“You tell me.”
Suddenly angry, she snapped her fingers. “I never could pull anything over on you, could I, Stick? After all these years I’ve finally found a way to get you back for not asking me to the homecoming dance.”
Ack! Had she said that out loud? It wasn’t as if she’d ever actually expected him to ask her to the homecoming dance. But she’d hoped. Oh, how she’d hoped. Not that he’d believe it. He smiled thinly and sat forward, one forearm braced against the corner of her desk.
“I’m warning you, Anna Miranda,” he rumbled in a low voice. “You better not make my aunts the object of one of your pranks.”
Pranks? Anna goggled. She hadn’t pulled a prank in years, since high school, at least. She’d been much too busy trying to feed and house herself.
“And to think,” she hissed, “that I was feeling sorry for that crack I made. I heard about your wife, how she took off, and I felt bad about saying women made a habit of leaving you. Now I’m thinking maybe they got it right.”
The color drained from his face. For an instant, raw pain dulled his copper-brown gaze, and once more regret slammed her. “Reeves, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“My aunts,” he said in a strangled voice, climbing to his feet. “I’m watching you, Anna Miranda Burdett. If you hurt or disappoint them…” Shaking his head, he started to turn away.
Desperate to convince him of her sincere regret, she reached for his arm. They jerked apart as if zapped by electricity.
“Never,” she vowed, gazing up at him repentantly, her tingling hand clenched at her side. “I would never hurt your aunts. They’ve always been kind to me. I have the greatest respect for them, and I’ll give them my very best work. You have my word.”
“I haven’t always found your word trustworthy,” he reminded her quietly, “like the day you swore you hadn’t seen my keys.”
Anna flushed. “Oh, that.”
What was it with men and their precious cars? She’d been fourteen, for pity’s sake, just a kid caught in the throes of an unrequited crush. She wasn’t about to apologize for something that had happened twelve years ago.
Reeves nodded sharply. “Yeah, that.” After staring at her for several seconds, he whirled and strode away.
Anna slumped against her chair, feeling more alone than usual, though why that should be the case, she couldn’t say. She’d always been alone, after all. Obviously, that was how God intended her to be. But at least she could show Reeves Leland that he was wrong about some things. She did have talent, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.
As she’d promised Reeves, she would give the Chatams her very best effort, if for no other reason than to secure her job. She’d only been here a few months. After a long string of pointless, temporary positions, she’d finally found work that she enjoyed, even if the boss was difficult. She would hate to lose that, especially since her grandmother expected her to. Also because she had to pay the rent.
The tiny one-bedroom apartment where she had lived since the age of eighteen in no way compared to the two-story, gingerbread-Victorian house where she had grown up, but Anna would crawl across glass on a daily basis to keep from moving back in with Tansy. She would do worse, she realized suddenly, to raise Reeves Leland’s poor opinion of her, and that’s exactly what she feared she would do. Worse.
Nevertheless, for the remainder of the week, she concentrated on showing up for work early and giving the BCBC job her best. She contacted the university and got permission to incorporate their insignia into her designs, then she experimented with fonts, illustrations and document styles until she had a handful of satisfactory possibilities to offer for consideration, along with detailed estimates for those items already discussed. She was ready by midmorning on the following Monday to meet with Reeve’s aunts once again. Dennis elected to make the call informing them of that. Afterward, he told her that she had a four o’ clock appointment at Chatam House. She blinked as Dennis shook a finger in her face.
“And don’t think you’re going to cut out at five o’clock, either. You stay until those old ladies are satisfied, or I’ll wash my hands of you!”
“Be easier to wash me out of your hair,” Anna quipped, eyeing the thin strands covering his poor crown. The instant the words were out, she wished them back. Dennis literally snarled at her until she muttered, “Sorry. Won’t let you down. Promise.”
Dennis turned away, leaving Anna to ponder whether Reeves would be there or if he would, as in years past, go out of his way to avoid her. He’d said he would be watching, but she didn’t take that literally, especially as he’d shown such a marked disdain for her company. It shouldn’t have bothered her so much—she had made a career, after all, of earning disapproval, especially that of her grandmother—but Reeves Leland’s attitude had always wounded her. Only when she was tweaking that handsome, aristocratic nose of his had he deigned to look her way. Even then, he had only seen “the brat.” Apparently that was all he saw now, too.
What hurt most was that he had always seemed unfailingly polite and kind to everyone else. Indeed, Reeves Leland had a reputation for being a fine Christian man, which was why the town had been so shocked when his wife had left him.
Pushing him out of mind, she concentrated instead on getting through the day. Howard, the dear, made sure that she got away from the office in plenty of time for her appointment. In fact, when she pulled up in front of Chatam House the dashboard clock of her old car told her that she had nearly ten minutes to spare.
Gathering her materials, she stepped out into the cold February air, tucking her chin into the rainbow-striped muffler wound about her throat inside the collar of her bright orange corduroy coat. The instant she straightened a whirling dervish came out of nowhere and knocked her on her behind. Anna instinctively put out a hand and grabbed hold. Simultaneously Carol Petty, one of the Chatams’ household staff, huffed into view, her dark slacks and bulky sweater dusted with white powder, her light brown hair slipping free of the clasp at her nape. While Carol gasped for breath, the little tornado who had knocked Anna down screeched.
“Gilli Leland, stop it!” Carol scolded, stomping forward across the deep gravel to take hold of the girl. “You are going to have a bath, and that’s that.”
Anna hauled herself to her feet and picked up her portfolio, thankful she’d had the foresight to zip it closed as that was not always the case. Dusting off her jeans, she turned to take in the girl who had flattened her.
So this was Reeves Leland’s daughter. Pretty little thing, with all that curly hair, provided one disregarded the wailing and white powder. What was that stuff covering her anyway? Talcum? Chancing a sniff, Anna leaned forward, only to draw back in surprise. The kid had coated herself in flour. Hopefully, no one planned to pan fry her, though given Carol’s exasperation, Anna wouldn’t have been surprised.
“I wanna make cookies!” the girl sobbed.
“Hilda is saving the cookies until you get cleaned up,” Carol told the distraught child. She cast an apologetic look at Anna. “I’m sorry, Miss Burdett. A mishap in the kitchen. The misses are expecting you.”
“Uh-huh, and Mr. Leland?” Anna glanced around, expecting Reeves to arrive at any moment to take his wayward offspring in hand.
Carol
