Текст книги "The Will"

Автор книги: Kristen Ashley

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A few minutes later, a young woman came and asked me my coffee preference. I gave it to her. When she left, I emailed Daniel on my phone to remind him to charge Henry’s iPod before they got on the plane for Rome the next day. He’d need to do this since Henry liked to listen to music all the time but especially on long haul flights and LA to Rome was definitely long haul. The young woman brought my coffee. By the time Ms. Baginski returned, I was half finished with it, it was nine o’clock, I’d sat there for twenty minutes with nothing to do and I was fuming.

“He’s not here yet?” she asked without greeting, entering the office while surveying it with unconcealed annoyance.

“Ms. Baginski—” I started just as the young woman who brought my coffee appeared in the door.

“Terry, Mr. Spear phoned. He said he’s been held up but he’s five minutes from the offices,” she announced.

“That means he’s twenty minutes away,” Terry Baginski murmured strangely as well as irately and reached out to the phone. “Thanks, Michelle,” she called and her eyes moved through me. “As I have a bit more time, I hope you don’t mind if I make a phone call.”

Actually, I again did mind and I opened my mouth to tell her that but she hit one button and a quick succession of tones filled the air. Before I could make a sound, she grabbed the handset, put it to her ear and swiveled her large, pretentious chair slightly away so I had her side.

I felt my mouth get tight, turned my eyes to my foot and started tapping my toe.

I felt slightly mollified looking at my shoes.

They were beautiful shoes.

Indeed, all I had were beautiful shoes. I didn’t own a pair of sneakers or flip-flops and I hoped to God I never would.

Handbags and shoes were my passion.

Actually, apparel on the whole was my passion.

But I couldn’t take comfort in viewing my garments as I couldn’t see my outfit though I was again wearing black. I’d donned my outfit because I felt it was apropos for the occasion. A black pencil skirt that fit like a glove all the way down to my knees. The hem fell further, to mid-calf and it fit so snug to my hips and legs, the only reason I could walk was that there was a slit that went up to the top of the backs of my knees.

My blouse was also black, and it was silk. It looked from the front like a simple blouse (though, with a fabulous high collar that hugged my jaw and had an equally fabulous wide strip of matching cloth that I tied in a big bow at my throat). The back, however, had a cutout that exposed skin from the base of the neck, and from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, the rest of my back was covered.

It, too, fit me perfectly.

The outfit (outside the extraordinary fit, simplicity, excellent quality fabrics and that cutout) was quite unremarkable. Elegant (I thought), but unremarkable.

My shoes, however, were very remarkable

Dove gray patent leather slingbacks with a pencil-slim four-inch stiletto heel and a pointed toe. The toe was black patent leather. The heel and sole, however, were bright fuchsia.

They were divine.

My hair, as it always was, was pulled loosely back in an elegant chignon. This one I’d teased a hint to give it volume but it sat smooth and full along the length of the base of my skull.

My makeup, as ever, was superb.

And I usually didn’t give way to these thoughts as Gran had taught me there were pointless (not to mention unkind). But in that moment, staring at Terry Baginski’s profile, taking in her arrogant, dismissive demeanor along with her hair, her harsh makeup and her clothing that had been bought off the rack, which wasn’t bad except for the fact it was the wrong rack, I allowed myself to feel smug.

Gran would be disappointed but I couldn’t help but admit these thoughts made me feel better.

She murmured into the phone.

I leaned forward and took another sip of coffee.

I was replacing the cup in its saucer on Ms. Baginski’s desk when, from behind me, I heard, “Mr. Spear has arrived.”

Apparently, as Ms. Baginski alluded, he had not lied. It wasn’t twenty minutes. It was five.

I looked around my chair to see the young woman standing there.

One second later, my back shot straight in shock when the man who had been staring at me at the funeral strode into the room.

Today, he was wearing a superbly cut black blazer, a tailored black shirt, blue jeans and black boots.

It was far less formal attire than his suit of the day before but, oddly, it suited him far better.

Far better.

His eyes hit me.

My lips (expertly lined, filled and glossed, though some of that was now on my coffee cup) parted and my stomach twisted in a knot.

“I have something happening,” Ms. Baginski said into the phone. “It won’t take long. I’ll call you back later.”

She said this and I ignored it for I was watching with rapt attention as that man walked into the office. Thus, I was also watching when he came to a stop several feet from the back of the chairs. And thus, I could feel the full force of the fact that the office wasn’t big but we could be in an amphitheater and his overwhelmingly male presence would fill the space.

