Page 31 of Mornings By the Linden Tree
As soon as I found some slacks.
***
“If you would let me take the iron, I’d be happy to press off your hankies,” Mrs. Polkowski repeated for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. I glanced at her standing in my room, arms crossed over her breasts, nose crinkled in frustration. Most of that exasperation was on me. I was fully aware. Just as the aggravation my paralegal had rained down on me just moments ago was also my fault. I fully accepted responsibility for turning those who helped me the most lives into a quagmire. “I’m sure you could simply pack the ones in the drawer that I ironed on Wednesday.”
“I could, yes, but these are better suited to go with the outfits I have placed into my bag. Perhaps your time would be better served if you went over to assist Lennon and Valeria in packing her bags?”
Her thin red brows dropped into a formidable V. “I know a dismissal when I hear it.”
With that, she stormed out. A sigh wafted out of me. I placed the iron aside. My handkerchiefs were fine. Mrs. Polkowski was right. That woman could press off clothes with creases sharp enough to slice pineapple. The reason I was standing here in my room with an ironing board and a bottle of spray starch was because now that I had made the offer to go to Nobadeer Beach for four days—the weekend plus Monday and Tuesday—I was stuck actually going to Nobadeer Beach. With Lennon.
Heaving a mighty sigh, I unplugged the iron. This was wholly my own doing. Whatever had come over me? I never went out of my way to bring men to my cottage near Nantucket. That was my space. Random gentlemen callers were not part of that small beachfront property since random gentlemen callers were not part of me. They were just casual friends who I had sex with when the itch was itching. And those were few and far between as I had to feel something for the man, and most of the time, I kept my feelings under lock and key.
And now, it seemed, the nanny was part of me.
I was terrified. This was not at all the usual route I was known to travel. I was losing control. And that scared the wits out of me. Old Wesley would never change plans on the spur of the moment. And add another day off just on a whim. No wonder Rissa and Mrs. Polkowski were put out with me. Although, to be fair, an extra day off shouldn’t be too much of a burden. I’d compensate them well with some fine table linens for Mrs. P and a box of bath bombs for Rissa. I may not be a grand romantic, but I did know what those in my life liked.
A sharp rap on the door yanked me from my worry. Lennon stood in the open doorway still in his chicken costume, the silly goof, eyeing me as if he were about to step into a lion’s den. I was surely not that formidable, even if he did look good enough to eat.
“Hey, so Valeria is getting help deciding which bunny to bring. I kind of wanted to triple check with you about this whole Connecticut thing.” He leaned a shoulder into the jamb as he waited for me to find my senses. When I said nothing, he forged on. “I can tell you’re really nervous about something, and I have to assume that something is me.”
“No, absolutely not.” I rushed over to the ironing board to gather up my nicely ironed hankies, then put them carefully into a lovely jungle green Jackie Poko carry-on bag, part of an entire collection of lovely luggage I’d bought for a trip to Spain three years ago. A trip I made alone without a bright-eyed young man with a big yellow pecker lying between his shoulder blades.
Your honor, the defendant is lying through his teeth. I call for his fibbing ass to be sent to lock-up for perjury so he can sort himself out.
Lennon cocked a brow. “Really? Because you look tense. If you’re feeling pressured about the kiss or me coming along, then tell me. “
I patted the hankies, took a breath, and walked closer. Just close enough that I could inhale that sexy lime aftershave of his.
“I am feeling something, yes, but it’s not all you.” I held out a hand. He slid his fingers over my palm. “Some of it is, but that’s me trying to work out how you have become so important to me when no other man has even come close. That is the truth. I also am trying to sort out long-buried feelings about my sister as I prepare to scatter her ashes.”
“I believe you. I’m not going to ask you to swear on a Bible or anything. I know you’re not usually emotionally invested inpeople.” My eyes flared. “I said that wrong. You’re not one to leap before you thoroughly investigate where you may land, sort out what kind of suit you’d like to wear for the landing, and call up a surveyor to ensure the land you land on is legally within landing rights.”
I could not argue. So I smiled just a little. “Yes, that is me. But this thing with us…it’s pushing me to leap with my eyes shut.”
“Yep, that’s what falling for someone does. I don’t want to push you into anything.”
“You’re not. And maybe I need someone to nudge me now and again.” I lifted his hand to kiss it, but my lips landed on felt feathers. I kissed them. Lennon chortled. “I would very much like you to come.”
“Okay. I’ll run home and throw some stuff into a bag.” He gave my hand a fast squeeze and left me standing there staring stupidly at the way his tail feathers swayed when he walked.
Your honor, I would like to make a motion that the defendant, a liar of the most severest severity, be given a stern lecture to remind him of what happens to little boys who care too much.
“Do shut up,” I told myself, then returned to nervously finishing my packing.
***
“Okay, so when you said ‘charming cottage,’ I thought it would be a tiny little place that smelled of old fishermen and had crab cages hanging off the eaves,” Lennon commented as our taxi pulled up to my seaside home.
The bay was filled with boats, the sky was crystalline blue, and the child in the back seat with us was fidgety to get out of her car seat to run along the shore.
“It’s not as large as many here on the island, but it’s comfortable,” I replied as I handed the driver his fee plus a largetip. I’d discussed his return to pick us up and take us back to Nantucket Memorial Airport at noon on Tuesday. It was a short flight to Boston so leaving at noon would give us time to gather ourselves and Valeria.
“Comfortable he says,” Lennon mumbled as he got Valeria out of her seat while I ensured the driver knew our pickup day and time. When I was sure he had the details entered into his phone, I nodded, took two of our four bags, Lennon got the others, and led my awestruck little troupe to the front door of the quintessential Nantucket cottage as gulls swooped overhead, calling out raucously to each other. From far off in the distance, a church bell chimed five times.
The lock tumbled with ease. We stepped inside. The house was opened with fresh sea air blowing through the foyer. I felt a few pounds of stress leeching away as I drew in a deep breath of ocean air while my eyes touched on the white clapboard siding that covered all the walls in the home. As was typical, the cottage had a seafaring theme with blues and oranges as the color scheme.
“This is a sea fairy castle,” Valeria whispered as she patted along in my wake, her hand in Lennon’s. “Is there mermaids in the ocean?”
