you leave,” Sophie interjected. “I’ll need to know if you’d like me to get in any more supplies for you—for lunch or dinner tonight.” There was a slight pause before she added, “I’d be happy to prepare something for you.”
“Thank you, Sophie. That’s very thoughtful of you. But I’ll be fine. After I’ve explored here, I’ll do the town. Maybe check out one of those trendy restaurants you mentioned.” She pushed in her chair and turned to leave the room. “I’ll meet you on the front porch then, Jack,” she said, leaving the kitchen in three brisk strides.
She felt three pairs of eyes follow her through the doorway.
“Not much like her aunt,” she heard Sophie say.
Roslyn stopped, just out of view and heard Jack’s response. “Not to look at,” he agreed. He cleared his throat to add, “But clearly a family resemblance of one kind.”
“Yup” was all Sophie said, along with a very audible sigh.
“IT’S REALLY a branch of the Iowa River,” Jack explained.
Roslyn stared down the wooded ravine to the expanse of pea-green water. “A very big branch,” she commented. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she moved her head from left to right, taking in the whole panorama. Trees everywhere and of every kind for as far as she could see. Some were just budding and some were already in bloom. “How much of my aunt’s land extends over there, beyond the river?”
“Oh, I guess another thirty acres or so. The property line extends much farther to the east, behind the house.”
“Exactly how much land did Aunt Ida have? We’ve been walking for about half an hour now and you say we still haven’t seen it all.”
Jack thought for a moment. “There’s about a hundred acres of cultivated fields as well as the river and woods. And the house sits on four or five acres.” He paused. “Of course, it’s yours now.” His eyes bore into hers.
“Well, not exactly,” she murmured. “I haven’t met the conditions of the will yet.” Suddenly uncomfortable, she turned back to the river. The idea of owning such a piece of land was unthinkable. Too much for one person. Too much for me. “Anyway, perhaps we should get back to the house. I haven’t even had a chance to see more than a couple of rooms so far.”
“Would you like to check out the rest later today?”
Roslyn shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m here for such a short time, there doesn’t seem to be any point.”
His face darkened. He seemed about to say something but changed his mind. When he started walking back toward the cultivated fields surrounding the house, Roslyn followed behind feeling like a scolded child. What was he so annoyed about?
His steady, long-legged strides tackled the ridged furrows of the field easily. Roslyn gave up trying to keep pace with him. Her sneakers were caked with clumps of soil, still sodden from last night’s rain. By the time they reached the grass that stretched into the lawns encircling the house, Roslyn could hardly raise her feet to walk.
She leaned against a blossoming crab apple tree to take off her shoes and socks. Barefoot, she quickly caught up with Jack. He stopped at the picket fence. Roslyn checked out his boots, noting that they hardly seemed muddy at all. And she couldn’t be certain, but she thought she saw a grin shoot across his face.
“Sorry, but there wasn’t a faster way back,” he said.
He didn’t sound that sorry. In fact, she suspected he might have purposely led her that way, out of spite. But spite about what? Don’t be so cynical, Baines. “Nothing a bit of water can’t remedy,” she said, trying for a lilt in her voice. She stuck out her right hand and said, “Jack, thanks again for all your trouble. I really appreciate it.” She paused, then added, “When I’m back in Chicago, I’ll have some vivid memories of this day.”
The surprise in his face was gratifying somehow. He took her right hand and held on to it a bit longer than she’d expected. Roslyn pulled it away, ostensibly to bend down for her shoes and socks. She’d only taken a few steps up to the veranda when his voice stopped her.
“Let me know when you come back to Plainsville.”
Roslyn swung round. “I’m not sure that I’ll be coming back,” she said.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. A frown appeared on his face, followed by something else that Roslyn couldn’t interpret. He twisted the brim of his baseball cap in his big hands. Finally, he gestured with the baseball cap to his right and mumbled something.
Roslyn took a step forward. “Pardon?”
He cleared his throat. “You ought to at least have a look at the rose. Over there.”
The baseball cap flipped to his right again.
Roslyn moved down to the step above where he stood. She looked over his shoulder toward the garden bordering the sidewalk. “The rose?”
Impatience surged briefly in his eyes. “The Iowa rose,” he clarified. “The reason you’re here right now. I think you should at least take a look at it before you go back to Chicago.”
He headed for a section of the garden that looped away from the sidewalk in a wide scallop. A bright-pink flowering shrub took center place in the loop, surrounded by other green plants and bushes that Roslyn couldn’t identify, although she thought she recognized a row of tulips half-emerged from the ground.
“Which one is it?”
He pointed to what appeared to be a pile of sticks covered in thorns poking out of the ground.
Roslyn wasn’t impressed. “That’s it?”
“You have to come back in June. Those little greenish-brown things are leaf buds and they’ll be out in a few weeks. In June, it’ll be covered with blossoms the size of your hand.”
“What color?”
“The palest pink you’ve ever seen, with a streak of deep crimson extending up from lemon-yellow stamens. Not one of those dramatic hybrids, but stunning all the same.”
Roslyn heard the admiration in his voice. She glanced at him. He was staring down at the plant and smiling. She looked at the bush again and shook her head. She just didn’t see what he was seeing. “Well, it’s not what I expected,” was all she could think to say.
After a long moment, he raised his head to hers. “Nothing ever is,” he remarked. “What we expect, I mean.”
Roslyn studied him. Jack obviously wasn’t talking about the rosebush. His jawline was set in a forbidding pose. Everything in the rugged, attractive face shouted How can you give all this up!
Roslyn looked at the house.
“It is a magnificent home,” she said. “I’m anxious to poke around inside. My aunt seems to have been quite a collector. The bedroom furnishings looked very old—not that I’m an expert on antiques.”
He nodded vigorously. “I don’t think Ida’s changed anything in the house—except for some wiring and
