Satin Sheets and Strawberries (3 page)

He closed the bathroom door behind him and glanced around curiously. Yesterday he’d been too tired to take in much of his surroundings, but after fourteen hours of sleep he was refreshed. The room was white and had huge ferns and palms painted on three walls. The fourth wall was taken up by a claw-footed tub with a brilliantly colored parrot on the shower curtain. The mural was so vivid Logan felt as if he were standing naked in a conservatory. Not only was the painting well done, it somehow suited the cottage—and Kelli. A small flash of red on the wall caught his attention. Near the floor, behind the door, was a signature. Curious, he knelt and read the one-word signature. Kelli.

That Kelli had painted the mural didn’t really surprise him. What did was that her signature was dated six years earlier.

He turned on the water and stepped beneath the pounding warm water. So far Kelli was an enigma. He liked to pigeonhole people into little boxes. Everyone he knew fell into a certain category and there they stayed until something happened in their lives to make him change their box. It made life easier.

But Kelli didn’t fit into a box. She was a puzzle, and he didn’t have all the pieces yet. He chuckled. He didn’t even have all the corner pieces yet.

He slowly turned off the shower, dried, and reached into the medicine cabinet for his razor. His hand was on the can of shaving cream his aunt had unpacked for him, when he noticed how empty the cabinet was. Where were all the cosmetics, perfumes, and endless tubes of lipsticks? Where were the moisturizers, hair removers, nail polish, emery boards, tweezers, and the thousands of items that most women crammed into a bathroom cabinet? The only items on the four wide shelves were a pink disposable razor, toothpaste and brush, a roll-on deodorant, and a small bottle of baby oil. The middle shelf held all his items and the top shelf had a brush, comb, rubberbands, and a Dixie cup full of Q-Tips. He raised his chin and carefully ran his razor up his throat. Kelli SantaFe was still an enigma.

#

The sun was high in the sky and breakfast was over by the time Kelli rolled from her bed. She tripped over Tinkerbell and headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later she and Tinkerbell walked into the kitchen only to find Logan and Ruth enjoying a cup of coffee. She mumbled "Good morning," before heading for the coffeepot sitting on the stove.Logan watched Kelli pour herself some morning brew and smiled. This morning she wore a pair of tight faded jeans and a red sweater that emphasized more than it concealed. Her hair was pulled back from her face with two barrettes and dangling red beaded earrings swung against her delicate neck. A pair of dark sunglasses were perched on her nose and electric red socks covered her feet. He wondered why she wore sunglasses at eight-thirty in the morning, especially in March.

"Good morning, Kelli," he said. "Sleep well?"

Kelli bit back a tart response. She had fallen into bed at five o’clock and her alarm had sounded at eight. Three lousy hours of sleep. She remembered the exhaustion that had lined Logan’s face the previous day and suppressed a snappy reply.

She yawned daintily. "Like a baby." She reached into a Garfield cookie jar and handed the shaggy dog at her feet a bone.

"Your pancakes are in the oven," said Ruth.

"I’ve told you before, Ruth, please don’t cook breakfast for me. You know I’m not a big eater in the morning."

"I didn’t cook them. Logan did."

"Oh. Thank you, Logan. Since you are Ruth and Henry’s guest, feel free to help yourself to anything in the house. But you didn’t have to cook breakfast." She walked over to the back door and picked up a pair of brown leather boots that had seen one too many winters. "I have to run off. I have a meeting that I’m going to be late for if I don’t hurry. Thanks anyway, Logan, for the thought." She downed half the cup of coffee and pulled on the boots.

Ruth handed Kelli a handful of cookies from the teddy bear cookie jar. "Eat these on your way."

"She can’t eat those for breakfast," Logan said. Kelli smiled.

"Why not?" demanded Ruth.

"Because I’ve made her buttermilk pancakes."

Ruth pulled herself up and glared at her nephew. Her ample bosom puffed out the plain flowered cotton housedress she wore. "I’ve been making those oatmeal cookies especially for her for the past five months. And she loves them, don’t you, Kelli?"

