Peaches in Winter (7 page)

He started to close the door, wondering if everybody in the country was as slow on the uptake as this young man.

“She won’t talk to me.”

“What?” Jake paused unwillingly.

“I tried. She won’t talk to me.” Now the hat in his hands looked like it belonged there. Wetness lurked behind the defiance in the boy’s eyes. He looked as if he was daring Jake to make something of it and at the same time pleading for help.

Jake sighed. Holding the door, still wanting to shut it, he relented. “Do you want to leave a message for her?” Betty would be home—back, that is—any time now, and if she had refused to talk to this young man previously, she would almost certainly not wish to run into him now, caught unawares. Best send the lad on his way and take any message he had for Betty.

“Tell her—tell her—I’m really sorry. I want her to marry me. And I’ll never look at another woman again.”

For an instant, Jake stared at him, thunderstruck. Delivering another man’s proposal? It was ludicrous. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

He recovered himself after a moment and murmured, “I should think if she won’t speak to you, she has her reasons. I’m not going to propose for you. If you’ve cheated on her already, you probably don’t deserve her. Good day, sir!” And he closed the door in the young man’s face.

He stood for a moment, grinding his teeth, one hand still on the door, the other clenched in a fist. Then he slumped against the door, breathing raggedly.

If that young man was not gone by the time he counted twenty-five, Jake would go out there himself and escort him away!

He was determined Betty would not run into this callow youth again if he had anything to say about it.

Asking Betty to marry him—before Jake could!

Chapter Eight

Betty set the bag of groceries down on the counter and let out a gust of breath. The crowds had been brutal. She felt invigorated from the rush and from managing to buy everything she’d planned to buy, despite the crush at the market. She brushed back draggling and sweaty curls from her face, feeling exhilarated by the walk in the chilly air.

She felt relieved as well because she’d had a long talk with God during her walk, and she’d finally put her mixed-up, confused feelings about Jake into His hands. She felt more free and lighter than she had in a long time.

She stopped in the process of fluffing and shaking back her hair.

“Oh! Mr. Watterson, I didn’t see you there.”

He leaned in the shadowy corner of the doorway to the kitchen, his arms crossed. His face was covered in the shadows, making him look inscrutable, almost dark and sinister, in a stage-play villain sort of way.

As she spoke, he detached himself from the shadows and stepped toward her, becoming the same old Jake. Her insides fluttered briefly and were still. She reminded herself sternly she had given those feelings to God.

Jake looked awfully grim.

A bit of her happiness came back, and she wanted to share it with him.

“Mr. Watterson, don’t stand there like the angel of death!” She stretched toward him, bringing her hand out and caught his, then released it. “Grab your coat! You need a walk.”

She spun away from him, laughing and feeling so ludicrously cheerful, even brave enough to boss him around.

He’d been so dreadfully grumpy this week. She knew he was probably thinking and worrying about the party too much, but really, who wouldn’t be “down in the dumps” if they never got fresh air and exercise? Betty knew there were plenty of people who couldn’t leave their house because of illness or disability, or because they were just too old or weak to manage it. But Jake Watterson was not one of those people, and he was going outside—one way or the other!

Perhaps he sensed her determination. Wordlessly, he caught his coat off the rack and followed her out the door. Betty breathed out a little fog of air and shoved her hands into her coat pockets. She already felt rejuvenated from her walk to buy groceries, but the outdoors still felt welcoming and nice to her.

“Even in the city, it’s beautiful out.” She looked over at Mr. Watterson and grinned. She moved closer and hooked an arm through his elbow. “What are you looking so grim about?” The dark circles under his eyes looked worse in the sunlight. He didn’t answer, so she continued. “It’s a beautiful day! Breathe the air! Look at the trees!” She gestured expansively to them with her free hand.

She puffed fog into the air and tripped along beside him, holding onto his arm like a child and smiling. For the moment, nothing else mattered. It was just the two of them, walking in the winter wonderland.

