her eyebrows. 'Mmm… delicious.' She wondered if his drink was plain or spiked, but didn't ask, only glanced around the living room to find the plants had been trimmed of drying leaves, washed, and sprayed with leaf polish. The
tables gleamed and the carpet hadn't one 271 dot of lint or ash on it. Under Georgine's care the lavish room had truly come to life.
'How about taking our drinks out on the deck?' he suggested, and pulled the door open, then followed her out. The sun was hovering an hour's ride above the western rim of the lake, sending a highway of shimmering gold straight at them across the water. Overhead a pair of gulls caught the sun on their wings and squawked their tuneless call. It was warm, peaceful, and private. Rachel rested her glass on the railing, then leaned her hips against it, squinting into the bright reflection. 'This place is really beautiful.'
She watched him find and light a cigarette. Odd how the simple motions held a new attraction for her as he tilted his jaw, flicked a thumb on the wheel of the lighter, and scowled through the cloud of smoke. He threw his head back, exhaling, turned abruptly, and caught her watching him intently.
Immediately she looked at the lake.
'You like it?'
'Yes, very much. Who could help but like it?'
He turned his back to the view and perched a
buttock on the rail, one knee riding wide and the suit jacket gaping open as he swiveled toward her. 'I built it for you,' he said matter-of-factly.
Her eyes flew to his, and they stared at each other for an endless moment. His new untinted glasses left the expression in his brown eyes open for study, and she saw there a grave sincerity that rocked her senses. Gone were the days when she wanted to turn away from his probing gaze. Now she wanted to immerse herself in it. He looked so different. Younger. Less worry-lined. Head-turningly handsome. She stood riveted before him while he made no move whatever to touch her, yet she felt touched in a wholly wonderful way. She became acutely conscious of his masculine pose, the tailored beige jacket having fallen aside to reveal expertly cut brown trousers stretched between his cocked hips.
At last she found her voice. 'Yes I know. I recognized it the moment I walked into it.'
'Did you?' His voice was gently gruff.
'It was unmistakable.'
'And what did you think?'
Again she gazed out over the lake. 'That 273 I was married to Owen when you built it.'
'So you were.' He lifted his glass, watched her over the rim as he took a drink, then dropped the hand to his knee.
'Oh, Tommy Lee, whatever were you thinking, to do a thing like that?' Her eyes were troubled, and the corners of her mouth tipped down as she turned toward him.
He remained silent for a long time, studying the contents of his glass while swirling it distractedly, bumping it against his kneecap. Then he captured her brown eyes with his own and spoke softly. 'Remember how we used to dream about it?'
'Yes, I remember. But that was… years ago.'
He went on as if she hadn't spoken, glancing lazily over his left shoulder at the lake. 'It's right where we always said we'd like to live.' She felt his eyes move back to study her profile. 'And it has all the windows you said you wanted, and all the natural wood I said I wanted.' He drew deeply on the cigarette. 'And the master bedroom with
enormous walk-in closets made of cedar, and the view of the lake, and the fireplace for winter, and the sliding doors and deck for summer.' He pointed above their heads with the tip of the cigarette. 'That set of steps leads directly down from the bedroom, right to the lake for midnight swims.'
Rachel's heart was thundering and her lips dropped open as she resisted the urge to look up at the deck cantilevered over their heads. My God, he remembered everything. She recalled walking in here the first time, noting his choices, adding them up, and wondering what the bedroom looked like. Why should it come as such a shock to know it, too, was designed from secrets whispered in the dark more than two decades ago?
The sliding door rolled back and Georgine asked, 'Would you like your salads out here?' At the far end of the deck stood an umbrella table and four cushioned chairs.
'No, thank you, Georgine, we'll come inside.' Tommy Lee eased his leg off the rail. 'Rachel?' He swept a hand toward the door, and she let her eyes meet his. But they skittered away again from the impact.
The table was simply but elegantly set with
thick slubbed linen placemats and 275 matching blue napkins in ivory rings, a centerpiece of blue and brown, and a pair of ink-blue candles, already lit. When Tommy Lee had solicitously settled Rachel into her chair, he took the one directly opposite, reached for his napkin, and glanced up to find their view of each other blocked by the tall tapers. Without a word, he leaned over to push the centerpiece and candles aside, smiled, and settled back into his chair, saying, 'There… that's better.'
She busied herself removing her napkin from its ring, but felt tingly in the ensuing silence, and even more unnerved when she looked up to find him relaxedly lounging in his chair, studying her bemusement with a look of total appreciation.
The salad was made of crabmeat, endive, and water chestnuts and was served without wine. Scrambling about in her mind for a subject of conversation, Rachel finally asked, 'So… did you and Darrel make ten?'
His head went back as he laughed, and the movement gave him a look of renewed youth that caught at Rachel's heart.
'Yes, we made ten, and tied Darla. Now the fight is on for eleven.'
Their eyes met. Rachel felt a rich closeness to him in that moment as they spoke of things linking them to more than this night. But when the subject died, she sensed him in little hurry to pick up the strings of another. He seemed content to sit there in silence, studying her while the fork trembled in her hand.
When she could stand it no longer she finally insisted, 'What are you looking at?'
A grin tugged at his cheek. 'Y. Trying to get my fill.'
'Well, you're embarrassing me.'
'Sorry, I didn't mean to.' But still he didn't look away. 'I'm trying to grasp the fact that you're really here at last, sitting at my table across from me. Incredible…'
She didn't know what to say, so she fiddled with the hem of her napkin.
'You know, Rachel, through the years I watched you maturing, and sometimes I'd grow angry with you. I'd want to call you and say, why don't you wither up or get gray or haggard! But instead you just grew more and more beautiful as the years passed.'
She braced an elbow on the table, 277 dropped her forehead onto her knuckles, and shook her head. 'Keep that up and I'll have to leave.'
'Is that a blush I see?' he teased, cocking his head as if to see behind her hand.
She propped her chin on the hand and presented him with a tight-lipped grin. 'What do you think? I told you, I'm out of practice.'
He laughed, sending a flash of white teeth through the growing shadows. 'Ah, I love it.'
'Could we please change the subject, Mr. Gentry?'
'As you please. Pick one.'
She clasped her hands in her lap and said softly, 'Beth.'
'Which one?' he asked.
She felt herself color again as she answered quietly, 'Your Beth. You said she's living with you.'
He cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his chair. 'Yes, for two weeks now, but she's gone off with some kids to the movies. She met a bunch down at the beach the first week, and already she's saying she wants to register for school
here.'
'You must be ecstatic.'
'I am.' His expression sobered slightly. 'But it takes some adjusting.'
'I imagine it does. What… how…?was Rachel became discomfited and waved an apologetic palm. 'I guess it's none of my business.'
