Ann Kendrick blushed and pooh-poohed the compliment with a moue of her lips and a flap of her wrist. “You’re buttering me up for something.”
Keefe grinned and winked at her. Then he turned toward his host. “Unfortunately, a woman can’t show off her culinary skills to so many without making a serious dent in her husband’s pocketbook, so some of the thanks must go to the ornery old cuss that Mary’s hooked up with. Thank you, Harv. And now, I gotta know. Where in hell did you get the idea to deep-fry a turkey?”
“Infomercials,” Gramps informed him. “Don’t you ever watch televison?”
Everyone laughed and echoed Keefe’s sentiments about the meal. When the talk died down a bit, Harv said, “Enough of this sappy stuff. Mary, it’s time for dessert!”
Groans erupted from every table, but they were followed by laughter and loudly stated preferences. “Pumpkin pie for me!” “You can have the pumpkin. I want a piece of that pecan.” “Ice cream on mine, please!”
After the meal, Laura and Isaiah’s mother were banned from the kitchen because they’d both worked so hard to prepare the meal. Tucker’s date, a long, tall drink of water named Grace who’d come to dinner in skintight Wrangler jeans and a fringed Western shirt, insisted on helping with the cleanup. While Ryan watched the baby, Bethany cleared the tables, zipping her wheelchair tirelessly back and forth from the table to the kitchen with soiled plates and flatware piled on her towel-draped lap. Isaiah’s father and two of his brothers, Tucker and Jake, rolled up their shirtsleeves to do their part.
“Get out of here,” Isaiah was told by his father when he tried to enter the kitchen. “You helped cook.”
Isaiah hadn’t done that much, but he accepted the edict gratefully and invited Laura to go for a walk. After helping her on with her coat and donning his jacket, he led her out into the deepening twilight.
“Ah, the quiet,” he said appreciatively when they gained the front porch. He didn’t actually mind the noise, but to someone who wasn’t used to it, it seemed a polite thing to say.
She shivered and turned up her coat collar. Along both sides of the street, houses with lighted windows created a golden, cheery backdrop for the gnarly, denuded oaks that grew along the grass median.
“I like all the noise,” she retorted with a laugh. “With so many people, you never get bored.”
“True, but so many talking at once makes my ears tired after a while.”
As they traversed the cement walkway that ran from the front porch to the sidewalk, she tipped her face up to the leaden sky, the gray of which was quickly darkening to charcoal. “I think winter is here.”
“Afraid so.” Isaiah zipped his jacket. In the crisp twilight, their footsteps sounded sharply on the frozen cement, her boots tapping out a feminine, slightly faster rhythm than his. Man and woman. He could smell her perfume, a light, sunshiny scent that suited her. Whenever he ventured a look at her, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to the graceful curve of her jaw and the ivory smoothness of her throat above her coat collar. “Won’t be long before the snow starts to fly.”
Thinking of the trials of driving in the wintertime, Isaiah was surprised when she smiled dreamily. “I just love the snow. Don’t you?”
As they turned left onto the sidewalk, he shortened his stride and fell into step beside her. “Oh, yeah,” he said with an edge of sarcasm. “Snow is great. There’s nothing to beat scraping the windshield at five in the morning—or discovering, always when I’m running late, of course, that the car doors are frozen shut. Slipping on the steps is a real blast, too. I just love it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t be an old fuddy-duddy. What about all the good stuff?”
The irritated look she sent his way brought a smile to his mouth. “Such as?”
“Such as sitting by a window with a cup of hot soup and watching the snowflakes drift down.”
“There is that,” he conceded.
“And making a pile of snowballs for a snowball fight.”
He grinned. “You like snowball fights?”
“Doesn’t every-one?”
No, not everyone, he thought. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman who would countenance any part of that activity. Wet hair, snow down the neck, taking one in the face. Most females over eighteen shuddered at the thought.
“And making snow angels!” she tacked on. “We can’t forget that.”
