Love in a Small Town Page 3

  She crossed her arms, tightening the terry cloth across her breasts, and he realized with a start, she was braless. "I had one this morning; thanks. I . . . I'd better go."

  "I'll keep Brandy inside while you leave."

  Lily knelt to take hold of the dog's collar, and Sam got a better view. Definitely braless. He backed toward the door, holding the pitcher low in front of him. Damn, he'd begun to think he was too old for this kind of behavior. "I'll see you."

  "Jodie's Chrome Grill is open until eight if you're looking for a place to eat," she said, looking up at him."

  "Thanks, but I have dinner ready." He backed toward the door. "It'll be getting cold."

  "You just got here and you cooked?" She straightened to look him in the eye. I'm impressed. What did you make?"

  "Spaghetti with mushroom sauce." He grinned, seeing a chance to tease her. "Are you fishing for an invitation?"

  "Not at all. I just wondered how you put a meal on the table so fast."

  "The easy way, but I promise you it's the best. I buy this certain brand of pasta sauce, which, fortunately, your market had; add fresh mushrooms; and simmer. Serve over al dente spaghetti and accompany with garlic bread and a red merlot. Presto. Magnifique." He kissed his fingertips with a loud smack and saw her lips twitch. Bowing, Sam took a final step toward the door. "I have to go to before my pasta gets any colder."

  "It's cooked? You boiled the spaghetti?"

  Sam knew by the way Lily chirped the words what was coming next, but it was too late to save himself. "I rang the bell to ask for water earlier, and when you didn't answer…I…uh…helped myself."

  She stood nose-to-nose with him and stared him in the eye. "So. You turned off my sprinkler to steal my water and forgot to hook it up again, leaving my grass to die."

  "Sorry." He hated the need to keep apologizing. "I thought I could just dash over here again and…"

  She smiled. "See what you get when you think."

  He threw up his hands. "I'm going now."

  "Wait." He was halfway across the lot when she caught up to him. "Seeing as how you used my water, I've decided to accept your invitation to dinner."

  "Seriously?" He hadn't exactly invited her but he'd made plenty.

  "I'm not bashful, I'm starving, and I've always wanted to see the inside of the Thornbury house." She reached for the thermos he was taking home—empty. "I'll fill this and bring it with me."

  He'd hoped she'd been attracted to his company, but the house worked for him.

  "Great." Sam, after giving her a mock salute, dashed home, tripped over the threshold, and stumbled into the kitchen of his new "old" house. If Lily said she'd bring the five-gallon thermos, she'd manage. A woman who could flap Sam Champion could do anything, and she'd flapped him so many times in a single day, he'd learned one thing. He had to be careful when it came to Lily Madison.

  Chapter Three

  Lily brought Sam the thermos and the daisy bouquet he'd seen on her table, vase and all. Smiling, she placed the daisies in the center of his table. "Flowers always brighten a room."

  She'd brighten the darkest of rooms without help from any source. Her hair was the color of a sunset, her eyes the shade of new spring leaves. Sam had to catch his breath every time he looked at her. He shouldn't have asked her to dinner. He'd probably choke on a strand of spaghetti.

  While he put finishing touches on the meal and set it on the table, she walked about, touching the wood cabinets and peeking through their glass doors at dinnerware. "I love dishes with personality." She took a teapot shaped like an elephant from a cabinet." Not just any old piece but something unusual, like this."

  Sam narrowed his gaze on it. The tail formed a handle and the trunk a spout. "It's unusual all right. An elephant's tail is skinnier than its trunk and they're never turquoise."

  She rolled her eyes. "Visual aesthetics are more important than realistic detail." She set the elephant back and took out a blue glass canning jar. "I love ones like this. They're such a unique shade and they make wonderful vases for casual dinners."

  Lily switched the daisies and water to the jar. After drying the empty vase, she set it in his cabinet and perched on a stool. "I love the color blue."

  Sam thought she must be generally upbeat. She was like a breath of fresh air. She'd wrapped a short flowered skirt over her emerald jumpsuit and outshone the centerpiece.

