Edwina (17 page)

“So now I know a secret about you?” She
thought that sounded pretty lame.

“Indeed you do. Now, here’s your sandwich,
arranged on a simple plate, no garnish—which is just killing me. No
pickle, no chips. And for that I sincerely apologize.” He bowed
low.

Edwina laughed out loud. “Sit down and eat.
I’m not fussy. Besides, I could use a few less pounds.”

“You look fine. People are too skinny today.
We French- trained chefs like to see our customers with a bit of
flesh. We know they’ll be back for more, and they’re usually less
fussy when it comes to calories.”

“True.” She picked up her sandwich and took a
bite.

“
There, see, that’s what I
like. Someone who likes to eat.”

“Oh boy, I’m in big trouble if you stick
around here long.” Edwina let down her guard.

“Good. You can be my guinea pig.”

“Pig being the key word?” She smiled and knew
instantly she had erred.

He looked embarrassed.

“I’m sorry. I was joking. I know I’m... well,
not exactly skinny.”

“You should never erect walls like that
around yourself.”

Edwina looked away for a moment so he could
not espy her own embarrassment. They were at an impasse if she
couldn’t think of something to say... but what could she possibly
say?

“You’re right.” Her voice was low.

He seemed to relax, so she empowered her mind
to move on. “What did you do to Cecelia’s chicken salad? Something
is different, and I like it. A lot.”

“Well, there is a little secret I use . .
.”

“Oh, but don’t tell if it’s a secret recipe,”
she hurried to say, knowing chefs rarely shared their ingredients
unless it was on national television.

“I won’t tell. You’ll have to guess without
ever knowing the truth.”

They both laughed and all was well again.

Finished, Spencer shooed her out of the
kitchen. He did not tolerate running to and fro cleaning while
bumping into another body. “Go unpack. I just finished the Rose
Room. You should find it suitable.”

“Rose Room?”

“You didn’t know your sister named each guest
room?” He turned from his work.

“No.”

“
There are four of them,
all color coordinated of course. The Rose Room, the Yellow Room,
the Burgundy Room, and the Green Room. Down the hall, second door
on the right. It’s one of the nicest.”

“Then won’t we need to save that room for the
Gillespies?”

“No, the Crème Room is the guest suite. It is
by far the largest and most elegant. The other four are merely the
smaller guest rooms.”

“Ah.” Edwina swept away before her lack of
manners should be found out.

The bell at the front door
rang out like a live-playing band. Cecelia’s twenty-foot ceilings
accounted for the perfect acoustics. Edwina hesitated, but knew
Spencer would handle the situation. He was accustomed to Cecelia’s
way of life—that was apparent. A match for her sister perhaps? But
then Spencer seemed too young and free-spirited for her
sophisticated entrepreneurial sister.
What
man could tame her beauty and her drive?
Edwina wondered as she lugged her bag. It would be
unthinkable to wheel her case along on the thick carpet. Spencer
would not approve.

After shutting the door behind her, she
slipped off her shoes and concentrated on getting settled in. The
room smelled of roses, true to the name and the color. She had not
taken time to investigate the entire condominium space when she’d
been here before. Everything in the room was rose and cream.
Everything. Right down to the switch plate covers. The wallpaper
was not quite a print—more like a watercolor canvas. It held a
sense of intrigue; its muted colors of roses, creams, and greens
the obvious inspiration for the entire room. Edwina leaned close
and studied the design, barely visible to the eye. Then she saw the
pattern. Roses, vines, and leaves.

Once unpacked, her clothes
filled two drawers in the elegant gold and white dresser—the more
descriptive word being
chiffonier
. She had learned that
from Cecelia.

After a quick change into whitewashed jeans
and an old white cotton shirt, she swept her palm over the wayward
strands of her hair and prepared to work.

A tap sounded at her door. “Miss Blair.”

She opened it to Spencer. “There is someone
here . . .” He started down the hall, expecting her to follow.

Shrugging, she thought perhaps one of
Cecelia’s busi- ness associates had arrived. Her sister would fly
in on her new pumps ready to greet her visitors. Edwina smiled. At
least she had something to keep her mind occupied for the time
being.

