Kitabı oku: «Whispers Of The Heart», sayfa 2

Chapter Two

Autumn shook the empty milk carton one last time, standing in the opened refrigerator door. Not a drop was there.

She wondered forlornly why she couldn’t have bought more than a quart on her last trip to the grocery store, just before Spring left. She didn’t bother to look into the bare cupboard for breakfast; she’d eaten the last of the crackers and cheese last night.

There was no help for it. She had to go out this morning to buy groceries.

She wouldn’t panic; she couldn’t. She had to have groceries.

A quick trip through a convenience store wouldn’t do it, either. Glancing at the wall clock, she decided if she left this moment, she could be at the nearest grocery store by the time it opened. The crowds weren’t heavy this early in the morning. If she didn’t linger, if she kept her purchases to a minimum, she could be in and out in no time.

She hauled in a deep breath as she found a light sweatshirt to ward off the early spring morning chill. She stiffened her courage as she grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs for the exercise, swung out of the front door and around to the parking lot for her car.

Five days. It had been five days since she moved into her apartment. Spring had called every night, asking if she’d been out yet. She’d fibbed, knowing her sister knew she fibbed, saying she’d been out walking.

Well, tonight when Spring called, Autumn could tell her honestly that she’d bought groceries. Managed to face whatever crowds there were to be faced, and come home unscathed. She could take care of herself.

Her street was yet rather quiet this morning, she gratefully noted. Her small parking lot, too.

Pausing in her drive before entering the traffic, she spotted a red sedan pulling into the lot across the street. The driver rolled down his window and waved. Brent Hyatt. She returned the wave, but didn’t wait long enough to encourage conversation. She must get her errand done as speedily as possible.

In the end, it took her longer than she’d planned. She’d forgotten it was Friday, when the grocery stores would begin their weekend rush.

It was her own fault. She’d waited too long to shop and needed too much. Paper products, canned goods, staples, coconut macaroons. By the time she’d gone through the checkout line, four people were behind her, a mob of shoppers streamed toward her through the doors, and perspiration stood out on her forehead. Her sweatshirt was damp at the neckline and her breathing a little jerky.

Her bottom lip hurt from biting down while waiting to check out.

But it wasn’t a full-scale panic, thank goodness. She wasn’t really shaking; not really. Only a mere tremble shook her hands. And in reality, that mob of shoppers only amounted to a dozen or so people.

In spite of her fears, she’d done it.

She drove home through the morning rush carefully, and parked in front of her building, needing the shortest distance to carry her grocery bags. She sat a moment to breathe deeply before getting out on unsteady legs. The trembling had almost disappeared.

She was fine. Just fine. She’d be even better when she had all the groceries lined up in her cupboards.

Then she got out and walked around to the trunk, eyed the three, filled-to-the-brim bags, and wondered if she dare try carrying all three at once. All she wanted was to get into her apartment and not come out again for a while.

“Don’t be foolish,” she muttered to herself under her breath.

“I agree,” Brent spoke just behind her. “Don’t even think you can make it upstairs alone with all three of those bags at once. They’d spill and leave a trail like Gretel’s crumbs. Here, I’ll give you a hand.”

“Oh!” She brushed her bangs from her eyes as she blinked up at him. Where had he sprung from? How had he known what she was thinking? Only Spring ever did that.

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you. I can take care of it on my own, thanks.” She straightened her spine. “I’ll, uh, make two trips.”

“Come on, it won’t take a minute,” he insisted, grabbing two bags. “I won’t stay.” He flashed his irrepressible grin. “I promise.”

“All right.”

A middle-aged woman came out of the first-floor law offices as they entered the narrow front hall. She didn’t bother to even glance their way. Autumn felt her muscles begin to relax. She had made it through her first outing alone without a problem.

She had her key ready and put it into her front door carefully. As soon as the lock tumbled, she swung the door wide. Just as carefully, as though on soldier’s marching orders, Brent set the two bags he carried on her kitchen counter and turned to leave. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she called toward his retreating back. “Thanks a lot, Brent. I appreciate your help.”

“You’re very welcome, Autumn.” He continued his route toward the door and elevator. “See you around.”

He’d been very kind, and suddenly, she was loath to see him leave. His was a friendly face, after all.

