Lambert's Peace (11 page)

When the hallway clock cuckooed at nine, Will stood, declared Grant the king of chess, and said, “I need to go home while I still have some dignity.”

Grant slapped his knee. “I was about to checkmate.”

Will grinned. “I know.”

Taylor watched from the chaise chair where she sat curled up with the
New York Times
and the
Boston Globe
.

“Anything interesting?” Will asked, stopping by her chair.

Grant walked past, calling to his wife, “Trixie, Will's leaving.”

Taylor answered without looking up. “Lots of things. Mostly keeping up on the stock market.”

Will moved the folded front page of the
Times
so he could sit on the arm of the chair. “I'm sorry—”

“It was lovely to have you tonight, Will.” Trixie held out his coat, her perfect smile lighting her petite face.

“Thank you, Trixie. Dinner was delicious.”

“Oh, let me wrap up some for you to take home.” She handed Will's coat to her husband and bustled out of the family room toward the kitchen.

Grant gave Will his coat. “I think I'll get some ice cream,” he said and left the room.

Will considered his next words to Taylor since he was sure he only had a few seconds before Grant and Trixie returned. “I didn't mean to upset you.”

“I know you didn't.”

He looked across the room. “So, where does this leave us?”

“I don't know.”

“Here you go, Will.” Trixie handed him a square plastic container.

“You spoil me,” he said, taking the lasagna and giving her a light hug. “Thank you.”

“You've been so good to Grant.” She stood perfectly straight, her hands clasped together.

“We like to take care of our
family
.”

Grant hollered from the kitchen, “I can't find the ice cream scoop.” Trixie excused herself.

Taylor stared in the direction of the kitchen. “Dad's addicted to ice cream. It's his kryptonite.”

Will pulled on his coat. “I probably fell in love with you over a scoop of chocolate in a sugar cone.”

“I suppose so,” she said.

He wondered when she fell in love with him but didn't ask. “Would you like to get some ice cream?” She looked up. “Now?” He shrugged. “Sure.”

She shook her head. “It's late—and snowing. I'll pass.”

He nodded. “See you tomorrow then?”

“Yes.” Taylor flipped the edges of the newspaper.

“When are you …” He stopped.

“Going to dinner with Jordan?”

He nodded.

“Friday.”

“Good night, Taylor,” he said, turning to leave then paused. “See you tomorrow.”

She looked at him. “Yes, see you tomorrow.”

Driving home, Will prayed, sorry his kiss caused such a quarrel. But he loved her. He knew that now, and he wouldn't give up until she loved him, too.

Jordan tried too hard, in Taylor's opinion. He reeked of cologne, his hair glistened with too much gel, and his normally graceful gait looked stiff and robotic.

He stared straight ahead the entire movie, and when they left the theater with hordes of other White Birch citizens, they walked to his car in silence.

Where was the fun, relaxed Jordan from the football game?

“Sorry about the mess,” he said, moving more of his football gear to the backseat. A teacher, Jordan used his car as an office, or so it seemed to Taylor.

“What subjects do you teach?”

“I teach Phys Ed, of course, and I coach. I also teach a couple of history classes. I'm a little bit of a buff, as they say.”

“What's your favorite historical time?” Taylor asked, settling in the passenger seat. The hinge moaned and squeaked as Jordan shoved the passenger door closed.

“World War One. It's an interesting time in world history,” Jordan said when he got in his side of the car. “I've always loved the mystique behind Teddy Roosevelt.”

“Yes, he's a fascinating man.”

He placed his arm between the bucket seats, his right hand on the headrest behind her, and stared at her for a second. Taylor fidgeted with her hands and wished he'd start the engine.

She thought he might kiss her, so she moved back an inch.

He touched her shoulder and asked, “Where to now?”

She shrugged and quickly glanced at the dash clock. Nine thirty. “Where would you like to go?” She hated to suggest home already.

“Peri's Perk is a fun place on Friday nights. Lots of the town folks out, and there's usually a guitar player.” She smiled. “Sounds good.”

It was late when Will left Lambert's Furniture. He didn't bother checking on Taylor. She'd worked late most nights this week, but he knew she had a date tonight.

He tried not to picture Jordan laughing and talking with her, looking into her green eyes. His cell phone chirped. “Hello.”

“Hello, son, it's Grandpa.”

Will unlocked his truck, hunching against the icy night wind. “What's up?”

“Grandma thought you might want some dinner.”

Will laughed. “As a matter of fact, I do.” He'd been planning to stop by anyway. He needed advice.

