Sea Glass Summer (30 page)

Dusk got off the chair and angled around her feet. A signal that her feed bowl might need replenishing. She lived in obvious fear of finding it empty. Sarah had just completed this task and was putting away the plastic container of cat food – Libby had advised her never to leave it in the box because that could attract mice – when she heard the front door open and Oliver's voice.

‘Sarah?'

‘In the kitchen.'

‘I went up to see Twyla and Gwen said I could bring Jumbo down to save you a trip. Do you want me to wipe off his paws?'

‘Has he been in a ditch?' Unlikely. Jumbo trod the straight path unless off the leash and encouraged to ramble. But Oliver, who had become devoted with him, enjoyed being involved in taking care of him, from feeding to taking him outside when he needed to go. There were also brushings – unnecessary – but extremely pleasing to both. Sarah, not wanting to look as though she felt a need assess the paw situation, didn't go into the narrow foyer.

‘No, he's not muddy or anything.' Boy and dog appeared in the doorway. ‘What's that delicious smell?'

‘Cinnamon rolls.'

‘Sarah, you're amazing!'

She bent to pat Jumbo, who'd been looking up at her as if in full agreement. ‘Well, I have to say I'm feeling rather pleased with myself. Not having made them before, I was all prepared before taking them out the oven to find they needed to go in the trash container, which would have meant driving to Plover's Grocery for replacements. Would you like one now?'

‘Yes, but I'd rather wait till Evan gets here so it won't look like we started without him. Do you remember he said last week,' Oliver was removing Jumbo's leash, ‘that he could live on cinnamon rolls?'

‘You're right, he did. His metabolism must beat world records.' Dusk wandered out from under the kitchen table and eyed the dog with complete indifference before stepping around him to reach a framed opening in the cellar door – kindness of Sid Jennson – that provided access to the litter box. When she'd gone through, Oliver hung the leash on the hook next to the door.

‘I left my backpack in the hall, till I take it upstairs to my bedroom.' It came out so naturally that Sarah could feel herself tearing up. ‘I also brought my quilt from my old one; Twyla fetched it for me. That's partly why I went up to see her before coming here.' He turned toward her, anxiety in his eyes, as if it had suddenly struck him that he might be crossing a line.

‘Ever since I got the bed I've been thinking of it as your room too. We'll go up in a minute, but first I'd like to show you something I think you'll be as pleased with as I am with my cinnamon rolls.'

His eyes had their glow back. ‘A surprise?'

‘Well, not exactly.' She led the way into the dining room and handed him the clear plastic bagged package.

He stared down, then up. ‘The throw? You've finished Grandpa's throw?'

‘Take a look and tell me what you think, business consultant?'

He took it out of its wrapping and held it up, studying it with awe. ‘It's beautiful! I can't believe anyone can knit like that. Thank you. Thank you. Are you going to make up any more for the magazine?'

‘Not with “Grandpa.” I think this should be a one-off, don't you?'

‘It would make it super-super special, wouldn't it?' He refolded it, put it back in its wrapping and reverently returned it to the table.

‘That was my thinking.'

He stood absolute still as if unable to move, before turning and throwing his arms around her. ‘Oh, Sarah, I do love you. I guess I knew I was going to when I met you and Evan, and ever since it's been like the three of us were meant to find each other.' His head stayed against her shoulder. ‘Someone told me he knew it was going to happen.'

‘Oliver, I love you too.' She pressed her lips to his sandy hair.

‘And Evan?'

‘Yes, in a different way.' It was the only answer, but she realized when he stepped back, wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands and beamed at her, that he might have misconstrued her meaning. But he shifted them onto safer ground.

‘Brian thinks you're both cool.'

‘That's good to hear.' She'd guessed that the foreseeing someone was this great friend, the great nephew of Nellie Armitage who always seemed delighted to have him visit. Brian had shown up at Bramble Cottage a couple of times when Oliver was there and Sarah had taken to him in a big way.

‘Shall we go upstairs with the backpack so I can show off how I've got things set up for you?'

‘Yes, but can I ask you something first?'

She laughed, though wondering if what was coming would be another awkward moment. ‘Like I'm going to say no!'