“Um, a moment?” She ran after him into the hall. “I just wondered…what happened with Sam and his wife? Was the baby all right?”

Brent’s smile broke out in a sunny reflection of joy. “Oh, yeah, that turned out just fine. Touch-and-go for a little while, though. Mother and baby girl Emily are doing fine now. Ashley went home yesterday, and the baby will most likely go home next week, Sam said.”

“Oh, I am so glad. Please tell Sam I’m happy to hear of his good fortune.”

“Blessings, indeed. I’ll tell him.”

“Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. Better not leave your car where it is for too long though. There’s a spring concert or something at the market this weekend and the Friday lunch crowd will be looking for street parking. It’ll be safer in your parking space.”

“Yes, I’ll come down and move it as soon as I put away the food that needs refrigeration.”

“See you around,” Brent said again, stepping into the elevator.

Autumn put away her groceries, made herself a cup of tea, and went to sit on the high stool she’d placed beneath her favorite window. Time to allow a bit of triumph to flow, she mused. The early-morning crowds hadn’t been so terrible to face, in retrospect, and now that it was out of the way, she must face her next hurdle. Additional shopping.

There was nowhere to set her cup, and she balanced it on her knee. She’d found herself in this spot so often, to think or talk to Spring on the phone, and now she decided it needed more than a stool. She had to do something else, here. Place a bench beneath the window or a more comfortable chair beside it. With a small table to hold her teacup and telephone.

Glancing around her apartment, she let her gaze fall on the many boxes that remained unpacked for lack of a ladder to reach the tallest supply shelves. A building supply store, that’s what she needed.

Catalogs would give her the items she needed, too. Tempting. Too tempting. She could easily make a phone order and have things delivered.

But that was an excuse not to leave her house. She’d promised Spring she wouldn’t allow that to happen—become a total recluse, just because crowds frightened her. And Spring would know. She always did, just as she knew when Spring needed her.

Well, it could wait for tomorrow. She’d had just about enough triumph for one day.

Autumn woke early the next morning, determined to finish the painting of tulips she’d started yesterday afternoon, using the pot she’d bought at the store as a model. The bright blooms cheered her, and replaced the fading jonquils that Brent had given her.

That’s one thing she needed, she decided, pouring herself a glass of milk. She needed more flowers to adorn the apartment. More bright colors.

The open-air market was one of the enticements to this neighborhood, she’d told Spring. She reminded herself of that now. After yesterday’s success, it would be an excellent time to shop. This morning, before the market filled up. She’d find spring flowers in plenty there, and all the fresh fruit and veggies she’d passed by yesterday in favor of getting the staples.

Before she could give herself time to become anxious, she yanked on her favorite faded green sweats and left her building. She sprinted the two and a half blocks to the marketplace, then slowed as she took in the scene, fighting the clutch in her stomach.

True to her hopes, she found some stalls already open for the morning, but only a few shoppers. She could handle this. It wouldn’t be bad at all. She even smiled at the vendors, the ones with the outside tables, while making her choices, careful to buy only what she could carry. She tried not to rush, telling herself to slow down long enough to savor the experience.

One of the stalls had freshly baked bread and rolls. She paused. The fragrance made her mouth water, and she couldn’t resist them.

Now she could go home. She’d taken this expedition in stride.

Leaving the growing bustle of the market, she resisted breaking into a run by sheer determination. By the time she turned her corner, putting the market completely out of sight, she could slow to a stroll.

She wouldn’t admit to the amount of relief she felt. Or the very slight shaking of her knees.

The fragrance of the rolls drifted with enticing demand. Like an eager child, she pulled out a breakfast sweet roll, its center filled with cream cheese and pineapple, and took a bite. She still had her mouth full when she heard Brent’s greeting.

“Good morning, Autumn. Nice morning, isn’t it?”

He stood beside his red sedan, parked in front of his building. He wore jeans today, and a brown T-shirt that matched his eyes.

She nodded and swallowed. “Mm, yes, it’s a lovely morning. I’ve been to the market already,” she couldn’t resist telling him, a childish pride breaking through her usual shyness. Though she knew he had no idea of her disability, it was nice to share this bit of victory anyway. She could hardly wait to tell Spring she’d shopped two days in a row, with people all around her. She wouldn’t tell her about how badly her knees shook.

