20
Merc leanedagainst the wall beside the front door, arms crossed, waiting silently for his date to come downstairs. Ethan and Aaron stood off to the side, joking and cracking comments every now and then. For the most part he ignored them.
He couldn't get the way Caroline's expression had lit up at the prospect of going on a date out of his mind. And not just any date, a date with him. Her joy seeped into him instantly and he’d found himself searching for ways to make sure she never lost that expression. And worried that he would do something stupid to mess it up.
What the hell did he know about dating anyway? Absolutely nothing.
He'd spent a full hour on his computer going back and forth on whether to order her flowers and finally decided against it. He couldn't picture himself standing there holding flowers with a big dumb grin on his face. He wasn't that kind of man. He'd be more likely to buy her a gun as a present.
Besides, what if he ordered the wrong kind? What if he got red roses and she hated them? Women were complicated, even he knew that. He’d decided his best bet would be to lay low and let her take the lead.
He heard someone clear their throat off to the left and looked over to see Harriet and Francis waving frantically at him from just inside the dining room doorway out of view from anyone but him. He debated whether he should just ignore them — more women meant more complications — but in the end he gave in.
He stopped just inside the door. “Something I can do for you ladies?”
Francis took a hasty step back, but Harriet, thick and strong, stood tall. “Francis, you see, she's the Chef, but sometimes she helps me clean when I get overworked.” Harriet’s bravado faltered.
“Okay,” Merc said, curious as to where this was leading.
Francis kept her lips clamped shut.
“Well, um, you see, she went in to clean your room after you left earlier. You know, make your bed, pick up your clothes. You’re a very clean man, by the way. She wanted me to tell you she appreciated that.”
Merc’s lips twitched. “The military does that to you.”
Francis flushed red straight up her chest and all the way to the roots of her gray hair. Had she suddenly lost her ability to speak?
Harriet took in a big breath and then blurted out the rest without stopping, “She saw you’d been looking at flowers online and figured you were trying to decide if you should get some for Caroline. She thought maybe you weren't sure, so - so – so -”
As if woken from a trance, Francis blurted out, “For goodness sake, Harriet. Mr. Merc, I know my Caroline loves lilies and daisies and roses all mixed together, so I went ahead and had a bouquet sent over just in case you changed your mind.” Francis produced a large clear vase from behind her back, overflowing with the sweet scented flowers.
The flowers trembled and Francis took on a green hue, like she was terrified he would crush her right there. He thought briefly about teasing her, and might have, if she hadn’t looked ready to faint. “Ms. Francis, you're exactly right. I gave up when I wasn't sure what to order. How can I thank you?”
Harriet’s mouth hung open.
Merc took the flowers before Francis dropped them and said, “You saved me and I owe you for that. If you ever need anything at all, you let me know.”
If possible, her deep blush darkened, but Francis rallied and said, “I saw you two kissing in the study. Caroline never does anything like that. And the way she looks at you… Well, I'd give anything to look at a man like that. You'll take care of her tonight, won’t you?”
“With my life.”
“You didn't tell me you saw them kissing. How could you keep that from me?” Harriet said.
“You know how I feel about gossiping, Harriet. It just isn't right.” Francis crossed her arms over her chest, her shoulders getting a set similar to that of a hard rock that refused to move.
“But you know she's my baby girl. I’ve been with her just as long as you have.”
“Now Harriet, don't act like you've never kept a secret from me. I know all about that time you and Tom’s old driver, Davis, were necking in the broom closet.”
“Francis Marie, I never necked with anybody.”
“Right. Then what would you call it?”
“None of your business is what I'd call it.”
Merc took a step back toward the door, careful not to make any sudden movements and draw attention to himself.
Harriet’s lip trembled, but Merc wasn’t sure if it was from sadness or fury.
