Hopscotch Homicide (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 16) (18 page)

Will ran his hand slowly over the fender, as if he were making love to it.

I felt my heart beat in my chest as I imagined his hand doing that to my body.

“I’d be happy to let you drive her if you’d like,” I offered. “After the meeting of course.”

Will’s face lit up. “Really? I’d love to take her for a spin. But maybe when we have more time to really take a drive. Are you free on Saturday?”

Was I free on Saturday? Now there was a loaded question if ever I’d heard one.

I knew I should say no. I was nothing more than a silly old woman with a crush on a younger man. Whatever was I thinking?

“I believe I am free on Saturday,” I found myself saying, almost against my will.

“Excellent. We can drive around the lake. I’ll bring a picnic. I found this awesome little spot near some seasonal falls the last time I was visiting the area. They’ll be little more than a trickle at this time of year but still beautiful.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Wear something casual. Shorts or jeans. And sturdy shoes. We might want to do some hiking.”

Shorts or jeans?
I was going to need to go shopping.

“It’s been quite a day,” I said to Charlotte later that evening as I prepared for bed.

“All of the girls seemed to enjoy their first day of school.” I massaged night cream into my skin after I’d washed off the makeup Brooklyn had applied that morning.

“It looks as if Eve is going to be welcome on the newspaper staff, and it seems Levi managed to pull some strings to get Pepper included on the cheerleading team.” I slipped a flannel nightgown over my head and then began sorting the clothes I had removed.

“It seems Chad is a cheerleader. I don’t remember them having male cheerleaders when I was in school, but I guess it is now all the rage to have a coed squad.”

Charlotte didn’t say anything, but I could tell she was bored with my chatter.

“I wonder if I should ask the girls to help me get ready every morning. I have to admit their effort with my appearance had quite an impact, judging by the number of compliments I received today.”

Charlotte continued to ignore me. The ungrateful beast.

“I’ve decided to make more of an effort with my appearance. I even stopped by that boutique Zoe assured me carries the best-quality cosmetics and stocked up on everything I might need.”

Charlotte jumped up onto the counter in an effort to get my attention. I shooed her down.

“I couldn’t help but notice Mr. Danner noticing me today.” I smeared a nourishing balm onto my lips. “I even have a date with him on Saturday.”

Charlotte swatted at the hem of my nightgown.

“I know what you are thinking,” I added after I had decided I had done all I could with my face and removed the scarf from my hair.

“You think I am getting ahead of myself.” I began the first of my one hundred brush strokes. “You think Mr. Danner was simply being cordial today when he asked to sit with me during lunch, and he was just being neighborly when he asked me out on a picnic on Saturday.”

Charlotte yawned.

“I know you are probably right, but it’s nice to feel like someone—anyone—might notice how nice I looked. It’s been such a long time since I have felt like anything other than a stodgy old maid.”

I finished brushing my hair and began to braid it. “I agreed to house the girls because I believed I could help them, but so far it seems it is they who are helping me. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this alive. Between you and me, I actually felt visible today.”

Charlotte rolled over onto her back in a feeble attempt to divert my attention away from my monologue.

I ignored her.

“I won’t go so far as to say desirable. Oh, hell, I
will
say desirable. Today, for the first time in at least forty years, I felt desirable. Is that sinful of me?”

Charlotte rolled back over and meowed. She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind, then trotted out of the bathroom and into the adjoining bedroom.

“What would you know? You’re a cat.”

I followed Charlotte into my bedroom and began the task of straightening already perfectly straight books and knickknacks before opening my window just a quarter of an inch.

“I wonder if I should invite Mr. Danner to attend Sunday supper,” I asked Charlotte as I stacked the extra pillows on my white tufted chaise.

“He did ask me to join him on Saturday, so I would simply be returning the invitation. It’s the polite thing to do. Besides, he is new in town, and I imagine he would welcome a home-cooked meal.”

Charlotte jumped up onto the bed.

“It wouldn’t be as if I were asking him on a date. I mean, the girls will be here. No, it most definitely won’t be a date, any more than our drive on Saturday is a date.” I poured myself a cup of tea from the warming pot I’d brought up, then added a splash of brandy.

“I wonder if Mr. Danner would enjoy a nice roast beef with roasted vegetables. My mother taught me how to make a delicious roast with carrots and potatoes.”

I squeezed a dollop of creamy lotion onto my hands and rubbed gently.

“And it has been a while since I had the occasion to make a chocolate cake. Men enjoy chocolate cakes. I know that for a fact,” I informed Charlotte before I slid between my 1500-thread count sheets and settled in.

“Are you ready?”

Charlotte indicated that she was.

After placing my reading glasses on the tip of my nose, I adjusted the light and opened the hardcover book I’d chosen from the bookcase. Charlotte crawled into my lap and began to purr as I began to read aloud. Tonight we were reading
Jane Eyre
by Charlotte Brontë. I opened the book to the bookmark. I was about to begin when Charlotte swatted at the page, causing it to turn. I decided to begin at that point. I had read the book so many times it didn’t really matter. That’s the thing about favorite novels; they become a part of your history as much as anything else you experience becomes a part of your history.