“Nice time for a walk,” he commented.

Brent watched the quick, lovely smile fade into uncertainty, her lashes dropping to hide her thoughts. He wondered what it would take to keep her talking. He’d watched her come up the hill from the market, having spied her before he pulled into their street. She’d taken long strides at first, as though in a great hurry, then slowed to a stroll as she turned the corner. As if she now felt safe. She hadn’t seemed aware of him until he spoke.

“Yes, it is,” she conceded. Already, she wanted to retreat—he saw it in her eyes.

What was it? What was she afraid of? Why did she so often withdraw, as though she didn’t want him to get too friendly? Was she really that shy, or didn’t she like him? Most people did, and he usually returned the regard, but…Autumn puzzled him.

Maybe she had a boyfriend, though he hadn’t seen anyone visit her—and he thought he might have, since his office desk faced the street window and he often found himself watching the traffic.

Perhaps the truth was more basic than that. Simply put, she just might not be interested in him.

He supposed it could be that, though he’d seldom met a woman who turned him down flat. On the whole, he liked women, even liked them a lot, though it had been a very long time since he’d met a woman who interested him in any personal way. This one did. Why, he hadn’t yet figured out.

Perhaps he was at last ready to find a new woman to love.

Other than casual, friendly dates, he’d lived without a woman in his life, except his mother, since that awful day Felice smashed her car and herself into nothing. Three and a half years ago, next week.

Since then, he’d contented himself in his faith, work and family, and a renewed interest in community service. That was why he’d moved his offices downtown. He wanted to be a big part of the city’s urban renewal.

“Daddy, can I get on your computer now?”

About to turn away, Autumn’s gaze dropped to the small boy who stepped from his father’s shadow. About four, she guessed, the child had the same ginger-colored bright-eyed gaze as Brent.

“This is my son, Tim,” Brent said. “Timmy, this is Miss Barbour.”

The boy stared at her in curiosity for a long moment, then smiled. “You have icing on your mouth.”

“I do?”

“Uh-huh. Have a tissue?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose I do.” She smiled at the boy and fished in her pocket for one. “I just bought some wonderful baked goods down at the market and had to have a sweet roll right away. They’re the best when they’re so fresh, you know.” She thrust the bag toward him. “There’s two chocolate donuts in here. Would you like one?”

Timmy turned to his father. “Can I?”

“Sure, if you recall your manners.”

Autumn held her paper bag out farther. The little boy reached in and helped himself, saying his thank you at the same time his mouth took a huge bite. She offered the bag toward Brent.

“Thanks, think I will. We didn’t take time for breakfast this morning. Say, I have about an hour’s work to take care of here, then Tim and I are going to find a real all-American breakfast. Want to come along?”

“Oh, no…” Autumn thought it time for her to take her leave, sidling toward her door. “Thank you for inviting me, though. I, um, have a project I’m eager to finish.”

“Did you get all your boxes put away?”

“Not exactly. I have to find a ladder.”

“Ah. I’d loan you one, but I haven’t any here at the office.”

“That’s all right. I need to buy one, I guess. You were right when you said I’d never reach the top third of my shelves without one.”

“If you’re going out today, I could help you pick it out and carry it home for you. Those things get pretty heavy.”

“They do? Well,” she glanced down the hill toward the market area. The current festival, a spring flower show, she thought, was getting under way with incoming trucks and cars. Saturdays were busy everywhere merchandise was sold. Saturdays spelled crowds. No, she couldn’t go out again today.

“I don’t think I’ll go today. Perhaps I can get a store to deliver one.”

“If you wish, I can get Sam and Josh to pick up one for you and deliver it right to your door. They’re coming this way one day next week.”

“Oh. Why, that would…that would be very helpful, thank you. Yes, please. I’ll certainly pay them for their time.”

“Let’s worry about that later, shall we? Sam and Josh are good buddies.”

“Daddy, can I get a drink of water?”

Brent and Autumn glanced at the child at the same time. His mouth smeared with chocolate, he looked like a clown.

“Whoa, there, Timmy pal,” Brent said, laughing. “You need a wash along with that drink.”

Autumn felt her own mouth tug into a smile. “Now you need the tissues,” she said, offering one from her pocket. “I’ll bet your mom would scold us both.”