She turned the corner and entered the living
room, her mouth open to greet . . .

There across the way stood the Gillespies.
And Alex Dunnegin.

Chapter 29

R
arely speechless, Edwina found she could not speak a word for
an interminably long moment. Spencer came to the rescue.

“These are the expected guests?” He shot her
a side-glance.

“Yes... yes they are.... Pardon me, Mr. and
Mrs. Gillespie and . . .” Her brain stopped working.

“Ah, ye’ve forgotten your knight in shining
armor, then?”

And then she saw his eyes look down to the
floor.

Her bare toes dug into the carpet. It was no
secret to anyone she’d been caught unprepared, for there she stood
in work jeans, cotton shirt, and no shoes.

“Ah, as you can see, we... we . . .have
arrived early. I hope it will not inconvenience you.” Rose
Gillespie said.

“We are ready for you,” Spencer finished.
“I’ll take you to your room, and you and Miss Blair can have a
visit later. I’m sure you’ll want to freshen up. May I?” He nodded
toward the luggage, walked over like a practiced concierge, and
waited for their answer.

“
I’ll be carryin’ the
luggage back.” The Scot’s voice echoed in the large room. “Ye’ll be
needing to be at your position.”

“I’ll assist.” Spencer let the Scot choose
his bags, then picked up the two smaller ones and led the way.

All the while Edwina fidgeted. She stood
aside as they passed.

The Scot had come along
too? What was
he
doing here?

She wanted to flee, first to her room to pack
and then back to Niles. Heart beating like a ticking clock in a
silent room, she planted her bare feet in the carpet unable to
think.

Spencer appeared after settling the guests.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I had no idea they were coming today. Cece
said the taping of the show was Thursday.”

“Always best to be prepared.”

“They’re early.” She stated the obvious.

“As I can see. I’ll clean the last two rooms
and get out of here. Can you handle them until Cecelia
arrives?”

“I’ll have to.” She started to bite her
nails, then stuck her hands into her back pockets. “What about all
the work you had planned for me to do?”

“It’ll wait. Guests always come before
work.”

“Right.” She hesitated. “What should we do
first? Offer them coffee, something to eat? It’s nearly
three-thirty.” She checked her Wal-Mart watch.

“Guests usually like a half hour or so to
rest or refresh themselves, then a bite to eat. They’ve been in the
air for hours, not to mention the taxi ride from the airport.
They’re probably famished.”

“I know I was.” She remembered her fainting
spell, which occurred after she’d gotten off her long flight. The
Scot probably thought she was one of those flighty women who loved
to drop their handkerchief off the tips of their fingers, then
feign they didn’t know a thing about it.

“
I’ll put the coffee on. I
can toss together a green salad to go along with the chicken
sandwiches, and I just might have time to whip up my special lemon
pudding dessert. I think there’s a pound cake in the
cupboard.”

Spencer took off for the kitchen, Edwina
right behind him. “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

“Pull the vegetables out of the refrigerator
while I see if we have the makings for pudding.”

“Lemons, mayo, lettuce, vegetables, spinach .
. .” He called out what he needed, and as quick as she could find
them, she stacked the ingredients on the black granite
countertop.

“Forty-five minutes from now we’ll be sitting
at the breakfast nook chowing down some very handsome and tasty
victuals. Not to worry.”

Edwina laughed. “That sure didn’t sound like
a professional chef speaking.”

Spencer’s laughter rolled through the
kitchen. “I know all the terms folks use from all over the world to
describe food—chow and victuals being only two of them.”

Spencer had been right. The food was ready
and the table set with Cecelia’s gold-rimmed plates. “A bit much,
but elegant nevertheless,” he said.

“It looks so nice, Spencer. And in just under
an hour.”

“Now for our guests. While I finish up the
dessert, why don’t you go back and tap on their doors, let them
know luncheon is ready. Don’t forget your shoes.”

“Oh dear. Should I change?”

“No time. Retrieve our guests now,” he
ordered. “Everything is ready.”

