Читать книгу The Perfect Groom - Ruth Scofield - Страница 10

Ivy dropped her keys on the kitchen counter of the apartment she shared with her aunt and sank into a chair. She let all her muscles relax. For the past week, with the exception of Sunday, she’d spent at least twelve hours a day at the store preparing for the approaching holiday shopping season. Last night she hadn’t arrived home until midnight and she’d left again at seven this morning.

The day had been one ripe for a double headache.

One of her suppliers called with the news he’d be two weeks late with a Christmas delivery; a three-year-old child had tried climbing the shelf display then pitched a temper tantrum when she gently insisted he get down—without a mother in sight for a full five minutes; the man who cleaned her floor quit for greener pastures; and her feet hurt. After letting Sherri go home early, Ivy had stayed until almost seven. She wasn’t even sure if the sun had made an appearance today. But at least her store was reasonably prepared for the holiday rush.

She sniffed. The fragrance of a chicken casserole filled her nostrils, making her tummy clench with hunger. What would she do without Aunt Arletta? she mused. Probably live on takeout. She hadn’t taken time for lunch, either.

“Kind of late home, aren’t you dear?” Her aunt popped into the kitchen and turned on the stove burner under the teakettle. “Well, never mind. You’re just in time for a quick shower.”

Shower? Her thoughts had run on the lovely image of a long soak in a bubble bath.

“What do you mean?” Ivy asked, knowing full well it meant her aunt probably wanted to go out somewhere. Couldn’t be grocery shopping—she’d done that last night She frowned. No, that had been three nights ago. Maybe she had a meeting of some church committee.

Ivy hoped it meant her aunt only needed a ride somewhere and not Ivy’s company for the evening. After talking with customers all day, she was too tired to even crack a smile. “It’s Tuesday.”

“Ah, yes. Tuesday.” Aunt Arletta met with a seniors group for Bible study and dessert on Tuesday afternoons, which usually satisfied her craving for company—at least for that day. On Tuesday evenings, they stayed at home.

Not for the first time Ivy wished her aunt had learned to drive. The fact she hadn’t had caused Ivy and her mother, Brenda, more than one problem while Ivy was growing up. Aunt Arletta didn’t think anything of making plans without consulting anyone else first, but she was such a dear and contributed so much to other people’s comfort, Ivy never had the heart to refuse her. It hadn’t been so bad before her dad died; she was his aunt, after all. He cheerfully ran errands for Aunt Arletta or drove her to wherever she needed to go.

Ivy shifted from her outer wrap and let her head drop back to rest against the chair. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pulled up memories of her dad—something she often did when she felt tired or down.

Jonathan York had been of average size, but Ivy had thought him tall enough to touch the ceiling. They’d ridden bikes together, shoveled snow and made snow forts all winter, roller-skated in the hot summer evenings, jaunted down the sidewalks side by side every Saturday morning on their way to shop. They munched on donuts while strolling home, a bag of groceries in each of their arms, and he’d simply grin widely at her mother’s scold over spoiling her. She’d been her daddy’s girl and she’d adored him. No one would ever mistake her for anyone else’s child, her mother said frequently, with their matching coppery curls and hazel green eyes.

Without realizing it, Ivy sighed. She still missed him dreadfully. When her father died of sudden heart failure, she’d just turned fourteen. She thought her world had stopped, and in a way, it had. Things changed rapidly for her and her mother afterward; although they’d never had much in earthly goods, their life became even leaner. Bless Aunt Arletta. They never would have made it if she had not moved in with them, throwing her own small income and nurturing instincts into the family pot.

It was Aunt Arletta who had taught her about her heavenly Father. And how to talk with Him and what the scriptures said of Him.

Aunt Arletta did a lot for the family, but she never learned to drive. They’d had the old car, then, already four years old when her dad died, and her mom took over the duties of ferrying the family. But they soon found that balancing the various needs was often difficult; taking the bus hadn’t always fit Ivy’s schedule or routes, and cabs were too expensive. Too proud, her mother refused to ask for help from anyone besides Aunt Arletta. They couldn’t always depend on someone else to cart one of them around, her mom had said. They just had to “make do”.

Ivy was usually the one who made do. If she hadn’t a ride to somewhere, she walked. She walked almost everywhere as a teen.

Ivy’d learned a great deal about personally making do. She made her choices of clothing and activity do triple duty, and budgeted her time and money with care, even while lavishing her time on learning all she could about fine furnishings, color palettes and design. The contrast between the exquisite furniture, fine art and carefully designed interiors she studied and the reality of their humble apartment made a deep impression on her, and she’d determined even then to have a better home one day.

She took her first part-time job at a department store the month she turned fifteen and a half. During college, she switched to an upscale furniture store and juggled full-time hours with school. She socked away every penny she could, waiting for the day when she could invest it.

She and Aunt Arletta, since her mother remarried and moved out west, still made do with their small apartment and frugal budget while she poured all her profits back into the store. But one day she’d have a big house and more than one new car. If their Christmas season was good, this was the year Wall’s Intrigue would more than break even. Someday, Ivy dreamed now, she’d have money enough to buy a brand-new car right off the dealer’s lot and take Aunt Arletta on a long driving vacation.