"Yes, Ruth, I love them. I love all your cookies. Now both of you knock it off. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and I haven’t died of malnutrition yet." Smiling, she said, "Thanks again, Ruth, for the cookies." She kept smiling as she faced Logan. "Thanks again, Logan. If I weren’t in a hurry, I would have eaten your pancakes. I’m sure they are delicious. But the cookies are great, just like eating a bowl of oatmeal." She pulled on an old leather bomber jacket that had probably seen World War I, and shoved her arms in and zippered it to her chin. "Now you two behave and have a nice visit."

"Will you be home for lunch?" asked Ruth.

"No. I’m meeting Josh in town for lunch. I’ll be back sometime this afternoon." With a farewell pat to Tinkerbell she opened the door.

"Well, you have a good time, and tell Josh I’m making a batch of brownies tonight. Maybe he’ll stop by."

"I’m sure he will," said Kelli, laughing.

Logan watched the back door close and glared at his aunt. "Who’s Josh?"

With a sparkle in her eye, Ruth replied, "Why, Josh is a dear friend of the family. You really must meet him, Logan."

#

Logan answered the back door. His aunt and uncle were finishing up the dinner dishes. "Yes?"

"You must be Logan Sinclair, Ruth and Henry’s nephew. I’m Josh Langley." Logan looked at the man standing before him. He disliked him on the spot. From common courtesy, he shook the offered hand. "Come on in. I believe we’re expecting you." When Josh entered the kitchen, Logan’s displeasure turned to hatred. The man was perfect. Coal-black hair, crystal-blue eyes, and gleaming white teeth shone in a model-perfect face that Hollywood would die for. Logan frowned as he noticed Josh’s dark blue policeman’s uniform, complete with shining silver badge.

For the first time in his life, Logan felt threatened by another man. Unreasonably threatened, he knew. He’d held his own against some pretty steep competition for the affection of the few ladies that visited the oil fields.

Henry turned from the cabinet he was putting plates into and smiled. "Hi, son. Knew you would come as soon as you found out Ruth was baking brownies."

"Hi, Henry. How’s it going? You didn’t split that pile of wood outside, did you?"

"Lord no, boy. Logan did that around six this morning."

Josh turned to face Logan. "Thanks. I would have gotten to it this weekend. Where’s Kelli?"

Logan forced a smile. "I think she’s in her workshop. I’ll go get her." He grabbed his windbreaker from the rack by the door and headed out into the chilly evening. He followed a path around the back of the house and headed to the dilapidated building Ruth had pointed out earlier as Kelli’s workshop. He didn’t know how it was still standing. The roof was sagging, paint was peeling off in strips, and two windows were cracked and held together by masking tape.

Both Kelli’s house and the small cottage where Ruth and Henry lived were clean and in good repair. Nothing indicated wealth, but there weren’t any signs of neglect, either. With a grimace of distaste he knocked on the warped wooden door.

No reply.

Gingerly he opened the door and spotted Kelli. She was seated near a kerosene heater, with her dog lying beside her. Her back was toward the door and she appeared to be carefully painting the yellow tutu on a statue of a fairy. There were a pair of ear buds in her ears and she was softly humming along with the radio. In distress, he noticed the three sweatshirts and the black knit fingerless gloves she wore. He closed the door behind him, but could still feel a draft move through the shack. How could she work in these conditions? he wondered. "Kelli?"

She didn’t reply and Tinkerbell appeared to be sleeping. He took two steps further into the rundown shack. Shelves constructed of planks and cinder blocks held concrete statues of fairies, similar to the one she was painting. Two propane lanterns, the only source of light, hung from wires attached to the ceiling. The concrete floor was cracked, patched, and splattered with paint. Two more windows graced the back wall. One was undamaged, the other had a piece of plywood nailed over it.

But, astonishingly, the room was clean. There wasn’t a cobweb or speck of dust in sight. A wastebasket held a paper bag half full of trash and a broom was propped against the far wall. Logan cleared his throat and called her name again. "Kelli."

Kelli saw Tinkerbell raise her head. Without turning she knew someone was in the room. Tinkerbell was half deaf and relied mainly on sight to alert Kelli to visitors. She turned, saw Logan, and gently pulled the earphones out. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Inexplicably, the anger shot through him. She was acting sweetly and politely toward him again. And Mister Uniform was waiting for her in the kitchen; all Josh needed was a telephone booth and he’d probably change into Superman. "Lover boy is here." One fine golden brow arched. "Who?"

"Josh Langley. You know, the guy who chops your wood and meets you for lunch."