When Will entered the Lamberts' home on the hill, he hung his coat by the kitchen door. Next to the oven, Grandma stirred batter in a large bowl.

She smiled at him. “Let me get you a bowl of chili and a couple slices of warm bread.”

Will kissed her on the cheek. “They don't make them like you anymore.”

Her blue eyes sparkled. “I hear they're making them prettier and taller these days. Skinnier, too.”

Will shook his head. “Just cheap imitations.”

She laughed. “Scoot. Go see your grandpa.”

In the living room, Grandpa swayed back and forth in his rocker. “How are things with your new consultant?”

“Worth every penny we've been paying her,” Will said. “She's already saved us ten thousand dollars on the HBS deal.”

Grandpa chuckled. “Not surprised to hear that.”

“Here you go, Will.” Grandma set a tray with steaming chili and hot, buttered bread on the coffee table. “What do you want to drink?”

Will shrugged. “Whatever you got. Water's fine.”

“How about tea? Hot or iced?”

Will looked up at her. “Iced tea is good, but you don't have to wait on me, Grandma.”

She fluttered out of the room. “Of course I do.”

Grandpa regarded him. “What's on your mind?”

Will scooted to the edge of the couch, stirring the chili, letting it cool. “How did you win the heart of the prettiest lady in White Birch?”

Grandpa belly-laughed. “You're asking me?”

“Yes.” Will slurped a spoonful of chili. Still too hot.

Leaning forward, Grandpa said, “I had the sympathy, man-in-uniform angle going for me.”

Will laughed. “Are you telling me if it weren't for World War II, I might not be here?”

“There's a real possibility.” Grandpa's smile seemed to make his dark eyes twinkle. “You'd better talk to your grandma about winning over a woman's heart.”

“What's this?” Grandma came in with a tall glass of tea.

“Will needs our help, Betty.”

She sat down and placed her hands in her lap. “You got ten minutes. Cookies are in the oven.”

Will laughed. “Tell me how to win Taylor. She thinks our time has passed. Too late. Lost what we once had.”

Grandma waved her hand. “Taylor's easy, Will. She already loves you. I can see it in her eyes. You just need to let her know that no matter what, you're going to be there for her. Never let her go. Prove whatever happened between you ten years ago won't happen again.”

Will grinned. Simple. Wise. Brilliant. Hopefully, not impossible.

“Well, well. Will Adams, we meet again.” Mia Wilmington sashayed down the aisle toward him just as he tossed a forty-pound bag of dog food to his shoulder.

“Mia. Hello.” He smiled but felt awkward seeing her again.

“What are you doing at Sinclair's alone on a Friday night? A man like you ought to have a pretty woman on his arm.”

He agreed. But at the moment she was out with Jordan West. Pointing to the bag on his shoulder, he answered her question. “Dog needs food.”

“How sweet. Is there anything more romantic than a man who loves animals?” Mia tapped his arm with her well-manicured hand and batted her thick eyelashes.

He took a step back. “I suppose there are lots of things.”

She chortled. “Oh, you. Listen, let's go for a coffee or something.”

“No, I'd better get home.”

“Oh, come on now. Don't leave me hanging. You never did call after our date.”

Will winced. He didn't mean to be rude to Mia, but he knew his affections belonged to Taylor.

“Well … “

“Come on, be a sport.”

“I guess one cup of coffee with a friend would be all right.” While he enjoyed Grandma's chili, a cup of Peri's coffee would top off his night.

“Sure, friend,” she said coyly.

Jordan held open the door to Peri's. “Can you believe this weather?” Jordan asked, picking the first available table.

“Cold for November, isn't it?” Taylor shivered and tucked her hands under her arms, breathing in the heady scent of blended coffees and teas and something that smelled like grilled bread.

Jordan offered to take her coat, but she declined. “Need to warm up for a second.”

“Sorry that old beater of mine doesn't have better heat. I'd buy a new car, but I'm building a house, so all my money is tied up.”

Taylor nodded and smiled. “How nice. A new house.”

“Yeah, it's been a dream for a long time. Shall we order?” Jordan jumped to his feet. “What'll it be? Coffee, latte, tea?”

“Hot chocolate. Large. Extra hot,” Taylor said.

“Coming up.”

A chorus of “Hey, Coach” rose from Peri's patrons as Jordan made his way to the counter. He waved and clapped a couple of the younger men on the shoulder.

When he returned with steaming mugs and sat down across from Taylor, they smiled at each other, then stared in opposite directions, their conversation fading away.