Chesapeake Blue
Page 54
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The boat, when it was finished, would be her personal reward for making it all come together. And Seth… She wasn't entirely sure what Seth was. The night she'd spent with him had been glorious. But like a boat, a relationship with him would never be all smooth sailing, and there was bound to be maintenance.
Just where would they be, she wondered, if the wind that had carried them to this point stalled on them?
What would they do if they ran into a serious storm, or ran aground, or simply—as so many did—found the excitement draining from the ride?
And she wished she could do no more than enjoy the moment without looking ahead for problems. He intrigued her and challenged her. He aroused her and amused her. He stirred up feelings in her no one had—not even, she was forced to admit, the man she'd nearly married.
She was drawn to his solid sense of self, his honesty and his ease. And she was fascinated by the hints of the turbulence and passions she saw bubbling just under the surface of that ease. He was, she believed, the most compelling man she'd ever met. He made her happy. Now they were lovers, and she was already looking for the trouble ahead.
Because if you didn't look ahead, she reminded herself, you rammed straight into those problems and sank.
She carried the little shears back inside, into the storeroom, where she put it on its place on the shelf. She wished she could talk to someone, another woman, about the thrill and anxiety running so fast inside her. She wanted to be able to sit down with a friend and have a silly conversation where she could ramble on about everything she was feeling.
About how her heart started to flop around when he smiled at her. How it raced when he touched her. How scary and wonderful it was to be with someone who liked and accepted her for who she needed to be.
She wanted to tell someone that she was falling in love.
None of the women in her previous social circle would understand. Not the way she needed to be understood. They would be interested, certainly, even supportive. But she couldn't imagine telling any of them how he'd bitten the nape of her neck, then have them groan and sigh in envy. And that's what she wanted.
She couldn't call her mother and tell her she'd had the most incredible sex of her life with a man she was stumbling into love with.
It just wasn't the kind of conversation either of them would be comfortable having. Though her instincts told her there was nothing she could say to shock Aubrey, and she was dead certain she'd get the exact reaction she was looking for from her new friend, Aubrey's connection to Seth made that possibility just a bit too sticky.
So she was on her own, Dru supposed. Which was exactly where she'd wanted to be in the first place. But now that she had something to share, now that she felt her life shifting under her feet, there was no one to reach out to.
It was her own doing, she admitted. She could either live with it, or begin to change it. Opening up meant more than taking a lover. It meant more than dipping a toe into the waters of a new friendship. It meant work. So she'd work.
The bells on the front door jingled, signaling her first customer of the day. Dru squared her shoulders. She'd proven she could remake her life once. She could do it again.
Prepared to be more than the polite and efficient florist, she stepped out of the storeroom with a warm smile. "Good morning. How can I help you?"
"Oh, I'm not sure. I'm just going to look around."
"Help yourself. It's a gorgeous day, isn't it?" Dru walked over to prop open the front door. "Too gorgeous to be closed in. Are you visiting Saint Chris?"
"That's right," Gloria said. "Taking a nice little vacation."
"You picked a perfect time." Dru ignored a frisson of unease at the way she was being studied. "Are you here with your family?"
"No, just me." Gloria flicked fingers over the petals of an arrangement, and kept her eyes on Dru.
"Sometimes a girl just has to get away on her own. You know?"
"Yes, I do." She didn't look like the type to spend time or money on flowers, Dru thought. She looked… hard, edgy—and cheap. Her shorts were too tight, too brief, and her top too snug. When she caught what she thought was a whiff of whiskey along with the woman's florid perfume, she wondered if she was about to be robbed.
Then she dismissed the thought. Nobody robbed florists, certainly not in St. Chris. And if the woman had any sort of weapon it would have to be very, very tiny to be concealed under that outfit. And to judge someone because she didn't care for the style of her dress wasn't the way to begin the new phase of becoming more personable with her customers.
"If you're looking for something to cheer up your hotel room while you're here, I have carnations on special this week. They have a nice fragrance and they're very low maintenance."
"That might work. You know, you look familiar, and you don't sound like a local. Maybe I've met you before. Do you spend much time in D.C.?"
Dru relaxed again. "I grew up there."
"That's got to be it. The minute I saw you, I thought… Wait a minute! You're Katherine's daughter. Prucilla—no, no, Drusilla."
Dru tried to imagine her mother having any sort of acquaintance with the thin, badly dressed woman who smelled of cheap perfume and whiskey. Then cursed herself for being a snob.
"That's right."
"Well, I'll be damned." Gloria planted her hands on her hips, made her smile large and friendly. She'd done her research. "What the hell are you doing down here?"
"I live here now. So you know my mother?"
"Sure, sure. I worked on several committees with Kathy. Haven't run into her in a while. I guess it's been three or four years. Last time, I think it was a fund-raiser for literacy. Book and author dinner at the Shoreham."
The event had been written up in The Washington Post, with enough detail in the archives Gloria had looked up on-line to make her claim smooth. "How is she, and your father?" No, Dru thought, she wasn't a snob. She was simply a good judge of character. But she spoke evenly.