“So what’s going on?” She let her daydreams go with a sigh.

“We have a guest coming to dinner.”

“Okay.” She didn’t bother to ask who. Aunt Arletta frequently asked her friend, Shirley, who lived two doors away to a meal. “What’s it being Tuesday to do with it?”

“Well, tomorrow is your light day.”

“Mmm…” Ivy closed at four on Wednesdays, but starting next week she’d begin her holiday hours when they’d be open until eight every night except Sunday when she closed the store entirely. “You haven’t set the table yet. Want me to do it?”

“No, dear. You run along and have your shower. Oh, and Kelly called a few moments ago.”

“They’re back?” Ivy scrambled out of her chair and headed down the hall to her tiny bedroom where she could return a call in peace. Two weeks without talking to her best friend left her with a hole to fill. Their friendship would be different now; marriage always changed loyalties and priorities. Rightly so, she’d told herself over the years as one by one her friends had entered into that state. But she and Kelly had been the last holdouts in their crowd and had made solemn vows they wouldn’t let marriage put distance in their friendship. Even so, Ivy mused, she wouldn’t see as much of her friend from now on. It was the way of things.

She punched Kelly’s number and spent a pleasant thirty minutes listening to how wonderful Hawaii had been for a honeymoon.

“Ivy, are you almost ready for dinner?” Aunt Arletta called.

“Five minutes, Aunt A.”

Showering quickly, she also shampooed her auburn curls. She gave her hair a halfhearted swipe with the towel, then decided to let it dry naturally. Rummaging through her closet, she grumbled about having to dress again at all. She’d much rather wear her pj’s and robe. She’d likely pass out as soon as supper was over anyway.

At the bottom of her chest, she found a loose navy sweat outfit and pulled it on. Shirley wouldn’t care what Ivy wore.

“…and Ivy opened her store three years ago. She inherited her father’s creativity, you see,” her aunt’s gentle voice murmured through the hall as Ivy sauntered down it in stockinged feet. “But she never could focus in a single direction, poor dear. So the interior design store gives her enough variety—”

Not focus? Aunt A never understood her occasional interest in architecture or how the two areas of design interacted.

Whoever her aunt was talking to, it wasn’t Shirley. Ivy reached the kitchen door and stopped cold. Her aunt’s small plump figure stirred a pot on the stove while a tall, athletic one filled three glasses with milk.

“Hi, Ivy. It’s about time you got out of that shower,” Noah said as though his presence in her kitchen were quite a normal occasion. His gaze swept over her face, free of makeup, and noted her still-damp hair, minus its usual smooth fall. “We’re starved.”

“Yes, we certainly are. And you must be as well. Sit down, children. Soup first. Then a nice chickenand-noodle casserole.”

“Noah!” She ignored her aunt’s direction entirely, trying not to let her mouth drop open like a buffoon. “Why are you here?”

“Taking shameless advantage of your aunt’s generous invitation,” he said, hooking a foot around a chair leg to bring it out from under the table. He appeared completely at home in her small kitchen, and wonderfully comfortable with Aunt Arletta. “She asked me the other day after I agreed to chauffeur some seniors on an outing. We’re making it a weekly adventure.”

“What?” Heart beating with sudden suspicions, she licked her lips to ask calmly, “What are you making a weekly adventure?”

“Our outings,” Aunt Arletta answered with delight. Ivy let her breath out, thinking herself almost too foolish to have thought her aunt meant she’d invited Noah for a weekly dinner.

Yet, knowing her aunt, the idea wasn’t so farfetched. She continued to listen to her aunt’s explanation, trying not to stare or be taken in by Noah’s handsome face.

“Noah’s agreed to play chauffeur and escort for the senior outings until spring. We had sixteen of us today, and having a nice young man like Noah to assist some of us into the bus was a pleasure. He took us right to the back of the Thomas Hart Benton House so that no one had to go up those steps. Used the ramps for the two in wheelchairs so all of us could go. Even old Robert Dearborn was pleased, and you know how crabby Robert can be.”

Ivy blinked. Noah touched her shoulder, reminding her to sit. Sinking into the chair, she narrowed her eyes at him slightly; no one could be that perfect.

Considerate and generous to older people and functioned well in a kitchen? What was he up to? What did he want? He’d only joined the church a week or two ago. He’d sat nearby during the worship service. While always polite, Ivy’d never encouraged his interest by one single eyelash sweep.

He caught her suspicious gaze and gave her a silent shrug while his mouth spread into a half smile, his eyes glowing with personal invitation. Come and see, he seemed to beckon. Come on, I’m harmless.

She could almost fall into those warm eyes, sweet as molasses.

“Noah, we’d be pleased if you offered thanks for our supper,” Aunt Arletta suggested. “We so seldom have men guests around our table these days. Not since Ivy broke her engagement to that—”

“Aunt A!”

