A Place in the Country by Elizabeth Adler Page A

went out to meet her first date in seventeen years.

 
    chapter 23
    He had on a jacket and tie and was standing in front of a long, lean silver sports car, waiting for her.
    â€œWow,” Caroline said. “I miss the sawdust.”
    â€œI cleaned up for you.”
    â€œMe too.”
    They laughed, and his eyes admired her. “You look wonderful.”
    â€œSure I’m not too fancy for a country dinner party?”
    â€œYou’re perfect for any dinner party.” He helped her into the car.
    â€œI thought it would be the truck,” she said, looking at the expensive leather upholstery. “What is this anyway?”
    â€œA Maserati. Just a small one.”
    â€œHah! Then I must be paying you too much. Or else you’ve borrowed it to impress me.” She nudged him jokingly with her elbow as they drove, smooth as silk, across the bridge and into the black country night.
    â€œThe car’s all mine.” He turned down the lane that led in the direction of her barn. “And paid for by my own hard work.”
    â€œAll those rich wives with their enormous country piles paying you and Georgki a fortune to redo them.” She sighed, suddenly remembering. “I have a date with Georgki. He’s taking me to The Swan in Pangbourne.”
    â€œYou’ll like it. The swans are beautiful, if a little aggressive, the river is wide there, and there are proper falls.”
    â€œNot like my tiny little river and baby little weir and my humble mallards, you mean,” she said, trying to sound affronted and succeeding in making him laugh.
    Looking at him, quite suddenly, she really wanted to kiss him. Could she possibly ask him to stop right there and then and just do that? God, of course not! He’d probably think she was some frustrated divorcée who couldn’t wait to get her hands on him. In fact that was the truth.
    â€œCaroline, you are a flirt,” he was saying.
    â€œWas that flirting?” She smiled. She knew how to do this, after all.
    He turned into the side lane that led to her barn and she said, surprised, “You’re not taking me for dinner at my place, are you?”
    â€œI am not.”
    He turned again, this time between the stone gateposts with the rampant lions. At the end of the driveway Caroline saw the lights of a Jacobean manor. “I’m taking you to mine,” he said. “My family’s, anyway.”
    She fell back against the soft smooth expensive leather. What was he doing, taking her to meet his family? What was he thinking ? She was a married woman, divorced anyway, and with a fifteen-year-old daughter. And she was eleven years older than him. She worked in a pub for God’s sakes, and he lived in a manor house dating back centuries. All her insecurities flooded her. She should leave immediately, get back to the safety of her anonymous role as the pub cook; hide from people like his family, who would probably patronize her thinking she was Jim’s little-bit-of-older-sex-on-the-side. Until he married some girl exactly like them that is.
    â€œYou’re not happy,” he said.
    â€œWhat makes you think that.” Her tone was arctic.
    â€œThis is not what you think.”
    â€œAnd what do I think?” She shoved her red glasses further up her nose and turned to look at him. The diamanté arrow slid off and her hair tumbled down.
    He said, “You think I’ve one-upped you. You thought I was just the local carpenter, which, in a way I am.”
    â€œIn what way are you?”
    â€œI am a carpenter, only I don’t just fix things, I make them too. I make furniture, and I wanted to bring you here tonight because I’ve made something for you.”
    Softening, she turned her gaze full on him. She said, “I kind of miss the sawdust.”
    â€œI told you I cleaned up for you.”
    There was a small silence. “And just look at us now,” he said softly. Then he leaned