  He put the pasta in a colander and poured hot water over it, to heat it without losing the al dente texture. After setting it in a bowl on the table, he pulled out a chair for Lily and one for himself.

  "Joe said someone left you this place. You're lucky."

  "You could say that, but I have a condo in Tempe, Arizona, and a teaching position. So I can't live here. The house belonged to my grandparents, and my mother grew up here, but I didn't know Mom owned it until after she died."

  "What a wonderful piece of family history and special surprise! I'll bet she spent many hours thinking how much this legacy would mean to you."

  "I'm honored, of course." Sam squirmed in his chair. He hadn't been thrilled, but if he told Lily that, she'd think he was an ungrateful monster instead of being the loving son he really was.

  He raised the merlot bottle to refill her glass. She covered it with her hand and shook her head. "Sure?"

  "Positive." She blotted her mouth with her napkin. She was a good listener and an excellent eater. She'd had seconds of everything except wine. "I'm not an experienced drinker and don't want to make a fool of myself."

  He refilled his glass. "I wouldn't mind if you did. I've felt like one half a dozen times since we met."

  "I'm glad you've chosen to see the humorous side of those incidents. You have a great smile."

  He touched her fingertips, curled loosely on the table. She had long slender fingers with carefully shaped oval nails. "I appreciate the house, but it was never home to me, and it would be a long commute to work."

  "I don't suppose you're eager to change jobs, but Browning is a nice town, and a house like this could make you second guess yourself."

  He looked around the kitchen. Light poured through the big windows and the appliances were laid out in the recommended work pattern with the sink, stove, and refrigerator forming a triangle. But he didn't see anything remarkable.

  "The whole house needs work. The fixtures are old. Radiators still standing, even though there's gas heat now. There isn't enough counter space. There aren't any vanities in the bathrooms, just free-standing lavatories." He shook his head.

  "Old fixtures are charming if they work."

  "The bathtubs are monstrosities on legs."

  "They're back in vogue and even if they weren't, I find them delightfully romantic."

  Sam pictured Lily, her glorious mane pinned on top her head, sitting chest deep in a bubble bath. She'd have candles burning on the vanity, if there was one. If he were staying, he could build one wall-to-wall with a mirror running the length of it. She could be right about the tub.

  Lily made a sweeping gesture with her free hand, not moving the one where their fingers still touched. Did she enjoy that small contact as much as he did? "With color to brighten it, this kitchen would be breathtaking." She hopped up and ran her hands over the dark cabinets while eyeing the plastered walls. "Do you like citrus colors?"

  "Vivid shades wouldn't suit the time period."

  "Don't tell me you're a purist." She rolled her eyes. "Do you like citrus colors?"

  "It depends." He rose and nodded toward the door into the hall. "You said you'd like to see the house."

  "Depends on what?"

  Sam sighed. "You answered your own question. What they're on. They look wonderful on fruit."

  Lily fell into step with him in the wide hallway. "You'll never sell this house with everything so drab. The kitchen could use new flooring, but a few of those brightly colored throw rugs would help. Rag rugs, you know?"

  Like she had at her back door. "I hope you aren't allergic to dust," he s
aid.

  "Not at all, but gloom gives me the jitters." She threw open the drapes in the dining room, dispelling a cloud of dust motes and exposing sheer curtains, yellowed from sunlight and age. With a swish of both hands, she parted them and Sam sneezed.

  Lily tapped a finger to her beautiful white teeth and looked around. "If you're a purist, it would take more work to redo the place. Sanding, varnishing . . . but then, you might find hardwood under the kitchen linoleum."

  She was so full of energy and enthusiasm, she could pass for a teenager, but her beauty spoke of maturity. An intriguing combination, scary in its appeal. "I'm going to sell. I told you; I can't live here. So, whoever buys it can paint the walls tangerine." He patted the paneling in the hall. "Or restore them to their cherry luster. It's not my decision."

  She planted her hands on her hips. "You're being facetious, I hope."

