Boo (11 page)

You sentimental fool
.

Knock, knock
.

“Woof!”

Knock, knock
.

“Woof! Woof!”

Wolfe opened one lazy eye and caught both dogs scurrying out of the bedroom. He heard their claws tapping down the hallway toward the stairs.

Pound, pound!

Was someone at his door? He turned to look at his clock. It was a little after seven. The sun had cleared the horizon already, and the day looked bright and inviting. He’d slept well considering all that was on his mind.

His feet hit the cold wood floor, and he skipped across it until he got to the stairs, which had carpet down the middle. Bunny and Goose were at the front door, whining and looking at Wolfe as if they could make him move faster.

He finally got to the front door and opened it, just in time to see a man walking away. A mail delivery truck was parked at the curb.

“Wait!” Wolfe called.

The man turned around and trotted back up the porch stairs. “Sorry. I know this is awfully early. I just have a lot of packages to deliver, and this one was marked
overnight
, so I figured it was important.”

Wolfe smiled as he signed on the clipboard. “You do this for all your customers?”

The man stared at his shoes. “You’re right. Stupid excuse. Actually … can I … um … Can I have your autograph? I’m new on this route. And I just couldn’t believe I got to deliver a package to your house, and I’m a big fan. This is horribly unprofessional, I know. I’m sorry. I’m just—”

“Sure.” He took the paper and pen from the man. “There you go.”

“Thank you!” The man handed the package over and ran back to his truck. Wolfe closed the door, keeping the package high enough in
the air to avoid the dogs’ wet and curious noses. He placed it carefully on the counter and decided to make the morning coffee before he got overly excited.

As the rich aroma filled the house, he leaned on the counter and stared at the little package. It was neatly wrapped in brown paper and even had brown string tied around it. He folded his arms together and sized it up, wondering if this was, indeed, his key to courage.

He’d spent an awful lot of money on it. He sighed and poured himself a cup of joe. Courage didn’t come cheap these days.

A
INSLEY HELD UP
the wreath to show her father. She’d put it together using fall colors and a special dried herb that Martha had suggested on her television program last week. It gave off a warm pine smell and boasted a nice dash of color. At the bottom, she’d skillfully tied a mustard-colored ribbon that pulled the whole thing together. Her father was just finishing his story about how he and Thief had nabbed some juveniles spray-painting Pointe Bridge last night and some other kid who thought it’d be funny to shave the hair off of thirteen cats.

“What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” her father said as he unfolded his morning paper. “You’ve got real talent in that area.”

Ainsley smiled. “Thank you, Daddy. I thought we’d hang it on our door the week of Thanksgiving.” She put the wreath down and joined him at the breakfast table. “More coffee?”

“No thanks, honey. I’ve got to run.”

“Before you go,” Ainsley said, causing her father to sit back down, “we need to discuss Thanksgiving. It’s less than three weeks away, and we still haven’t discussed who we want to invite.”

Her father nodded. “I know. I need to make a list.”

“And get it to me soon,” Ainsley said. “I’ve got a lot of preparation, and I can’t wait until the last minute to put these recipes together. I’ve also got to make the table decoration, and I need to know how many people to expect so I know whether or not to do a centerpiece or a table runner. And I certainly must know how large of a turkey to buy. Plus, if we have a big crowd, we’ll need to add a ham, and the glaze takes time, Daddy.”

Her father held up his hands and laughed. “I’ll have the list to you soon.”

“Thank you.” She stood and kissed him on the cheek. “Have a good day. We’re having tortellini soup tonight.”

She helped her father out the door, reminding this man who carried a pistol to be careful on the last step of the porch because the cement was coming loose. He smiled and waved tolerantly, and Ainsley laughed, thinking that he was probably perplexed how he could lose a wife and somehow gain a mother. Thief trotted alongside him obligingly, his tail raised haughtily in the air.

Inside, she cleared the breakfast dishes, happy she was on schedule. She needed to go visit Mr. Lackey in the hospital. She’d bought him a sack of jelly beans, hoping that would brighten his day. She was also hoping to visit Aunt Gert before work, and if she got a move on, she’d be able to make it. Luckily, she wasn’t scheduled to come in until lunch.

She threw the last plate in the dishwasher when she heard a knock at the door. She couldn’t imagine who it would be this early but figured it was probably Garth, coming to rescue her from some mythical danger.

Knock, knock
.

“I’m coming!” Ainsley called. She straightened her shirt and brushed back the wisps of hair in her face before opening the door.

“What in the world?” It was a stupid thing to say to a guest at your doorstep, and Ainsley slapped her hand over her mouth just after saying it, which probably made her look more disgraceful. Still, she couldn’t hide the shock of seeing Wolfe Boone standing in front of her.

“What?” he replied, obviously flustered. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Ainsley shook her head, finding it hard to form a word on her tongue. In his hands he was carrying a neatly wrapped, small brown package. She also noticed his hands were shaking terribly. She looked back up at him, and he was trying to smile, but he looked more like someone who was trying to pass off stomach cramps.