“Look at that!” As they reached the park, she pointed to thin branches overhead encased in ice. In the breeze, they moved against each other, making little crackling noises, winter’s own wind chimes.

She grinned at him. “I never get over that! It’s like a rainbow—just so pretty!”

Jake made a half snort, half laugh sound. He shook his head, smiling grudgingly. “Betty, you’re a wonder.”

“Oh!”

Now his brown eyes shone with reluctant good
humor. “Tell me about yourself, Betty. Where were you born? What are your hopes and dreams? How did you come to waste your talents working for me?”

Betty laughed. “My talents? Isn’t that a bit much, Mr. Watterson? I mean, I can barely type. I just cook for you!”

“And cheer me up, despite my better judgment.”

Betty turned her face away from him because she was starting to blush. It was almost overpoweringly
interesting
being next to him like this. He seemed happy for once, and somehow very attentive and alert to her.

She found him intriguing even when he was busy running his hands through his hair, misplacing his pencil, and tapping out words on his typewriter. Now, when he was smiling at her and asking her about herself, she could barely contain the soft, fluttery feeling inside her chest.

Perhaps she hadn’t handled all of those feelings toward him yet.

“Um…” She gulped, thinking hard and trying to answer his questions. “I’m just a normal girl. Born in the country, raised on a farm. I didn’t do very good at school, but I tried hard.” She smiled in reminiscence. “I milked the cows every day and used to earn money sometimes by babysitting or selling lemonade or cookies. I always loved to cook. I learned from my mother and grandmother.”

Because Betty was used to cooking, she didn’t think of it as a great skill. She felt almost as though she’d been born knowing how. Now, she realized this wasn’t true.
I learned from my mother and grandmother.

He gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “Why did you decide to become a secretary?”

“Oh, I always wanted to be one. I don’t know why. It sounded like such fun, working at an office, making things neat and tidy, and making those machines type down all the words somebody else was saying.” She turned away from him briefly. “Well, it turns out I’m not that good at it, and it’s not quite what I thought…but I’m glad I got the chance to try. I’d saved some money from my bake sales, and babysitting, and then I got the chance to go to school here in the city.” She turned away from him with a faint smile, hoping to skip over and avoid mentioning the reason she’d decided to come in such a hurry. Maybe he didn’t need to know that; certainly she didn’t mean to volunteer it!

“But—”

“Oh by the way, Mr. Watterson, I finished your book!”

“You did?” He drew his brows up and his head tilted back in a look of surprise. “Which one?”

“Oh, the-the one about the grandma, and the stolen cake, with the diamonds in it!”

“The—” For an instant he looked puzzled, and then his face cleared. “The Missing Mustang. Yes.”

“I thought that was really clever!”

“Why, thank you.” A slow smile spread across his face.

“I’d never have thought of all that stuff. It was really inventive. And I never guessed the ending! To be honest, I thought the mailman did it.” She laughed self-consciously at her own silliness. “But it all made sense when you wrote it out.”

He reached up and scratched at his chin. “Thank you, Betty. That means a lot.”

“What are you going to be wearing for the party?” asked Betty, changing subjects suddenly.

He hesitated. “
Er, a good suit. Why?” He looked like he wanted to talk about his story more, and she made a mental note to return to the subject and not let her attention flit around from subject to subject quite so much.

She thought of the dresses she had back at her apartment: the gingham one, the professional-looking brown one for work, and the spring-like dress she had originally worn when she first met Mr. Watterson. He was sure to show her up unless his “good suit” was ratty and second-hand. She couldn’t imagine looking fit to go to a party with him in any of those dresses.

She glanced at him. “It’s just I don’t want to be under-dressed, but I don’t have anything really fancy to wear.”

“Well, we could fix that,” said Jake, looking faintly pleased. He turned and led her back toward the street.

“Where are we going?”

“To buy you a nice party dress. I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”

“Oh! But— I couldn’t let you!”

“Why not?” He kept walking, his hand gently on her elbow, leading her.

“I— you pay me too much already! I…couldn’t let you…pay for…a dress!”