  Sam wished he hadn't invited her to look around. "I'm trying to make a point."

  "You shouldn't decide hastily. This house has great potential, and then there's the implied request from your mother." Lily repeated her drape-opening performance in every room.

  She was reading too much into Mom leaving him the house. She'd probably forgotten she even owned it, and then when she'd gotten sick, she'd known better than to leave it to Dad who wouldn't have returned to Browning to clear it out.

  Lily, expressing dismay at the darkness of the walls and woodwork, turned on the ceiling lights. "The half dozen chandeliers are small but lovely, so I'd keep them, but I'd yank out those atrocious single fixtures and buy a lot of lamps so it wouldn't be dreary in here."

  "I'd have to patch the ceilings and paint."

  "Painting's fun, and I'll help you shop for lamps if you like." She turned back one of many dust covers to look at a library table, sighed, and chewed her lower lip. "The furniture is dark too. This place needs light and color." She lifted a cover to look at a sofa. It was dark green. "Colorful throw pillows would help."

  Sam gritted his teeth. "The buyers can decorate. I'll throw out things, give some stuff to Good Will, and take a few mementos with me."

  She planted her hands on her hips and grinned. "So, you do have a sentimental streak, however small."

  "I possess as much sensitivity as the average male."

  "Maybe, but it's a pity to be average when you could excel. This house is potentially lovely, and you wouldn't have rent or house payments, so you could afford improvements. Browning is a wonderful town, and this neighborhood is perfect for raising a family."

  She looked toward his left hand, but not before he managed to shove it in his pocket. "I'll bet your wife would love it," she said.

  "If you're fishing for information, I don't have a wife." He held his ringless fingers in front of her face. "Yet."

  "I wasn't. Nor was I fishing for an invitation to dinner, but it was good." She tossed her head, setting long, soft waves in motion. "So, you don't want to leave Arizona or a girlfriend. Doesn't she love you enough to relocate? If you two want a family, this would be a great place to fill with kids."

  Sam experienced a wave of melancholy. It had four bedrooms and for a moment, he allowed himself to picture rocking horses and dolls in sunny bedrooms with lemon and lime walls. The house could be made homey, but it was in the wrong part of the country, and he didn't love anyone enough to want her to relocate. Lily tended to simplify things.

  "Why are you frowning? Don't you want a family?"

  "You ask a lot of questions. Did anyone ever tell you that?"

  "I was always told that's how you learn things."

  He tugged a silky strand of auburn hair. "You must be very smart."

  "You're good at avoiding issues."

  "I do want children, but I don't have any prospects for their mother."

  "You're not dating anyone?"

  Sam didn't ask if she was fishing. He'd teased her enough for one night. Besides, she sounded surprised, and he took that as a compliment. He'd been seeing a colleague, and Elizabeth, who was ten years younger and on a career track, didn't want children. She did want him, more than he wanted her, and that made her fit into his life perfectly. "No one that matters."

  He opened a window. "It's warm in here."

  "Cooler than my place. You have more shade trees. So your mother was from Browning. Was your dad?"

  "No. A girlfriend's brother introduced them when he dragged Dad along to the girls' high school graduation. He and Mom married a month later. Duke saw the world with the Navy, but next to the USN, his heart belonged to Texas, and after retirement, they settled in Dallas. Mom had a soft spot for Browning, but Dad hates small towns." Sam chuckled wryly. "Knowing how he felt, she left the house to me."

  "Hoping you'd live here."

  Lily wouldn't be swayed from that line of thought, and it half ticked Sam off. "I work in Arizona and have a home there. She knew it wasn't a consideration."

  "But she sensed this would be a good move for you and hoped you'd fall in love with the town and house. Like she did."

  Take time off and decide where you want to put down roots, Sam. His mother's words came back to him. Mom used to say she didn't think he'd found his niche. He'd always thought she was referring to his occupation, but what if Lily was right?

  He had ties in Tempe, but no town had ever been home the way Browning was to Evelyn Champion. His family had lived in big cities all over the country, and his friends were Navy brats, like him. He'd be a fish out of water in this town.

