grown.”
“Doesn’t make them less your children.”
Her shoulders relaxed, then she bent to scoop up some smaller twigs and toss them in the mouth of the chipper. “No, of course, it doesn’t.”
“So, we can theorize that she didn’t feel threatened by Bryce—and what the hell kind of name is that anyway? Stupid. Or that she considered your maternal duties done, and didn’t care what you did regarding your sex life. Or that after a certain point, she stops showing herself to whoever’s living in the house.”
“It can’t be three, as I’ve seen her recently.”
“Since June?”
“Just a few days ago, and then again last night.”
“Interesting. What were you doing, what was she doing? I should have my notebook.”
“It was nothing. She was there, then she wasn’t. I don’t expect you to solve the puzzle of why she comes, or to whom. I want you to find out who she was.”
“One puzzle’s connected to the other. I really want some time to talk to you. And this is obviously not it. Maybe we can have dinner, next evening you’re free.”
“It’s not necessary for you to buy me dinner to get an interview.”
“It might be enjoyable to buy you dinner. If you have strong objections to mixing business and pleasure, I’m going to be sorry to wait to ask you out until I’m finished with this project.”
“I don’t date anymore, Mitch. I gave it up.”
“The word date always makes me feel like I’m back in college. Or worse, high school.” He took a chance and reached out to slide her glasses down her nose. Looked directly into her eyes. “We could just say that I’m interested in spending time with you on a social level.”
“That says date to me.” But she smiled before she scooted the glasses back in place. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
“We’ll settle for an interview for now. I’m going to be in and out the next couple of weeks, so you can let me know when you’ve got time to sit down for an extended period. Otherwise, you can call me at home, and we’ll set it up.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll go in, get some work done. Let you get back to yours.”
When he started to walk away, she reached for the switch on the chipper.
“Roz? Any time you change your mind about dinner, you just let me know.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” She switched on the machine, pushed the branch in.
S HE WORKED UNTIL she lost the light, then stowed her tools before climbing the steps to the second-floor terrace and her outside door.
She wanted an endless hot shower, soft clothes, then a cold glass of wine. No, she thought. A martini. One of David’s amazing, icy martinis with the fancy olives he squirreled away. Then she’d make a sandwich out of that glorious leftover ham. Maybe she’d spend most of the evening playing with sketches and ideas for the florist expansion. Then there were the bag selections Stella had gotten for her, for the in-house potting soil.
Dates, she thought as she shed her clothes and turned on the shower. She didn’t have time, certainly didn’t have the inclination to date at this stage of her life. Even if the offer had come from a very attractive, intelligent, and intriguing man.
One who’d ask her out when she was covered with wood chips.
Why couldn’t they just have sex and clear the air?
Because she wasn’t built that way, she admitted. And wasn’t that too damn bad. There had to be a little more . . . something before she stripped down, literally and figuratively, with a man.
She liked him, well enough, she thought as she tipped her head back and let the hot water beat on her face, her shoulders. She appreciated the way he’d reacted last spring when there’d been trouble, admired—now that she had the distance to look back—the way he’d leaped in without hesitation, without investment.
Some men would have run the other way, and would certainly have dismissed the idea of working for her, in a house haunted by what they
“Doesn’t make them less your children.”
Her shoulders relaxed, then she bent to scoop up some smaller twigs and toss them in the mouth of the chipper. “No, of course, it doesn’t.”
“So, we can theorize that she didn’t feel threatened by Bryce—and what the hell kind of name is that anyway? Stupid. Or that she considered your maternal duties done, and didn’t care what you did regarding your sex life. Or that after a certain point, she stops showing herself to whoever’s living in the house.”
“It can’t be three, as I’ve seen her recently.”
“Since June?”
“Just a few days ago, and then again last night.”
“Interesting. What were you doing, what was she doing? I should have my notebook.”
“It was nothing. She was there, then she wasn’t. I don’t expect you to solve the puzzle of why she comes, or to whom. I want you to find out who she was.”
“One puzzle’s connected to the other. I really want some time to talk to you. And this is obviously not it. Maybe we can have dinner, next evening you’re free.”
“It’s not necessary for you to buy me dinner to get an interview.”
“It might be enjoyable to buy you dinner. If you have strong objections to mixing business and pleasure, I’m going to be sorry to wait to ask you out until I’m finished with this project.”
“I don’t date anymore, Mitch. I gave it up.”
“The word date always makes me feel like I’m back in college. Or worse, high school.” He took a chance and reached out to slide her glasses down her nose. Looked directly into her eyes. “We could just say that I’m interested in spending time with you on a social level.”
“That says date to me.” But she smiled before she scooted the glasses back in place. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”
“We’ll settle for an interview for now. I’m going to be in and out the next couple of weeks, so you can let me know when you’ve got time to sit down for an extended period. Otherwise, you can call me at home, and we’ll set it up.”
“That’s fine.”
“I’ll go in, get some work done. Let you get back to yours.”
When he started to walk away, she reached for the switch on the chipper.
“Roz? Any time you change your mind about dinner, you just let me know.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” She switched on the machine, pushed the branch in.
S HE WORKED UNTIL she lost the light, then stowed her tools before climbing the steps to the second-floor terrace and her outside door.
She wanted an endless hot shower, soft clothes, then a cold glass of wine. No, she thought. A martini. One of David’s amazing, icy martinis with the fancy olives he squirreled away. Then she’d make a sandwich out of that glorious leftover ham. Maybe she’d spend most of the evening playing with sketches and ideas for the florist expansion. Then there were the bag selections Stella had gotten for her, for the in-house potting soil.
Dates, she thought as she shed her clothes and turned on the shower. She didn’t have time, certainly didn’t have the inclination to date at this stage of her life. Even if the offer had come from a very attractive, intelligent, and intriguing man.
One who’d ask her out when she was covered with wood chips.
Why couldn’t they just have sex and clear the air?
Because she wasn’t built that way, she admitted. And wasn’t that too damn bad. There had to be a little more . . . something before she stripped down, literally and figuratively, with a man.
She liked him, well enough, she thought as she tipped her head back and let the hot water beat on her face, her shoulders. She appreciated the way he’d reacted last spring when there’d been trouble, admired—now that she had the distance to look back—the way he’d leaped in without hesitation, without investment.
Some men would have run the other way, and would certainly have dismissed the idea of working for her, in a house haunted by what they
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