Treasured Past (11 page)

Donald’s face was a twisted frown. I couldn’t tell if he was furious with me or perhaps his son.

“If this gets in front of a judge, I can guarantee you that this information will come out. I can promise you that the opposition will label it blackmail. And I can also promise you that a judge will take a look at all the
facts,
including the fact that the house was
inherited
by your son’s wife from her
parents
.” I took a deep breath for emphasis. “And that judge will have a very hard time justifying why your son deserves that house.”

Ha. Surely he would see the mistake he was making and change his mind. Surely he would think it better to put his tail between his legs than face the wrath of a judge.

His jaw stopped working as he held my gaze squarely. His smile was slow to unwind on his lips. Green eyes narrowed as he leaned back in his chair, and the smile turned into a self-satisfied sneer.

“And there’s where you’re wrong, my dear.”

I tried to steady myself. This wasn’t going as planned.

He leaned forward, as if to share a secret for my ears alone. “I’ve been in this business a very long time, my dear.”

If he called me
my dear
one more time, I might be tempted to slap him.

“I know every judge in this county, and there isn’t one who doesn’t owe me a favor of some kind.” I thought he would burst the button of his
overstarched
shirt as he puffed himself all up. “So you see, my dear, this case getting in front of a judge is the least of my worries.”

He stood up now, dismissing me and getting the final word. “Just do your job, and I’ll make it worth your while. Stop asking questions, and do your best to get this thing settled quickly.” He paused as his hand reached for the doorknob. “Do we understand each other?”

Deflated, I did my best to hide my disappointment and disbelief, carefully toeing the company line.

“We do, sir,” I told him, and was relieved to watch his back retreat from my office.

Shoulders sagging, I let myself fall against the back of my chair. Closing my eyes, I wondered how I ever thought I could win this battle.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Mondays had become my favorite weekday. For the past few weeks, I’d come home on Mondays to find Annie in my home. At first there had been meetings with contractors. She had wasted no time in gathering bids and speaking with a number of professionals until she had settled on the best company for the job.

We had gone over budgets, specifications, schedules, and blueprints until we’d come up with a plan we both loved and a price that I could swallow.

Annie apparently had friends in all the right places, because the construction company wasted no time in delivering lumber and setting up shop in my soon-to-be library. On Mondays, she was there to supervise and provide direction when I was at work. And nearly every weeknight she showed up on my doorstep, a smile on her face and an eagerness to see what had been accomplished during the day.

Today when I arrived, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the window, carefully stripping away the layers of paint that previous owners had applied to the woodwork.

She wore overalls and a painter’s cap turned sideways so that it was neither forward or backward. She must not have heard me come in the door, and I slipped off my shoes before padding quietly into the room behind her.

I waited until I was about three steps behind her before I spoke.

“Aren’t we paying someone else an awful lot of money to do that?” The work was tedious. She was gently sweeping away some of the dirt and grit from within the groove of the woodwork.

The face that she turned to me was warm and smiling. “You’re right. You
are
paying someone too much to do this for you.” She shrugged, her head tilting until one shoulder touched the bill of her cap. “But I can’t resist. I can’t tell you how much I love working like this.” She turned back to her work and brushed it lightly with a stiff brush.

“They got a lot done today. Did you see that the structure is in place for the bookshelves?”

I took a moment to turn and survey the far wall. Sure enough, the shelves had been framed. All traces of the white wall had been covered with rich
cherrywood
. None of the shelves or decorative molding was in place, but the structure was there. Annie’s vision was coming alive before my eyes.

“Wow. It looks really nice, doesn’t it?”

Annie had uncurled herself from the floor and now stood beside me. “It’s certainly taking shape.”

She was close enough that I could smell the freshness of her hair, something I’d also grown used to and come to cherish and agonize over at the same time. It was all I could do to hold back. I could no longer count the number of times I’d wanted to reach out and take the pins from her hair. I yearned to watch it fall, to see just how long it was, and just how the wild curls would frame her face. But I did nothing. I just watched her from a distance, cherishing the moments when she was as close as she was now, and fantasizing about what it might be like to hold her close.

I realized with a start that Annie was looking at me curiously. I must have been staring again.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Of course,” I recovered.

“You look distracted,” she persisted.

“Maybe a little,” I admitted.

“Work?” she asked.

I groaned. “Maybe. A case I’m working on is frustrating the hell out of me.”

“I’m sorry.” Her brows drew together in a look of concern. We rarely talked about my work. Partly because I wanted to leave everything behind at the office. But partly too, I suspected, because Annie seemed to hold a certain distaste for my profession.