“Hi. Do you remember me? We met at the bookstore.”

“What are you doing here?”

His lips trembled before he spoke, and Ainsley found it excruciatingly painful to watch the man stand there. He barked a laugh twice
before attempting to speak, as if he thought it was just as absurd as she did that he was standing there. He glanced down at her with a wince and said, “I’m sorry. I brought you this.” He practically shoved the little package at her, then she almost dropped it. He lunged forward, and they hit heads.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing his own forehead.

She tried to smile at him, but she still couldn’t imagine why Wolfe Boone was on her doorstep. She looked down at the package. “What’s this?”

For the first time, he looked relaxed, sticking his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth. “It’s a surprise.”

“Oh.” She stared down at it. “You showing up on my doorstep, now that’s a surprise.” Trying to avoid those deep, engaging eyes of his, she found herself staring at the red spot on his forehead. “So you came here to bring me this surprise?”

“Yes,” he said. “And to ask you … um … to ask you …”

Ainsley leaned forward. “Yes? To ask me …?”

His eyes, though naturally serene, danced suddenly with anxiety. “To ask … uh …” He seemed to choke on his own words. “To ask you where you get your hair cut.”

Ainsley laughed out loud. “To ask me where I get my hair cut?”

He wasn’t laughing. In fact, his face looked full of dread. “Yes. Your hair always looks nice, and I need to find a good barber.”

Ainsley couldn’t help but be amused, and she knew her smile indicated she was just that. “It’s called Foofey’s. It’s the next county over.”

“Oh. Foofey’s. Doesn’t sound like I’d find a barber there.”

Ainsley let another laugh escape. “No, but it’s perfect if you need a highlight or a perm.”

He finally smiled too and self-consciously ran his fingers through his hair. “I could probably use both, but I think I’ll just keep looking for a barber.”

“Try Howard. He’s a couple of blocks from the community center.”

“Thanks.” He stepped back then and pointed to the package. “I hope you like it. I have to get going.”

“Okay. Bye. And thanks.” She couldn’t imagine what was in the package.

He turned and walked off, then suddenly spun on his heel and came back. Ainsley barely had time to digest anything when she found herself staring up at him again. And this time, she looked in his eyes.

“There is one more thing.”

“Oh?” Her voice cracked.

“I wanted to ask you … out.”

“Out?”

“On a date?”

“A date?”

“Yes. You go on dates, don’t you?”

“Uh …” Now that was a tricky question. “Uh …”

He nervously rubbed the red spot on his forehead as he waited for an answer, and Ainsley felt sweat peek out at her temples even as she stood in the cold. He wasn’t actually asking her out on a
date
, was he?

She finally managed to disengage her eyes from him, and before she knew it, she was saying, “No.”

“Oh.”

“No.”

“I got it the first time.”

“You just can’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“You just can’t come here and ask me out on a date. Because, you see, I’ve been angry with you for a long time. I have to wear vampire teeth because of you, and when you come and do something so foolish as to stand here and ask me out on a date, well, then that flies in the face of everything I’m accustomed to. I’ve despised you a long time, you see, and if I went out on a date then I’d have to forgive you, and I’m just not ready to do that yet, even if you are handsome and do have gorgeous eyes. Do you know what I mean?” She said it as if she’d just explained how to do a box pleat on denim.

His mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were wide with what seemed to be an equal measure of perplexity and hope.

“Close your mouth. You’ll swallow a fly.”

He did, slowly backed up, and gave a little nod before hurrying off to his Jeep parked on the street. Ainsley watched him go, then stepped back inside the house. She threw back her head at the absurdity of it all. Did Wolfe Boone actually just ask her out? Did she actually just tell him he had gorgeous eyes?

She then realized she was holding his package. She timidly took it to the table, set it down, and stared at it as if it might just do a song and dance. Instead it lay there, perfectly still, beckoning her to open it. It was a charming little package, tied up with string. Hardly anyone she knew used string anymore. The package was addressed to Wolfe, but other than that it had no indication of who or where it was from.

“Well, it’s not going to open itself,” she mumbled, finding a pair of scissors and then returning to the table. She cut the string with great care, then carefully opened one side and slid the contents out of the package. She took one look at it and burst into tears.

Wolfe’s hands shook so hard he could barely hang on to his steering wheel. His Jeep sputtered along, still not quite warmed up. Wolfe was equally numb. He drove the speed limit until he found himself at the church.

Before he even knew it, he was inside, making his way to the basement where the reverend’s office was.

“Reverend?” he said quietly.

The reverend was standing at his bookshelf. He turned, a surprised look on his face. “Well, Wolfe! I didn’t hear you come in! What a nice surprise. How are you enjoying that sack of books I loaned you?” His pleasant expression turned concerned very quickly. “Are you all right?”

“Don’t I look all right?”

“Not really.” The reverend laid down a book he was holding and walked toward Wolfe. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Has someone offended you?”

“No.”

“Well what is it? You look terrible.”

Wolfe fell into the old sofa next to the wall and said, “I’m in love.”