It does good to no woman to be flattered [by a man] who does not intend to marry her; and it is madness in all women to let a secret love kindle within them, which, if unreturned and unknown, must devour the life that feeds it; and, if discovered and responded to, must lead, ignis-fatuus-like, into miry wilds whence there is no extrication.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” I asked Charlotte.

Charlotte began to purr.

“I’m not looking to marry Mr. Danner.”

Charlotte tucked her head up under my chin. She often did this, I imagine, as a gesture of apology.

“You really are the most opinionated cat.” I set the book aside and gathered Charlotte into my arms. “But I love you. Don’t worry; your spot next to me in this bed is safe. I’m really nothing more than a silly old woman with schoolgirl fantasies.”

Reader Portal:
To return to the main story, click on Zoe2, or continue on to Chapter 3 if reading as a short story.

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Zoe2

How is it that a person can live to the ripe old age of sixty-two before having a first date? Am I crazy to believe that perhaps it is not too late for such things? I suppose there comes a point when your time has passed and you should simply accept what life has served as the only offerings you are destined to sample. Not that I am complaining. I’ve lived a full life. A purposeful life. My time on this earth has not been wasted. Still, there are times I wonder at the things that might have been.

“Oh, my.” I stood sideways in front of my full-length mirror and considered my rear. The girls had helped me pick out a pair of jeans—the first I’ve ever owned—for my picnic with Mr. Danner. When I’d tried them on in the store the lighting had been dim, so I hadn’t realized how truly form-fitting they were.

“I don’t think I can wear these,” I said to Charlotte.

My diva cat yawned and then rolled over, a clear indication that she didn’t care about my jeans or my rear.

I pulled the bright plum tank top the girls had selected for me over my head and then layered it with the matching cardigan I had insisted on. The sweater hug down to my hips, providing a bit of a barrier between my denim-clad sit-upon and the general public’s judging eyes.

“I just don’t know,” I debated. I turned to Charlotte. “What do you think?”

Charlotte hopped off the bed and headed toward the doorway.

The ingrate.

I opened the door to release my traitor of a beast at the same time Pepper was walking past on her way toward the study, where the girls were watching television.

“Wow,” she said. “You look great. And so different.”

“Different good or different bad?” I wondered.

“Definitely different good. You look young and carefree and approachable.”

“I don’t normally look approachable?” I asked.

Pepper screwed up her face. I could tell she didn’t want to hurt my feelings, but she didn’t want to lie either.

She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the hallway. “Let’s show the others.”

Part of me wanted to retreat to my room and slip into a pair of sturdy wool slacks and a proper dress blouse, but the rest wanted to see what the others thought, so I let Pepper pull me down the hall and into the study, where Brooklyn and Eve were watching a reality show.

“So what do you think?” Pepper asked after she’d escorted me into the room.

“Wow, you look great,” Brooklyn answered right away. I liked the fact that she didn’t have to take her time to come up with a reply. It made her compliment seem more sincere.

“You really do look great,” Eve added. “Those jeans fit you perfectly.”

“Are you sure they aren’t too tight?”

“Tight?” Brooklyn said. “If anything, they’re a little loose, but you wanted the relaxed-fit jeans, so relaxed fit is what we got.”

“And the color of the tank and sweater set matches your complexion perfectly,” Eve added. “You look beautiful, although we’ll need to do something about your hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?” I put a hand to my long locks, which I’d braided down my back.

“You’re going driving in a convertible, so you had the right idea with the braid, but we need to do something softer like a French braid,” Pepper mused.

“Maybe a fishtail,” Brooklyn suggested.

“A fishtail?” I asked.

“Or a loose five strand,” Pepper said with enthusiasm.

I looked at Eve. She nodded her agreement.

“Okay, I guess we can try a fishtail or a five strand,” I said with caution.

“And your makeup. It’s all wrong.” Brooklyn got up from her chair. She clicked off the television. “Come with me and we’ll get you fixed up.”

Brooklyn took my hand and led me back down the hall to my bedroom.

“I did it the way you showed me,” I complained as she sat me down in front of my vanity.

“You did it the way I showed you to do it for work,” Brooklyn corrected. “You need something brighter for a picnic with your special guy.”

“Mr. Danner is not my special guy,” I countered. “He is simply a man with whom I work who shares a similar interest in classic cars.”

All three girls rolled their eyes.

“This really isn’t a date,” I tried once again.

Brooklyn ignored my statement and began sorting through my makeup case. “Do you have mauve?”

“Mauve what?” I asked.

“Eyeshadow.”

“No. Only the gray and the taupe.”

Brooklyn stood up from her squatting position. “I have mauve. What time will Mr. Danner be here?”

“At eleven.”

Brooklyn looked at the others. “That should be enough time, but we’ll need to hurry. You guys get started on the hair and I’ll run to my room and get the supplies we’ll need.”