“All right, all right. But it’s true.” Aunt Arletta’s eyes weren’t a bit repentant. “We don’t have men guests these days. Personally, I’d like to hear a man’s prayer of thanks.”

“I’m honored, ma’am.” Reverence replaced his gentle teasing as Noah bowed his head. “Lord, we are deeply grateful for your bounty here in this kitchen, and for friends and life. We thank you for this meal and the hands that prepared it. We ask you to bless each of us and the evening ahead with your favor. Amen.”

Ivy blinked at the sincerity she heard in Noah’s voice. Did he really know the Lord so well? She’d met a few men who pretended far more piety than they really felt. Later actions gave her reason to question if even their basic faith was a lie. Like Leon.

She’d thought Leon perfect at first. An ambitious lawyer, he belonged to a wealthy, high-profile church. His faithful church attendance and involvement in the church’s finance committee impressed her. Everything looked bright between them.

She soon found his controlling nature to be obsessive. When she pointed that out to him, he couldn’t see it as wrong. The final break came when he wanted to delegate Aunt Arletta to a home. Any home other than his. He had no room in his life for a dotty old lady, he’d told Ivy, and neither would she after they married. That particular wedding dress she’d packed away without a single pang of what-might-have-beens.

Ivy let her aunt and Noah carry the conversation and listened with only half an ear as they discussed the day’s events.

“And how is the holiday season shaping up for you, dear?” her aunt said, finally noticing her silence.

“Earl quit today,” she said, chewing slowly on a piece of bread. She wondered how long she could let the floor go before she had to tackle it herself. “Said he had a full-time job elsewhere and wouldn’t have time for me anymore.”

“Oh. Well, you’ll find somebody else to do your floors.”

“Floors?” Noah said, dipping a second portion of chicken and noodles onto his plate. “I know someone who’s looking for a part-time job. A college kid. Works for me in the summer, mowing lawns and such. Brad could help with your wall displays, too.”

“I’ve been managing my wall displays all right up ‘til now,” she stated, pressing her lips together. Sort of. She’d hired a man to hang those heavy mantels.

“Sure you have. And that’s why you don’t change the display as often as is needed. Is it really wise to try to handle something beyond your physical strength?”

“‘Blessed is the man who finds wisdom…’” Aunt Arletta quoted.

“‘Wisdom is supreme; therefore get wisdom,’” Noah responded with his own Proverbs quote, and a quick smile for the older woman before turning back to Ivy. “How about young Brad? Are you willing to train him?”

Ivy let go of her pride and glanced at Noah hopefully. “He’s not looking for just a Christmas job, is he? I need someone every week.”

“I think it’s safe to say he’d stay with you ‘til spring, at least.”

“All right. Send him around and I’ll talk to him. Thanks, Noah.” Ivy smiled into his eyes, her gratitude for his help making her forget all about ulterior motives. Right now, she’d take whatever help came her way.

And she was simply too tired to fight the attractive buzz Noah’s brown eyes gave her. Eyes that made her want to put her head on his strong shoulder and sigh.

She’d have to watch that, she told herself. Falling too easily for a charming man had been her downfall the first year in college.

Dan was gorgeous, with long dark lashes any woman would envy, and a romantic nature that swept her off her feet. After only two months of seeing each other, they become engaged, planning a perfect future life together. Ivy’s head drifted with the clouds as she chose her wedding dress and four bridesmaids’ dresses. She worked extra hours and even went without meals to pay for them as they waited in layaway for her wedding day.

Ivy had been so wrapped in the throes of idealized love, she’d failed to recognize how easily Dan spread his charm. Two weeks before she was to meet his parents, she unexpectedly found a stack of letters, current ones, from a girl back in his Texas hometown. That girl was engaged to Dan, too.

Brokenhearted, Ivy let Dan go back to his Texas girl and packed away her dreams along with her wedding clothes. Her easy trust went with them.

Now she searched for a man who had more to offer than mere charm and good looks. She wanted a man of substance. A sophisticated, polished man who could offer her an easier life-style than what she’d known up until now. She’d settle for no less.

“Well, ladies,” Noah said half an hour later, picking up plates and carrying them to the sink. “I hate to eat and run, but I do have some work to take care of in the morning. Thanks, Arletta. That was a wonderful meal.”

“Really, Noah, you don’t have to help with the dishes,” Aunt Arletta replied with almost a simper. “It’s my pleasure to have someone to cook for now and again. Does my ego good, you know.”

“Well, thanks a bunch, Aunt A. Don’t I count?”

“Of course you do, Ivy dear, but one likes cooking for a healthy appetite sometimes. Half the time, you don’t even eat.”

“I’ll be glad to pander to your pleasure in cooking anytime you say the word, Arletta. Well, I’ll say good-night now.” He paused to give Ivy a considering stare, his thumbs hooked in his back pockets. “Ivy, I think you need to get a good night’s sleep. You’re lovely as always, but looking a little wornout. Don’t work too hard.”

He left then, swinging out of the door without giving her a chance at a comeback. She stood a moment counting to ten, wondering if he was worth even that high a number before stomping off the bed.