Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye (26 page)

“They don’t allow guns in England, Dad,” Louanne drily reminded him.

“There aren’t going to be any boys there,” I said. “Only moms and girls.”

He stood up and pretended to consider. “Okay, then,” he said. “You can go.” He came up and kissed my cheek, and I smelled his Old Spice and felt his scratchy whiskers. I hugged him back.

When we arrived at The Beeches, Mom asked, “Do I look okay?” She tugged on her dress a little and reapplied some lipstick.

“You look beautiful,” I reassured her, realizing that I was in the strange position of having been here before, and with these people, while my mom had not.

We drove up the long, long drive of The Beeches and parked our Ford among the very swish cars that had already arrived. I thanked God that my dad had taken down the fuzzy dice from his rearview mirror and that Louanne hadn’t let him put a bumper sticker on the back.

Once we were shown into the garden, though, all my fears melted away. First, Penny’s mother came right over and took my mom by the arm and introduced her to everyone. Then she sat down with her at the table. It was clear that she’d saved a place just for her.

I beamed in appreciation as I went to the kitchen to meet up with the girls. Of course! What else would I expect from Penny’s mum—like mother like daughter, right?

Several girls, including Ashley, commented on my dress, though none of them commented on the fact that I hadn’t had a date the night before. Good manners.

The kitchen was abustle. We girls didn’t prepare anything—the caterers had done all the food. We were just there to serve. Penny brought me a silver tray with tall glasses filled with sparkling pear cider. “Chloe’s not coming today,” she whispered. “Embarrassed by her tantrum last night, as well she should be.” She sniffed. “Poor manners.”

Once again I was reminded that my kind friend did have quite a lineage, and I loved her the more for being herself.

A violinist and a cellist played achingly beautiful music in the background, and we poured back and forth from the kitchen with full and then empty trays. After one trip, Penny asked me, “Could you please go to the entry hall and see if anyone has left glasses or dishes out there?”

I nodded, a little confused. As far as I knew, people had only been eating in the back garden area. And if they’d left things up front, wouldn’t the butler have gotten them?

I walked into the hallway and there, in one of the corner armchairs, sat Tommy. He seemed stunned when I entered the room. I stopped, shocked myself.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Waiting for my mum,” he said. “She’s the one on crutches,” he explained. “Broke her foot last month. I need to help her up and down the steps. Penny asked me to get here a bit early—I thought maybe her foot was bothering her.”

That Penny! As soon as she knew that Tommy was helping his mom, she’d texted me to do my hair.

“You look great,” he said, still surprised, I thought, to find me in something other than jeans and boots.

“I clean up well,” I teased, thrilled to have made an impression and ecstatic that he’d seen me in my dress after all. I knew I had just a minute or two before I’d have to go help, or someone was sure to come and find me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said.

“What did you mean last night when you said you’d read my writing?”

He looked around to see if we were alone, and we seemed to be, except for the butler. “Your column. Every other week.”

“How did you know?”

“I found some papers in the back of the church on April Fools night.”

Oh! When my homework and papers were left out.
How careless I’d been. “And you e-mailed me?”

He nodded. “But you didn’t e-mail back.”

“I didn’t know if it was a trap.” I could hear the noise in the kitchen growing louder. It was time to get the puddings out, and I needed to hurry.

“And then I tried to call, but you answered and said not to call you anymore because you were very busy.”

“That was you?” I was mortified.

“Uh-huh.”

One of the girls came into the room. “Savvy?”

“Be right there,” I assured her before turning back to Tommy. “I’m really sorry—I didn’t know it was you.”

“Not a problem.” He grinned. “You’d better get back to the kitchen. Don’t worry about it, though. I know how to keep quiet. Your secret is safe with me.”

I knew it was. I waved a little and said I’d see him soon.
Really soon,
I hoped. And then I went back to serve dessert.

On the way home Mom chattered on and on about what a great time she’d had and how nice everyone was and how Mrs. Barrowman—Lydia—was going to sponsor her for the membership vote next month, and if she was in, they’d all do the Chelsea Flower Show together.

I let her have her moment, her half hour, of delight. I sat in the car and treasured up the day, and the evening before, to myself. When I got home, I’d search through last night’s pictures and find the perfect one for my new screen saver. By an amazing coincidence I’d just happened to snap several dozen of Tommy without Chloe.

What an amazing weekend. First formal dress. First dance with a boy not related to me. What could lie ahead?

My promised article? An amazing ministry? My first kiss?

Hmm . . .

Your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.

Matthew 6:4, NIV