"They're both very well, thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
"It's Glo. Glo Harrow," she said, using her mother's maiden name. "Hell of a small world, huh? Seems to me the last time I talked to Kath, you were engaged. She was over the moon about that. Guess it didn't work out."
Just where would they be, she wondered, if the wind that had carried them to this point stalled on them?
What would they do if they ran into a serious storm, or ran aground, or simply—as so many did—found the excitement draining from the ride?
And she wished she could do no more than enjoy the moment without looking ahead for problems. He intrigued her and challenged her. He aroused her and amused her. He stirred up feelings in her no one had—not even, she was forced to admit, the man she'd nearly married.
She was drawn to his solid sense of self, his honesty and his ease. And she was fascinated by the hints of the turbulence and passions she saw bubbling just under the surface of that ease. He was, she believed, the most compelling man she'd ever met. He made her happy. Now they were lovers, and she was already looking for the trouble ahead.
Because if you didn't look ahead, she reminded herself, you rammed straight into those problems and sank.
She carried the little shears back inside, into the storeroom, where she put it on its place on the shelf. She wished she could talk to someone, another woman, about the thrill and anxiety running so fast inside her. She wanted to be able to sit down with a friend and have a silly conversation where she could ramble on about everything she was feeling.
About how her heart started to flop around when he smiled at her. How it raced when he touched her. How scary and wonderful it was to be with someone who liked and accepted her for who she needed to be.
She wanted to tell someone that she was falling in love.
None of the women in her previous social circle would understand. Not the way she needed to be understood. They would be interested, certainly, even supportive. But she couldn't imagine telling any of them how he'd bitten the nape of her neck, then have them groan and sigh in envy. And that's what she wanted.
She couldn't call her mother and tell her she'd had the most incredible sex of her life with a man she was stumbling into love with.
It just wasn't the kind of conversation either of them would be comfortable having. Though her instincts told her there was nothing she could say to shock Aubrey, and she was dead certain she'd get the exact reaction she was looking for from her new friend, Aubrey's connection to Seth made that possibility just a bit too sticky.
So she was on her own, Dru supposed. Which was exactly where she'd wanted to be in the first place. But now that she had something to share, now that she felt her life shifting under her feet, there was no one to reach out to.
It was her own doing, she admitted. She could either live with it, or begin to change it. Opening up meant more than taking a lover. It meant more than dipping a toe into the waters of a new friendship. It meant work. So she'd work.
The bells on the front door jingled, signaling her first customer of the day. Dru squared her shoulders. She'd proven she could remake her life once. She could do it again.
Prepared to be more than the polite and efficient florist, she stepped out of the storeroom with a warm smile. "Good morning. How can I help you?"
"Oh, I'm not sure. I'm just going to look around."
"Help yourself. It's a gorgeous day, isn't it?" Dru walked over to prop open the front door. "Too gorgeous to be closed in. Are you visiting Saint Chris?"
"That's right," Gloria said. "Taking a nice little vacation."
"You picked a perfect time." Dru ignored a frisson of unease at the way she was being studied. "Are you here with your family?"
"No, just me." Gloria flicked fingers over the petals of an arrangement, and kept her eyes on Dru.
"Sometimes a girl just has to get away on her own. You know?"
"Yes, I do." She didn't look like the type to spend time or money on flowers, Dru thought. She looked… hard, edgy—and cheap. Her shorts were too tight, too brief, and her top too snug. When she caught what she thought was a whiff of whiskey along with the woman's florid perfume, she wondered if she was about to be robbed.
Then she dismissed the thought. Nobody robbed florists, certainly not in St. Chris. And if the woman had any sort of weapon it would have to be very, very tiny to be concealed under that outfit. And to judge someone because she didn't care for the style of her dress wasn't the way to begin the new phase of becoming more personable with her customers.
"If you're looking for something to cheer up your hotel room while you're here, I have carnations on special this week. They have a nice fragrance and they're very low maintenance."
"That might work. You know, you look familiar, and you don't sound like a local. Maybe I've met you before. Do you spend much time in D.C.?"
Dru relaxed again. "I grew up there."
"That's got to be it. The minute I saw you, I thought… Wait a minute! You're Katherine's daughter. Prucilla—no, no, Drusilla."
Dru tried to imagine her mother having any sort of acquaintance with the thin, badly dressed woman who smelled of cheap perfume and whiskey. Then cursed herself for being a snob.
"That's right."
"Well, I'll be damned." Gloria planted her hands on her hips, made her smile large and friendly. She'd done her research. "What the hell are you doing down here?"
"I live here now. So you know my mother?"
"Sure, sure. I worked on several committees with Kathy. Haven't run into her in a while. I guess it's been three or four years. Last time, I think it was a fund-raiser for literacy. Book and author dinner at the Shoreham."
The event had been written up in The Washington Post, with enough detail in the archives Gloria had looked up on-line to make her claim smooth. "How is she, and your father?" No, Dru thought, she wasn't a snob. She was simply a good judge of character. But she spoke evenly.
"They're both very well, thank you. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
"It's Glo. Glo Harrow," she said, using her mother's maiden name. "Hell of a small world, huh? Seems to me the last time I talked to Kath, you were engaged. She was over the moon about that. Guess it didn't work out."
