Marianne was the first to recover. “Marianne Dashwood. We just moved in down the street, but we’ve heard of you.”
“Oh really?”
Elinor closed her eyes for a moment, willing Marianne to be charming and not impertinent.
“Edward Ferrars said you practically live here with the Middletons.”
“I do.”
“I didn’t mean to let go of Dumpling,” Greta said, moving to take the leash from him. “I’m supposed to walk her, but I’ve never done it before. I’m totally getting fired.”
Brandon gave her a kind smile. “I have good brakes. I’m just glad I saw her in time. Are all three of you going on this walk? How about if I come with you? Dumpling knows me.”
He glanced up at Marianne for approval, but Elinor could see the interest was not reciprocated. This was the killer of musical taste, after all.
“Yes, come.” Elinor said quickly, giving Marianne a pointed look. Besides the whole music thing, Marianne preferred blond surfer-looking types, and Brandon had dark hair with a little tuft of gray in the front, although he didn’t look any older than the thirty years Edward had pegged him with. But his looks and his job were completely beside the point. This was not a date, and there was no reason not to be neighborly.
They waited while he parked his car, and then he fell in step next to Greta, who had wrapped the leash around her wrist before gripping it tight. When she’d lost her fear of Dumpling running away again, she pestered Brandon about his chip commercials and wanted to know what else he’d done that she’d recognize.
He sang her all four verses of the popcorn party pack song, which officially cemented him as the coolest neighbor in the whole world and evermore. His voice was clear and unpretentious, and Elinor could tell that Marianne wanted to hate it as much as she hated that he was singing about popcorn.
“Marianne sings, too,” Greta said with enthusiastic sisterly pride. “And she plays the piano and makes up her own songs.”
“Oh, really?”
Marianne’s face flushed red. “Yes, well, I’m not making any money with it, so I doubt Brandon wants to hear about all that.”
Brandon frowned. “Hobbies have value whether they make money or not. In fact, I’d say they have the most value if they make us happy.”
“I’ve never heard music referred to as a hobby.” Marianne gave him a big, fake smile. “Scrapbooking is a hobby. Collecting Legos is a hobby. Ax throwing is a hobby. Music. Music is…” She shook her head. “Music is life.”
“Well said.” Brandon eyed her curiously after that, stealing glances as he told them a little about each house and neighbor. He had grown up in Datefield, but left for college. His work could be done from anywhere, except for occasional collaborations in L.A., Nashville or New York. He said he liked being here most, which Elinor took to mean he’d made enough money to do as he pleased.
He wanted to hear all about them, and Greta was more than happy to supply the details, most of which made him laugh and Elinor occasionally cringe. After a while, even Marianne relaxed and became her talkative, saucy self; the sweeter version who didn’t prickle so easily. And every time she laughed, it lightened something in Brandon’s face. They made an interesting pair. Elinor wasn’t sure whether to be hopeful or worried.
They circled around until they passed their own house from the other direction, and Mom ran out to greet them. Elinor had sent her a heads-up text, letting her know they were almost there.
Then the introductions started all over again, and Mom decided to come along to return the dog to the Middletons and meet them herself. The walk was becoming more and more like a caravan, with Brandon and Greta in the lead, Marianne and Mom in the middle, and Elinor bringing up the rear.
And as if fate decided odd numbers were so last season, Elinor turned at the sound of footsteps catching up.
“Elinor.”
“Hi, Edward.” Her attempt at casual still came out like a squeak. Monday was going to be fun, fun, fun.
“Dare I ask what’s going on? That’s the Middletons’ dog, isn’t it?”
“We’re helping Greta with her first job.”
“Ah.”
“I suppose she has enough support now.” She let the rest of the family go ahead, giving a little wave when Marianne glanced back and noticed Elinor missing. “I should probably go… um…” her mind drew a blank before latching on to her never-ending to do list. “I need to mop.”
“Want some company?”
“Oh, they’ll all be back in a few minutes. I don’t need company.” That built-in rudeness detector went off in her brain, and she couldn’t help adding, “But come get a snack. You look like you just got off work.”
“I did.” He unbuttoned his white shirt at the wrist before rolling it up to his elbows, exposing tan skin and sun-lightened hairs along his arms. She wondered if he liked yard work or played sports when he wasn’t working. He certainly wasn’t built like an office worker. After watching him unbutton and roll the other sleeve, she looked up and met his eyes. Busted. She had totally been drooling over the process like some fan-girl hitting replay for the fourth time on her favorite part of the movie, and he knew it. But instead of smirking, he turned red and looked down. That only made him more attractive, dang it. He wasn’t supposed to be her type, and she had to stop finding things about him that she liked.
