Small Town Cinderella. Caron Todd

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      “Mrs. Bowen—” she pointed over her shoulder “—next door, is a dear friend of your uncle’s. Once she knows you’re here and alone—oh! Are you alone?”

      As soon as she asked the question, something flashed between them. Awareness. She had forgotten about that sense of possibility. A pleasant, alert, tingly sort of feeling. It was a little rusty if it thought it should pop up now. There was no possibility with this unfriendly stranger.

      “I’m here alone,” he said.

      “Then she’s bound to be knocking at the door with salads and cookies and casseroles. She’ll pack your fridge with enough food for a month.”

      The idea didn’t seem to please him. This really was an uphill conversation. She wasn’t going to give up, though. “Why don’t you come for dinner at my place one evening soon?”

      Again, the stare. It wasn’t a complicated question. “Thanks, I’d love to,” he could say. Or “Sorry, I won’t have time.”

      He didn’t choose either of those easy options. With traces of that disquieting awareness hovering, he stood in the doorway, apparently evaluating the invitation. She could picture him at the table, slowly and silently chewing and swallowing with that same look in his eyes. And she could picture herself getting very annoyed if he did.

      “Daniel won’t want you to sit and look at the walls while you’re here. Now and then you’ll need to get out of this boiling hot house and have a proper home-cooked meal.”

      The watchfulness became mild interest. His head tilted to one side. “Do you think a home-cooked meal is beyond me?”

      Was he being curious or challenging? “Well, no…but there’s nothing like a home-cooked meal eaten in the shade of a big old maple tree.”

      “That sounds appealing.”

      The maple tree had clinched it. She should have known food wouldn’t be a draw. As far as she could see he didn’t have an ounce of body fat anywhere.

      “Good.” She thought of her mother, still recovering from the wedding crowd. How long should she wait? He was only here for a week—it wasn’t meant to be a farewell dinner. “Come tomorrow? Around six?”

      His expression was less stern now. Was he thawing? Was it because she was about to leave?

      She smiled, and hoped it didn’t look as wooden as it felt. One dinner, and her duty to Daniel would be done.

      SO THAT WAS Emily Robb. The problem of how to meet her was solved. He watched until she reached her car—an old Tempo, 1990, maybe—then he shut the door. It didn’t do anything to shut out her indignation.

      People reacted differently to a blank slate. Some rushed to please, some got angry, some scared. He’d been up all night and had reached the point of not fully trusting his impressions but it was clear her efforts to please weren’t for his benefit. Daniel’s, he supposed. Or maybe the community’s.

      He went up to the kitchen, ran the tap until the water was cold and filled a glass. From the window over the sink he could see the street. Her car was gone.

      Hard to know what to think about her. Flustered, emotional, a little on the schoolmarmish side. At least that was what she presented. And why not? That’s what she was. A small-town, high-school-educated teaching assistant. Flustered schoolmarms usually got his back up. Not this one. For some reason, he kind of liked her.

      It didn’t have to be a complication.

      He yawned and rubbed sandpapery eyes. His files were downloaded, passwords set up, contacts alerted. Time for coffee and a shower. Then he’d go exploring.

      BELLA AND Dora took the trouble to leave the shade of the lilac bushes as Emily’s car approached, and three figures on the veranda waved. Aunt Edith and Susannah had already arrived.

      As soon as Emily stepped onto the porch her grandmother handed her a cup of tea. “No luck with your mother?”

      “Sorry, Grandma. I guess she needs a little more time to herself. She’s fine, though. Reading recipes and ordering books, as usual.”

      “Just as if Susannah and Alex and Winston and Lucy weren’t visiting,” Edith said, smiling over her tea.

      Eleanor frowned. “Really, Edith.”

      “I’m not criticizing her. I’m only saying what she’s doing. That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

      Susannah said, “Aunt Julia and I had a good visit at the reception.” She looked content in a Muskoka chair, her long dark hair pulled back in its usual French braid, her feet up, and one hand resting on her very noticeable stomach. She and her husband Alex were expecting their first child in September.

      “You’ve grown over the past couple of days, Sue.”

      “Must be all the somersaults. He’s flinging himself every which way.” She had told Emily they were sure the baby was a boy. Something about heart-rate and needles swinging over pulse points and deep-down instinct. They weren’t acting like scientists at all.

      “If only Liz hadn’t left for her honeymoon yet,” Aunt Edith said to Eleanor. “Wouldn’t it be lovely to have the three girls here with us?”

      “We did, all week—”

      “Barely long enough to tease.” Edith helped herself to a cookie. “You won’t believe what happened yesterday, Emily. In broad daylight. Here, in Three Creeks.”

      This must be the news Martin had promised.

      It seemed Eleanor had already heard. “The first thing Jack did when he moved into the Ramsey place was install better locks. He advised me to do the same.” She looked at Edith pointedly. “And to use them.”

      “Someone broke into your house, Aunt Edith?”

      “Well, not exactly broke—”

      “The doors weren’t locked,” Susannah explained.

      “Someone went in without our permission, though. Corporal Reed says that’s still called break and enter.” Edith was becoming more animated with every word.

      “When we got back from the lake yesterday evening—oh, and it was a lovely day, Emily, you should have come—the door was open, the house was full of flies and bees, the cat—who knows perfectly well she’s not allowed in—was comfortable as can be on the sofa and refusing to budge, and everything in your uncle’s desk, all his bills and receipts and bank statements, were pulled out of place.”

      “Aunt Edith!”

      “Pulled out of place,” she repeated with satisfaction.

      “They didn’t take anything,” Susannah added. “Dad thought they must have been looking for credit card receipts or checks they could use.”

      “Such nasty people. They were long gone by the time we got home. A pity, with Will and Alex ready to take them on. They’ve gone to town to buy dead bolts.”

      Emily СКАЧАТЬ