Anna Meets Her Match (6 page)

He rose to open the back door of the car and drop the skates onto the floorboard while Gilli scrambled inside. Reeves got her into her safety seat, closed the door and turned to Anna. “How about you?”

“Huh?” The question made no sense to Anna, so she stood there gaping at him like a landed fish.

“Want a ride?”

“Oh! No, I’ll just—” She almost bit her tongue off, realizing only belatedly what she’d said. Why had she refused a ride up to the house? Tired and beginning to feel chilled, she dreaded that deep gravel, but it was as if her brain had gone into hibernation. Before she could bully it to full wakefulness, Reeves got in behind the steering wheel.

An instant later, the car engine started. She watched the car move up the long drive and sighed before beginning the slog up to the house.

Things weren’t turning out quite as she’d planned for some reason, but what could she do except trudge forward?

Gilli chattered happily all the way up the drive, something about ballerinas, as far as Reeves could tell. She casually mentioned falling down, as if it was no big deal, and actually laughed about “bonking” her head and how much she liked her helmet. Reeves marveled that this was the same kid who howled like she was being beaten with a whip if he so much as shook a finger in her face, not that he’d ever laid a
hand on her in anger. His stepmother, Layla, often counseled him to spank Gilli, but he’d noticed that Layla never followed her own advice with his baby sister Myra, though in fairness Myra did tend to behave better than Gilli. Reeves knew instinctively that was his fault; he just didn’t know what to do about it.

“And now I can skate!” Gilli announced, pride in every syllable. “But not in the house,” she went on, barely drawing breath. “No, no, not in the house, because of the val’ble antikies.”

“Antiques,” Reeves corrected with a smile.

“What’s antiks?”

“Furniture and things like that. Very old furniture and things. The aunties’ house is full of them.”

“If they’re old, how come they don’t throw them away,” she wanted to know, “like you threw away my shirt?”

“Because, unlike old shirts, antiques are very rare. That means they cost a lot of money. That’s why we have to be very careful with the aunties’ things.”

“Oh.” She sounded surprised but also informed, as if she’d just made a discovery.

Reeves shook his head, wondering why he hadn’t thought to explain that to her before. Anna Miranda obviously had, at least to a point. He glanced into the side mirror, watching Anna Miranda struggle up the graveled drive.

He hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when he’d first seen Gilli and Anna Miranda skating toward him, holding hands. At first, he’d been angry enough to spit. Then, once he’d accepted the fact that Gilli had obviously learned to skate, he’d felt a flash of resentment because Anna Know-It-All Miranda had been right. Remembering his promise to God the evening before, he’d said a quick prayer and tried to analyze the situation clearly.

What he had seen after that was the triumphant smile on his daughter’s face and, to his surprise, the wary expression
on Anna Miranda’s. He’d expected her to be smug, self-satisfied, perhaps even disdainful, but she had looked genuinely guarded, almost worried. With good reason. He hadn’t exactly given her the benefit of the doubt since they’d become reacquainted. Just the opposite, in fact.

From the beginning, he had assumed that she was up to no good, entertaining herself at his expense. Yet, there sat Gilli in safety gear that perfectly matched her skates, beaming and chattering like the happiest of little girls. He had to admit that, whatever Anna Miranda’s intentions, she had made his little girl very happy today.

It stung that he hadn’t been the one to do that for his daughter. It even stung a bit than Anna Miranda had refused to ride up to the house with him, but he pushed that aside, determined to concentrate on the good she had done for Gilli. And him. His daughter obviously could respond to instruction if properly given.

He brought the sedan to a halt behind Anna Miranda’s battered coupe, noting that she’d pasted a bumper sticker that said “Imagine Art” over a scratch on the trunk lid and covered a hole in her taillight with red plastic tape. He wondered if she couldn’t afford better. The idea surprised him, for the Burdetts, while not in the same league as the Chatams, were known to be well-off.

