Beautiful Stranger. Ruth Wind
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all of these came from my aunt’s house. She died recently and we’re remodeling.”
“Well, the vases are all junk and the jewelry, but the buffet needs to be appraised. It’s worth at least a couple of thousand.”
Her lips turned down in surprise. “Really? I have always hated this thing. So clunky. I don’t much like anything from that era, so I won’t keep it anyway, but I appreciate you letting me know.”
Marissa opened her hand, letting her treasure glow in her palm like a beacon. “And how much for this?” She held her breath.
A shrug. “Pretty. How about fifty cents?”
Marissa smiled, and pulled out her purse and carefully set the piece down. “I’m going to write you a check for this, but there’s a rule. You may not look at it until I leave.”
“A check for fifty cents?”
“No.” Marissa completed the check, tore it out and folded it in half. “Considerably more than that. This is,” she said, picking it up with reverence, “a wonderful and rare antique. If your aunt has more of this kind of thing, I really want to see it, and if you have more glass in the house, you should have it examined.”
The woman looked concerned, and waved toward some clothing on a rack to one side. “Do you want to wrap that in something?”
“Great idea.” She took an old silk hair scarf from a hanger. A collection of soft, airy dresses in bright India cottons had caught her eye, one in a cranberry shade, one in a beautiful green. They were maternity dresses, with the tags still hanging from the sleeves, and very tiny. She pulled one out and thought of Crystal’s dark hair against the fabrics. “How much?” she asked the woman.
“A dollar each.”
Marissa bought them, and feeling buoyed by the little yelp of the woman when she opened the check, she drove to Robert’s house. The happy mood carried her all the way up the steps and she gave a quick, strong knock to the screen door—then courage deserted her.
Suddenly she felt like an idiot. Women must think up excuses to see him all the time. How would this look? She frowned, looking at the dresses again, and worried that Crystal would never wear such things. Robert would probably be offended that she thought he wasn’t taking care of the girl’s clothes well enough.
Oh, bad idea. She nearly bolted, but a voice called from within, “Hang on a second!” and she couldn’t move. Anxiously she looked down again at the dresses, simple summery things that would be so much more comfortable for Crystal over the last month or so of her pregnancy. The colors were still as beautiful as she thought, and she sighed.
“Marissa!” The word held surprise.
She looked up and saw Robert, dimly, through the screen.
Shirtless.
And his hair was down. “Hi,” she said weakly.
He stayed where he was, pulling a long-sleeved T-shirt over his head and tugging it down over his flat, brown belly before he crossed the room and opened the screen door to her. A wicked twinkle lit his eyes. “You look like you’ve come to the wolf’s door,” said that slightly hoarse voice.
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