me, will you? I have trouble judging distances in those fancy mirrors.”
“How do you know you do?”
Patience giggled behind her hand. “I’m afraid I’ve been naughty. I’ve been sitting in your lovely black car and pretending to drive it.” She clapped her hands. “This time, I won’t have to pretend!”
Paul rolled his eyes and sighed. Great-Aunt Patience certainly knew how to get whatever she wanted. In her prime, she must have been a real femme fatale. He couldn’t help wondering why she and her twin had turned out so differently.
“Prudence tells me Patience is having the whole affair catered,” Eloise informed Belinda when she stopped by after work the following Tuesday. “All except for my special carrot cake. Pru wanted me to make one as a surprise.”
“Great. If dinner’s no good, I’ll just wait for dessert and fill up on your delicious cake.”
Grinning broadly, Eloise got up and started for the kitchen. She was limping noticeably. Belinda frowned. “How’s your ankle?”
“Fine. It hardly bothers me at all if I stay off it. Just makes me mad is all. I’d like it better if I didn’t have to act my age.”
“Sixty-five isn’t old,” Belinda argued. “What if you were in your eighties like the Whitaker twins? Besides, since when did you act your age?”
Eloise laughed. “Probably never. I suppose that’s what keeps me feeling so young. At least most of the time.” Wincing, she plopped down in a kitchen chair and pointed to the refrigerator. “I’ve got to sit a spell. The cake’s in there. Take a peek.”
Opening the refrigerator door, Belinda immediately spotted the lavish dessert and lifted it out with great care. “Oh, it’s beautiful! You really outdid yourself this time.”
“I wanted it to be extra nice so I used slivered almonds and made a sweet cream cheese icing. Putting it on that footed glass plate dresses it up a lot, too.” She carefully propped her ankle on the chair next to her. “So, can you deliver it for me?”
“Me?” Belinda’s heart did a back flip and landed in a lump in her throat. “When?”
“Well, I suppose you could take it with you when you and Sam go to dinner at the Whitakers’, but it would be much better if it was already there when the caterers arrive. That way, we can be sure Pru won’t be disappointed.”
Reflecting upon the time of day and the fact that the spinster sisters would undoubtedly be home, Belinda got control of her vivid imagination and forced herself to calm down. Paul had kept his promise to avoid her. She hadn’t seen him since Sunday morning. There was no reason to assume he’d be at his aunts’. And even if he was, so what? The problem wasn’t Paul, it was her.
“Okay,” Belinda said with a nod. “I can drop it by on my way to the city council meeting.”
“Uh-oh. I forgot this was Tuesday. No wonder you didn’t change your clothes after work. Never mind, dear. I’ll take it myself.”
“No, you won’t. You’ll stay right where you are and rest that ankle. Is there anything else you need before I leave?”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll have a pizza delivered for supper. Stop by after the meeting if you like and we can share the leftovers.”
Belinda chuckled. “Are you sure? The way those meetings drag on it could be midnight before I’m free.”
“I don’t mind a late visit as long as it’s you,” Eloise said fondly.
Carefully balancing the cake, Belinda leaned sideways to kiss her grandmother on the cheek. “Wow. Love and pizza. An unbeatable combination. I have the perfect life.”
“I think you’ll find there’s a little more to a perfect life than that.”
“Oh, I hope not.” Belinda made the exchange into a silly joke to keep from taking herself too seriously. “I was just getting the pepperoni part figured out.”
Belinda parked her white Tercel on the tree-lined street in front of the Whitaker house, immensely relieved to see that there was no black Lexus in the narrow driveway. She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank you, God.”
Not that she was scared of running into Paul. She just saw no reason to face him again unless she was forced to. Clearly, the Lord agreed, because the man was gone.
Balancing the heavy glass cake plate, Belinda detoured around an overgrown cedar and made her way along the side of the dilapidated old house. A fat yellow cat sat in the middle of the back porch, licking its paw to wash its face and regally ignoring her presence.
Belinda didn’t want to put the cake down or balance it in one hand to knock on the kitchen door so she called through the screen. “Miss Prudence? I brought your cake.”
No one answered. By nudging the bottom of the warped wooden frame with the toe of her shoe, she was able to pry the screen door open and duck through safely before it banged shut behind her. Except for the tabby cat roosting on top of the refrigerator and the black-and-white kittens playing with a catnip mouse under the table, the house seemed deserted.
“Oh, well. No problem,” Belinda told herself, easily deciding what to do. She’d just tuck the cake into the refrigerator where it belonged and be on her way. That would preserve the freshness of the cream cheese icing and also keep the house cats from helping themselves to a taste after she left.
She yanked open the refrigerator door. Her jaw dropped. So did a package of wilted lettuce and a roll of premade biscuits. The cardboard cylinder around the biscuits popped open as it hit the floor. Startled, Belinda almost made the terrible mistake of jeopardizing the cake in her efforts to stem the avalanche.
At her feet, biscuit dough was slowly expanding through the break in the package. One of the black-and-white kittens was sneaking up on it as if it were dangerous prey. Looking from the crammed refrigerator shelves to the large, footed glass plate, Belinda muttered, “What in the world am I going to do with this?”
Her gaze centered on the odd bowls and half-empty packages of food she could see near the front of the shelves. Could she ever clear a big enough place? Maybe. In an hour or so. Give or take a day.
One thing was certain. She was going to be late for the council meeting.
Paul was upstairs, on the phone to his secretary, when he thought he heard the back door slam. Relieved, he assumed Patience had finally brought his car home.
As soon as he finished his conversation he started downstairs to give her a chance to tell him about the fun she’d had with his poor Lexus. It was insured, of course, but that didn’t mean he’d welcome a dented fender. Or a dented great-aunt!
His running shoes made little sound on the carpet. It wasn’t until he was almost to the kitchen that he heard the soft singing of a woman. That wasn’t Patience. Or Prudence. It sounded like… Belinda?
Slowing his pace, Paul approached with caution. After her insistence that she didn’t want to see or talk to him, Belinda couldn’t possibly be there. It had to be a trick of his imagination. Or a singing burglar with a high, sweet voice, he countered, purposely mocking himself.