‘Twyla said I should ask you and it's even more important now. Will you come with us to see Grandpa after church tomorrow?'

‘I'd love to.' She was the one now giving the hug.

‘Great! You can give him the throw.'

‘I want to see you do that.'

‘Twyla would like Evan to come too.'

‘I'm sure he will. We've both heard him say it would be a pleasure and a privilege to meet the man who taught you to love books, and just words in themselves. When I'm around the pair of you I feel in serious need of a return to third grade.' It was the wrong thing to have said; Oliver's face clouded.

‘You don't. Remember Evan saying he couldn't decipher a knitting pattern to save his life, let alone invent one. Have you felt left out when we've been reading
Oliver Twist
together?'

‘Not a bit, I love being around at those times. What the two of you have done is inspire me. Yesterday I took out several mysteries from the library.' She didn't add that three were Evan's. She had started one last night and been captivated as she rather hoped she would be. They were on her bedside table. To tell or not tell him was the question. She wouldn't want to sound as if she were trying to win points. What if she slipped from enthusiastic into gushing? She continued quickly, ‘I'd be happy to go to church first. Before heading out to visit your grandpa, if that's OK with you and Twyla.'

‘I hoped you'd say that.' He stretched up to kiss her cheek. The inclination to press her hand to it was strong. ‘I'll ask Evan when he gets here. Twyla says you shouldn't assume someone wouldn't mind going, like they ought to believe in it.'

‘A wise as well as a truly good person. The first time I met her I understood fully why you think the world of her.'

They had wandered back into the kitchen when the doorbell went. ‘Can I get that, Sarah? I bet that's Evan.' Oliver could have been a lamp radiating light.

‘Maybe too soon.' She looked at the clock; it was minutes off eleven. ‘He said most likely around noon, but could be earlier if he got clear of the city faster than usual. Perhaps it's Brian?'

‘No, he's visiting Aunt Nellie this weekend.'

‘You'd better hurry before whoever it is thinks we're out and takes off.'

Oliver practically skidded to the door with the benefit of wood flooring, Jumbo in his wake. If there'd been a mirror handy she would have been tempted to look into it and tweak her short curls into better shape. There wasn't and the thought was a silly one. She'd decided against putting on lipstick after her shower. What an idiot! As if he'd have taken that limited amount of makeup as encouragement. Anyway, it would have worn off by now. She heard the familiar voice blending with Oliver's excited exclamations and plugged in the coffeepot, turned the oven on at 200 degrees and popped the tray of cinnamon rolls back in. She was straightening back up when they came through the doorway.

‘See, I was right!' proclaimed Oliver, and Jumbo's nod appeared to be one of agreement.

‘He really should be doing the weather forecasts.' Sarah divided her smile between the two of them. ‘Our local expert isn't really . . . expert. Hi, Evan!' She sounded exactly right. Pleased without suggesting she hoped he'd kiss her.

He did. On the cheek as Oliver had done some minutes ago, but without the vigor. ‘Hi, Sarah. Not too early, I hope?'

‘We'd been wondering what was keeping you.' She'd relaxed sufficiently to add, as she might have to her brother Tim: ‘You're looking remarkably handsome this morning.' Jumbo was certainly looking up at him with approval. ‘Is that a new outfit? Or have you done something new to your hair?'

‘She's teasing,' Oliver laughed happily, ‘we both remember you wearing those same jeans and black T-shirt last weekend.'

‘Yes, but she's right about the hair. I got it cut yesterday.'

‘Well, there you are! I didn't get my nickname Eagle Eyes for nothing.'

Evan looked at her in a way that could have made her heart turn over if she hadn't got her armor on. Even so she tightened the metal straps in the nick of time. ‘Talking about that rose-colored outfit you're wearing . . .'

‘It's a dress,' said Oliver solemnly.

‘No, it's not.' Evan eyed him sternly. ‘Don't take me for a complete fashion Neanderthal. It's a skirt and top.'

‘Just testing!'

‘Well, cut it out! You're always trying to make yourself the favorite!'