“My mom can’t scold me. She’s in heaven,” Timmy said very casually as he accepted the tissue, swiping at his mouth and upper lip. Smears of chocolate remained on his cheek, on his chin, on his fingers.

Autumn examined the little boy’s face, then Brent’s. The child couldn’t have known his mother very well. His eyes carried no sorrow, only knowledge of a fact. But Brent’s swift gaze told her he still felt a stab of grief.

“I didn’t know that,” she offered slowly. “I’m sorry.”

Brent nodded his acknowledgment of her murmur, then changed the subject.

“That tissue is never going be enough for the job,” he said with a chuckle. He bent to sweep the boy up to sit on his shoulders, the action making Timmy squeal with delight. “He needs a real wash. But thanks for the try. Guess I’d better take this little guy in and clean him up. I’ll call you when I find out what Sam and Josh’s schedule will be.”

“Fine. Bye, Timmy. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh-huh. See you around, Miss Barbour.”

“You can call me Autumn.” She smiled at the boy.

“Okay. See you around.”

Thirty minutes later, Autumn put her favorite music CD on, and a new sheet of paper on her work board and began a sketch. Under her quick hand, a small child evolved, a donut in his hand. Large eyes took the shape of the father’s, and an impish tilt to his mouth indicated he was about to break out into laughter.

Autumn had painted children only a few times, but she felt pleased at how this one came to life under her hand. The childish glee it brought to mind made her want to laugh along with him.

After a long while, she stretched and put aside her materials. From the apartment below, she heard a muffled door slam. She glanced at the clock. Almost noon.

Spring hadn’t called yet this morning, and Autumn’s loneliness crept up unexpectedly, powerful and yearning. She punched in Spring’s temporary number, eager to hear her sister’s voice, but she heard only an answering machine. She left a brief message.

From her south window, slightly opened to catch the air, strains of country music drifted up from the market square. She didn’t need to see any of it to imagine the crush.

Even the imagining caused her a queasy stomach.

Quickly, she banished the thought from her mind. She put an exercise disk into her player, and followed the instructions with vigor.

Later, she showered and dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, wondering what her sister might be doing on this long Saturday afternoon. Or Kim Smithers, a friend from school that she and Spring had occasion to see. But Kim was married; she and Daniel were never home on Saturdays.

What were Brent Hyatt and young Timothy doing this afternoon?

This would never do, she told herself. She had things of her own to take care of. Like call Curtis Jennings, down at the gallery. Her first art teacher, Curtis frequently framed some of her work, and he had two of her paintings on display now. Perhaps he was ready for another one or two.

She punched his number and he answered on the third ring. “Mirror Image.”

“Hi, Curtis, it’s Autumn. Are you swamped with customer overflow from the festival?”

“Well, Autumn, how ya doin’? Wondered when you’d get around to calling after your move. Yeah, the flower people brought in a few customers. No serious buyers, though. We’ll do better next month when we showcase the fine artists. Want to come down and make yourself useful? Don’t have anybody in the store right now.”

“Actually…”

His voice grew quieter at her hesitation. “Most of the crowd will have cleared out by four, Autumn. You wouldn’t run into enough humanity to scare a rabbit. C’mon, from your new place, it’ll take you all of five minutes.”

“All right. Around four. I do have a couple of things I want framed.”

Chapter Three

“Can’t make it, Laureen,” Brent said into the phone the following Wednesday. “Have a lunch date tomorrow with a client. It’ll take up most of the afternoon.”

“Oh, very well,” Laureen murmured. Yet she wasn’t any too happy about his putting her off again.

Laureen had been a friend of Felice’s and, though he appreciated her help after his wife’s death, Laureen had grown far too possessive over the past six months. He had no intention of taking the friendship into anything closer. Lately, he’d taken steps to loosen her clutch. He’d dodged dates with her for weeks.

“Well, at least call the Saxons, will you? They’re new to the Midwest and looking for an architect-builder to build a new house out in Johnson County. I told them you’re the best.”

“Laureen, you know I’d gladly let John handle them,” he mentioned the top designer on his team, “but I’m personally tied up for a couple of months.”

“They don’t want John, Brent. They want you.”

“But my specialty isn’t in personal residences, anymore, Laureen. I’ve—”

“These people have money, Brent, and they can work in your favor when you want backing for some of your projects.”

