she were ugly. It would be so much easier to hate her if she
weren’t so darned pretty.
At least she wore a hat this afternoon.
Evidently, not even she could tackle the mid-afternoon desert heat
without headgear. She might even turn out to be human. Maybe.
Unlikelier things had transpired. Or so he’d been told.
While Tony was still sneering, Martin rose
from his chair and called out a cheery greeting “Good afternoon,
Miss Pottersby! Good to see you. Let me get some iced lemonade for
you. You must be dying of heat prostration if you’ve walked all the
way here from your home.”
Her home. Tony very nearly snorted. If that
painfully rustic cabin was a home, Tony’d eat his hat.
Mari trod lightly up the steps of the porch
and gave Martin a friendly smile. “Thanks. I’m dry as a bone and
awfully hot.” She ignored Tony.
“You really ought to allow us to drive you
around, Miss Pottersby,” Martin said. “We’ve got cars and drivers,
and it would save you a good deal of walking in the heat.”
“That’s okay, thanks. I can’t afford to get
soft.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.” Martin
took off, gracious man that he was, to fetch Mari some
lemonade.
She hadn’t said boo to Tony. Tony noted this
lapse in particular and resented it. It occurred to him that he
hadn’t spoken to her, either, but he quickly thrust the thought
aside. He wasn’t the one at fault here, after all.
He observed with interest as Mari watched
Martin until he was out of sight then took a deep breath, as if she
were preparing herself for an unpleasant task. She turned and
looked down at him, since he hadn’t bothered to rise politely, as a
gentleman ought to do when a lady approached. He justified his bad
manners by telling himself Mari wasn’t a lady.
Thrusting the folded lump of fabric at him,
Mari said abruptly, “Here. I’m afraid I ruined it.”
Tony finally pried himself out of his chair.
Only when he was standing did he take the jacket from Mari’s hands.
He didn’t speak until he’d flapped the folds out and held the
jacket at arm’s length for inspection.
“It shrank,” he noted in a neutral tone.
She clasped her hands behind her back. If
she’d been wearing trousers, Tony had no doubt she’d have stuffed
them into her pockets. “Um, I noticed that.”
He glanced from the jacket to her. “What am I
supposed to do with this? I can’t wear it.”
“Um, I don’t know. Donate it to charity?”
“The stain didn’t come out of the right
shoulder, either,” he pointed out.
“I know. But a poor person probably wouldn’t
care.”
“I’m not a poor person.”
It was very interesting to Tony to watch the
way Mari operated. Now, for instance, she was barely containing hot
retorts to his innocent comments. She looked rather like a pot
about to boil over. Her face, a beautiful golden-tan color from the
sun, had taken on a deeper reddish cast, and her gorgeous eyes had
thinned ominously.
“I know you’re not poor.” Her tone of voice
had become harder, too, and she was clipping her words. “Most poor
people can’t afford to care about a tiny stain or two.”
“Tiny?” Tony lifted the jacket and held out
the right shoulder so it was a mere inch away from Mari’s pretty
eyes. “That doesn’t look tiny to me. Although,” he added smugly,
“Tiny did it.”
She expelled a huff that made the jacket’s
arm flutter. “Darn it, I know Tiny did it. I’ll pay you back.”
“Oh?” Tony flipped the jacket away from him
it landed half on and half off the chair he’d vacated. He watched
Mari watch the jacket’s flight, her expression a priceless
combination of incredulity and rage. “And will you pay only for the
jacket, or does your offer extend to the suit, which is no longer
whole and, therefore, unfit to wear?”
“Darn it, I’ll pay for the whole suit!” She
sniffed and lowered her voice. “You’ll have to wait until I get
paid.”
“Will I? And what if I don’t want to
weren’t so darned pretty.
At least she wore a hat this afternoon.
Evidently, not even she could tackle the mid-afternoon desert heat
without headgear. She might even turn out to be human. Maybe.
Unlikelier things had transpired. Or so he’d been told.
While Tony was still sneering, Martin rose
from his chair and called out a cheery greeting “Good afternoon,
Miss Pottersby! Good to see you. Let me get some iced lemonade for
you. You must be dying of heat prostration if you’ve walked all the
way here from your home.”
Her home. Tony very nearly snorted. If that
painfully rustic cabin was a home, Tony’d eat his hat.
Mari trod lightly up the steps of the porch
and gave Martin a friendly smile. “Thanks. I’m dry as a bone and
awfully hot.” She ignored Tony.
“You really ought to allow us to drive you
around, Miss Pottersby,” Martin said. “We’ve got cars and drivers,
and it would save you a good deal of walking in the heat.”
“That’s okay, thanks. I can’t afford to get
soft.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll be right back.” Martin
took off, gracious man that he was, to fetch Mari some
lemonade.
She hadn’t said boo to Tony. Tony noted this
lapse in particular and resented it. It occurred to him that he
hadn’t spoken to her, either, but he quickly thrust the thought
aside. He wasn’t the one at fault here, after all.
He observed with interest as Mari watched
Martin until he was out of sight then took a deep breath, as if she
were preparing herself for an unpleasant task. She turned and
looked down at him, since he hadn’t bothered to rise politely, as a
gentleman ought to do when a lady approached. He justified his bad
manners by telling himself Mari wasn’t a lady.
Thrusting the folded lump of fabric at him,
Mari said abruptly, “Here. I’m afraid I ruined it.”
Tony finally pried himself out of his chair.
Only when he was standing did he take the jacket from Mari’s hands.
He didn’t speak until he’d flapped the folds out and held the
jacket at arm’s length for inspection.
“It shrank,” he noted in a neutral tone.
She clasped her hands behind her back. If
she’d been wearing trousers, Tony had no doubt she’d have stuffed
them into her pockets. “Um, I noticed that.”
He glanced from the jacket to her. “What am I
supposed to do with this? I can’t wear it.”
“Um, I don’t know. Donate it to charity?”
“The stain didn’t come out of the right
shoulder, either,” he pointed out.
“I know. But a poor person probably wouldn’t
care.”
“I’m not a poor person.”
It was very interesting to Tony to watch the
way Mari operated. Now, for instance, she was barely containing hot
retorts to his innocent comments. She looked rather like a pot
about to boil over. Her face, a beautiful golden-tan color from the
sun, had taken on a deeper reddish cast, and her gorgeous eyes had
thinned ominously.
“I know you’re not poor.” Her tone of voice
had become harder, too, and she was clipping her words. “Most poor
people can’t afford to care about a tiny stain or two.”
“Tiny?” Tony lifted the jacket and held out
the right shoulder so it was a mere inch away from Mari’s pretty
eyes. “That doesn’t look tiny to me. Although,” he added smugly,
“Tiny did it.”
She expelled a huff that made the jacket’s
arm flutter. “Darn it, I know Tiny did it. I’ll pay you back.”
“Oh?” Tony flipped the jacket away from him
it landed half on and half off the chair he’d vacated. He watched
Mari watch the jacket’s flight, her expression a priceless
combination of incredulity and rage. “And will you pay only for the
jacket, or does your offer extend to the suit, which is no longer
whole and, therefore, unfit to wear?”
“Darn it, I’ll pay for the whole suit!” She
sniffed and lowered her voice. “You’ll have to wait until I get
paid.”
“Will I? And what if I don’t want to
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