would Ellie and Nancy think she was playing mind games with them?

She could remove her ring. But then Ellie might worry that she and Nick had fought and called off their engagement. Maybe offer the truth. Why not? She hadn't purposely listened in on Ellie and Nancy's conversation in the kitchen. For now, she'd leave the solitaire on her left hand and confess the truth when the moment seemed right.

 

****

 

Cisney followed the turkey aroma and passed through the butler's pantry to the kitchen. The enormity of the room stopped her mid-stride. Cherry cabinets, including the one concealing the refrigerator, masses of granite countertops, and at least three ovens and two sinks added up to posh.

Daddy, considered well off, lived in nothing like this house. Although Nick's family lived in luxury, they came across far from snooty rich. Down to earth, gracious, and kind came to mind. They called their expensive piano The Old Girl, for Pete's sake.

While Nancy emptied canned pumpkin into a mixing bowl, Ellie and Sandy worked on a salad. Grandma Thelma formed a lattice of dough strips over apple filling made from fresh apples, evidenced by the peel coils piled on a cutting board. She counted them. Four pumpkin and two apple. Six pies?

Observing this family was a smile booster. Cisney's smile seeped onto her face like melted butter sought every cranny of a waffle. It felt good. “Good morning.” She glanced around for a kitchen clock. “At least I think it's still morning.”

The women looked up from their work, smiled, and returned her greeting.

They looked so happy. Thanksgiving Day probably wasn't the time to dash their beliefs about Nick's engagement. Was his family the type who took turns sharing what they were thankful for at the dining room table? She could see it now. Ellie beaming and offering her thanks for her only son's upcoming nuptials.

Nick would probably dream up images of taking a hacksaw to his coworker's left ring finger. Ew.

She drew her hands behind her back and tugged on the ring. It wouldn't budge. It never was this tight. Had the hot shower made her fingers swell? Too late to excuse herself and race up two flights to try the soap treatment.

Ellie tore romaine lettuce into a large mahogany salad bowl. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. The room is charming. And thank you for the yellow roses.”

“That was Nancy's doing.” Ellie smiled at her daughter.

Cisney nodded to Nancy. “Thanks for making me feel so welcomed. The view of the lake from my room is spectacular.”

“Lake Norman is more than fifty square miles,” Nancy said. “It's the largest man-made body of fresh water within North Carolina. Our little town here, Cornelius, is one of several lying on the outskirts of the lake.”

Cisney smiled at the teacher demonstrating her zeal to educate. “When Nick took me out in the row boat earlier, I thought we'd entered the Atlantic by mistake.”

The women chuckled.

Nancy swept tendrils of brown hair that had escaped from her ponytail from her face with the back of her hand. “Your belief was well-founded. Lake Norman is called the inland sea of North Carolina.”

Cisney looked around the kitchen. A job for her had to lie in all the fresh vegetables and fruit covering the counters. Who was going to eat all that? She turned to Ellie. The woman regarded her with a pained expression. Had Ellie found out Nick and she weren't engaged?

Maybe this was the moment to tell them the truth. “Ellie, is something wrong?”

Ellie rushed to her and lifted Cisney's bangs from her forehead. “I knew we shouldn't have put you in that low-ceilinged room.”

No. Jason shouldn't have horned in on my friends.

The other women abandoned their tasks to assess the damage to her forehead.

She took a step back. “It's fine. It doesn't hurt anymore.” She chuckled. “I hit the sloped ceiling full steam.” She smacked her hand against her other. “Even after Nick gave me sufficient warning.” Why was she relieved Ellie's angst had been about her bruise and not about a phantom engagement gone awry?

She looked around the kitchen to avoid the women's scrutiny. “Isn't there something I can do to help?”

“Actually there is.” Ellie ushered her through the butler pantry to the dining room. “I had the table all set, and then Sandy gave me this beautiful tablecloth.” She indicated the elegant cloth edged in autumn colors.

A wicker cornucopia overflowing with fruits, flowers, and vegetables served as the centerpiece.

Ellie smoothed a crease in the cloth. “I have only two tablecloths that fit this monster table and neither are Thanksgiving-like. This new one is perfect. So now, everything on the sideboard needs to go back on the table. Do you mind?”

“I'd love to re-set the table.”

Considering the elaborate centerpiece, Ellie didn't seem the type to trust anyone to set her Thanksgiving table. But she had. Or maybe Nick's mom was testing her as daughter-in-law material.