“Finally, we can get started,” Ms. Baginski stated. “Ms. Malone, do you know Jake Spear?”

I slowly rose from my chair, turned to him and started to move around the chair, lifting my hand, doing all this finding myself in his overpowering presence unable to speak.

I saw him lift one of his mighty paws as I walked toward him thinking I was not petite but his hand would engulf mine when he took hold of it.

Something about that made my skin feel funny, like I wasn’t comfortable in it or it needed soothing attention.

And it was on this thought the point of the toe on my shoe caught on the thick pile of the overlarge rug that covered the office carpet (for some odd reason) and I stumbled.

This happened frequently. I found it annoying and, regardless of how cute Gran found it or how amusing Henry did, I detested it.

I detested it more that I’d done it in front of that man.

I couldn’t think on that, however. As I flew forward, I felt my hand caught in a firm grip even as I brought up the other one to brace me wherever I was to land.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Mr. Spear moved quickly at the same time he jerked the hand he held. Therefore, instead of landing on the floor or staggering across the rug, I hit him.

As in hit him.

My temple collided with his collarbone, my forehead banged against his jaw and my shoulder crashed into his arm.

His hand holding mine lifted both of our hands up his chest, gripping tighter as I felt his other arm round me at my waist, pulling me against him so we were fit snug together, my forehead in his neck.

Up close, I saw his neck was more muscled, his throat more corded then either looked from afar.

Dazedly, I tipped my head back and saw he was tipping his down.

Yesterday, he was clean-shaven.

This morning, he had not shaved and he had a dark shadow of black and silver stubble on his jaw.

This also suited him.

Greatly.

My eyes caught his and I noted three things instantly.

One was the fact that he had unusual gray eyes. I couldn’t quite put my finger on what was unusual about them except for the fact that they were alarmingly attractive.

He also smelled good. I’d inhaled the scent of a variety of men’s colognes but not one was that alluring. It was, as was everything about him, aggressively masculine, assaulting my senses, making it hard for me to breathe.

And last, his body was far bigger and more imposing than it was from a distance.

And it was very hard.

“You all right?” his deep voice rumbled. I heard it and felt it, and I blinked.

It was then I remembered to be mortified and to keep my distance.

So I pulled at his hold and I felt his arm around me and his hand in mine strangely tighten for a brief moment before he let me loose at the waist. I moved away half a foot but not further as he kept hold of my hand.

“Steady?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said quietly. “My apologies,” I went on to murmur, putting pressure on my hand as an indication he should let it go.

He didn’t let it go.

“Not a problem,” he muttered, his lips quirking with amusement. “Obviously, you’re Josie.”

My back went straight because no one called me Josie.

No one but Gran.

“Yes, Josephine Malone.” I put significant stress on my proper name. “Lydia’s granddaughter.”

This got me another lip quirk and a, “Know that. Heard a lot about you, Josie.”

I was not certain this was good.

“Now that you’re here, maybe we can get started. I have a full day and this delay has put me off my schedule by half an hour,” Terry Baginski butted into our exchange, her voice terse, like Mr. Spear and my taking a moment to greet each other was exhausting her patience.

Of course, he had been late, though he had also called (albeit tardily) to explain he would be. But he was the reason we were delayed.

Therefore, I wasn’t certain what came over me when that woman spoke those words.

Perhaps I was feeling embarrassment at tumbling into this man. Perhaps it was the fact that I’d laid my beloved grandmother in the ground the day before and that hadn’t exactly been fun. Perhaps it was because I didn’t sleep very well after sobbing myself into that state the night before.

Or perhaps it was because this woman had not been polite at all since my arrival at her office. An arrival for a meeting to hear my beloved grandmother’s will read. Something I didn’t want to do as it was another in a barrage of constant reminders Gran was no longer of this world, I was going to miss her, I was facing a lifetime of missing her, and Ms. Baginski should have a mind to that.

But, for whatever reason, it came over me.

Therefore, I pulled at my hand and Mr. Spear released me as I turned to Ms. Baginski and stated, “I’ve no idea how you can be behind seeing as you were delayed in meeting me in reception. Not to mention, since that time you’ve not let Mr. Spear’s late arrival deter you from continuing with your work even though a long time client’s granddaughter was waiting and she wasn’t even offered a magazine to occupy her time.”

I moved carefully to the chair, bending to grasp my trim, patent leather fuchsia handbag that I’d tucked into the side. Primly seating myself, I continued to speak.

