“This is charming out here.” Cliff sat down on the love seat, patting the cushion beside him. “Care to join me?”
Willow didn’t want to be rude, but she didn’t want to encourage him either. So she sat across from him in one of the chairs. “And comfortable too,” she said. “I barely had time to check this out earlier. Donna set it all up.” She pointed to the large flower pots. “Those are from her house. Her husband brought them over.”
“Very nice.”
“And look at the view from here,” she said with surprise. “I hadn’t really noticed it before. How pretty the town’s lights look at this hour. It’s really sweet.” She was actually tempted to linger.
“And romantic. All we need is some champagne and—”
“Like I said, I really need to get home.” She stood. “Tomorrow is a big day.” She hurried down the front steps and into her SUV, but as she pulled into the street, she thought she spied a shadowy figure near the oak trees out in front. She slowed down and peered hard. Meanwhile, she noticed lights in her rearview mirror as Cliff’s pickup headed the opposite direction. Too late to call out to him for help.
She reached for her phone. The last thing she needed right now was a break-in or vandalism. Especially with all that art inside—and no security system in place. This could easily turn disastrous. Who knew what a silly, restless teenager might do on a warm August night just a couple weeks before school was back in session. After all, she’d been a teen once. She rolled down her window. “Hey,” she yelled in her best tough voice. “What’re you doing there? Come out and show yourself before I call 911.”
To her surprise, George stepped out from the shadows,holding up his hands as if she were an armed police officer. “It’s just me,” he said sheepishly.
“George Emerson!”She felt a wide span of emotions—ranging from real horror to huge relief. Why on earth was he lurking in the shadows like that? She got out of the car and walked toward him. Was he here to pull the plug on everything? After all, this was his house, his property—and despite him giving her permission, she had nothing in writing and she knew George was unpredictable. If he wanted, he could put a stop to everything—just like that. And there was nothing she could do about it.
“You gave me a good scare,” she declared. “Why are you hiding out here like a criminal?”
“I was just on my usual evening walk,” he said curtly. “Any law against that?”
“A walk through the oak trees, here in the shadows?”
“To be honest, I wanted to get a look at my house. You know, before your big festivities tomorrow. But I didn’t expect to find you here ... with your, uh, friend ... Cliff Grant. You two looked pretty cozy up there on the porch.” His tone sharpened. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You wouldn’t have been interrupting anything, George.” She matched his sharp tone, then instantly regretted it. What good would it do to initiate a fight with the only man who could slam the brakes on her involvement in the Tour of Homes? “Would you like me to give you the full tour?” she said more gently. “I’ve actually been wishing you’d come up here.”
“Really?” His tone softened too.
“Come on, George.” She linked her arm in his. “Come and see your house.”
“Humph. Doesn’t feel much likemyhouse anymore.”
“Did it ever feel likeyourhouse?” Keeping her arm securely around his, she continued up the front path. “Looked to me like you just let the house sit. It felt like an abandoned house, George. It just needed some love.” She paused on the porch. “Just look how charming this is.” She turned around. “And I never realized you had such a lovely view of the city lights from here. It’s actually rather romantic.”
“I’m sure you and Cliff Grant must’ve been enjoying it.”
She glanced at George in the porch light. Was he jealous of Cliff? Or perhaps, more likely, he was jealous about his house being in the hands of others. “George,” she said. “You look different.” She waited as he unlocked the door. Once she saw him in the light of the foyer, she was surprised to see that he looked unusually stylish. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in blue jeans. Your hair is different. And you’re wearing loafers—without socks!”
He just shrugged, like nothing about this was unusual.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
“I just decided to make some changes. Lorna and I went shopping. She helped me out.” He turned away, looking around the foyer. “I guess maybe it does look better in here. Without that dark wallpaper.” He turned back to her with a sheepish expression. “You know the real reason I came up here tonight?”
“Not really.”
“Well, it was true that I did want to see the house without people crawling all over the place. But I was hoping to find you here too.” He looked down at his stylish loafers with a long sigh. “So that I could apologize.”
“You want to apologize?” She studied him more closely. He actually looked rather handsome with this new makeover.The short haircut was an improvement over his usually slicked-down dark hair. And the blue-and-white-striped oxford shirt with sleeves rolled up was a nice compromise of his usual buttoned-up style gone casual. The blue jeans, which fit nicely, made him look younger too.
“I’m sorry I threw that fit last time I was up here, Willow.” He looked into her eyes. “It was very childish on my part. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
“Done.” She smiled. “I can understand how shocked you were to see how much had changed. I really don’t blame you for that. This was your childhood home.”
“I suppose I had some regrets about letting you get rid of everything. It was true that I’d been in a bad way when I made that decision and—”
“But I didn’t get rid of everything, George. You didn’t give me a chance to explain. I saved back a lot of things.” She took his arm. “Come on, you’ll see.” As she led him through the living room, she explained that the Danish Modern pieces were simply slipcovered. “You can take them right back to their original look if you like.”
