Teacup Novellas 01 - Tea With Emma (9 page)

“Oh dear,” Howard groaned, his eyes darting back and forth between them, obviously remembering too late the former relationship between his two guests. “That is to say, I, uh, yes, well. You see, Dr. Phillips was gracious enough to shorten her sabbatical to cover Dr. Smith’s classes. We have no idea how long his chemotherapy treatment will last, and since Melissa was in the area working on her new book, we were fortunate to convince her to take a couple of his classes." He stopped rambling for a moment then added, "Well now, isn’t this nice?”

The conversation resumed, others dominating Melissa’s attention, much to Ian’s relief. His heart pounded, the hot anger quickly racing through his veins. Teeth clenched, he fought the eruption of old memories and still-open wounds. For the remainder of the meal, he picked at his food, chastising himself for letting her affect him this way after all these years.

The tall pillar of cheesecake remained untouched.

Maddie gazed around her new kitchen. The freshly painted walls in a soft yellow called
Butter Cream
created the perfect, soothing ambience she would need for her culinary efforts
.
The white lace curtains allowed plenty of sunshine to stream through the pane-glass windows. She ran her hand over the cool marble countertop on the huge center island, dreaming of the delicacies she would create here. Appreciating the new cabinets banking the walls, she realized what a miracle Brad had pulled off in just a matter of weeks.

“Brad!” She looked at her watch then grabbed the phone, quickly dialing Lanie’s number.

“Lanie, where are you? He’ll be back in just a few minutes! I thought you were going to be here for tea?”

“I’m coming, I’m sorry! I was talking with Jeff and lost track of time.”

Maddie felt her teeth grinding. “Lanie, will you forget about him? I really think Brad likes you. So hurry up! I want you here before he gets back. Get your sweet bum over here!”

She hung up the phone, again irritated by the mention of the California nerd.
I’m finally getting you and Brad connected and here you go, wasting more time with that stupid geek. When will you ever learn to trust me, girl?

Her gentle nudges to bring Lanie and Brad together had gone according to plan. She’d actually been hearing less about Jeff and more about the handsome contractor from her friend. “I have to admit he’s fun to be with,” Lanie had admitted on more than one occasion. “He’s got the funniest sense of humor. And is he buff or what?”

Maddie observed the growing excitement in Lanie’s eyes each time she
happened
to stop by when he was done for the day. She loved watching her respond to his impeccable manners. Their laughter over tea or lemonade filled Maddie’s heart with joy.
Just a matter of time, those two.

Half an hour later, Maddie heard Lanie’s voice at the front door.  

“Maddie, I’m here! Sorry I’m late. I was on fumes and had to stop for gas which took way longer than it should have. Maddie? Hello?”

“Back here, Lanie. Come see my new appliances!”

Squealing like a school girl, Maddie greeted her best friend with a hug. “Look! Our refrigerator and stove were just delivered! Aren’t they unbelievable?”

“Oh wow, they’re
huge
—you could store a side of beef in there.”

“Well, hi Lanie. How are you?”

Lanie lit up at the sound of Brad’s voice. “Fine, Brad. How about you?”

Maddie watched her take in Brad’s appearance. His worn jeans fit him like a glove as did the white t-shirt stretched across his chest.
Show me any computer geek who looks this good.

Brad tipped his ball cap and started for the door. “I’m good. But if you two will excuse me, I need to be going.”

“No! Brad, wait,” Maddie said. “I was hoping you’d have tea with us today.”

“Thank you, but I have a meeting with an architect in about an hour. I appreciate the offer, though. See you tomorrow. Bye, Lanie,” he said, giving her a wink before closing the door.

“Did you see that?” Maddie whispered. “He winked at you! Lanie, hurry—run out there and catch him before he leaves!”

“Why? What would I say?” She peeked out the door.

“Invite him to meet you at Starbucks later. Tell him you have something you want to talk to him about. Anything! Just go. Go!” Maddie pushed her out the door then dashed to the open window overlooking Brad’s truck. She hid out of sight, peeking through the curtains.

“Brad! Wait up!”

Maddie watched as Lanie hurried down the driveway, catching up to him just as he climbed in the cab of his pickup.

“What’s up?” he asked, tossing his cap on the passenger seat and ruffling his hair.

Ask him, Lanie. Ask him. Be brave, girlfriend!

 “I was just wondering, would you—well, if you’re not too busy sometime, could we—could I buy you a cup of coffee at Starbucks later tonight? There’s something I’d like to talk to you about.”

Atta girl! You did it!

“I’m afraid not.”

Maddie’s heart sunk.
What?

“Oh, that’s okay,” Lanie answered. “No problem. Just thought I’d—”

“I can’t let
you
buy, but I’d be happy to meet you later at Starbucks. My treat.”

Maddie shot her fists in the air.
Yessss!

“How does eight-thirty work for you?”

Lanie smiled, laughing her response. “Eight-thirty would be lovely. See you there.”

Maddie danced a jig around the kitchen island. “Do I know a match when I see it? Am I a genius or what? Move over, Emma Woodhouse. You have met your match.” She laughed out loud. “Met your match. Get it? Oh I’m good. I’m
really
good.”