‘Boys! Boys! Do I have to put you both in time out?' Sarah was back in the groove. ‘Thank you, Evan, for a charming compliment. But let's all turn our attention to less worldly matters. Oliver, ask him about church tomorrow before you forget.'

‘Right. Here goes.' He explained about Twyla suggesting the visit to Grandpa after church on Sunday.

‘I'd be delighted; you know how much I've been hoping to meet him.'

‘Sarah and I were sure you would say that, but the thing is, she'd like you to go to church with us, but we don't want you to feel you must.'

Jumbo sat looking as interested as anyone else. ‘Hmm.' Evan rested his back against the refrigerator, his grey eyes half closed in concentration. ‘That needs mulling over. What brand of church are we talking about?'

‘Episcopalian.'

‘Ah! I think I've heard of them, yet still find myself hesitating? Aren't they the ones that still keep up the otherwise obsolete tradition of human sacrifice?'

‘Oh!' A smile spread over Oliver's face. ‘You were kidding.'

‘I wouldn't go that far. Perhaps I was thinking of the Methodists.'

‘Really, Evan,' scolded Sarah. ‘You really should go into time out. Do we take it you are coming with us?'

‘Of course.' He peeled himself away from the refrigerator. ‘I'd come even if I thought all religion was bunk. Which I don't. The inside of a church sees me fairly frequently.'

‘Any particular one?'

‘Episcopal.'

Oliver doubled up laughing. When he got himself vertical again his voice had a hint of a hiccup. ‘Grandpa says when I was little – about three – I used to say Episcopagan.'

‘Now that's amusing,' said Sarah.

Evan's mouth twitched. ‘Why does he get points for repartee and I don't? I bet I called it the same thing at that age, which explains what put human sacrifice in my head.'

‘You had your one good moment when you complimented me on my skirt and top. It's been all downhill since then.'

‘She does look nice, doesn't she? When Brian saw her first he said she was tight.'

‘Really? He thought she'd been at the bottle?'

‘No, silly! That's she's terrific-looking. It's Gerard who drinks. I think it's worrying about that that gives Elizabeth her headache.' A silence that spoke. Oliver's face flushed. ‘I shouldn't have said that.'

Sarah avoided Evan's eyes. ‘You can say anything, Oliver; it won't go any further. Now take this man away while I brood over his not mentioning the wonderful aroma of cinnamon rolls in the air. The ones I began making from scratch at dawn. After that there was nothing much he could do to please me. See that guilty expression on his face?'

Evan
was
eyeing her, looking apologetic. ‘I did notice, but in the round of greetings it slipped away.'

‘Excuses!'

‘How I could have guessed the from-scratch part?' He appealed to Oliver. ‘I thought women who did that had gone the way of the dinosaur.'

Sarah folded her arms. ‘No point in sucking up. Help my loyal friend here get his backpack and quilt upstairs to his bedroom. While you're there give him the masculine perspective on how to perk it up. What kind of pictures should go on the walls, that sort of thing?'

‘Pictures? When I was his age I went for posters!'

‘Right!' Oliver beamed at him. ‘I have a
Pirates of the Caribbean
one that Brian gave me. I'll bring it next time.'

‘There! Being female I'd never have thought of posters.'

Evan quirked an eyebrow. ‘Do you buy this befuddled woman act, Mr Cully?'

Oliver appeared to delve deep into the question, but it was clear when he answered that he'd sidetracked. ‘That's a pretty good word.'

‘Befuddled? I thought so yesterday when it crossed my mind. This competition of ours is wearing me to skin and bone. I'll need at least six of those delicious-smelling cinnamon rolls to survive.'

‘Much too late,' said Sarah.

‘What do you both think of altruism?' Oliver inquired. ‘That's almost as much of a tongue twister as ventriloquism.'

‘Not bad,' mused Evan. ‘How did you come up with it?'

‘Mrs Polly said it had nothing to do with Elizabeth and Gerard taking me to live with them.'

‘Did she sound befuddled?'

‘Good comeback! No, she said she'd always had eyes in the back of her head and it didn't do to take her for a fool.'

‘How about narcissism?' Evan had not looked at Sarah during the exchange. ‘I think that's more of a tongue twister, if that's the requirement, than altruism.'