“Me? Why don’t you go? I’ll stir the
pudding.”

“Edwina, dear, no
one—
no one
stirs
my special pudding. Go get the guests. I won’t serve food that has
sat one minute too long.”

She slipped into her Birkenstocks and tried
to act as normal as possible. As she raised her hand to knock, the
door opened.

“Ye’ve come for us, then?” He crossed his
arms over his chest and actually smiled at her.

He looked happy enough.

“Yes. Dinner is ready.
Spencer—I mean Mr. Hillman, our chef, requests your
presence.”
Where had that come
from
? Probably a movie she’d
seen.

“Then we shall be prompt.” The Scot’s smile
spread across his face as he knocked at the other door. “Mr. and
Mrs. Gillespie, it seems luncheon is served.”

Was he making fun of her? He sounded awfully
proper.

The elder couple came from their room
whispering happily. Edwina led them to the dining room.

“My sister should be here a bit later. I’m
sure she’ll be glad to see you. Please sit down.” She started to
pull out a chair for Mrs. Gillespie, but the Scot was quicker.

“I will do my duty.” He seated the elder
woman first, then pulled out her chair. Mr. Gillespie and then the
Scot took their seats.

Spencer winked at her from across the bar,
which made her face turn pink. She could have slapped him.

The meal finally finished, her sandwich only
half eaten since she and Spencer had eaten an hour earlier, she
struggled through the small talk.

“Yer city is lovely, Edwina.” Rose Gillespie
said sweetly.

“Oh, it’s not my city. My sister lives here
in Chicago... in this condo. My apartment... home is in
Michigan.”

“Michigan? Why, isn’t that right across the
Lake?”

“Yes, it is.” Edwina smiled. “About a hundred
miles from here.”

“We are so excited to be in yer United
States.” Rose and Edwina fell into a conversation while the Scot
and Mr. Gillespie talked. Spencer served them like royalty,
predicting their every need.

When everyone was finished, Spencer suggested
they take their coffee to the living room. The foursome found
chairs while Spencer cleaned the kitchen.

Edwina primly crossed her feet at her ankles
and tried to listen to the conversation but found herself checking
her watch. When was Cecelia going to come? She couldn’t entertain
everyone for much longer. She was running out of things to say.

“I must be on my way.” Mr. Dunnegin rose.

“Are you leaving?” Edwina asked. She’d barely
spoken to him.

“Yes, I have business to attend to.”

“Oh... I thought... you’re not staying?”

“Never intended to stay, lass. Just brought
my friends in from Scotland. Yer sister—Cecelia, isn’t it?—will
take it from here. Do I understand correctly?”

“Oh yes, she will.” Edwina didn’t know if she
should call him Mr. Dunnegin or Laird Dunnegin here in the U.S.

“I shall return four days hence,” he said
formally.

“Please be aboot yer business, Laird
Dunnegin. We should be finished in four days, we are to
understand?”

The question was directed to Edwina by Mr.
Gillespie.

“I... I assume so.... I’m afraid I just came
down to help and don’t know enough about the details to inform you
. . .” Her voice trailed off.

Before she could turn back to open the door
for his exit, the Scot had gone and she breathed again.

Chapter 30

H
er breath still coming in short gasps, Edwina calmed her
heart. “May I get you anything?”

“No. We would be about a short nap, if ye
don’t mind,” Mr. Gillespie said.

“Oh yes, make yourselves at home. If you need
anything, please let me know.”

She was alone.

Tossing her body into the first chair, she
felt like she had that day at the airport—tired and ready to faint.
Spencer walked in.

“You all right?”

“Not exactly. Look at me. I’m out of my
element.” She wanted to shout. “Why do I always find myself in the
wrong place at the wrong time... and wearing the wrong thing?” Her
fingertips nipped at her jeans. “Jeans of all things, and my worst
pair.” She wanted to cry.

“Why do you worry so much? Life is too short.
Enjoy it, Winnie.”

“Winnie?”

“
Does that offend you?” He
took up the coffee cups, that crooked smile plastered across his
handsome face.