I waved away her concern. “I don’t even want to think about it,” I told her. “Can you stay for dinner? I thought I’d go change and we could order out. Maybe Chinese?”

“Sounds lovely,” she smiled.

I studied her face, noting the tiny crinkles at the corners of her eyes before shaking myself and heading to my bedroom.

I changed into shorts and a T-shirt, returning to find Annie standing before the window that she had been working on before. Her arms were folded loosely against her chest as she leaned against the window sill, staring out into the fading light. The cap she’d worn earlier was now discarded on the floor at her feet. She looked so thoughtful and distant that I didn’t want to disturb her.

I stopped just inside the door to watch her, my heart rising to my throat as I traced the outline of her profile with my eyes.

“I went ahead and ordered dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” Her voice sounded as distant as her gaze. She kept her eyes focused on some faraway target.

The sound of her voice almost frightened me. I’d never heard her sound so quiet. She sounded depressed. Almost troubled.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked quietly.

For some inexplicable reason, my heart was pounding as I answered. “Of course.”

She didn’t speak right away, and I reasoned that she needed encouragement. So I walked farther into the room to join her. I settled myself against the window sill on the opposite side of the window. A good three feet separated us.

Now that I was closer, I could see that her cheeks were flushed, as if she were embarrassed.

“Annie?” I inquired gently, watching the eyes that she kept so carefully from mine.

She was smiling, but it was a wry smile. She hesitated, taking a deep breath and sighing loudly before speaking.

“Are you seeing anyone right now?” She continued to stare out the window.

My heart thumped wildly. My laughter was born of nervous tension. “You’re here every day. So you tell me. Am I seeing anybody?”

I was willing her to meet my gaze, but her refusal was steady. Tension hung in the air between us, and I hoped wildly that her question meant that she was interested in me.

She was struggling with her response, and I could feel her anguish and hesitation. Again a heavy sigh escaped her before she spoke.

“I guess that means that the only person you’re seeing is me.” Her eyes darted my way before returning to their faraway stare. I thought my heart would stop beating entirely.

Did she say what I think she said?
My mind was racing as wildly as my heart, jumping from one thought to the next. Silence stretched, and I could see Annie’s expression falter. She was so nervous.

“Every chance I get.” I told her the truth. Heart palpitating, I took a gulp of air. “And if I had it my way, I’d see you even more.”

Now it was my turn to be nervous. I watched her closely, praying that I’d said the right thing. That I’d read her correctly and hadn’t just made a total ass out of myself.

Her expression cleared, a small smile finding her lips as relief spread over her. Then she was shaking her head slowly, still apparently unable to look me in the eye.

“Annie?” My voice sounded meek.

She continued to stare outside as she finally spoke. “I’m here with you every day, Kate, and it’s all I can do to keep my distance.” Her lips curled softly. “I keep hoping that maybe you’ve felt it too. That you feel the same way

“I do.” My voice grew steady as my heart soared.

Silence. Then finally she raised her eyes to mine. The width of the window was between us, and all I wanted to do was close the gap.

I could see the nervous energy in her eyes.

“Really?” The word was nearly a whisper.

“Really.” I was smiling now, full of confidence.

Her eyes were on my smile, and I watched as her lips finally curled shyly.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” She was growing bold, almost playful.

My face blanched. “Too scared, number one.”

She studied me. “And number two?” Her head tilted to one side.

I hesitated. “When I learned that you had been married, I thought maybe that you were straight. Nothing’s worse than approaching a straight woman and getting rejected.”

She considered my words. “I suppose that’s so. But I thought that I was telling you every which way that I was interested in you.”

“Except for telling me straight out,” I interjected. “Of course not.” She shook her head. “Too scared.”

I laughed. We’d both been too scared.

Now we looked at each other, awkwardly dropping our eyes, uncertain what to do next.

I raised a hand as if to reach out to her, and I was surprised to see her almost flinch. She seemed more nervous than ever.

I studied her features, confused and uncertain. Then a thought occurred to me.

“Annie, have you ever been with a woman?”

She blanched again before looking me in the eye. “Yes, I have.” She raised her chin defiantly. “Exactly one.” She paused before grinning mischievously. “Why? Do I look like a rookie?”

My laughter was full and honest.

“Actually, yeah. I don’t know many lesbians who look like you.”

She frowned. “That’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“Probably,” I admitted.

“Not to mention that you’re stereotyping,” she reprimanded me, lifting a finger and waving it in my direction.