Isaiah could imagine her lying in the snow on her back, blissfully enjoying herself as she flapped her arms and moved her legs back and forth to create an angel impression.
“Sliding down hills on plastic garbage bags is fun, too,” she said.
Isaiah couldn’t remember the last time that he’d careened down a snowy slope. “Don’t leave out making snow ice cream,” he inserted. “When I was a kid we could barely wait for the first snowfall. My folks always made us wait for a bit and collect only the top layer of snow to make sure it wasn’t impure.”
“Mine did that, too.” She rolled her eyes. “Like snow is ever really clean. If I had kids, I wouldn’t make them wait.”
“Ah, come on. The anticipation was half the fun.” Isaiah remembered standing with his brothers and sister at the living room window, their noses pressed to the glass. “I wonder if snow ice cream would taste good now.”
“Of course.” She sent him a scandalized look. “Snow ice cream is wonder-ful. Don’t you ever make it now?”
Isaiah chuckled. “Can I take that to mean that you do?”
Delicate knuckles pink from the cold, she clutched the front of her coat at the collar. “If it was fun when I was a kid, it’s still fun now. Why do people think they have to stop doing all the good stuff when they grow up?”
That was a very good question and, without a doubt, one of the reasons he so enjoyed Laura’s company. She reminded him not to take life quite so seriously all the time. “It’s hard for me to find the time for that kind of thing anymore.”
“Make time.” Her eyes sparkled like chips of clear amber when she glanced up at him. “Once a day, ever-y single day, we should take the time to be kids again. If we don’t, why bother? What’s life all about if it isn’t any fun?”
“You’re right,” he said softly. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard to remember that there’s more to life than work.”
She lifted her shoulders and sighed, her breath coming from her rosy lips in a steamy puff. “Make yourself a sign,” she suggested. “Hang it on your rearview mirror.” She grinned up at him. “Something simple like, ‘Have Fun Once a Day.’ ”
Isaiah was more inclined to enjoy this moment while it lasted. It was only a simple walk on a winter evening, but somehow being with Laura made it seem special. “When it snows, I bet I can build a better snowman than you,” he challenged.
“Nuh-uh. I make the best snowmen ever.”
“You’ve never seen mine.”
“You’re on,” she agreed with a laugh. “What are we betting?”
Still gazing at her face, Isaiah almost proposed that the winner should get a kiss from the loser. Then he’d be a winner either way. Instead he said, “The loser has to cook the other person a full-course dinner.”
She nodded. “All right.” Then she frowned slightly. “I didn’t know you could cook.”
“Can’t.” He flashed a satisfied grin. “So if you’re smart, you’d better let me win.”
She rewarded him with a startled laugh. “No fair.”
“You already agreed,” he retorted. “No reneging now.”
When they returned to the house, old and young alike had gathered in groups at the tables to play games. Ann and Keefe Kendrick were partners against Isaiah’s parents in a game of pinochle. Tucker and Grace, Hank and Carly, and Zeke and Natalie were playing a boisterous card game called Spoons. At another table, canasta was in full swing, with Bethany and Ryan playing against Natalie’s parents, Pete and Naomi. Natalie’s grandfather sat cross-legged on the floor befor
e the big-screen television, totally absorbed in a PlayStation baseball game.
Isaiah picked his way around babies asleep on the floor in blanket-lined carriers to find two free chairs where he and Laura might play checkers. They ended up sharing a table with Jake and Molly, who were playing Go Fish with all the kids at the opposite end. Confident in his ability, Isaiah wasn’t concerned about the distractions that chortling, arguing children might present.
Thirty minutes later Laura had a king, and Isaiah was in serious danger of getting his ass kicked. Lower lip caught between her teeth, she gave him an innocent look. “Sorry. I told you I was good.”
“You did not. You said you liked checkers. There’s a difference.”
