a wife. My granddaughter needs a husband.”
Reeling from that pronouncement, Reeves watched as she drew herself up to her full height, which must have been all of five feet, including the tall thick heels of her brown pumps and the helmet-like perfection of her chin-length, pale yellow hair. Slight and angular, with sharp features and faded blue eyes, she wore a white cotton blouse and a straight skirt beneath a boxy jacket.
“And that’s all there is to it?” he scoffed, incredulous.
Lifting her chin, Tansy met him eye to eye and proclaimed, “You’re a good Christian man with a sound head on your shoulders, despite the mistake you made the first time around. Besides, Anna Miranda’s always had a thing for you.”
Now that was absurd. Anna Miranda had a thing for him, all right. He’d always been her favorite target, a butt for jokes, a subject for pranks, an object of ridicule.
“I have no intention of marrying again,” Reeves said to Tansy, exasperated, “and certainly not to—” He couldn’t even say it. Anna Miranda Burdett and him? Instead, he turned on his aunties, focusing on Hypatia. “Surely you do not believe that she…we…. Tell me you haven’t been matchmaking.”
“Now, Reeves,” Hypatia said calmly, “it was nothing more than idle chatter. We merely agreed to pray about it, that’s all.”
“Pray as you like, Aunt Hypatia,” he grit out, “but leave my private life to me!” He hadn’t meant to raise his voice, but he had done just that, which was why he winced and said, “Sorry.”
“No offense taken, dear,” Hypatia remarked meekly. “It’s just that we’re so concerned for you and Gilli.”
“She needs a mother, dear,” Odelia put in.
“She has a mother,” he snapped, knowing that in Marissa’s case it was little more than a title, despite the allusions and veiled threats of late.
Marissa continued to complain of financial difficulty, and lately she’d started mentioning that she missed Gilli. For their daughter’s sake, he wished that were so, but he knew better. Marissa had no more desire to see Gilli than she’d had to give birth to her. He regretted offering her joint custody now, but at the time he’d hoped she would actually use it to be part of their daughter’s life, not browbeat him for money.
And they thought they could convince him to marry again!
All three of the aunties bowed their heads in contrition. Tansy merely flattened her mouth and tugged at the hem of her jacket, sharp chin aloft, before dropping back down into her chair with a huff.
Reeves pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes closed, and counted to ten before carefully saying, “Look, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t want any more talk about matchmaking, not with Anna Miranda, not with anyone. Is that clear?” The aunts gave him nods and wan smiles. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he managed, “I have to get to the office.” Turning on his heel, he swiftly left the room and headed for the stairs.
Behind him, he heard Odelia say, “Poor Reeves.”
“No more matchmaking talk,” Hypatia instructed quickly.
Poor Reeves. How pathetic. The thought of the aunties meddling in his life both shocked and hurt, but he knew that he really had no one to blame except himself. He had mucked it all up. Sighing, he hurried up the stairs, intent on getting that laptop and out of the house before anything else could happen to delay him.
But he could not get over the thought of Anna Miranda and him as a couple.
Wherever would the aunts get such a preposterous idea? Anna Miranda Burdett and him! He wondered how long it would be before he could get that ridiculous notion out of his head.
Anna’s determination to show Reeves that his aunts were right to trust her with this project only grew after their meeting in the coffee shop. That resolve turned a couple days of work into four, but excitement gripped her as she waited at the sunny yellow, black-framed door at the front of the enormous house late that next Friday afternoon. Chester Worth, the Chatam’s long-time driver and houseman, opened it for her.
“Miss Anna, come on in here out of the cold.”
“Thank you, Chester.” She held a soft spot for Chester, who had never in her memory referred to her as anything but Miss Anna. “I called ahead. The Chatams should be expecting me.”
“They surely are. Miss Hypatia and Miss Odelia are in the parlor, and Miss Magnolia will join y’all shortly. I’ll bring in the tea soon as she shows up.”
Anna smiled. “I’ll let the others know.”
Chester went on his way, and Anna walked into the spacious, elegant front parlor. Odelia hopped up and hurried forward to hug her, chains of orange crystals hanging from her earlobes. She wore a long, multi-colored, gathered skirt with a melon pink blouse, wide black belt and purple vest. Hypatia, in contrast, looked the picture of prim wealth in a tailored, moss-green pantsuit and pearls. She, too, rose and came to meet Anna with a smile and handclasp.
They were still exchanging greetings when Mags trundled into the room, smelling of loam and flowers. She seemed to own only one dress, or else they all looked alike. This one she wore with a pair of brown slacks, a moth-eaten gray cardigan and red-rimmed black galoshes. Anna managed not to laugh. Mags beamed back at her and plopped down on the settee.
Anna quickly extracted three copies of four designs from her portfolio, passing them to the sisters. They were still exclaiming over her nature design when Chester arrived with the tea tray. A quarter-hour later, they sat balancing delicate, steaming Limoges teacups on matching saucers while Anna explained the second design to them. Odelia, predictably, gushed, but Mags screwed up her face at the ribbons and lace, while Hypatia made the sort of nice comments that one made when complimenting a beaming bride in a particularly heinous gown. She was obviously better pleased with the “biblical” design that followed.
Finally, Anna introduced the fourth rendering. “This,” she said neutrally, “is something of a combination of the other three in what I like to think of as the definitive Chatam House spirit.”
The effect was immediate, gasps, clattering of cups and saucers, oohs of pleasure.
“Anna Miranda,” Hypatia exclaimed, holding out the sheet to gaze at it, “this is…”
“Gorgeous!” Odelia finished for her.
Mags actually sniffed. “Those are magnolias in the swag, aren’t they?”
“Seemed apt,” Anna told her with a fond, pleased smile.
Hypatia placed the sheet of paper reverently atop the piecrust tea table and folded her hands. “Well, I think it’s obvious—”
Suddenly Odelia interjected herself. “Oh, but the romantic one is so…romantic.”
Mags sat up straight. “What are you talking about?”
“Now, I know you prefer the nature one,” Odelia cut in, “but this is an important decision. It needs time.” Ophelia tapped the little watch pendant pinned to her blouse and waved obliquely toward the door.
Mags stared at her for a moment then her eyebrows shot up. “But he said—”
“Talk,” Odelia interrupted hurriedly. “No more talk. E-except about the design.”
Mags blinked at that then she cleared her throat. “Ah. Well, it’s just that m-my idea is the best. Uh, the way Anna Miranda has designed it, that is.”
“Now, sisters,” Hypatia began sternly, but once more Odelia charged in.
“You don’t agree that we should talk about the designs a little more?”
Hypatia seemed uncomfortable. She actually fidgeted, shifting her trim weight side to side. Anna sat fascinated, not at all certain what was going on but entranced by the sisterly byplay.