Part 9 (2/2)
She knew she had him when he shook his head. ”d.a.m.n, she really would have liked you.”
”You miss her, don't you?” Stupid question, but sometimes she found the dumbest question was the right one.
His mouth twisted. ”I keep thinking I'll hear her voice. She used to phone me sometimes but the biggest thrill was when she emailed me the first time.” He chuckled at the memory. ”She must have been eighty-two. She bought a computer and hired a kid to teach her how to use it. She wanted to surprise me. And h.e.l.l, did she ever. I was checking my email in Istanbul and there's a message from her.”
”Wow.”
”I know. Funny thing is she always wrote emails as though they were formal letters. You know, 'Dearest Robert, I hope this finds you well.' That kind of thing. I got such a kick out of them.” It would be a long time before he stopped expecting her to call him or, to his intense delight, email him. He caught himself before he went on. ”Anyhow, she was a cool lady. And she had no time for men who were useless around the house. Therefore, I cook.”
AS SHE'D SUSPECTED, dinner was perfectly cooked. Simple and delicious.
The placemats were faded with age and the dishes clearly had been frequently used, in contrast to the designer linens and gleaming Denby china Julia had provided.
Once he'd lit a couple of candles, the atmosphere was cozy, romantic even, though she pushed the word out of her mind the second she thought it.
When she bit into the salmon she almost moaned with pleasure. ”This is fantastic.”
”So? Was my grandmother right? Am I the next Jamie Oliver?”
”Jamie Oliver doesn't wear flowered ap.r.o.ns.”
He shrugged. ”He has his style. I have mine.”
Privately, she liked Rob's style. Which was a problem.
She did not want to have romantic feelings for Rob.
Which immediately reminded that she was not here for pleasure, in spite of the mouthwatering meal and good wine, but for business.
”I think the people who came today really liked the house.”
He speared a potato. ”Did they?”
”Yes. A nice family relocating from Connecticut.”
”Hmm.”
”You have a problem with Easterners?”
He chewed his potato. Swallowed. ”No. Not at all.”
”Good. The company transferring them is putting them up for three days in a hotel and in that time they hope to make a decision. They'd want a fairly quick closing date so they can move their family in and he can start his new job.”
”How quick are we talking?”
”It's negotiable, of course, but I think a quick closing would be a big selling feature. They want their kids settled in before the school year is too advanced.”
”Hmm. What happened to that other couple? The ones who interrupted my sleep?”
”The MacDonalds?”
”Yeah.”
”They didn't like the angry presence in the house.”
He laid down his knife and fork and drilled her with his gaze. ”My grandmother would never haunt anyone. And she was never negative.”
She sent him a thin smile. ”They were talking about you.”
”Weenies. The house wasn't right for them.”
In fact she knew it was but what was the point of arguing? She hoped the Fergusons, Ted and Sue, and their three kids aged eight to thirteen might soon call Bellamy House home. Not only was she anxious to close a sale, but she was beginning to think that the less time she spent with Rob the better.
”I expect to hear from them tomorrow. They may want to view the property a second time. I hope you can accommodate them.”
”Kicking me out again?”
”Believe me, as soon as the deal closes, you will be left in peace.”
”Are you kidding me? I have to figure out what to do with all this stuff.” He gestured vaguely around the kitchen, which she knew meant the things in drawers and cupboards that the stagers hadn't removed. Not to mention all the furniture and items currently in storage.
”You know, there are charities that could make good use of her things. And the valuable or sentimental pieces you could put into storage until you decide what you want to keep. I could put you in touch with the right people.”
He nodded.
”Well,” she said, ”I hate to eat and run but I've got some paperwork I'd like to do tonight. I'll let you know when I hear back from the Fergusons' Realtor.”
”You do that.”
He got to his feet and, using the cane, followed her to the front door.
She turned to bid him goodbye and found him closer than she'd have dreamed possible. He could really move with that cane.
”Thank you again-”
”About that kissing thing,” he interrupted. Were they back to that again?
”What about the kissing thing?” she asked, half irritated, half intrigued.
”I want to give you some more information.”
”More information? About kissing?”
”Not exactly. More about other things.” He dropped his gaze to the cane. ”I want you to know, in case you're wondering, that the bullet damaged some muscle and nicked a bone. Nothing that won't heal. Everything else is in perfect working order.” He raised his gaze to hers. ”In case you were wondering.”
”I wasn't.” Mostly because it had been perfectly obvious from their kissing that everything was working fine. As he must know.
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