After climbing out of the car, he went for Gilli. She reached up, and because she was in her stocking feet, he pulled her into his arms and carried her toward the steps. It occurred to him that he hadn’t actually held her in a long time, and he was surprised by how much she had grown, how much she had changed. Her little muscles felt strong and lean. She wasn’t a baby anymore, and the realization clutched at his heart.

“Want to see my balaringa?” she asked hopefully.

“I think you mean ballerina, yes?”

Gilli nodded eagerly. “Her dress is so pretty. It sparkles, too. Wanna see?”

“Okay. Where is it?”

“Auntie ’Patia gots it, and she got one, too, but it is the house on it, and no sparkles.” She slashed a hand downward, emphasizing the sad lack of sparkles.

“Ah.”

He had no idea what she was talking about, not even when she said, “Anna did it.”

“Is that so?”

Gilli nodded enthusiastically. Reeves glanced down the drive. Anna Miranda was finally drawing near, huffing and puffing with the effort. He felt Gilli’s arm slip around his neck, and a love so strong and poignant seized him that it constricted his throat. He looked at her and saw the undiluted pride and joy in her eyes. It broke open something inside his chest, something cold and hard that he hadn’t even known existed. It hurt, ached, but he felt an odd sense of relief, too, as if a boil had been lanced.

Anna Miranda drew up at last, leaning against the rear fender of his car. Reeves hefted Gilli a little higher against his chest and asked her, “Have you thanked Anna Miranda for your new things and teaching you to skate?”

Gilli leaned toward Anna Miranda and shouted, “Thank you!” Apparently in her world volume added weight to gratitude.

Before Reeves could scold her, Anna Miranda laughed and shouted back. “You’re welcome!”

Gilli giggled behind her hands. For several seconds he could do nothing but revel in his daughter’s sweet laughter, glad that he hadn’t prevented it with his scolding. Finally, he turned and carried her up the steps.

“Go tell the aunties how well you’re skating now,” Reeves instructed, opening the front door and setting her on her feet in the foyer. “I’ll bring your skates in after I speak with Anna Miranda.”

Gilli waved at Anna Miranda and ran down the hallway, yelling, “I can skate! For real! I can skate!”

Reeves pulled the door closed and turned to address Anna Miranda. He didn’t quite know how to behave with her. They’d been at loggerheads for so long, despite the years without contact. Those few minutes in the coffee shop were his only frame of reference for dealing with her on a normal basis. She lifted her helmet off her head, holding it against her hip with one hand while ruffling her hair with the other. She looked tired and mussed and perfectly adorable.

Adorable?

Shaking his head, Reeves descended the shallow steps and simply said, “Thanks.”

Her delicate brows rose, her light, pure blue eyes widening. A smile tugged at her lips. “And?”

Of course, she would have her pound of flesh. Ah, well, in this case she deserved it. “And,” he said slowly, “you were right.”

Anna laid her head back against the roof of his car, her gaze moving back and forth. “Excuse me while I check to see if the sky is falling.”

He fought a sudden smile. “Very funny. But, really, you shouldn’t have done it.”

Her gaze sharpened, instantly defensive. “Your aunts gave me permission.”

“I didn’t mean
that
.”

“Well, what did you mean, then?” she snapped. “That I’m not a capable teacher? I think events prove otherwise.”

Reeves sucked in air and counted to ten. He would not, would
not
, let her spike his temper. Again. “I meant that you shouldn’t have spent your money on Gilli. I’ll reimburse you the cost of the helmet and pads.”

“No, you won’t.” She pushed away from the car and made her way to the steps, where she sat and began removing her skates.

Reeves swallowed the argument that wanted to batter its way out of his mouth and changed the subject, asking,
“What’s this about a ballerina? And something about the house?”

Anna Miranda looked up at him, smiling crookedly. “I made Valentine cards for Gilli and your aunts last night.”