To make Isaiah’s defeat worse, his family gathered around to watch Laura trounce him. “Go, Laura,” Zeke cheered. “He’s been kicking butt at checkers for years. It’s about time he got whipped.”
Isaiah slanted his brother a murderous look. “Do you mind? You’re interfering with my concentration.”
Tucker leaned over Laura’s shoulder to peruse the board. “Concentration won’t save you, bro. She’s got you cornered nine ways to hell.”
Isaiah fought to the end. When Laura gingerly removed his last piece from the board, he gave her a long, searching look and said, “Best of three.”
She glanced at her watch.
“Don’t even think of pleading that it’s getting late,” Isaiah warned. “My championship is on the line.”
“I’m putting ten on Laura,” Hank said loudly.
“Ho!” Harv Coulter fished in his hip pocket for his wallet. “I’ll take that bet. She just got lucky. Nobody beats Isaiah at checkers.”
Ann Kendrick nudged her big, broad-shouldered husband in the ribs. Keefe bent his dark head to hear what she said. Moments later he was opening his wallet. Ann held up a twenty-dollar bill. “My money is on the lady. We gals have to stick together.”
Bethany grinned. “I’m with you, Mama-too.” She held out a hand to her husband, Ryan. “Money, honey. I want to place a bet on Laura.”
“Me, too!” Etta Parks cried. “Ten dollars on my granddaughter.”
“I can’t believe this,” Isaiah complained. “So far there’s only one bet on me.” He looked at Tucker. “You gonna be a turncoat, too?”
The next checkers game was the center of attention. Some people stood to have a better view of the board. Others made themselves comfortable on chairs. Isaiah and Laura, who’d begun the first game laughing, faced off during the second play-off, solemn and grimly intent on every move.
By the time the game ended, Isaiah was vowing to brush up on his snowman-building skills. Other-wise he might find himself cooking a seven-course meal for his opponent.
He gave her a calculating look. Never more than in that moment had he appreciated the gleam of intelligence that he saw in her hazel eyes.
“Do you play chess?” he asked.
She dimpled a cheek at him, jumped his last piece, and said, “Not often. I’m not very good.”
Isaiah had an image to preserve. “Want to make the third game a little more challenging?” he asked. “The winner is the undisputed champion.”
She shrugged and nodded her assent. Isaiah ran to get the chess set.
That proved to be a mistake. An hour and a half later, when Laura said, “Checkmate,” he stared incredulously at the board, muttering, “No way. I thought you said you weren’t very good.”
She grinned mischievously and leaned across the board to whisper, “I lied.”
Chapter Ten
The morning after Thanksgiving, Laura arrived at the clinic ten minutes before six. After entering the building, she locked back up and disabled the alarm. Then, just as she started to reset the system, a knock came at the door. She jumped with a start, began to answer the summons, and then thought better of it. Hands shaking, she entered her personal code and quickly rearmed the system. Only then did she approach the back door.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s me, James. Can you let me in for a second?”
Laura’s heart caught. Isaiah had asked her to call him if James ever came around when she was working a shift alone. She groped in her purse for her cell phone.
“I just need to talk to you for a minute,” he urged.
Caught in indecision, Laura stared at her phone. James. Despite Isaiah’s warnings, she found it difficult to believe that the young tech had had any-thing to do with the trouble at the clinic. James might have a crush on her. Laura wouldn’t argue the point. But that didn’t necessarily mean he was guilty of anything else. In fact, all her instincts told her just the opposite.
With a sigh, she dropped the cell phone back into her purse. “Just a second, James. I need to disarm the system.”
She stepped over to the console, turned off the alarm, then returned to the door and disengaged the locks. When the portal swung open, James hurried inside. He wore a bulky blue parka. His curly brown hair was mussed by the brisk morning wind.
“Hi,” he said, flashing a sheepish grin as he pushed the door closed. “You must be wondering what the heck I’m doing here.”