“Not the kind of projects I want to do out in Johnson County,” he muttered. But he let Laureen run on with her list of why he should take on the new clients she’d found for him. The fact of his work overload mattered little to Laureen. Her philosophy was to take care of the influential and wealthy first; everyone else could be relegated to a back burner. Or someone of lesser importance.

“Do me this favor, Brent,” she begged, using her cajoling tone, low and breathy. “I’ll see to it you won’t lose anything.”

Well, he supposed John could take on another appointment or two for the firm while he met with the Saxons. The extra money he’d make if he took this on would cover some of the expenses for the old church they were refitting. He did need to find an office assistant without delay, though. Work had taken an upswing.

“All right.” He moved things around on his desk, restacking papers with notes of things he’d rather be doing. “But not tomorrow. It’ll have to be on Friday.”

Brent hung up the phone after setting a time with Laureen, and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms high above his head. He’d worked late for the first time in weeks—since his offices had moved to the new location, in fact—trying to wrap up several loose ends. Now hunger gnawed at his middle.

He rose and moved to stand at the front window. Dusk lay the shadows deep over the quiet street. Without the bustling business day, it seemed almost deserted, and he wondered about the fabled residents. Did Autumn really have neighbors at night or was she alone in that building? Alone on the street at night. He hadn’t thought about it too closely before now.

Even as he wondered, a light switched on in her building. Third floor. The working couple of whom the Realtor had boasted, he assumed.

He let out a deep breath, not realizing he’d held it. He didn’t like the idea of Autumn living so much alone. She seemed altogether too vulnerable for his peace of mind.

Wondering where those protective feelings came from, he tipped his head up toward the top floor. Lights streamed from her apartment. She was there—home.

He picked up his phone and punched her number. She answered on the second ring, a quick, almost breathless, “Hello…”

“Hi, Autumn, it’s Brent. Am I disturbing you?”

“Uh, oh, hello, Brent. No, I…I was expecting my sister to call.”

“Should I call back, then?”

“No. It isn’t important. We’ll talk later.”

“Well, then, have you had supper yet?”

“No. Well, I had…yes, I’ve eaten.”

Had she? He wondered if she’d really eaten a meal or merely nibbled at something. People living alone tended to skimp on meals or made do with very little.

He knew that for a fact. After his wife died, during those first awful months, he’d let himself dwindle down two sizes. He’d made sure his son was fed, but he’d barely cooked anything for himself.

“I haven’t and I’m starved. Come out and have a bite with me. I’ve worked until just this minute and—” he glanced at his watch “—no wonder I’m hungry. It’s way after seven and I’m a guy used to eating early.”

“I don’t think—”

“Aw, c’mon, Autumn, take pity on a starving man. I hate eating alone.”

“Where’s Timmy? Don’t you have to go home to your little boy?”

“He’s with my mom for the night. They have something cooked up together about making mobiles for Children’s Mercy Hospital next week.” He changed his tone to a persuasive one. “Just dinner, Autumn. There’s an Italian place a couple of blocks from here that’s not crowded in the middle of the week. I’ll bring you right home.”

Her hesitation seemed like a stone wall. He was gearing himself up for a last firm refusal when she asked almost timidly, “Not crowded, huh. Would you mind making a stop for me while we’re out?”

“Sure, we can do that.”

“All right,” she capitulated. “If you don’t mind. I’ll meet you downstairs in…fifteen minutes?”

He waited in front of her door, leaning on the passenger side of his car. She smiled at him, a tentative offering, but she didn’t glance away. He felt hopeful.

“If you don’t mind, can we stop at Mirror Images first?” She held forth a large, maroon portfolio case. “I have to drop off a couple of additional paintings for framing. It won’t take long.”

“Sure, let’s go.” He held the car door wide for her, then put her case in the trunk and started the motor.

“Where, exactly?” he asked.

She directed him down the hill, and he pulled up in front of the small gallery wedged between an empty corner store and one featuring used clothing. Only a night-light appeared to illuminate the first floor.

“It appears to be closed,” he commented. “Does the gallery usually stay open late?”

“Only during the summer hours, really, but Curtis uses the upstairs for his workroom and classes. He’s often there late. Besides, tonight he’s expecting me. Want to come in?”