“As this occasion is not a happy one, I won’t speak for Mr. Spear as I don’t know him.” I crossed my legs and looked to her. “But I, for one, would like to see this unfortunate business concluded. So, yes, please. If we could finally get to the matter at hand, I would be grateful.”

Her mouth got tight. It didn’t look good on her but then again, nothing really did and this had very little to do with the fact she didn’t know how to arrange her hair or do her makeup and everything to do with the fact she was a genuinely unpleasant woman.

I didn’t look at Mr. Spear.

I tucked my handbag in my lap and waited.

I felt Mr. Spear take the chair beside mine as Ms. Baginski moved behind the desk, stating, “Then we’ll delay no further.”

“As I’ve been here over half an hour, I would find that agreeable,” I replied.

She cast a baleful glare in my direction.

I returned it coolly.

I heard Mr. Spear emit a strange (though not unattractive, alarmingly) grunt that sounded partly amused and partly surprised.

I ignored him and held Terry Baginski’s glare.

She looked away first and started fiddling with some papers on her desk, saying, “Let’s proceed.”

I decided I’d made my point so I let that one go.

She upended some papers, tapping them on her desk and her gaze moved from me to Mr. Spear to the papers.

“Mrs. Malone has a legal and binding document outlining her wishes as to what is to become of her property and possessions upon her death. However, she’s written a letter that she explained she’d like read instead of that document during these proceedings,” Ms. Baginski began. “It outlines these wishes in a more succinct way.”

I said nothing.

Neither did Mr. Spear.

“Therefore, as Mrs. Malone bid, I shall read her words,” she went on.

I took in a deep breath in order to prepare to hear Gran’s words.

Without delay, Ms. Baginski started to read.

“I, Lydia Josephine Malone, being of very sound mind and annoyingly questionable body, due hereby bequeath all my worldly possessions to my granddaughter, Josephine Diana Malone. This includes Lavender House, its outbuildings, the entirety of their contents and the land on which they sit. This also includes the funds in my checking and savings accounts as well as the certified deposits held at Magdalene Bank and Trust. It further includes the contents of safe deposit box six-three-thee, also at Magdalene Bank and Trust, the key to which can be found in my desk in the light room at Lavender House. And last, it includes the funds in the investment accounts managed for me by the advisors at Magdalene Bank and Trust.”

I listened thinking that Lavender House and the two acres on which it sat, right on a cliff, right on the coast, its vast contents, its sheer size and its location made all of it undoubtedly worth some money. That said, Gran had not lived frugally but she was also not a spendthrift.

We’d never discussed money, she never seemed to need it, she never overspent it, so there was no need. Therefore, my assumption was, when I spoke with the employees at Magdalene Bank and Trust, I would find Gran’s holdings not meager but also not extravagant.

I didn’t care either way.

Whatever was at that bank, none of it was Gran.

I additionally listened wondering, if she bequeathed all this to me, why was Mr. Spear there.

“That is,” Ms. Baginski went on, “I bequeath everything but one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. This will be provided to Mr. James Markham Spear in order that he put it in trust, fifty thousand dollars each for Connor Markham Spear, Amber Joelynn Spear and Ethan James Spear.”

Well, that explained that.

And that also shared that Gran’s holdings might be more extravagant than I thought.

“Jesus Christ,” Mr. Spear muttered into my thoughts and my eyes slid to him.

He was staring at the papers in Ms. Baginski’s hands and I could tell he was equally surprised at Gran’s holdings, not to mention her largesse.

Surprised and moved. His expression was clearly startled.

It was also soft.

And last, it was very attractive, that softening of his hard features.

At this thought, I pulled in another breath.

“Jake,” Ms. Baginski continued and I looked back to her, wondering why she said this name. “I’ll leave it to you to invest wisely, as I know you will. However, the kids shouldn’t see this money until they’re twenty-one. That is if they remain in university until that time. If they don’t go to school, I’d rather they not have it until they’re twenty-five. We both know this would be prudent, especially considering how enamored Amber is with purchasing her cosmetics and those platform shoes.”

It sounded like I might have something in common with the unknown Amber.

Also, apparently, the man beside me was known familiarly to Gran as “Jake.”

But listening to this, and hearing the amount Gran bestowed on who I knew were the three young people I’d seen with Mr. Spear yesterday at the funeral, I again found it strange, as well as disturbing, that I had not heard of Mr. James Markham Spear or any of his children.

“And last,” Ms. Baginski carried on. “My most precious possession, the thing I treasure above anything else in this world, that being my granddaughter, Josephine Diana Malone, I hereby bequeath to James Markham Spear.”