Reeves’s mouth dropped open an instant before he pressed both palms to his temples. “This is the fourteenth! It’s Valentine’s Day!” And he had nothing for his daughter or aunts. Anna dropped one brow. Her expression seemed to say that he was the biggest idiot in creation. He couldn’t disagree. “Oh, man. I completely forgot! There’s this negotiation at work, and my house is all torn apart, and…”

Why even bother explaining? She’d still think he was an abysmal failure as a father and nephew, and she would be right. His aunts and daughter didn’t have to know that he’d forgotten about them, though. He shoved aside his overcoat and dug his hand into the pockets of his pants for his keys.

“I—I have to go. J-just say I’ll be back in a minute, would you? Please, Anna Miranda.”

“Okay,” she said, and he pivoted to leave, but then she added, “provided…”

Reeves froze then slowly turned back. “Provided what?” he asked sharply.

She looked him square in the eye. “Provided you stop calling me Anna Miranda.”

Of all the things she could have said, that was the last one he might have expected. “What else would I call you?”

“Anna!” she exclaimed, as if it ought to somehow be obvious. “Just Anna. It is my first name, you know.”

“B-but,” he sputtered, “you’ve always been—”

“Anna Miranda was a child,” she interrupted hotly. “Anna is an adult. Surely you’ve noticed that I am an adult.”

Oh, he had noticed, all right. He was noticing at that very moment, and it made him want to run fast in the opposite direction. But he owed her. Heaven help him, he owed Anna Mir—uh, Anna Burdett.

“I, um, won’t be long,” he said, easing back a step. “Anna.”

Going back to her skates, she him cut a sly look from the corners of her eyes. “Should I tell Gilli that you’ll have a surprise for her?”

“Um, okay.” Except…Surprise? He’d thought a card, something appropriately girlie. That suddenly seemed laughably inadequate now. He had the feeling that Anna Mir—make that just plain Anna—would have a suggestion. Not quite believing that he was doing this, he asked, “What sort of surprise would you recommend?”

A smile came and went on her face. “There’s a reason chocolate is a traditional Valentine’s Day gift. Females love it, females of every age.”

Was that a hint?
he wondered. Surely not, but…“Will you be here when I get back?”

“Maybe. I have some stuff to go over with your aunts.”

“I won’t be long,” Reeves promised again, hurrying around to drop down behind the steering wheel of his sedan.

He probably ought to have his head examined for what he was about to do, but he couldn’t see any other option. He couldn’t very well give his aunts and Gilli gifts in front of Anna Miranda. Rather,
Anna
. Besides, he owed her for teaching Gilli to skate. He would just have to pick up something for
Anna
, too. The idea made him distinctly nervous, but then he thought of a way to blunt the impact, so to speak. He’d also buy small gifts for the household staff. It was only fair. Hilda, Carol and Chester looked after Gilli as much as his aunts did, and they took care of him, too. Yes, he definitely ought to demonstrate his gratitude to the staff of Chatam House.

“Thank You for the reminder, Lord, and thank You again for the sanctuary of Chatam House,” he whispered as he started the car and made the loop in the driveway that would take him back to the street. “I’m trying to take advantage of this opportunity that You’ve given me to do better with my
daughter.” He drew a deep breath before adding, “And thank You for Anna. I’m trying to do better with her, too.”

Who knew? They might even wind up friends.

Now, wouldn’t that be a kick in the head?

“H
ow wonderful,” Hypatia said in reply to Gilli’s exuberant account of her adventure in skating.

Gilli’s head bobbed like a bouncing rubber ball, and all the while she chattered. “They aren’t too big for extra socks. My nose got cold, but not my toes, and not my hands and not my head. And it didn’t even hurt when I fell down.” She glanced around, then asked, “Where’s Daddy?”

“He’ll be in soon,” Anna told her, “with a surprise.”

Gilli gasped.

“You must be hungry after all that exercise,” Magnolia said, getting to her feet. “Hilda ought to have something special to eat in the kitchen.”

