narrow section in the center. It had once held a
mate.
With a deep sigh he turned and leaned
against the counter, his thumbs hooked into his jean pockets. She
was all alone, and all he could think of was getting away from her.
Again. How selfish.
“That’s a pretty mournful-sounding
sigh.”
Chad jumped. “I thought you were taking a
bath!”
Willow continued to French braid a small
string of dripping hair from one side of her head to the other in a
semi-crown. “I don’t bathe. I shower. I hate baths.”
“That was the fastest shower I’ve ever—”
here he stumbled. Seen didn’t work. He didn’t see the shower and
didn’t want to imply he had. Heard sounded weird. “Anyway, that was
fast.”
To his dismay and premature embarrassment,
she began to untie the thick terry robe. He hurried to the sink and
grabbed a glass, filling it with water. Willow’s voice followed
him. “Are you all right?”
His peripheral vision caught sight of a
white garbed Willow entering the mudroom and returning again.
“Fine,” he choked. “Just fine.”
“Think this dress will work for dinner at a
nice restaurant?”
“Know where he’s taking you?” Chad tried to
sound disinterested. He turned and glanced over the sleeveless,
white, full-skirted dress. “Looks fine to me.”
“I can’t remember the name. A tree or flower
or something, I think. He said dress up though. This is the nicest
thing I own.”
Impressed, he asked, “The Oakes?”
“That’s it. I—”
“For someone who remembered a ten digit
number the first time she read it, you are lousy with details.”
“I’m lousy with things I hear and some
things that aren’t number related. I’m fine if I read it or it’s
about numbers.”
Grabbing a kitchen towel, she squeezed her
hair repeatedly and combed in between squeezes. “It’ll have to dry
on the way. We have to leave soon. I’ll go get my shoes. Can you
put my suitcase in your truck? It’s by the front door.”
Chad glanced at his watch as she disappeared
through the doorway. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet. Somehow,
she’d translated a shorter travel time in the car vs. walking, but
it still left them leaving much too early.
He met her at the bottom of the stairs, one
hand on her suitcase. “Where’d you get a suitcase, anyway?”
“Mother’s—her graduation gift. She said she
only used it once.” Her voice cracked as she added, “To come here,
of course.” She took a step off the stairs and her shoes came into
view.
Chad shook his head. “Have anything
white?”
Willow glanced at her slightly scuffed but
clean tan Birkenstocks and shrugged. “I have these and my winter
boots. Oh, and I have tennis shoes and regular work boots.”
With a quick glance at his watch, Chad
groaned. “We have thirty-five minutes or so to get you in town,
find some kind of sandals, and onto a bus.”
“What’s wrong with these?”
“They’re fine for everyday wear, but not for
that restaurant and not for court. You need something else. Even
dressy flip-flops will work. We’ll try the market first. They’re
faster than the shoe store.”
“I have flip flops that I made into
slippers. Let me get them!”
Before Chad could assure her that there was
no way slippers would work, Willow raced up the stairs and returned
with the most amazing “slippers” he’d ever seen. “Where did you—how
did you?”
“I didn’t like those plastic things, but I
hate the feel of hard wood under my feet so I knitted new
straps.”
“Those are perfect. Wear those.”
“I’ll get them all dirty!”
As patiently as he could, Chad led her from
the house, locked the door behind him, and urged her into his
truck. “You have shoes, and we won’t have to race. Make yourself
some more, or I’ll buy you some more. I don’t care, but let’s
go.”
They zipped down her driveway, bouncing over
the ruts, rattling their teeth, before gliding onto the highway. By
the time they reached town, Chad
mate.
With a deep sigh he turned and leaned
against the counter, his thumbs hooked into his jean pockets. She
was all alone, and all he could think of was getting away from her.
Again. How selfish.
“That’s a pretty mournful-sounding
sigh.”
Chad jumped. “I thought you were taking a
bath!”
Willow continued to French braid a small
string of dripping hair from one side of her head to the other in a
semi-crown. “I don’t bathe. I shower. I hate baths.”
“That was the fastest shower I’ve ever—”
here he stumbled. Seen didn’t work. He didn’t see the shower and
didn’t want to imply he had. Heard sounded weird. “Anyway, that was
fast.”
To his dismay and premature embarrassment,
she began to untie the thick terry robe. He hurried to the sink and
grabbed a glass, filling it with water. Willow’s voice followed
him. “Are you all right?”
His peripheral vision caught sight of a
white garbed Willow entering the mudroom and returning again.
“Fine,” he choked. “Just fine.”
“Think this dress will work for dinner at a
nice restaurant?”
“Know where he’s taking you?” Chad tried to
sound disinterested. He turned and glanced over the sleeveless,
white, full-skirted dress. “Looks fine to me.”
“I can’t remember the name. A tree or flower
or something, I think. He said dress up though. This is the nicest
thing I own.”
Impressed, he asked, “The Oakes?”
“That’s it. I—”
“For someone who remembered a ten digit
number the first time she read it, you are lousy with details.”
“I’m lousy with things I hear and some
things that aren’t number related. I’m fine if I read it or it’s
about numbers.”
Grabbing a kitchen towel, she squeezed her
hair repeatedly and combed in between squeezes. “It’ll have to dry
on the way. We have to leave soon. I’ll go get my shoes. Can you
put my suitcase in your truck? It’s by the front door.”
Chad glanced at his watch as she disappeared
through the doorway. It wasn’t even four o’clock yet. Somehow,
she’d translated a shorter travel time in the car vs. walking, but
it still left them leaving much too early.
He met her at the bottom of the stairs, one
hand on her suitcase. “Where’d you get a suitcase, anyway?”
“Mother’s—her graduation gift. She said she
only used it once.” Her voice cracked as she added, “To come here,
of course.” She took a step off the stairs and her shoes came into
view.
Chad shook his head. “Have anything
white?”
Willow glanced at her slightly scuffed but
clean tan Birkenstocks and shrugged. “I have these and my winter
boots. Oh, and I have tennis shoes and regular work boots.”
With a quick glance at his watch, Chad
groaned. “We have thirty-five minutes or so to get you in town,
find some kind of sandals, and onto a bus.”
“What’s wrong with these?”
“They’re fine for everyday wear, but not for
that restaurant and not for court. You need something else. Even
dressy flip-flops will work. We’ll try the market first. They’re
faster than the shoe store.”
“I have flip flops that I made into
slippers. Let me get them!”
Before Chad could assure her that there was
no way slippers would work, Willow raced up the stairs and returned
with the most amazing “slippers” he’d ever seen. “Where did you—how
did you?”
“I didn’t like those plastic things, but I
hate the feel of hard wood under my feet so I knitted new
straps.”
“Those are perfect. Wear those.”
“I’ll get them all dirty!”
As patiently as he could, Chad led her from
the house, locked the door behind him, and urged her into his
truck. “You have shoes, and we won’t have to race. Make yourself
some more, or I’ll buy you some more. I don’t care, but let’s
go.”
They zipped down her driveway, bouncing over
the ruts, rattling their teeth, before gliding onto the highway. By
the time they reached town, Chad
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