After these words were read, unprepared for them and even if I had been, I would still be unprepared for them mostly because they were just plain mad, I gasped.

James Markham Spear muttered a rumbling, amused, “What the fuck?”

Terry Baginski didn’t even look up. She kept reading.

“Jake, my Josie is quite awkward and I don’t mean simply that she’s a complete klutz, though she is that as well. I find it adorable and I hope you do too. She’s also aggravatingly tidy, so I do hope you’ll teach her how fun it is to be a slob once in a while. Further, she doesn’t know how to enjoy herself, and I’m sure,” Ms. Baginski put a strange emphasis on this word before she went on, “you’ll be able to teach her how to do that and do it well. But under all that, she has the kindest soul you’ll know, the lightest touch you’ll feel, and, if you find your way to coax it out of her, she gives off the sweetest light that will ever shine on you. I’m trusting you, my Jake, in my absence, to take good care of her. But even saying that, I know you will.”

I was blinking rapidly.

Ms. Baginski was finishing up.

“Those are my wishes and I will them to be done. And just a warning, if they’re not, I’ll know and it’ll make me very upset. I know neither of you want that. Now, be blissfully happy my Josie and my Jake. That is my final, most important wish. Please do what you can to give that to me.”

Terry Baginski quit reading and looked at us.

“Did Lydie give me you in her will?”

This came from my side and it was no less rumbling or amused. In fact, it was far more rumbling and amused, and slowly, my breath coming in fits and starts, my head turned his way.

Yes, he was amused. I knew this because he was smiling a large smile, his even, strong white teeth stark against his dark stubble.

My stomach again twisted in knots.

“Obviously, the bequeathal of a human being isn’t binding,” Ms. Baginski put in and I thankfully tore my gaze from Mr. Spear and looked to her. “This bestowal, however,” she continued, “is also in the legal document. Regardless if it isn’t binding, the rest of it is.”

She picked up a legal-sized manila folder and plopped it across the desk my way.

“Copies of Mrs. Malone’s official last will and testament,” she carried on, pointing at the folder. “The letter I’ve just read, and information about deeds and the like are in that folder. Should you not desire to join us here in Magdalene, there’s also contact information for Stone Incorporated, a firm that has approached Mrs. Malone in the past to share they’re interested in purchasing Lavender House.”

What did she say?

Someone had approached Gran to buy Lavender House?

Gran hadn’t told me that either!

“That folder is yours to take,” she announced, her eyes on me, and she stood but did it leaning forward, hands on her desk. “Now, if there aren’t any questions…” she rudely uttered a thinly veiled prompt for us to stop wasting her time.

I had a million questions, of course, none of which I spoke because I didn’t act fast enough.

“Paper isn’t legally binding but blood is,” Mr. Spear declared and I looked his way to see he was addressing Terry Baginski.

“I’m sorry?” Ms. Baginski asked.

“Words on paper might not be legally binding.” His gaze came to me and his voice deepened as he concluded, “But blood is.”

I found my chest rising and falling rapidly as he held my eyes and the meaning of his words assaulted my ears.

“You can hardly think you can own a woman, Jake,” Ms. Baginski snapped dismissively.

“Own her, no,” Mr. Spear stated, his eyes still holding mine captive. “Do precisely what Lydie wanted me to do with her, yes.”

Oh my God.

The way he said those words sounded suggestive.

Very suggestive.

My breathing grew even more rapid and additionally it became erratic. I decided to ignore the suggestive part of his words and focus on something else.

“Gran was…she was…” I searched for a word and found it. “Protective of me.”

“I’m gettin’ that seein’ as she left me you in her will in order to keep that shit goin’ on,” he replied and my back again went straight.

“I’m quite capable of seeing to that myself,” I informed him.

Something shifted through his features so swiftly I couldn’t catch the meaning of it before he whispered, “Not from what I hear.”

At that, I felt my eyes get big.

“What has Gran told you?” I inquired sharply.

“With respect, could I ask that perhaps you two continue this conversation elsewhere?” Ms. Baginski requested. “I actually do have other business to see to today.”

I thought that was an excellent idea. Not continuing the conversation. I was quite done with this conversation. Instead, I wanted to get myself elsewhere.

Therefore, I jumped to my feet and sensed Mr. Spear rising to his. But I didn’t sense his hand coming my way as if to spot me should I tumble.

I saw it.

When I did, my eyes slashed his way. “I’m adept at rising from a chair, Mr. Spear,” I snapped.