Kelli was unsure why he sounded so sarcastic; she decided the best thing to do was ignore it. "Thank you, Logan. I’ll be right in."

Frustrated at her lack of response, he demanded, "What’s he to Henry?"

Kelli dropped the paintbrush into a container of water and placed the eighteen-inch statue on a shelf. "They’re friends. Being so far from town, Henry doesn’t get a chance to talk to other men. Whenever Josh visits they talk about fishing and stuff."

"Do you know that Henry calls him son?"

She slid the can of paint onto a shelf with a dozen other cans. "Sure. Is there something wrong with that?"

"He only calls me that," he said, knowing he sounded unreasonable.

Kelli finally realized that Logan wasn’t as sure of himself as he pretended. He was worried that Josh was replacing him in his uncle’s heart. She smiled with understanding. "Try to understand what was happening. Your aunt and uncle were taken in by a complete stranger. They’d never met me before the day they moved in here—"

Logan quickly interrupted. "I don’t understand how that happened. Would you please explain to me how you got Aunt Ruth and Uncle Henry?"

"No. That concerns your family. All I can say is I ended up with them, and I’ve never regretted it." From his stubborn expression, Kelli knew the subject was far from over. "About a week after they moved in," she said, "I threw a party, just a few friends and the drama department. The party was in full swing when Josh showed up with his grandparents. We thought it would be nice for Ruth and Henry to meet other people their own age."

"Was this the party Henry was arrested at?"

"Henry was never arrested. Josh showed up directly after work wearing his uniform. To the delight of your aunt and the entire drama department, he pretended to arrest Henry for drunkenness and disorderly conduct. Henry never laughed so hard in his life and they became fast friends."

"Okay, maybe I overreacted. Josh seems like a nice enough guy."

Kelly pulled off two sweatshirts and hung them on the back of the door, along with the gloves. She turned down the kerosene heater to low, opened the door, and extinguished the lanterns. "Josh is a nice guy." She walked out the door and watched as Tinkerbell ran off into the surrounding woods. "Henry told me he called Josh ‘son’ because he reminded him of his nephew, Logan, whom no one seemed able to locate."

Sheepishly, Logan trailed her into the kitchen. Half an hour later he had to admit she was right, Josh was an okay guy. Between the brownies and coffee they talked about fishing, gardening, and Fairyland.

"So Kelli, what’s the first play going to be?" asked Ruth.

"A Midsummer Night’s Dream. The local school district is required to perform a classic, and it’s a tradition to do the Shakespeare comedy in May. In June they will be doing Rumpelstiltskin and in July the group will perform The Tempest. Then they’ll top off the season by doing Peter Pan in August."

Ruth clapped her hands in excitement. "I can’t wait. Do you think I could sit in on the dress rehearsals?"

"I’m sure they won’t mind. But don’t tell them you know how to sew, they’ll rope you into making some costumes," said Kelli." Oh, I would love to help them." Hesitantly Ruth asked, "If that’s okay with you, Kelli. It is your sewing machine."

Kelli stood up and refilled her cup, looking away from the others. "How many times do I have to tell you Ruth, you don’t have to ask my permission for anything. This is your home too. If you want to use the sewing machine, be my guest. I just don’t want to see you overworked, that’s all."

"Gracious, child, me overworked? I haven’t done anything more strenuous than bake cookies since we moved here."

Logan glanced from Kelli to Ruth. "I agree with Kelli. Don’t overdo it, Ruth."

Josh watched the silent exchange and quickly changed the subject. "Henry, how would you like a fishing pole? My dad was cleaning out the attic and found three rods up there. He’s keeping one, and one is pretty old. But there’s a real nice one he is going to sell at the garage sale next month. He’s asking only two bucks for it. I could bring it over this weekend and you can see if it’s worth it."

"Two dollars, heh?"

"That’s what he said," Josh replied as he picked up another brownie and bit into it.

Logan watched as Kelli gave Josh a full one-hundred-watt smile that lit up the room. She looked ready to jump out of her chair and throw herself on Josh. Logan frowned. Kelli never smiled at him that way. She was always courteous and polite. Almost overly polite. But then why would she smile at him? He never offered Henry a fishing pole for two bucks. He could go out and buy him a brand-new rod, but Josh did one better. He’d offered Henry his self-respect by allowing him to make a financial decision. While Logan would be offering charity.