  They'd returned to the kitchen where Sam poured two cups of coffee and they sat down at the table again.

  "How long has your mother been…gone?"

  When she wasn't bringing disaster down on his head, Lily was stirring up thoughts to trouble him. "She died six months ago of liver cancer."

  Lily wrapped her hands around her coffee cup, as if she were warming them. "I hope she didn't suffer long."

  He shook his head. "She needed a transplant, but before she could get a donor, she was gone. She and I were close. It's been hard."

  "Losing someone you love is very hard."

  Had she lost someone? He didn't want to pursue the subject.

  "You said you couldn't move because you have a teaching job. What do you teach?"

  "I'm a professor at Cranston. I teach courses in math application and--"

  "I should have guessed." She nodded toward the elephant teapot. "As a mathematician, you were concerned with a teapot's proportions instead of appreciating its art form and seeing it as a collector's item."

  Sam sighed. "I don't believe there's any way to look at it except as a pot designed to pour tea. My criteria for ownership is usefulness, and I'm not a collector of any kind."

  "Do you honestly believe everything has to be functional? Don't you ever buy something because it catches your eye?"

  "I'm not an impulse buyer."

  "Let me state my question another way. Have you ever bought something for its beauty? A painting? A statue?"

  "Art is functional because it brings joy."

  She buried her face in her hands. "You bring everything down to black and white. There's room for gray in life, and then, there's Technicolor."

  She was Technicolor, personified. All light and life, in true color. She was also disturbing as hell. Sam started to perspire again. "I'm too tired for philosophy."

  "I find it invigorating. Psychology too. I can't imagine teaching math. It's so exacting. I like subjects that are fluid with room for exploratory thought."

  "Math isn't all cut-and-dried. It has many applications. Accounting, for one."

  Lily moaned. "I keep books for the store but don't enjoy it. I have an accountant check the books quarterly, even though I have to drive to Springfield. Richdale, the nearest town of any size, doesn't have one."

  If she was suggesting he become an accountant in the middle of farm country, she could forget it. Sam smothered a yawn. If he hadn't been tired from his trip and the prospect of tearing apart a half century of his
ancestors' lives, he'd be worn out just watching and listening to her.

  "Browning's a wonderful town. I assume you've never been here before?"

  It would be easier to say no, but he didn't like lying. Unable to put a finger on why he was concerned about telling her the truth, he worked slowly toward an answer. "When Dad was mustering out of the Navy, he had to spend time at Great Lakes Naval Base in Chicago."

  Lily nodded, eyes wide, lips parted, and his discomfort mounted.

  "Mom talked him into renting a place here for her and me, so she could spend time visiting her family. We lived in an apartment near Browning High, which I attended one semester."

  "No kidding?" Lily bounced so high off her chair, she banged her head on a wall telephone he hadn't noticed, and he wondered if it was hooked up. Lily rubbed her head, and tapped his forearm at the same time. "When?"

  He brought his cell phone with him and hadn't mentioned phone service to Bottomley. He had mentioned water. "Senior year. Last semester. I…uh…graduated here."

  "You did?" Color rose to Lily's face and she grasped his arms with hot hands. "When? What's your last name?"

  "Twenty years ago."It didn't seem that long ago, and he didn't see how he could be that old. "Class of—"

  Lily gave him a little shake. "Sam, I graduated twenty years ago. We graduated together."

  "We did?" He must be aging faster than he thought. A man who didn't remember Lily Madison was senile.

  "It's okay." She sobered and patted his arm. "I don't remember you either."

  That didn't make him feel any better. Now that he knew, something about her seemed vaguely familiar, but what? "Have you been in Browning this whole time?"

  "I went to college. Then, I stayed away a few years."

  "Mom used to say, 'Everyone comes back once.'"

  "Everyone should. We often don't appreciate what we have until we leave it."

  Would he miss Tempe? He had a well-ordered life there, so he supposed he would. But he wasn't emotional about the town, like Lily was about Browning.