“Just bein’ careful,” he muttered, studying me and doing it grinning.

Albeit attractive—his voice and his grin—I found both annoying.

I didn’t share that.

I looked from him to Ms. Baginski. “Is there something I need to do in order to get the funds my grandmother wished to be put in trust for Mr. Spear’s children to Mr. Spear?” I asked, hoping there wasn’t as I intended to leave that office and Mr. Spear behind and never see either again.

Terry Baginski shook her head. “No. Mrs. Malone has already made those arrangements. This office will take care of that money transfer.” Her eyes went to Mr. Spear and she warned, “And Jake, you’ll need to report this gift to the IRS.”

“No shit?” he asked and it occurred to me in a vague way that they seemed to know each other and not get along.

Or, at least, Ms. Baginski didn’t like Mr. Spear all that much.

This didn’t concern me.

Escape concerned me. That as well as dealing with Gran’s estate and getting to Rome (or Paris) as soon as I could.

In order to see to these things without delay, I secured my handbag on my shoulder, reached out and took the manila folder, saying, “If that’s in order, I’ll thank you for your time and be on my way.” I looked up to Mr. Spear. “Although Gran didn’t mention you, it’s clear she held a high regard for you and your children.”

He didn’t let me finish. He butted in to say (still grinning, I might add, and the way he said it sounded almost teasing), “Yeah, Josie. She held us in high regard.”

“Well then, that being so, it was a pleasure to meet you.” I took my eyes from him, sliced them through Ms. Baginski and finished, “Now, I’ll leave you both to your business. Good day.”

After delivering that, carefully putting one foot in front of the other but doing it quickly, I exited the room.

I did this with Mr. Spear calling, “Hang on, Josie.”

I most certainly didn’t “hang on.” I kept going. Swiftly.

His voice was much closer to my back when I was in the hall and he said, “Whoa, woman. Hang on a second.”

I kept going but spoke to the reception area I’d just entered. “I don’t mean to be rude but I have business to see to and quickly as it’s important I get to Rome.”

“Rome?” he asked when I had my hand on the front door.

I tipped my eyes up to him. “Rome,” I stated, pushed open the door and exited it, moving speedily toward my rental car.

He did not call to me again but I knew I hadn’t lost him and this became glaringly apparent when he caught me by my upper arm right when I’d made it to my car.

He pulled me around to face him.

“Josie, give me a second,” he said quietly.

I looked up to him again. “Of course, Mr. Spear, but not to be rude, I have only a second.”

“Jake,” he replied.

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Name’s Jake,” he said.

“Fine,” I returned then prompted, “You wanted a second?”

He didn’t take his hand off me as his eyes moved over my face in a way that it felt like he was studying me.

And that was when I saw what was unusual about those eyes.

Because in the office, they were a clear light gray.

Out in the sun, they were a clear ice blue.

Extraordinary, intriguing and striking.

Blast!

“Mr. Spear…” I prompted yet again and felt his fingers curl deeper into my arm even as he pulled me a half an inch closer.

“Jake,” he murmured.

“Are you detaining me because you want me to address you by your Christian name?” I queried.

His extraordinary, intriguing and striking eyes focused on mine. “Do you talk like that all the time?” he queried in return.

“Like what?”

“Nothin’,” he muttered, his lips quirking again. Then he jerked his head toward the building we just left and reminded me, “Somethin’ big happened in there.”

“Indeed,” I agreed then went on and did so being purposefully obtuse. “And if you’re concerned I’ll take issue with the gifts my grandmother bestowed on your children, please don’t be. I know Gran was of very sound mind to the end of her days so if she wished your children to have that money, then that wish will be done.”

“That was a beautiful thing Lydie did,” he replied. “But I’m not talkin’ about that. I’m talkin’ about the other gift she bestowed on me.”

“And that would be?” I asked, still being obtuse.

“Josie.” My name shook with his amusement and it was annoying because the way it did sounded lovely. “She gave me you.”

I ignored that and the way it made my stomach twist and my breath come uneven and informed him, “No one calls me Josie.”

“Lydie did,” he contradicted.

Oh yes.

Gran definitely talked to him about me.

I did not like that.

“All right, then no one calls me Josie but Gran,” I shared.

“And now me.”

I drew in a breath, this reminded me his hand was on me so I requested, “Will you unhand me?”

His lips twisted in an unsuccessful endeavor at hiding his humor before he replied, “I will unhand you, but only if you promise not to take off.”

“I can promise that,” I told him.