“Excellent,” Hypatia said as Magnolia trundled off. “Now about the samples…”

Gilli got up to hang over the arm of Anna’s chair, but she quickly grew tired of the conversation and began to whine until Magnolia came in bearing a tray crowded with the paraphernalia of a proper tea, including a platter of heart-shaped cookies with red icing. Moments later, when Reeves came in, a big bag in one hand and Gilli’s skates in the other, Gilli was sitting on the floor at the end of the coffee table, drinking
milk from a cup with a chip on the bottom rim and munching on cookies. Hypatia rescued the teacup when Gilli leaped up and literally threw herself at her father.

“Now, now,” Reeves admonished mildly, working his way around the table. “Patience.” He sat on the floor with Gilli. Mags jumped up to go for another cup, but he forestalled her. “Wait! I have something for you to take to the kitchen with you.”

“What is it? What is it?” Gilli screeched, bouncing on her knees.

He held her off with one hand while he delved into the bag with the other, pulling out at least a half-dozen envelopes and a like number of small heart-shaped candy boxes, which he placed on the top of the coffee table. Gilli squealed with delight as he matched the cards to the boxes and passed them out.

“This is for you,” he said, handing his daughter the pink box and envelope. While she shredded the envelope to get at the card inside, he simultaneously placed a red box and white envelope in Hypatia’s lap and a flowered box and purple envelope in Odelia’s.

“My favorite!” Odelia exclaimed, clutching the box of chocolate-covered cherries.

“And mine,” Hypatia said, over the box of solid chocolates in her lap.

Magnolia got chocolate-covered pecan pralines, to her laughing delight, and a bright green envelope. He handed over two more cards and boxes, one of the latter larger than the other.

“These are for Carol and Hilda and Chester,” Reeves told. “I didn’t think I ought to buy Chester his own box. What do you think?”

“I’d say not,” Mags told him, pointing to the white satin box and pale blue envelope left on the table, “but then who is that for?”

Anna’s heart sped up when Reeves’s gaze met hers.
For me?
she thought, swallowing a gasp.

“To thank you,” he said, as if he’d read her mind.

Odelia squeaked like a mouse. Magnolia shot her sister an oddly triumphant glance as she turned away, laden with goodies for the kitchen. It was Hypatia’s calm, warm smile that helped Anna reach forward with trembling fingers to gather in the box of assorted chocolates and the card.

“H-happy Valentine’s,” she managed just as Gilli, who had dispensed with her card and been busily tearing the cellophane off her box, spilled pieces of candy across her father’s lap.

“Whoa!” he said, frowning, but then Gilli threw her arms around his neck, her mouth stuffed with the one piece of chocolate she’d managed to get her hands on. His expression froze, but the poignancy that shone from his brown eyes squeezed Anna’s foolish heart.

Suddenly, she felt like that needy little girl again, the one who would do anything to be noticed, to prove that she was wanted. Slightly panicked and feeling terribly conspicuous, Anna shot to her feet, juggling her portfolio with Reeves’s shocking gift. She hadn’t even read the card yet. Curiosity all but burned a hole in her brain, but she could not bring herself to open that envelope in company.

“I—I have to run. It’s been…” For one horrible moment, her mind went totally blank, but then Reeves dropped his gaze, beginning to help Gilli pick up the candy pieces and return them to the box. As if released from some invisible grip, Anna’s thoughts began to whir again. “It’s been quite a morning.”

“Oh, don’t hurry off, Anna Miranda dear,” Odelia urged.

“Actually,” Reeves put in, his gaze carefully averted, “I think she prefers to be called just plain Anna these days.” His eyes met hers then. “Isn’t that so, Anna?”

For some insane reason she said, “All my best friends do.
C-call me Anna, that is.” She could have kicked herself for saying such an inane thing. “I—I really have to go.”

“I’ll walk you out,” Hypatia said, starting to rise.

“No, no.” Anna moved swiftly toward the entry hall. “I know the way. Enjoy your tea before it gets cold. I’ll be in touch.”

