She blushed again. “That would be nice.” Tohim it was nothing more than bringing home a gallon of milk or asack of feed. Yet it was touching and somehow personal. Thedarkening shadows sharpened his features and highlighted the crows’feet around his eyes. He finished his pie and leaned back in hischair, his gaze meeting hers. She knew the color was deepening inher cheeks.
He watched her thoughtfully, running a handacross his mouth absently. “You know, that family room could use awoman’s touch.”
She jumped at the diversion. “It needssomething light and not too distracting from the natural beauty ofthe room - something that would complement the antiquequality.”
He nodded. “It has a lot of character.” Heleaned back and gazed into the room. “I always did like this house.I suppose I should modernize it, though. I thought about puttingcentral heat in it. That would increase the value of the house.” Hepaused and glanced at her. “Don’t you think?”
“Of course - but it would be expensive.”
He nodded and lapsed into silence. Hisfinancial status was a complete mystery to her. Every Friday theywent to town for groceries and he never questioned what she bought.He paid for the supplies with a check and took her and Mary out toeat. He said she deserved the rest and he wanted her to keep intouch with her friends. Why that was so important to him, shewasn’t sure, and he never explained.
One thing sure, though. Mary liked him, andthe feelings were obviously mutual. He was no more expressivearound Mary than anyone else, but he often asked her opinion onthings. Mary, on the other hand, was vocal about her opinion ofCade, even to the point of stating that he would be the greatestcatch of the century - no doubt, even an exaggeration in Mary’smind. Yet it left her wondering if Mary was still romanticallyinterested in him. To her amazement, that idea spawned an unwelcomepang of rivalry. Was it possible that he was equally interested inMary?
“How are things going between you andscruffy?”
His question brought her to the present andshe glanced up sharply, warmth crawling up her neck again.
“Scruffy? Oh, he lets me pet him now, but hedoesn’t want me to pick him up.”
He nodded absently as he searched through themail. He stopped on a small aqua envelope and frowned at the returnaddress.
“Great.”
The single word was a combined expression ofdisgust and distress. She leaned forward and studied theenvelope.
“Is something the matter?”
He opened the envelope and read the note, hislips thinning down almost to nonexistence. He tossed the note toher.
“My sister is coming to visit.”
She stared at him, shocked by his bittertone. “I gather you two aren’t the best of friends?” She glanceddown at the signature.
“Your loving sister, Claudette Cade-Lander.”She read the words aloud and he snorted.
“Her visits are nothing more than aninspection tour.”
“Inspection of what?”
He pushed his chair away from the table andcrossed to the family room doorway. He was silent so long that shedecided he wasn’t going to answer. As she picked up the dishes andturned toward the sink he finally responded. His voice still had abitter edge, but there was a touch of musing in it now.
“To make sure I’m not keeping up with theJones’, I suppose.” He lounged against the doorway; arms foldedacross his chest, and contemplated the family room. “Cindy, howwould you like to do some redecorating for me?”
She stared at him in surprise. He had neverused the nickname – always before it had been Cynthia. Maybehearing Mary say it so often had burned it into his brain.
“Me?” She asked.
He quirked a brow. “Is there another Cindy inthe house?”
“But I don’t know anything about...I mean, Idon’t have any training in interior decorating.”
The lip twitched. “You seemed pretty sure ofyourself a while ago.”
Her face flamed. “I didn’t mean to sound likesome kind of authority on the subject. I was merely expressing apersonal opinion.”
He dropped his arms and turned to face her.“Then let me express a personal opinion as well. I think you haveimpeccable taste. You don’t need training - especially not from thepeople who come up with this fashionable cluttered look. You have anatural instinct for the simple but elegant. For me everything isfunctional, but you have style.”
She stared at him, too surprised to respondimmediately. Never in her wildest dreams would she have consideredher taste stylish or elegant. Of course, she had never given itmuch thought, either. She knew what she liked, and it rarely hadanything to do with what was in style. But then, he didn’t say hertaste was stylish - he said it had style. Obviously his taste wascompatible with hers. But redecorating the family room? What if hedidn’t like it after she was done? He was still watching herexpectantly.
“I don’t know if you realize how expensive itwould be. I mean, there would be the cost of drapes, rugs, picturesand other things. I...”
“Make me a list of the things we would needand I’ll take you into town. We’re not talking over a thousanddollars, are we?”
She shook her head in mute silence.
“Then go ahead.”
“But what if you don’t like it?”
He sauntered to the stove and poured himselfanother cup of steaming coffee. “I’ll like it.” He sipped the hotliquid and winced. “Of course, if you think it would be too muchwork...you’ll only have two weeks.”
“No, that should be plenty of time.” Shemoved to the sink and turned on the water. As she watched the sinkfill, she considered his proposal - and that other thing. Thismight be a good time to ask.
“I think it would be a good idea if I movedupstairs.” She glanced up as she spoke, and his expression becamewary.
“Why? If there was anything going on in thishouse, it’s not like your rooming upstairs would make it look anydifferent.”
She caught her breath as the blood lungedpainfully up her neck. “I didn’t mean that.”
It was his turn to color up. “Then what?”
“I meant...Well; sometimes girls are moresensitive about things. I mean, it might be hurtful for your sisterto see me using your mothers’ things.”
The lip