“Right,” he murmured and let me go but he didn’t step away.

I decided not to do so either as it might communicate the wrong things and I felt it imperative to communicate quite clearly with James Markham Spear in the very short time I would be communicating anything to him.

“Tonight, we need to go to dinner,” he declared.

I looked to my handbag, maneuvering it open to find my sunglasses, because any woman knew, she shouldn’t be out in the sun without two things. One, a very good SPF moisturizer under her makeup. And two, an excellent pair of sunglasses so she didn’t get lines from squinting her eyes.

I secured my glasses while talking. “I’m afraid dinner is out of the question.”

“Why?”

I slid my sunglasses on my nose and looked again to him. “Why?”

“Josie, I see you’re tryin’ to pretend that shit in there didn’t happen but, just sayin’, that shit in there happened.”

I sighed and agreed, “Yes, it did.”

“Right, then tonight, we’re goin’ out to dinner.”

“No, we aren’t.”

His head cocked to the side and he opened his mouth to speak but I got there before him.

“Listen, Mr. Spear—”

“Jake,” he cut in, his deep voice lowering with impatience.

“Of course,” I hurried on. “As I explained in Ms. Baginski’s office, Gran was very protective of me. We were also very close. I loved her deeply and she felt the same about me. But with relationships like ours, the person in Gran’s place can often get stuck in a time when they’re needed and they might not realize they’re not needed in that way any longer. From what she wrote in that letter, it’s clear that’s what occurred with Gran.”

His face had returned to hard, with the addition of cold, when he stated, “So you’re sayin’ you didn’t need Lydie.”

“No,” I whispered, at his words a different kind of twist happening in my stomach, one that felt far worse. This feeling was reflected in my voice and the cold left his face at my tone. Alert warmth replaced it. It was no less arresting than everything else about him, but I kept talking. “I needed my grandmother. I still need my grandmother. Just not that way.”

“She disagreed,” he replied quietly, his voice now reflecting the warmth in his face.

“She would be wrong.”

“Josie—”

“Josephine,” I cut him off to stress.

“Whatever,” he returned impatiently. “I’ve known Lydie for seven years. This means that letter we just heard was written sometime in the last seven years. My guess, recently. This means she felt the way she felt about you in order to include that in her last wishes and she felt that way recently. Are you honestly gonna ignore that?”

“Yes,” I answered immediately and his face changed again, his eyes changed, everything about him changed.

I just couldn’t put my finger on how he changed.

Until he whispered, “Don’t.”

My entire body froze solid.

“Don’t do that, Josie,” he went on. “She wanted me for you.”

He couldn’t be serious.

“Are you saying—?” I began to force out through stiff lips.

“No.” He shook his head. “What I’m sayin’ is, the least we could do is get to know each other. Give her a little of what she wanted. We both owe her that respect and, I don’t know you outside of what she told me about you and the last twenty minutes I’ve been with you, but I’m gettin’ that you know we do.”

A little of what she wanted.

What, exactly, did she want?

Gran had known this man for seven years. She’d given his children large amounts of money. And she’d given me to him.

And yet, she did not mention him once.

I didn’t understand this.

What I was coming to understand as my bizarre morning trundled on, was that it didn’t feel very nice.

“Dinner,” he encouraged softly. “Just dinner. You think I’m a dick, that’s it. Sayin’ that, I’m not gonna be a dick to Lydie’s girl because that woman meant a lot to me, to my kids, and that’s just not gonna happen. You feel that from me anyway, we’re done. But give it dinner.”

I could give it dinner.

In actuality, I could tell him I could give it dinner because it was clear he wasn’t going to give up until I did so.

Then I would not go to dinner. The town was not big but Lavender House wasn’t exactly on Main Street. In the brief time I was there, I could avoid him.

Then I’d be gone.

Therefore, I decided to do just that.

“Fine. Dinner,” I lied.

His lips curled up. “Great.”

“Where shall I meet you?” I asked and his lips turned down but his brows inched up.

“Meet me?” he asked.

“Meet you.”

“Josie, a man takes a woman to dinner, he picks her up at her door and he returns her there,” he decreed and I found this decree troubling.

I found it troubling because, although I didn’t date, had never really dated, that didn’t mean I didn’t frequently spend time around a goodly number of females who did date. And these days, men and women more often than not met places for said dates.

I disliked this. If I were to date, I would not abide a man who told me he’d meet me somewhere. A man who couldn’t act with gallantry, in other words, make the effort to come collect me and see me safely home, wasn’t worth my time.