Small Town Cinderella. Caron Todd

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ stretched. “Right now. Every moment from now until the first contraction is going to be peaceful.”

      “And not a single moment afterward, my girl,” Edith said. “Never again.”

      A look of irritation crossed Susannah’s face. Emily decided it was a good time to jump in with her news. She rarely heard anything first, so she tried to draw it out.

      “A stranger has come to town.”

      Three curious faces turned her way.

      “A handsome stranger?” Susannah asked, in a Twenty Questions voice.

      “I suppose you could say handsome.”

      “We are talking about a handsome man?”

      “Definitely a man.” No need to think about that. In spite of his overall coldness, Matthew Rutherford had radiated more masculine energy than Emily had ever experienced from a single source. “Just standing in the doorway doing nothing he made Daniel’s house feel smaller.”

      Three sets of eyebrows twitched.

      “You know how men can be,” Emily said quickly. “So…” Her voice trailed off.

      “Yes, indeed,” Edith said.

      “But what was this handsome, virile stranger doing in Daniel’s house?” Susannah asked.

      Emily explained who he was, concluding that he had agreed to come to dinner the next day. Eleanor and Edith went back and forth listing Rutherfords and birth dates and agreed they didn’t know a Matthew.

      Susannah held out her cup for more tea. “Tell me, Em, what was that inflection I heard in your voice just now?”

      “I heard it, too,” Aunt Edith said. “Is he anything like his uncle? I think I remember Daniel being a very attractive man when he was younger.”

      “He still is,” Eleanor protested.

      “You can stop matchmaking, all of you. This nephew is only here for a week. Anyway, he hardly spoke to me. He seems used to being in charge, not answering to anyone. He sort of guards information.” That was exactly what he did. As if it was his own personal treasure. “I couldn’t even find out where Daniel went, or why. Whenever I asked him a direct question he ignored me!”

      “I’ll ask him. He can’t ignore a woman who’s about to give birth.”

      “I’m not so sure about that.”

      “Then I’ll ask him,” Eleanor said. “He can’t ignore an octogenarian. Can he?”

      “Wait until you meet him, Grandma. Then you’ll see.”

      Edith passed around the cookie plate. “He doesn’t sound like a very nice man. Of course, the Rutherfords were always like that. Standoffish.”

      “It’s more that they’re slow to warm to a person,” Eleanor said. “They’re good in a pinch, though.”

      That was a perfect description of Daniel. Emily wasn’t sure it applied to the nephew, not with that analytical look in his eye. By the time he’d finished evaluating the pros and cons of getting involved the pinch would be over.

      The conversation turned to the problem of feeding a rather large man when temperatures were so high. Now that she had promised a proper home-cooked meal, Emily would have to provide something more impressive than the sandwiches she and her mother usually ate on hot summer evenings. When she left her grandmother’s, she had a jar of pickled mixed vegetables in one hand, a bag of frozen potato scones in the other and a promise of a green bean salad from her aunt.

      “And do lock your door whenever you leave the house,” Aunt Edith said. “With people driving so fast these days we’re not as far from the city as we used to be. Who knows how many troublemakers are around?”

      CHAPTER THREE

      EMILY HAD ALWAYS LOCKED the door at night, so talk of troublemakers and break-ins didn’t disturb her sleep. The thought of Matthew Rutherford did, though. It was the suit, she decided, while getting dressed the next morning. Who wore a suit to drive all the way from Ontario?

      It was the attitude that went with the suit, too. Leaving her standing on the step while he looked her up and down appraisingly—as if she was the stranger! If she’d thought of it earlier she would have invited her whole family for dinner. Let him appraise them. See how he liked being appraised right back by a room full of Robb men.

      She took an empty ice cream pail from the pantry and went outside to pick berries for dessert. She had just the thing in mind, something she’d seen once in a magazine—five or six layers of meringue with whipped cream in between and fresh fruit on top. Simple, but special.

      Hamish and the cat followed her along the driveway. The dog stopped once, head raised, looking into the woods across the road. A few years ago he would have bounded after whatever he sensed there, but now he turned and continued down the path to the garden. As soon as they reached soil he stretched out, flattening himself against the cool dirt.

      The cat stayed close to Emily. When she stood still to pick a few berries it sat down, and when she moved more than a few steps it jumped up and trotted after her.

      “You do know you’re not behaving like a cat,” she told it. “Cats don’t follow people. Cats play hard to get. Maybe we should call you Rover.”

      It stared, nose twitching.

      “You don’t like Rover? I don’t blame you. It’s not respectful. I apologize.”

      Its gaze intensified.

      “All right, then, if you want to talk, tell me what you think about this nephew Daniel never mentioned. Am I being harsh? He’s male and from the city, after all. How chummy can I expect him to be?”

      The cat rubbed against her. She scratched behind its ear and it immediately threw itself on the ground, offering its belly for her attention, purring as soon as she touched it. When she got back to work it gave a protesting meow.

      “Sorry. One day soon you can come on the porch with me. I’ll read and scratch your tummy.”

      She hadn’t been out to pick for days, except for snacking, and most of the berries hovered between perfectly ripe and overripe. When she cupped a hand under them whole clumps of dark red fruit dropped in.

      Instead of concentrating on avoiding spiders and worms, her mind kept going back to Matthew Rutherford. In particular, back to the suggestion of hard muscles under a crisp white shirt. How could she be preoccupied by something so superficial? There was nothing attractive about a man who wasn’t kind.

      Maybe it didn’t have much to do with attraction. It could be the challenge of defrosting that cold face of his. Once or twice yesterday it had shown a hint of warming. Did he ever laugh? She’d like to see that. And manners. Manners would be nice.

      She looked down at the cat, rubbing against her legs again. “I’m asking too much, aren’t I? A pretty tablecloth won’t make him behave.”

      EMILY СКАЧАТЬ