The Glass Slipper Project (11 page)

Isabella held it out to him. “I know. Why don’t you make up something?”

He took a step back. “I can’t.”

“Of course you can. You always have a story or response in class.”

He shook his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Oh.” She let her hand fall to her side. “I guess when you have everything there’s no reason to dream anymore.”

He sent her a curious glance. “I don’t have everything.”

“But you will soon.” She took his hand and placed the key in his palm, closing his fingers over it. “You never know. You might think of something later.”

“Maybe.” He shoved the key in his pocket. “Next time let’s meet at the house. I’m doing some work there.”

“Okay.”

Alex watched her get in her car and drive off, then took the key out of his pocket and smiled.

A
t their next meeting, Isabella walked from the cottage to the main house. She saw Alex’s truck, but no sign of him. Once inside she heard sawing, and dust and fresh paint assaulted her nose. She walked around curious at what changes had occurred and ended up in the kitchen. Or what used to be the kitchen. It was now a giant hole. No appliances or cabinets had been installed and all of the walls had been painted a nice cream yellow. She heard movement in her old sewing room and went to investigate.

She peeked inside and saw it had been turned into a workroom. Alex was sanding a wood door supported by a workbench. Each deliberate movement strained his tight jeans and accentuated the muscles under his sweat-soaked gray T-shirt. Impressed by his focus she decided to tease him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she said, imitating Mariella’s voice

Isabella bit her lip when she saw him stiffen.

“Didn’t you hear me?” she continued.

He slowly spun around. When Isabella saw his face covered in sawdust she burst into laughter. He grabbed a rag and threw it at her. She laughed harder.

He shook his head then chuckled. “Where did that mean streak come from?”

She pointed to her watch. “You’re late.”

He walked up to her and raised her wrist to read the time. He swore. “I’m sorry.”

Isabella rested a hand on her hip. “Yes, well how can a woman compete with a door?” She gestured to what he was working on.

“Just give me a few minutes to clean up.”

“No rush. Let me see what you’re doing.” She walked around to get a better look and blinked amazed at the intricate woodwork.

“Where is this going?”

“It’s the door for the back.”

She ran her hand lightly over it. “But it can’t be, it’s gorgeous.”

“This house has a lot of hidden treasures.” He looked at her, then said, “You don’t believe me, do you? Come here.” He took her hand and led her to the main staircase. “This woodworking is original.”

She touched the railing seeing its beauty, but feeling hollow inside. “I wish I could feel the same way about this house as you do, but when I see these stairs all I wish is that I could see my father come down them one more time. I wish I could hear my mother scolding Daniella for causing scuff marks in the kitchen, and to see my sisters playing jump rope in the backyard.”

“At least those are good memories. I didn’t have a father in my life for long. My mother spent most of her time crying rather than laughing, and Sophia had no place to play. This house means everything to me.”

Isabella sat on a step and stared up at him. “What is so important about
this
house?”

Alex glanced away and shrugged. “It’s beautiful.”

“So? There are many beautiful homes. What drew you to this one? It is just wood and…”

“No, it’s much more.”

“Why?” she pressed.

“Because my great-grandfather helped build it.”

Isabella stared at him openedmouthed. “No wonder you want to live here.”

“Yes.” He sat beside her and although she was acutely aware of him — the feeling of his arm brushing against hers, the scent of sweat and sawdust and his own unique smell — Isabella didn’t mind his presence and made no motion to move away. “The Carltons have never owned anything,” Alex said. “We’ve always been laborers and workers who built things we could never afford. I didn’t want my life to be like that. We don’t pass down much in my family. My grandfather kept some journals where he liked to sketch pictures and he sketched this house and wrote about it.”

“Now everything makes sense.” She grabbed his hand and turned it upwards. “I’d wondered why a wealthy man would have calluses. You want to honor your great-grandfather by renovating this house, using your hands the way he had.”

He stood abruptly. “No, I’m not that sentimental. I just like working with my hands.”

Isabella also rose to her feet and they stood eye to eye. “I see.”

He searched her face, his voice deep with regret. “I wish you loved the house as much as I do.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Gabby loves it.”

Alex dropped his gaze. “Yes, I know.”