She practically ran from the room, relieved that Hypatia sank back down into her chair. As she made her escape, one crazy notion kept circulating through Anna’s mind. Reeves Leland had bought her a Valentine’s Day gift.
Reeves Leland
had bought her a Valentine’s Day gift.

Her heart pounding, she rushed home to her apartment and feverishly let herself inside. Tossing her keys into a bowl atop a plant stand near the door, she dumped the portfolio in the single chair that comprised her living room furniture before carrying the card and candy box to the drawing board that took up the majority of the space. Carefully, Anna peeled back the flap of the envelope and pulled the card free.

It was a thank-you card.

Tamping down her disappointment, she peeled the cellophane from the candy box and lifted off the lid. She popped a chocolate piece into her mouth. As orange cream melted on her tongue, she mused that at least the card had a heart of pink lace and a bouquet of yellow and blue flowers on the front. Plus, to be fair, the sentiment was appropriate. She opened the card and read it aloud around the remnants of the chocolate.

“You did a thoughtful thing when you didn’t have to, and your efforts are greatly appreciated. God bless you.” It was signed, “Reeves Kyle Leland.”

The doofus had signed it with his full name, as if there might have been another Reeves in the room. Why were men so stupid? Every man she had ever known was clueless, not that she’d known very many.

Anna picked another candy from the box and let her
thumb sink into its middle, cracking the chocolate shell to reveal the pink cream inside. The faint aroma of strawberries teased her nose. She slipped the candy into her mouth, taste buds exploding with chocolate and strawberry, and looked around at the cramped little apartment, which was all she could afford on her meager salary.

With a living room turned studio, despite the sagging, slip-covered chair in the corner, and a kitchen the size of a linen closet, she mostly lived in her bedroom, which made entertaining problematic, not that she had much company. Most of her women friends were married now and starting families, and she made sure to keep the few men she dated well away from here.

Pensively sucking the tip of her thumb clean, Anna folded the card and slid it back into its envelope. As she picked another chocolate from the box, she told herself that it did not matter that the card lacked any romantic sentiment. The days when Reeves Kyle Leland had been a hero to her were long gone. Now he was just an acquaintance, an oblivious father with a little girl too much like herself. If the yawning pit of longing inside her felt unhappily reminiscent of high school, well, Anna knew better than to expect that to have changed. It would be enough, she told herself, if they could just be friends. It would, in fact, be more than she had any reason to hope for.

Reeves pushed away his plate and sat back in his chair, his gaze going to his daughter, seated opposite him next to Odelia. Aunt Mags occupied the chair beside him, while Hypatia, naturally, sat at the head of the massive Renaissance Revival table, leaving the foot and six more chairs empty. Running a finger along the gadrooned edge of the table, Reeves tried not to listen to the
clunk, clunk, clunk
of Gilli’s shoes against the stylized Corinthian column that supported the dark, parquet top. She had been a perfect little darling all
through dinner, and he hated to upset the applecart by reprimanding her for kicking the table leg with her rubber-toed tennies. It wasn’t as if she was doing damage to the table. For some reason, though, his nerves had been on edge all evening, as if the world had unexpectedly shifted on its axis and thrown everything off balance.

He had felt this way once before. That had been the day when Marissa had announced that she was not ready for a child, despite the fact that she was pregnant. She had proposed that they “put off” parenthood. In one horrific moment, he had realized how fundamentally selfish his wife was and that his feelings for her had irrevocably changed. Why he should think of that now, though, he couldn’t imagine. It wasn’t as if anything had really changed today. Sure, Gilli had learned to skate, but why should that rock his world? Yet, something was different. It was as if a cavern had opened in the floor of the ocean, sucked up all the water and spewed it out again in another direction.

He stared at his daughter, trying to figure out what had happened. She looked up from her plate and smiled, her mouth full of buttered brioche. He thought about correcting her table manners but didn’t.

“I have dessert now, Daddy?”

