Anna Meets Her Match

“We just can’t decide,” she trilled, tugging him forward. “Anna Miranda’s done such a marvelous job for us, but we just can’t agree. Give us your opinion, won’t you?”

She hauled him over to the table, where Magnolia laid out the four options for him. Reeves slid a hooded glance at Anna before quickly bending over the table. Anna held her breath. After a moment, he turned a look in her direction, surprised appreciation in his copper-brown eyes.

“These are quite good.”

She managed a blasé nod and a dry, “Thanks.”

He went back to the designs, tapping the fourth with the tip of one forefinger. “This one’s the best.”

Anna stifled a crow of delight.

“Well,” Hypatia said, sounding relieved, “that’s that.”

Odelia jerked, all but physically throwing herself back into the fray. “Oh, but…what about the staff?”

“The staff?” Mags echoed.

“They ought to have a say in this. We’ll be depending on them, after all, to keep everything running smoothly the night of the auction.”

“Odelia,” Hypatia said wearily, pressing her fingertips to her temples.

Undetered, Odelia began gathering up the designs. “I know, we’ll take these back to the kitchen.” She nudged her sisters to their feet. “We’ll each make our case, and see what Chester, Hilda and Carol have to say. That seems fair, doesn’t it?”

Hypatia sighed and sent an apologetic look to Reeves, who lifted a hand to the back of his neck. Absolutely no one, including Anna, was surprised when Odelia turned to him and instructed, “Now, Reeves, dear, you’ll entertain Anna Miranda for us for a few minutes, won’t you?” She began pushing and shooing her sisters from the room. “So rude to leave her sitting here on her own, you know.”

Anna watched the whole thing in bemused fascination, especially the part where Odelia winked at Reeves then pinched her thumb and forefinger together and drew them across her lips in a zipping motion.

“Yeah, thanks for that,” he said wryly.

Anna waited until their footsteps receded before favoring him with a direct look, her elbows braced against the arms of the chair. “What on earth is that about?”

“Don’t ask,” he grumbled, sliding his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “Just let this be a lesson to you. Be very, very exact when dealing with my aunts.”

“They can be a little…scattered.”

He snorted. “That’s one word for it.”

“Actually, I think they’re very sweet.”

“Well, of course, they’re sweet!” he exclaimed. “That’s half the problem.”

“What problem?” she shot back, stung. “I wasn’t aware there was a problem, unless having to give your opinion has strained your brain.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. I hope you didn’t pull a muscle coming up with that one.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake!” Anna shot to her feet and sidestepped the table. Why did he have to be so difficult, anyway? She thought they’d gotten past this.

Just then, Anna caught a muffled roaring sound, followed swiftly by a shrill, elongated scream. The next instant, Gilli burst into the room, wailing like a police siren, and shot across the floor on, of all things, roller skates, the cheap plastic sort that strapped over the soles of the shoes. She headed straight for the antique Empire breakfront in the corner. Reeves leapt forward to snatch up a priceless Tiffany lamp, while Anna lunged with outstretched arms for Gilli.

The pair of them went down in a tangle of limbs. Fortunately, they missed the tall Federal table in the center of the floor and the enormous flower arrangement atop it. A small elbow landed in Anna’s midsection, knocking the air out of her in a painful rush. For one long moment, all was silent and still. Then a sigh gusted forth, and Reeve’s handsome head, paired up nicely with a stained glass lampshade, appeared above her.

“And so,” he muttered, “goes my life.”

Anna laughed. The look on his face, the droll tone of his voice, the memory of Gilli’s flailing arms as she flew across the floor, even the collision that had Anna on her back—again—gazing up at his resigned, hangdog expression, it all suddenly seemed like something out of an old slapstick comedy. Oh, how little he appreciated that, but his frowns merely made her laugh that much harder. It had been a long time since she’d had this much fun. Too long. She pushed up onto her elbows, Gilli sprawled all over her, and as was too often the case, said the first thing that came to mind.

“You know something, Stick? I’ve missed you.”

He couldn’t have looked more appalled if she’d decorated him with her lunch, but that didn’t change a thing. She had missed him. She had missed him every single day since he’d graduated from high school, and some part of her always would.

She had missed him.

The idea warmed, shocked and alarmed Reeves all at the same time. He recognized the glow in the corner of his heart with disgust. Was he so desperate to be loved that even an offhanded quip from a girl who had all but tortured him could produce such a reaction? Or was it Tansy and the aunties who had put that into his mind?

Groaning, he decided that God must be punishing him. That had to be the case. Yet, had Solomon not written that the Lord disciplines those He loves?

But does it have to be her, Lord? he asked in silent prayer. Isn’t Gilli enough?

Horrified that he’d thought of his own child as punishment, Reeves reached down a hand to help as Gilli began struggling up onto her knees. It was Anna Miranda’s hand that found his, however, and with his other still clutching the Tiffany lamp, he had little choice but to haul her up. She came to her feet with a little hop and a cheeky smile. Gilli collapsed upon the hardwood floor and began to wail as if she’d broken all four limbs.

Tamping down his impatience with such melodrama, Reeves turned to set aside the lamp so he could help his daughter up, but when he turned back, she was already on her feet, thanks to Anna Miranda. Gilli abruptly yanked away from her, and threw herself at Reeves with a cry of outrage, her skates slipping and sliding as she clamped her arms around his thighs. Reeves sent an embarrassed look at Anna Miranda before grasping Gilli by the shoulders and holding her far enough away that he could look down into her face. He saw more petulance there than pain or fear.

“Cut it out,” he ordered over the din of phony sobs.

“I fell down!” she defended hotly.

The last tenuous thread of Reeves’s patience snapped. “I said to cut it out!” he roared. As he rarely raised his voice to her, Gilli was shocked into frozen silence.

Not so Anna Miranda, who brought her hands to her slender hips and snapped, “You cut it out. It’s all your own fault, you know.”

Exasperated, Reeves glared at her. “My fault? I didn’t come flying in here on skates.”

“No, but you might have taught her to skate properly before this,” Anna reasoned.

Gilli immediately seized on that notion. “Yes, Daddy! Teach me! Please, please!”

He ignored her, focusing on the one who’d opened this can of worms. “And how am I supposed to do that?” he demanded. “Look at her. She’s not old enough for that.”

“I am!” Gilli insisted, her tears suddenly dried.

“Of course she is,” Anna Miranda agreed, folding her arms.

“I think I know my daughter better than you do, thank you very much. Besides, I don’t even own a pair of skates myself, let alone all the necessary safety equipment for the two of us.”

“So get some,” Anna Miranda retorted.

“I got skates!” Gilli interjected desperately. “Real skates. My mama brought them at Christmas.”

“Sent them,” Reeves corrected distractedly. “She sent you a pair of roller skates, but they’re too big for you.” Gilli had waited with breathless anticipation for her mother to arrive for Christmas as Marissa had promised during her one visit some six months ago, but all that had arrived was a crumpled card and a pair of roller skates with hard pink-and-purple plastic boots two sizes too large.