Paul just shook his head.
“So,” Amy continued, “is she the one?”
“I think so,” Paul traced the crease of his pants, his look thoughtful.
Amy bit her lip, knowing her next question trod on shaky ground. “Which church does she go to?”
“None. But neither do I, so that’s no problem.”
Amy turned away, suddenly disappointed in her old hero. “That’s too bad, Paul.”
“You sound like my parents,” he replied testily.
“I was hoping I sounded more like your sister.”
“I thought you didn’t like being called that.”
Amy shook her head. “You’re five years older than me. I’ll always be younger. I’m hoping I will always be like a sister to you.”
“You’ll always be a sassy little redhead, that’s what,” Paul said, his smirk skipping over the serious tone of their previous conversation, creating an easy return to the give and take of their youth.
Amy glanced sidelong at him, her smile acknowledging the change in the tone of the conversation. Paul hadn’t changed, but as she analyzed her new feelings for him, she realized with thankfulness that she had grown up.
“There you are.” Stacy stood below them, smiling uncertainly up at both of them.
Paul got up and walked down to join her. “Just catching up with an old friend,” he said easily, brushing a kiss across her soft cheek. “You never did get a proper introduction to Amy did you?” He looked up at Amy, who still sat on the stairs, a soft smile curving up delicate lips tinted with gloss. Her gleaming copper hair flowed over her shoulders, curling up at the bottom. Warm gray eyes fringed with dark lashes looked down at him with humor in them.
The tomboy he had always remembered looked feminine and incredibly appealing. To be sure, she still wore jeans and a shirt, but the jeans were black, the linen shirt was decorated with embroidery on the sleeves. It was a look that suited her as much as Stacy’s soft flowing dress became her. He glanced at his girlfriend. He couldn’t help but compare the two women. Stacy always looked elegant, composed, everything coordinated. But the Amy in front of him looked nothing like the dusty, bedraggled girl of this afternoon. He remembered again how easily she handled a horse that he would have walked a wide circle around.
“So are you going to introduce us or do I have to do it myself?” Amy asked, tilting her head to one side as she came down the stairs.
“Sorry.” Paul mentally shook himself and drew Stacy closer. “Stacy Trottier, this is Amy Danyluk, neighbor, friend and the little sister I never had.” He turned to Stacy who shifted her cup of coffee to one hand and reached out one well-manicured hand as he spoke.
“So what kind of work do you do in Vancouver?” Amy asked, shaking Stacy’s hand.
“I work with computers.” Stacy pulled her hand back.
“That’s a pretty broad field.” Amy laughed. “What kind of work?”
Stacy took a sip of her coffee looking at Amy over the rim of her cup. “I set up Web-sites and program computers.”
“How do you do that?” Amy persisted, unintimidated by Stacy’s terse replies.
“Do you know what an ISP is or an HTML editor?” she asked as if challenging Amy.
Amy raised her eyebrows with a smile, as if unashamed of her ignorance. “I don’t have the first clue what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t even start, Amy,” Paul warned. “Stacy can talk about the ’Net until the cows come home, and you and I both know cows never do.”
“I don’t mind,” Amy replied. “Someday I’d like to get a computer. I’m sure there’s something on the Internet about cattle.”
“There is,” Stacy said, leaning forward. “You’ll find information on things you can’t even imagine.”
“And a lot of things you can’t imagine people would want to know,” Paul added.
Stacy shrugged. “That comes with the freedom of expression inherent in the Web.”
“I don’t think Amy’s particularly interested in the Internet anyhow. Why don’t you ask her about her cows?” Paul continued. Once Stacy started on her favorite topic, she didn’t easily stop. He knew Amy was only being courteous.
But neither paid him any attention. Amy asked Stacy another question. Amy was always polite, Paul thought. Always polite and always careful to make people feel good. For a moment he thought she would be put off by Stacy’s abrupt attitude, but Amy acted as if she hadn’t noticed.
Paul watched as she tilted her head to one side, trying to comprehend, interjecting with quiet questions. She nodded, as if she finally understood and then dropped her head back and laughed at something Stacy said.
Her hair slipped across her shoulder, her gray eyes sparkled. Paul couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He watched her more than his own girlfriend. In fact, since the party started he had watched her, knowing where she stood and who she talked to and how much time she spent with Tim.
Not exactly the behavior of a man in love, he thought, criticizing himself wryly as he moved away from the bottom of the stairs and the two women, into the living room and the rest of his family.
His capriciousness seemed symptomatic of his life the past few years. What he had didn’t satisfy him, so he looked to what he didn’t have. As far as his relationship with Stacy was concerned, he had thought it would last longer than it had. It didn’t help that their work always seemed to come between them and their relationship.
That’s why he planned this trip home. He liked Stacy and knew he wouldn’t find better. He wanted to make their relationship work. He didn’t feel so empty when he was around her.
He worked his way through the family room, past the younger cousins who grumbled about homework and jobs. He dodged aunts who bustled about refilling coffee cups as they caught up on calamities and exulted over joys. He poured himself a coffee.
The house was full to bursting with family, friends and members of the church, and his harried mother was in her element. It had been a few years since Paul had been to a family get-together, and he hadn’t realized until tonight what he’d missed.
He and Stacy entertained frequently and attended functions put on by their friends. But that’s precisely what they were. Functions. Another tool used by those on the way up, to network, schmooze and gather information. He had enjoyed them, but each year created an increasing restlessness he couldn’t pin down.
The past months had been especially hectic. He and his partner, Bruce DeVries, had successfully bid on an apartment block in Victoria and two more in Vancouver proper. That meant evenings and weekends taken up with verifying subcontractors’ prices, meetings with engineers, organizing schedules, and all the while keeping the current projects flowing smoothly. It had just about fried him out.
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