“Oh?” said Jake. He looked at her, and his eyes snapped with good
humor and friendliness. His gaze took the breath right out of her, left her gasping inwardly, and made her lose her train of thought.

Jake smiled. “It’s my fault you’re coming to the party, so I may as well pay for the extra clothing you need to buy to attend it. That’s only fair, isn’t it? By the way, I can’t let you keep calling me Mr. Watterson. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” said Betty rather breathlessly.

“Then call me ‘Jake.’ Okay?” He said it so simply and kindly; she could only nod.

“Come on.” He slipped his arm through hers. “Let’s go find you a dress!”

~*~

“How about this one?” Betty murmured to herself as she twirled in front of the mirror in the changing room and made a face at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling at her reflection in a silly grin. She wore a cute little black dress that made her look better than she’d have thought possible, accentuating her womanly curves without making her look as though she was trying to show them off.

For the last five minutes, she had been trying to work up her nerve to leave the room and ask Jake his opinion. She thought he might like it but didn’t really know. Mostly, she felt self-conscious and a little shy for him to see her looking so—good.

But if he’s paying for the dress, I ought to show it to him first!
After all, she reasoned, he would know whether it was the right sort of dress for one of Mr. Armstrong’s parties or not.

She loved it. It made her look so grown-up. She didn’t look like a kid playing dress up. And best of all, she didn’t look clumsy! Why, anyone wearing a dress like this would never bump into things! Although, that would make it all the more embarrassing if she did…

She emerged from the dressing room slowly, slipping back into her black work shoes.

“How do I look?” she murmured, feeling a bit warm in the face.

Jake jumped up from the bench where he’d been seated. From the admiring look on his face, Betty knew she had made a good choice. Trying to control her blush, she twirled slowly around, so he could view the full effect.

“Wow!” said Jake. He cleared his throat. “That looks…really nice. It makes you look older and more mature, and…well….” he cleared his throat, “very nice.”

Betty grinned from ear to ear. She ducked her head a little. “It’s not cheap.”

“That doesn’t matter. You’ll look great for Matt’s party…really respectable.”

She ducked her head again. “Th-thanks,” she said and retreated quickly. She got into the privacy of the changing room and leaned with one hand against the mirror, one pressed against her mouth. She did look pretty in the dress. Jake said so.

The only thing was, she didn’t care whether she looked nice for Matt or any other man in the world. She only wanted to look gorgeous for Jake.

What am I feeling?
It had been building for the last several weeks, and now it boiled over like a pan of caramel left on the heat too long. Betty could no longer deny that Jake had become the most handsome, the most beautiful man in the world to her. And she barely knew him!

He was her employer. Or was it employee? She could never remember which was which. Betty blinked at herself in the mirror and then shook her head. It didn’t matter; he’d hired her.

Well, technically, Mr. Armstrong had hired her, but she worked for Jake.

And he was older. And dour of disposition. And he probably didn’t feel anything for her at all! Sometimes he seemed to think she was rather silly and juvenile. It made her look mature, this dress. He’d said so. Perhaps that meant she usually looked the opposite—immature. Childish.

What was I thinking?

As she changed slowly, Betty felt sad inside, sad and frightened by her strong feelings for Jake.

Her Jake.

No! He’s not mine!

Had she escaped the country to recover from her broken heart over Jimmy only to fall into a worse heartbreak?

~*~

Outside the dressing room, Jake paced.

That. Gorgeous. Dress. Or rather, that gorgeous Betty-in-a-dress.

It made him feel warm inside all over again when he thought of how good she’d looked in it.

He felt jealous over her, too; he hadn’t wanted any other man in the whole world to see her looking that good. He’d wanted to hide her in her silly little girl dresses until she was his and his alone!

He blinked at the disconcerting thoughts before him.
Do you really want to marry this girl, Jake Watterson? Is that it?

He searched his feelings and felt surprise at what they told him.

Jake Watterson would gladly sink to one knee today, if he thought there was any possibility she’d accept him. Or that he’d be worthy of her...