Supplies? Who knew a casual drive followed by a completely platonic picnic could require so much preparation? Brooklyn fixed my makeup while Pepper and Eve fixed my hair. By the time Will showed up thirty minutes later I’d been assured by all three girls that I looked the bomb.

“Right on time,” I greeted Mr. Danner upon opening my front door.

He was dressed in faded jeans, a Serenity High School sweatshirt, and newer-looking running shoes.

“You look nice,” Mr. Danner complimented. “Is that a new sweater?”

“It is. I’m glad you like it.” I blushed.

“Purple is one of my favorite colors. Are you ready?”

“I am. Come on in. I’ll just say good-bye to the girls and then we can be on our way. It’s such a lovely day for a drive. In fact, I can’t remember when the weather has been more perfect.”

“I have the things we’ll need for our picnic in my car. Should I grab them now?” Mr. Danner asked.

“We can drive around to the front and transfer everything once we get Lizzy. Did you think to bring a blanket? It is always a good idea to bring a blanket.”

“Who said old dogs can’t learn new tricks?” I said to Charlotte that evening as I prepared for bed. “I wore jeans for the first time, I pulled off a five-strand braid, and after all these years, I finally went on a date. Sort of,” I qualified as I gently wiped the makeup from my face with a gentle cleanser.

“I mean, it wasn’t
really
a date. Even I know that. Mr. Danner’s wife has only been gone for a year and he is still in mourning. But it felt like a date from where I was sitting. He picked me up at my door even though we took my car. He drove, and when we arrived at the falls he opened my door. He even took my hand as we crossed the rocks to the spot he had picked out for us to dine.”

Charlotte jumped up onto the counter.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking he took my hand because he was concerned that someone of my advanced age might slip and break an ankle. But it wasn’t like that. It was more a gesture of chivalry than an attempt to prevent an old lady from falling.”

Charlotte batted my tube of eyeliner onto the floor, then pounced on it from her vantage point on the counter.

“I’m not a lovesick teenager. I realize that what Mr. Danner and I have, and most likely all we’ll ever have, is a friendship. But it was still nice to have someone make an effort to see to my needs.”

I patted my face dry, then added a thick and moist night cream.

“Did you know that, although Mr. Danner is a professor of theoretical mathematics, he has read most of the classics? And his knowledge of historical events is really quite exhaustive. It seemed obvious to me as we spoke that the man has enjoyed a well-rounded education. That’s so important. Don’t you think?”

I pulled my flannel nightgown over my head and then sat down to unbraid my hair.

“I find that I am very much looking forward to getting to know the man better. I asked Mr. Danner if he would like to join us for Sunday supper, but he said he had other plans for tomorrow.”

Charlotte decided to attack my feet, in an attempt, I am sure, to get my attention and hurry me up.

“Stop that, you silly cat. I’ll be ready when I’m ready. You know I need to brush and then braid my hair.”

Charlotte gave up and headed into the bedroom.

I fixed my hair and followed her.

“If you had stayed and let me finish, you would have heard me tell you that, although Mr. Danner can’t come to supper this Sunday, he did say that he would love to come on another evening. Perhaps the following week.”

I shooed Charlotte off the bed so I could remove the pillows and set them aside. I opened the window a quarter of an inch, then went to the bookshelf to pick out the story we would share that evening.

“Perhaps we should shake things up a bit. We’ve been reading the classics, but how about a romance? A steamy romance.”

“Meow.”

“Oh, not too steamy.”

I continued to thumb through the books on the shelf. There were so many wonderful choices, it was hard to pick just one.

“How about
A Rose in Winter
by Kathleen Woodiwiss?”

Charlotte began to purr, and I took that as consent.

“Tonight we will begin at the beginning,” I informed Charlotte before I poured myself a cup of tea with a splash of brandy.

“This really is one of my favorites,” I said as I slid between my 1500-thread count sheets and settled in.

“Are you ready?”

Charlotte indicated that she was.

After placing my reading glasses on the edge of my nose, I adjusted the light and opened the book. Charlotte crawled into my lap and began to purr as I began to read aloud from the introduction by Kathleen Woodiwiss.

“A crimson bloom in winter’s snow,

Born out of time, like a maiden’s woe,

Spawned in a season when the chill winds blow.”

I paused and looked at Charlotte. “It’s so nice to begin with a poem.”

Charlotte purred all the louder.

“And it is so romantic.”

I touched my hand to my lips.

“When we arrived back at the house Mr. Danner leaned over, and I thought he might kiss me,” I confessed.

Charlotte patted my cheek with her paw.

“Of course he was only leaning over to grab his wallet, which he’d left in the glove box. Still, in that moment I thought that I might let him, should he try.”

I set the book aside and gathered Charlotte to my chest. Maybe one day my lips would know the touch of another’s, but that day was not today. I let the steady rhythm of Charlotte’s purr soothe my soul as I ran my hands through her thick fur. The love of a cat might not be the same as the love of a man, but for today it was enough.