“Sure. I’ll get your case.”

Autumn slid from the car and, as he opened the trunk, went to ring the bell. When she retraced her steps to reach for her case, he said, “I’ll get it.”

She hadn’t made up her mind whether to argue with him or not, he noted. While dark eyelashes gave a hint of fluttering uncertainty, she paused a second too long over her decision. He didn’t wait. He swung the case from the trunk, snapping the lid closed, hiding his own smile. It wasn’t the first time he’d realized her shyness. She hadn’t yet acquired the modern woman’s assertiveness.

Above them, a slight, graying man raised the window and called down to them to wait where they were. A moment later, he let them into the gallery. Autumn introduced the two men.

“Brent Hyatt. Don’t I know you?” Curtis’s inquisitive gaze was friendly as he turned on some lights and led the way up the back stairs. “You’re on the mayor’s committee, working toward urban renewal, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Brent answered. “Are you interested in the revitalization going on down here?”

“You know it. Wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t believe in it. I’d have a pricy place down on the Plaza or out in Johnson County,” Curtis said empathically. He cleared a worktable of oak frame pieces and matting, stacking everything neatly in a box.

“But I wouldn’t mind relocating to a larger space in a good renovation if I could afford it.” He glanced up at Brent as he worked. “Anything of a smaller nature going on besides that big project proposal in the papers recently?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of a couple buildings with new owners interested in just your kind of gallery.” Brent set the case on the cleared table as he replied, then stepped back to allow Autumn to attend to business. “Lot of work needed, though. Might take some time. I’ll put you in touch with them if you’d like.”

“Sounds good to me.” Curtis nodded, then turned to Autumn. “Now Autumn, let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

Autumn stepped forward and unzipped her case. Curtis made humming noises as he looked at the five watercolors she pulled out. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Hmm…”

Brent tried hard not to gawk, but he felt agog to see her work. He caught a quick glance of bright splashes of color, of dewy petals and quick rushing water in a streambed. The impressionist style shone with spirit and verve, a style much looser than the architectural renderings she’d done for his competitor.

“This one and this one,” Curtis made up his mind quickly. “And let me keep this one, too. We’ll frame it to match the one that’s up. I have a customer who comes in every week or two who looked at that one. Maybe she’ll take a pair.”

Of the three chosen, two were similar, but from different angles, still lifes of a pot of bright-red tulips sharing the space with a fruit basket of ripe strawberries. The third showed an old black upright piano with a bowl of daffodils sitting on one end, music sheets on its rack.

He liked them. Very much, actually. Autumn had real talent.

Further, he thought his mother, Catherine, would like these, and he knew immediately that he’d purchase the piano painting for her birthday next month. The style would appeal to her. But he wouldn’t do it now, he’d wait until Curtis had them framed and up. Somehow, he felt Autumn might find it embarrassing.

It was well after eight by the time they arrived at the restaurant. The big room held only two other tables of diners, and Autumn, after a hesitant glance around, relaxed considerably. The waiter greeted him by name, a courtesy not lost on Autumn.

“Hi, Frank,” he returned, easily recalling the man’s name. Remembering people’s names and knowing their occupation was a talent of his. He liked knowing people, liked knowing about their families and where their interests and concerns lay. Meeting new groups of people never bothered him. He belonged to a couple of circles active in civic affairs. He’d even had his picture in the newspaper on occasion, once or twice with the current mayor. He didn’t mind admitting to ambitions to serve the city, but he didn’t know about higher political aims, as Laureen sometimes suggested.

He ordered quickly and waited patiently while Autumn made her choice more slowly, taking the opportunity to study her features. She had a tender, wide mouth in an oval face enhanced by shiny dark hair. Her lashes lay against her cheek like feathery swatches as she read the menu.

Later, they lingered over their pasta. She seemed content to let him lead the conversation. He did so with a relaxed approach, touching only on general subjects such as the neighborhood, its history, and the spring weather.

Instinctively, he chose not to push Autumn into confidences she wasn’t ready to give, so he shied away from asking about her dating life. Though he wanted to know. For now, he felt he’d gained a giant leap in meeting Curtis Jennings; he’d detected mere friendship between them, though a long-standing one.

Instead, he let her know a little about himself and Timmy.