the bad, the happiness, and the pain. Why won’t you believe me?"
She desperately wanted to believe him, but she feared the heartbreak that would follow if he decided to he’d made an error in judgment. "Please leave." Tears filled her eyes as she said the words. And they spilled down her cheeks as she watched him honor her request.
7
Thomas gave himself an entire day to calm down before he considered his next move with Geneva. He then gave her an additional seventy–two hours to regroup before he showed up unannounced at her home.
He spotted her at the living room window when he pulled into the circular driveway in front of the chalet. He paused at the front door, waiting for her to respond to his presence. He knew she might decide to ignore him. He hoped she wouldn’t, but he reminded himself not for the first time that she was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met.
Geneva pulled open the door, her expression guarded as she looked up at him. Clad in a heavy sweater, jeans, and fluffy slippers, and with her golden hair tumbling across her shoulders and down her back, she looked more like a college coed than a successful businesswoman.
"Peace offering," Thomas carefully finger–spelled, displaying both his effort to supplement his signing ability and a bottle of vintage wine for her inspection.
Her eyes flared wide with surprise at his finger–spelling attempt, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. She noticed the plump snowflakes that swirled around him as he stood there. Some of the damp flakes clung to his hair and clothing, and the crisp, below–zero temperature gave his face a ruddy look.
"I wasn’t expecting you," she finally signed.
And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you, Geneva Talmadge,
he thought,
but now that I’ve found you, I’m not leaving.
"This isn’t a good time, Thomas," she said. "Perhaps you should…"
"Will there ever be a good time?" he asked.
She started to respond, seemed to reconsider, and then simply stepped aside and motioned him indoors with an elegant sweep of her hand.
Thomas silently thanked the impulse that prompted her grudging hospitality. After handing her the wine bottle, he shed his heavy jacket and boots.
Geneva remained silent as she led the way to the kitchen. Her silence persisted as she placed the wine bottle on the countertop. Once she located a cork remover and two long–stemmed goblets for the wine, she stepped back.
Thomas felt her wary gaze as he uncorked the white wine and poured it. He congratulated himself on his restraint, because all he really wanted to do was draw her into his arms and indulge himself with the taste and fragrance of this woman. Instead, he handed her a half–filled wineglass, followed her to the table in the nook adjacent to the kitchen, and settled into a chair opposite her.
"How are you?"
Polite conversation. It’s a start, he reminded himself. "Busy with work. Like you, I imagine."
She nodded, then took a sip of wine. "Very nice."
"I own the winery. This particular blend of grapes is one of my favorites."
"Are you hungry? I can fix you a sandwich or a bowl of soup."
"Not necessary. I’ve already had supper. Rose is single–handedly making up for all the years I’ve been away."
"She’s happy to have you home, and she enjoys spoiling the people she loves."
"I’ve picked up a few pounds, courtesy of her home cooking. I’m having to spend more time in the gym to stay even."
"I had the same problem when we first became friends."
Thomas relaxed a little. "How’d you solve it?"
"Simple. Smaller portions." She smiled.
"Sneaky," he said with an answering grin.
"Intelligent," she countered. "I didn’t want to have to buy a whole new wardrobe, and there was no way I’d risk offending Rose."
A sudden movement drew his attention. Thomas shifted his gaze to the view of the backyard visible from the wall of glass behind Geneva. A family of foxes, each one seemingly oblivious to the motion sensors that
She desperately wanted to believe him, but she feared the heartbreak that would follow if he decided to he’d made an error in judgment. "Please leave." Tears filled her eyes as she said the words. And they spilled down her cheeks as she watched him honor her request.
7
Thomas gave himself an entire day to calm down before he considered his next move with Geneva. He then gave her an additional seventy–two hours to regroup before he showed up unannounced at her home.
He spotted her at the living room window when he pulled into the circular driveway in front of the chalet. He paused at the front door, waiting for her to respond to his presence. He knew she might decide to ignore him. He hoped she wouldn’t, but he reminded himself not for the first time that she was the most stubborn woman he’d ever met.
Geneva pulled open the door, her expression guarded as she looked up at him. Clad in a heavy sweater, jeans, and fluffy slippers, and with her golden hair tumbling across her shoulders and down her back, she looked more like a college coed than a successful businesswoman.
"Peace offering," Thomas carefully finger–spelled, displaying both his effort to supplement his signing ability and a bottle of vintage wine for her inspection.
Her eyes flared wide with surprise at his finger–spelling attempt, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. She noticed the plump snowflakes that swirled around him as he stood there. Some of the damp flakes clung to his hair and clothing, and the crisp, below–zero temperature gave his face a ruddy look.
"I wasn’t expecting you," she finally signed.
And I sure as hell wasn’t expecting you, Geneva Talmadge,
he thought,
but now that I’ve found you, I’m not leaving.
"This isn’t a good time, Thomas," she said. "Perhaps you should…"
"Will there ever be a good time?" he asked.
She started to respond, seemed to reconsider, and then simply stepped aside and motioned him indoors with an elegant sweep of her hand.
Thomas silently thanked the impulse that prompted her grudging hospitality. After handing her the wine bottle, he shed his heavy jacket and boots.
Geneva remained silent as she led the way to the kitchen. Her silence persisted as she placed the wine bottle on the countertop. Once she located a cork remover and two long–stemmed goblets for the wine, she stepped back.
Thomas felt her wary gaze as he uncorked the white wine and poured it. He congratulated himself on his restraint, because all he really wanted to do was draw her into his arms and indulge himself with the taste and fragrance of this woman. Instead, he handed her a half–filled wineglass, followed her to the table in the nook adjacent to the kitchen, and settled into a chair opposite her.
"How are you?"
Polite conversation. It’s a start, he reminded himself. "Busy with work. Like you, I imagine."
She nodded, then took a sip of wine. "Very nice."
"I own the winery. This particular blend of grapes is one of my favorites."
"Are you hungry? I can fix you a sandwich or a bowl of soup."
"Not necessary. I’ve already had supper. Rose is single–handedly making up for all the years I’ve been away."
"She’s happy to have you home, and she enjoys spoiling the people she loves."
"I’ve picked up a few pounds, courtesy of her home cooking. I’m having to spend more time in the gym to stay even."
"I had the same problem when we first became friends."
Thomas relaxed a little. "How’d you solve it?"
"Simple. Smaller portions." She smiled.
"Sneaky," he said with an answering grin.
"Intelligent," she countered. "I didn’t want to have to buy a whole new wardrobe, and there was no way I’d risk offending Rose."
A sudden movement drew his attention. Thomas shifted his gaze to the view of the backyard visible from the wall of glass behind Geneva. A family of foxes, each one seemingly oblivious to the motion sensors that
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