Isabella squeezed his arm then headed for the door. “Come on, Lex. I have some class notes I want to go over.”

He seized her arm and spun her to him. “I want you to call me Alex.”

She stared up at him surprised by his serious tone. “Why?”

“Because Lex was a boy. I’m a man now.”

She glanced down at his chest then up at his eyes, her mouth quirked with humor. “You think I hadn’t noticed?”

“I just want to make sure.”

“You don’t have to. I know.”

“Good. I’m glad you understand.”

“I do.” She turned and walked to the door. “Come on
Lex.
Let’s go over our notes.” Before she could get outside she was swept into the air. She cried out in alarm.

Alex held her in his arms and stared down at her. “What’s my name?”

She playfully draped an arm around his neck. “You know, you frightened me at first, but this isn’t a bad idea. I don’t mind you carrying me to the truck.”

He tightened his grip and lowered his voice in warning. “Izzy, say my name.”

She arched an eyebrow. “What will you do to me if I don’t say it?”

“I don’t know,” he said in a hoarse whisper. “I know what I want to do to you.”

“What would that be?” She instantly regretted her bold challenge. Although she didn’t know what he wanted to do to her, she knew what she wanted to do to him.

She wanted to pull him close and taste his lips and slip her hands under his shirt and feel his chest. She wanted to capture his ear in her mouth and press her lips against the curve of his neck and stoke the heat in his beautiful brown eyes and burn herself on the feel of his hot flesh against her fingertips. She swallowed, not trusting herself to move in case she betrayed her feelings. She could feel his racing heart; it beat in tune with her own.

He bit his lip then unceremoniously released her. “You shouldn’t ask questions like that. Just call me Alex, okay?”

Isabella stumbled back her heart fluttering like a trapped butterfly. “Yes, I promise.”

“Fine.”

She waited for him to move to the door, but he continued to stare at her in a manner that made her insides tremble. “You’re angry with me.”

He rested his hands on his hips and nodded.

“I won’t call you Lex again.”

“You think that’s the problem?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you really that innocent?” He lifted her chin and gazed deep into her eyes. “Yes, you are.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t want to change that.” He headed for the door. “I have another T-shirt in the truck. Let’s go.”

“Yes, Alex.”

The sound of his name on her lips seemed to echo in the silent hall changing something between them. Suddenly, the air felt still as though they were the only two in the world. She didn’t know that his name would sound so natural on her lips and he didn’t expect to enjoy hearing it so much. But neither addressed how much that moment meant to them, instead Alex nodded and left.

Isabella took a deep steadying breath then followed him. Their tutoring session that day was short and awkward. Neither wanted to analyze why and deal with what had happened between them. The next time they met at the house they were back to normal and Isabella handed him a plastic container.

Alex stared at it, curious. “What is it?”

“Payment.”

He opened the container then smiled, pleased. “Ah, yes the brownies.” He looked up at her. “And the milk?”

“I forgot about the milk. You’ll get it next time.”

“No, I want it now.”

“You could make it yourself.”

“I want you to make it.” Alex left the house and walked toward the cottage. “Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder. “We have time.”

Moments later, Alex leaned against the kitchen counter watching Isabella stir strawberry syrup in a glass of milk. “Remember to put enough in.”

She shot him a glance. “Would you like to do this yourself?”

“No, I’m just supervising. You haven’t done it in a while and you may have forgotten.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” She added chopped strawberries, a bit of coconut milk, honey and mixed it all together then handed him a spoon. “Taste it.”

Alex ignored the spoon and lifted the glass to his mouth instead. He finished the contents then set the glass down. “Nope. That’s not it. Try again.”

Isabella stared at him openmouthed.

He laughed. “Just kidding. That was good. Let’s go.”

With their friendship renewed they continued to meet for tutoring and even did their weekend projects together. One weekend in particular, Isabella rushed through the steady drizzle of a mid-April rainfall toward Alex’s truck. Although a gray sky hung above, the day seemed bright to her because she got to spend the day with him.

However, on that day, after thirty minutes on the road Isabella grew concerned. “Alex?”

“Yes?”

“We’ve passed this sign twice.” She stifled a grin. “You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“I know where I’m going. Just hand me that map.” He pulled over to the side and parked.