He sat forward and made a show of assessing her plate, which had been picked almost clean despite the cookies and chocolate on which she had dined earlier. “Okay.”

“You did very well,” Odelia praised her.

Gilli beamed. “I get one piece, don’t I, Daddy?”

Nodding, he watched as Hypatia produced that one piece of airy chocolate and crisp rice. Gilli gobbled it down.

“What do you say?” Reeves coached automatically.

To his surprise, she ran around the table and threw herself against him, crying, “Thank you!”

All the water in the ocean rushed back into that undersea cavern. He felt as helpless against it as a piece of flotsam
wafting to the ocean floor, waiting to be thrown willy-nilly in a direction it had never traveled before.

Awkwardly, he patted his daughter’s back, suggesting, “Why don’t you go play until bath time, hmm?”

She ran out of the room without another word or a backward glance.

“I knew Anna Miranda would be good for her,” Odelia gushed.

Whoosh! The tide spewed and flung him blindly out to sea. He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat and tried to keep his voice level and casual. “Learning to skate certainly seems to have given Gilli a sense of accomplishment.”

“And it’s Anna, dear,” Hypatia reminded her sister gently.

“Oh. Yes. Amazing what a little time and patient instruction can accomplish with one so young,” Odelia went on. “Who’d have thought it?
Anna
was just brilliant with Gilli today. Don’t you agree, Reeves?”

He opened his mouth but couldn’t find a thing to say that wouldn’t drown him, so he closed it again and tilted his head in what might have been construed as a nod. But how, he wondered, could Anna Miranda Burdett be a good influence on his impressionable daughter? Okay, she’d been right about it being time to teach Gilli to skate, though Reeves still privately marveled that anyone could get Gilli to concentrate long enough to do something as physically complicated as skating. That did not mean that Anna knew more about his daughter than he. Did it?

Odelia apparently thought so. “If ever a woman was born to understand a child,” she pressed on, “it’s Anna Miranda and Gilli.” No one corrected her use of Anna’s full name this time.

Reeves felt as if he was choking. “Excuse me,” he said, dropping his napkin onto his plate. “I’d better check on Gilli.”

He left the dining room as sedately as he could manage, despite feeling as if he was being dragged down into that
undersea cavern again. Only God knew when and where the unmanageable sea of difficulties that was his life would spit him up next time, but he had the unsettling feeling that wherever that new shore might be, Anna Miranda Burdett would be there waiting. Worse, he feared that Odelia just might be right about her. But, if Anna was actually good for his daughter, then what did that make him?

The problem, he decided. That made him the problem. Just as Marissa had said.

Maybe, he told himself bleakly, it would be best if Marissa did take over raising their daughter. If only he could convince himself that Marissa really cared for Gilli and not whatever financial support might come with her. He just didn’t know what was best anymore, and he wasn’t sure now that he ever had.

“Nooooo!” Gilli twisted and pulled, trying to free herself of Reeves’s hold as he divested her of her coat.

“Cut it out now,” Reeves scolded, keeping his voice pitched low. “You know you have to go to Sunday school.”

“I don’t want to!”

Somehow he’d expected her good behavior to carry over from the day before, but she’d been fighting him all morning, first over what to eat for breakfast and then over getting dressed. Gilli insisted that she hated the dark green velvet and black satin dress that Aunt Mags had given her for Christmas, but it was a cold-weather dress that was already too small, and Reeves figured that if she didn’t wear it now, she wouldn’t get to wear it at all, which would undoubtedly hurt Magnolia’s feelings. After he’d gotten Gilli outfitted in black tights, black patent leather shoes and the abhorred dress, he’d had to badger her into the very coat that she didn’t want to take off now. He simply could not fathom what her problem was today.

Glancing around at the families passing through the
hallway of the children’s education wing, Reeves wondered why his daughter had to be the only one to balk at going into her class. She had done so almost since she’d been promoted to the three-year-old room six weeks ago. To calm her, he released his grip on her coat but blocked her flight with his body, trapping her against the wall.