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Authors: Carolyn Haines
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and he was letting me know that I was the lamb of choice. At least for the moment. Though I had conflicting feelings about him, my body responded to the thrill. I shifted in my chair and saw him smile.
I had to gain control--of myself and the conversation. "You said earlier that you'd come to Zinnia to finish some business with
Lawrence
. If it wasn't the book, what was it?"
"Are you always so . . ." He turned both hands out, fingers fluid. "Direct?"
"Are you always so evasive?"
He laughed, a full-bodied sound of enjoyment. "Ah, a woman who understands the art of conversation. I like you, Sarah Booth, so I'll answer your question. My business with
Lawrence
did not originally involve his book. I didn't know of it until I came here. My friendship with
Lawrence
goes back to when I was young, back to my first days as an artist. It is for that reason that I came to visit. Of course, the book intrigues me." He finished his second drink. "Now, may we talk about other things. Why don't you tell me about the book you're writing?"
Conversing with Willem was a pleasure and a challenge, but I had another obligation. "Forgive me, Willem. I have plans." I wanted plenty of time to prepare for Harold.
Perfectly cued, Willem rose to his feet. "It was lovely to see you, Sarah Booth. If it's agreeable, I'd like to call tomorrow. Cece said you would be the perfect guide to show me the Delta. She said you could reveal the land's secrets. I need to explore, to learn."
"Tomorrow?"
"We'll take a drive." He made his way to the front door where he stopped, framed at the threshold of my home. "At two?"
"Okay," I agreed with my heart beating far too fast. Oh, the treachery of hormones.
He walked across the porch and was halfway to the steps when he turned back. "
Lawrence
didn't leave anything for me, did he? An envelope or box of some sort? He told me at dinner that he had something he wanted me to have."
"I don't recall seeing anything with your name on it."
He shrugged one shoulder. "
Lawrence
could be a man of mystery when he chose."
"I'll ask Madame. She's the executrix of his estate."
"Of course," he said, nodding. "Tomorrow at two."
His long legs took his tight butt down the steps and to the red car. With a languid wave of his hand he was gone. I was left standing on the porch. Sweetie Pie crept out from under the porch, her stomach groveling on the ground.
"Sweetie!" I'd never seen her so pathetic.
She licked the toe of my boot and whined. I knelt to console her, earning a full-fledged lick in the mouth.
I felt a whisper of wind beside me. Jitty had arrived.
"Better get you some new panties," she said in a dark voice. "I get the feeling that pair you're wearing is about ready to fall off."
"Nonsense," I said with as much starch as I could muster.
"Honey, you got the look of a woman who is seated at a banquet table after a two-week fast."
I tried to compose my face, knowing that if I looked in a mirror, I would see exactly what Jitty described. "He's very handsome," I acknowledged.
"Handsome, charming, sophisticated, talented, yes indeed, he's all of those things."
I was surprised she agreed with me. "So what's the problem?" I turned to face her. There was a small, black, furry creature clamped on her head, undoubtedly sucking her brain out through her hair follicles. I took a swat at it, thinking of body snatchers and other podlike creatures with . . . fur?
"It's called a poodle cut," Jitty said defensively. "It's the latest do. Judy Holliday was wearing one in this terrific movie where she pretended to be dumb to get men to do what she wanted."
Tentatively I examined what was obviously a hairdo masterpiece of anal retentiveness. "Does it hurt?" Even ghost hair couldn't endure such torture without a twinge of pain.
"It's the latest craze," she said, patting it lovingly.
"Jitty, you're overlooking one little thing in your quest for moral stability."
"What?" She. gave me a sideways glance.
"The fifties weren't
I had to gain control--of myself and the conversation. "You said earlier that you'd come to Zinnia to finish some business with
Lawrence
. If it wasn't the book, what was it?"
"Are you always so . . ." He turned both hands out, fingers fluid. "Direct?"
"Are you always so evasive?"
He laughed, a full-bodied sound of enjoyment. "Ah, a woman who understands the art of conversation. I like you, Sarah Booth, so I'll answer your question. My business with
Lawrence
did not originally involve his book. I didn't know of it until I came here. My friendship with
Lawrence
goes back to when I was young, back to my first days as an artist. It is for that reason that I came to visit. Of course, the book intrigues me." He finished his second drink. "Now, may we talk about other things. Why don't you tell me about the book you're writing?"
Conversing with Willem was a pleasure and a challenge, but I had another obligation. "Forgive me, Willem. I have plans." I wanted plenty of time to prepare for Harold.
Perfectly cued, Willem rose to his feet. "It was lovely to see you, Sarah Booth. If it's agreeable, I'd like to call tomorrow. Cece said you would be the perfect guide to show me the Delta. She said you could reveal the land's secrets. I need to explore, to learn."
"Tomorrow?"
"We'll take a drive." He made his way to the front door where he stopped, framed at the threshold of my home. "At two?"
"Okay," I agreed with my heart beating far too fast. Oh, the treachery of hormones.
He walked across the porch and was halfway to the steps when he turned back. "
Lawrence
didn't leave anything for me, did he? An envelope or box of some sort? He told me at dinner that he had something he wanted me to have."
"I don't recall seeing anything with your name on it."
He shrugged one shoulder. "
Lawrence
could be a man of mystery when he chose."
"I'll ask Madame. She's the executrix of his estate."
"Of course," he said, nodding. "Tomorrow at two."
His long legs took his tight butt down the steps and to the red car. With a languid wave of his hand he was gone. I was left standing on the porch. Sweetie Pie crept out from under the porch, her stomach groveling on the ground.
"Sweetie!" I'd never seen her so pathetic.
She licked the toe of my boot and whined. I knelt to console her, earning a full-fledged lick in the mouth.
I felt a whisper of wind beside me. Jitty had arrived.
"Better get you some new panties," she said in a dark voice. "I get the feeling that pair you're wearing is about ready to fall off."
"Nonsense," I said with as much starch as I could muster.
"Honey, you got the look of a woman who is seated at a banquet table after a two-week fast."
I tried to compose my face, knowing that if I looked in a mirror, I would see exactly what Jitty described. "He's very handsome," I acknowledged.
"Handsome, charming, sophisticated, talented, yes indeed, he's all of those things."
I was surprised she agreed with me. "So what's the problem?" I turned to face her. There was a small, black, furry creature clamped on her head, undoubtedly sucking her brain out through her hair follicles. I took a swat at it, thinking of body snatchers and other podlike creatures with . . . fur?
"It's called a poodle cut," Jitty said defensively. "It's the latest do. Judy Holliday was wearing one in this terrific movie where she pretended to be dumb to get men to do what she wanted."
Tentatively I examined what was obviously a hairdo masterpiece of anal retentiveness. "Does it hurt?" Even ghost hair couldn't endure such torture without a twinge of pain.
"It's the latest craze," she said, patting it lovingly.
"Jitty, you're overlooking one little thing in your quest for moral stability."
"What?" She. gave me a sideways glance.
"The fifties weren't
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