She handed him the map and they looked over it together.

“You’re going in the wrong direction,” she said.

“Yes, it looks that way.”

She looked at him curious. “Couldn’t you tell?”

He shrugged. “I got turned around, that’s all.”

Isabella began to smile as she realized something. “When you took Mariella on that long drive you were lost, weren’t you?”

He briefly shut his eyes as though in pain. “Two extra hours with Mariella. For the first time in my life I thought I would burst into tears.”

She laughed. “Why didn’t you just ask for directions?” When he sent her a look, she held up her hands in surrender. “I forgot, it’s a male thing.”

Once they found their destination the day was perfect. A little too much so. The rain had given way to sunshine, and the air was clear with a slight breeze whipping up pockets of buttercups. While driving, they discussed their assignment: visit an “authentic” antique shop in the area, and interview the owner. Mr. Yanders had provided a list of certified shops in the surrounding area and each student team had made a selection. Alex, of course, had selected the store the farthest away, at least two hours.

When they arrived at Timeless Antiques, they were greeted by a very friendly middle-aged man who was eager to give them a tour and be “interviewed.” Alex had called him several days earlier to explain their assignment and to see if he could put them on his schedule. The store was an antique itself, an old farmhouse built in the early 1800s and remodeled to reflect the Victorian age. It was densely decorated from top to bottom with an array of items, including hand-carved solid mahogany furnishings, marble-top tables, curios, lamps, wardrobes, hardware, furniture and clocks.

Once the interview was over, Alex and Isabella parted to indulge in their own interests then met an hour later at the truck. Isabella leaned against the back of the truck eager to show Alex her surprise for him. When she saw him coming out of the store she could barely contain her excitement. “There’s something for you in the back of the truck.”

Alex stared at her, barely hearing her words. The full force of her beauty struck him. He’d always been amazed by how joy could alter her face, but he’d never imagined this. She had a look that was timeless. A face that could be carved in maple and displayed in a gallery, but even that would not capture her essence. At this moment, her unattractive clothes and limp hair didn’t matter — he saw her beauty as striking as a diamond in the sand.

Alex glanced up and saw he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A young man walked past Isabella smiling and stared at her with special interest. When he looked at Alex, his smile disappeared and he hurried away.

“Alex?”

“What?” he snapped, watching to make sure the guy didn’t look back. He didn’t.

Isabella stared at him confused. “Aren’t you curious about what’s in the truck?”

Not really.
He looked at her and folded his arms so he wouldn’t be tempted to remove a strand of hair from her cheek. “Sure.”

She gestured to the truck. “Then go ahead.”

He opened his flatbed and stared at the large box. “Another batch of brownies?”

“No, open it.”

He lifted the lid and pulled out the object. He studied it a moment then set it down. “How much did you pay for this?”

“You’re not supposed to ask that, but you don’t have to worry. Your mother helped me. I told her I would do this. It’s a nice antique vase to put in your new home.”

He leaned on the truck and turned his head away. “Oh, Izzy,” he said in a muffled voice.

“What?”

He lowered his head and his shoulders shook with laughter.

Isabella folded her arms hurt. “If you don’t like it just say so, you don’t have to laugh at me.”

He rubbed the smile off of his mouth and sobered. “I’m sorry. I do like it.” He lifted it up again. “It’s just that it’s not a vase.”

“It’s not?”

He set it down. “No, it’s an urn.”

Her eyes widened in horror. “An urn?”

Alex looked at her expression then burst into laughter.

“But it can’t be an urn.”

He laughed so hard he could barely stand — he leaned against the truck to keep from falling to the ground.

Isabella rested her hands on her hips. “Alex, it’s not funny. What’s he doing selling urns?”

“Making money obviously,” he gasped. “Wait don’t be angry. I really do like it. I just see that there are a few more things for you to learn.” He draped a brotherly arm around her shoulders. Somehow his touch didn’t feel that way, but she didn’t move away and neither did he. They both knew it was time to head back, but Isabella didn’t mention it and Alex didn’t seem inclined to either. He squeezed her shoulder. “I’m hungry.” He grinned then patted the side of the urn. Let’s take Aunt Lucille to lunch.”

Isabella stared at him, shocked. “You can’t take
that
with us.”