Laura had been wondering exactly that. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and it was his day off. Most people wanted to take advantage of that and sleep in. She was probably out of her mind to let him inside the building, but when she searched his eyes, she saw nothing sinister.
“It is pretty early,” she settled for saying.
He turned and locked the door. “Yeah, well.” He folded his arms as he turned back toward her. “Early’s good, actually. I’d just as soon nobody else knows about me stopping by.”
For just an instant Laura felt uneasy. But before the feeling could take a firm hold, James said, “About the other night and my asking you to spend Thanksgiving with me. When Isaiah called me right afterward, I about had a heart attack.”
“You did? Why?”
He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, his motions agitated. “There’s a rule here that employees aren’t supposed to date. I thought he was going to fire me.”
“Oh, no,” Laura whispered with genuine dismay.
“Oh, yeah.” James nodded and scratched his chin. “You’re a very pretty lady, Laura, and there’s no denying the chemistry between us. I’ve felt it, anyway. But no way can I put my job on the line. I hope you understand.”
Laura had no idea what to say.
“I really love this job,” he hurried to add. “Isaiah’s been totally cool about letting me study on the side to get my tech credentials. Last year he even gave me time off and paid for me to get my X-ray certification. At my last review we talked about my going to college next year, maybe to become a full-fledged assistant like Belinda. He’s willing to keep my position open while I’m away at school and kick in on my tuition. That’d be a really sweet deal for me.”
“Yes, it would,” Laura agreed, not at all surprised to hear of Isaiah’s generosity.
“So you can totally understand why this thing between us has to stop before we get in too deep.”
“Oh, yes.”
He looked deeply into her eyes. “I think it could be really special between us, Laura, I honestly do. But who can say for certain? My future here at the clinic is a pretty sure thing. All I have to do is keep my nose clean.”
It was all Laura could do not to smile. “Then that is what you must do, James.”
He gave her another soulful look. “I wish it could be different. A few people here have dated on the side, and nobody ever found out.”
“They were lucky,” Laura was quick to say. “No, James. The risk is too great for you. Your whole future is on the line.” She swallowed hard. “Some things aren’t meant to be.”
“Totally. It’s just—” He broke off and gave her another melancholy look. “If only. You know?”
Laura put a hand on his jacket sleeve. “We can be friends. There’s no rule against that, is there?”
The tension
eased from his shoulders and he grinned. “Nope. Friendship is okay.”
Returning his smile, Laura said, “Friendship it will be, then.”
He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Then his gaze sharpened on hers. “Isaiah doesn’t suspect, does he? He sounded sort of weird when he called me.”
“No,” she assured him. “Isaiah has no idea. It’s our secret.”
“Thank God. When he called I broke out in a cold sweat. I just knew he’d found us out. He was nice and everything. But I could have sworn I heard a hint of suspicion in his voice.”
Laura shook her head. “I don’t think so. Isaiah has a lot on his mind at times. Maybe that was it.”
“I hope so.” He puffed out his cheeks with an expelled breath. “We’re agreed, then. From here on out we’ll be friends and nothing more.”
“Friends and nothing more.” With a glance at her watch, Laura reached to unlock the door. “Out of here. It’s almost six. The alarm sends a signal each time a code is entered. I don’t want the record to show that I started work late. There would be questions. This way I can say I forgot something in my car to explain why I disarmed the system.”
“Oh!” He swung around to leave. Once the door was open, he glanced back. “Thanks for understanding, Laura.”
“No problem. I’m just glad you came by to talk with me.”
“It only seemed fair. My decision affects you as much as it does me.”
Laura was still smiling a moment later when she activated the alarm. Isaiah had been correct on one count: She’d been involved in the romance of a lifetime. She simply hadn’t known it.
At a little before ten, Laura nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of footsteps on the concrete behind her. She fumbled not to drop a bowl of dog food and, whirling around, flattened her free hand at her throat, limp with relief when she saw Isaiah standing just outside the enclosure.
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”