Ian wrung out the white washcloth, its steam swirling into the air. He placed it back across his forehead then sunk deeper into the tub. The whirlpool jets pounded his body, matching the rhythm of his throbbing temples. He shook his head, trying to block it all out. Trying to wipe her from his memory . . . all over again.

Another pounding woke him from his drowsy melancholy. He turned off the jets, listening. Someone was knocking on the door, the doorbell chiming repeatedly. “Go away!” Still the knocking continued, the doorbell incessant.

“All right, all right. I’m coming.” He toweled off then wrapped his robe around him before heading down the hall, leaving wet footprints on the hardwood floor. He stopped cold. Melissa stood on the other side of the door, her face visible through the beveled glass inset.

He turned around. “I’m not home.”

The knocking continued. “Ian, let me in. We have to talk.”

“No we don’t. I’m not here. Remember?”

“Ian!”

“Halloween’s not until next week. You’ll have to come back.”

“Stop acting like a child and open this door.”

How dare she!
He bolted for the door, throwing it open. “What could you possibly want?”

“I—just let me in. We have to talk.”

“I don’t think so.”

She lifted her chin in defiance, pushing the door open wider then stepping by him. “Stop this ridiculous behavior. We can at least be civil toward one another.”

“Can we?”

“Of course we can. And for heaven’s sake, close the door. You’re in a bath robe in case you haven’t noticed.”

Without breaking eye contact, he shoved the door. The resulting slam felt good as he strode past her into the living room. “So what is it you want to say to me, Dr. Halston—or wait,
Phillips,
is it now?” Ian claimed the easy chair beside the fireplace, propping his foot on the ottoman. “Married, are we?”

“Five years. With a four-year old daughter named Isabelle.” She walked across the room, placed her purse on the sofa, then took a seat.

“How nice. Isn’t that just lovely. And here I thought all this time you didn’t much like the idea of marriage. What with all that
commitment
rubbish and what not. Silly, silly me. I’m
so
very happy for you. In fact, if I wasn’t so busy, I’d ask to see pictures, but alas, I just
don’t
have the time.” He drilled her with his eyes, hoping to make her squirm.

She studied her fingers. He didn’t miss the large oval diamond on her left hand. “Ian, I never meant to—”

“Spare me. I don’t want to hear it. Not a word, Melissa.”

She looked up again with pleading eyes. “You never responded after I sent you all those letters. I hoped you would, though I know it must have been painful.”

“Painful? You left me
standing
at the altar! In front of all our friends and family, standing there like a complete and utter fool. And you think it might have been
painful?
Your mother appears at the back of the church only to say you’ve ‘changed your mind’ and there won’t be a wedding after all. I haven’t a clue in the world why anyone should think it might be
painful
for me? Least of all YOU!”

“Ian, calm down and listen to me.”

“No. I will not listen to you.”

“Fine. Don’t listen. But there are things I must say to you. I
couldn’t
marry you. Our engagement was my parents’ wish and not mine. Surely you know that. The college professor marrying the daughter of the chancellor. I tried to deny my feelings, tried to make everyone happy, but in the end, I couldn’t go through with it. The dress, the flowers, the music—suddenly it all hit me—it was nothing but a charade to please everyone but me. I
adored
you, Ian, truly I did. But I didn’t love you. I mean, not in that way. It wouldn’t have been fair to you. Not fair at all.”

He stared into the fire, refusing to look at her.

“You never read my letters, did you?”

He shook his head, despising the sting in his eyes.

“You must have hated me all these years. I can’t blame you, of course. What I did was deplorable.”

“Quite.”

“That’s why I was so surprised to see you today. I thought you surely hated all Americans after what I did. Yet here you were, back teaching in the states again.”

She stood and walked toward the front windows. “I’m not asking for your forgiveness. I’m in no position to do that after all these years.” She turned to face him. “But here we are, both in the same town, working on the same campus. In
Texas
of all places. There must be some way we can at least be cordial to one another.”

The grandfather clock ticked quietly. He closed his eyes, willing them to clear. After several moments, he realized she was seated again across from him.

“Ian.”

Her voice, graveled with emotion, pricked at his heart. He inhaled loudly, pulling his feet off the ottoman. “Not to worry, Dr.
Phillips.
I assure you I’ll remain completely professional at all times.” He stood, walking toward the foyer. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my bath water is getting cold.”

She followed him to the door, pausing as she neared him. He leveled his gaze at her, steeling the storm of emotions inside.

“Ian? Please?” she whispered, a lone tear cascading down her face.

“Good night, Melissa.”

The silence was palpable. Finally, she reached out her hand against his face then pressed a long kiss against his cheek. With that, she left, descending the porch stairs into the night.

Chapter 8

M
addie watched the car pull away from the curb in front of Bradford House. Sitting on her porch, she pulled her sweater around her against the evening chill, and reached for her cup of tea. Her pulse quickened, replaying the scene in her mind. She’d felt like an intruder when the door across the street had opened. But had she moved to go inside, she surely would have been noticed. The backlighting of the foyer chandelier had cast Ian and his lady friend in silhouettes as if some Hollywood director had created the romantic effect.

She fought the desire to be happy for the professor, hoping he might have some secret love after all. But there was something about the exchange that told her otherwise.  

He was in his bath robe. Rather familiar apparel for a mere acquaintance. Who is she? And why didn’t he respond when she kissed him?

The cell phone in her sweater pocket vibrated. “Hello?”