Jennifer Greene - Silver and Spice

“You’ve got a good head for finance, Anne, but that doesn’t mean you’re limited to working in a bank. You could be a broker or a CPA. I’ve been telling you that I need some financial advice, but you haven’t helped me at all. You could at least lift your wings-even if you don’t want to spread them.” The last seemed to come out in a mild roar; then Jake changed subjects so smoothly she almost missed the transition. “This outfit looks better. The first blouse pulled under your arms. This one-”

“You don’t really need my help,” she blurted out.

“The hell I don’t.”

“You know perfectly well you made up the whole thing about wanting a trust.”

“I don’t care what I made up. I need your help.”

She drew in the first deep breath she’d taken in several minutes. Jake’s critical eye was fastened on the mirror, taking in the pink and tan flannel molded softly over her breasts. The tan cords fit like an Italian kid glove. Unobtrusively, she stole a glance at her rear end in the mirror, and was not overly thrilled at what she saw. “These pants are too tight,” she said swiftly.

“They are not.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Bend over.”

Enough was very close to enough. She glared at him.

“Test them out,” he said patiently. “Bend over-see what happens.”

Nothing remarkable happened. Jake gave a short, boring lecture on the fit of jeans. Anne cut him off in midsentence. “Look. You must know that if I ever thought you really needed me, Jake, I would be there. It’s not-”

“Good. I do.”

The saleswoman was waiting for them with a sassy grin. Anne had the feeling the woman had heard enough to last her the rest of the day, and now Jake was arguing with her over who was going to pay for the outfit…at least until he pulled out his wallet.

A sheepish grin came over his face as he glanced up at Anne. “All I have is four dollars and thirty-five cents.”

She started chuckling as she paid the bill, and was still chuckling as they drove to the bank. Jake paid for lunch. Corned beef on rye with dill pickles. “We have to get you some shoes,” he said abruptly.

“I have tons of shoes.”

“Not the kind to wear with jeans.”

He purchased ankle-high boots in a soft deer hide, nothing Anne would have chosen for herself in a thousand years. Back in the motor home, she relaxed in the passenger seat and enjoyed the feel of new soft textures next to her skin. Jake kept casting her wayward grins.

Her heart was trying to work itself into a major anxiety attack over the subjects they had broached in the clothing store, but the momentum seemed to be lacking. Jake had dropped the topics like hot potatoes, just as if they had never been mentioned.

After they left Coeur d’Alene, the road wound along the water’s edge for miles. Wolf Lodge Bay, Beauty Bay, Gotham Bay, Silver Beach…the sparkling blue waters of the endless lake snuggled into coves at every turn. In spots, tall white pines and paper birch hugged the shore. Suddenly there was a row of unique cottages and homes; then red rock cliffs edged right down to the side of the road. The gold leaves of autumn were reflected in the mirror-still surface of the water. Ferns played on the forest floor, turned apricot for the season.

Jake pulled off the lake road and motioned below…another private cove, with three spacious homes set far apart on the wooded shores. “What do you think?” he asked her.

Anne had no problem. “Gorgeous.”

“Of the three houses, which is your favorite?”

She studied each one, treating the game with mock seriousness. The first was an A-frame with a glass front and a wooden balcony, very trim and attractive. The second was a three-story brick house, narrow and tall, built into the side of a ravine with balconies on all three floors and immaculate landscaping.

The third had forest-green wooden siding and was built low, half on the water, with ceiling-to-floor glass paneling in a huge room that jutted out over the lake. The green house wasn’t meticulously landscaped like the others. Sprawling trees and bushes created a privacy that the other houses lacked. A deck extended from the glassed-in room, leading out to a gazebo over the water, and one side of the house held a triangular stained-glass window that caught the sunlight on the lake and sent back rainbows.

“You like the brick one, I’m betting,” Jake said.

The more, conventional, conservative one. Anne shook her head. “Sorry, Jake, but I can’t always fit the mold. It’s the green one that draws me-”

He let out a loud, pent-up sigh. “Thank God.” He sent her a happy smile. “That one’s ours, honey.”

“I’m almost certain I misheard you,” Anne said crisply.

“I’ve only owned the house for four months, Anne, and haven’t had the time to really do much with it. You’ll have to see what you want.”

Relaxed and easy, Jake parked the motor home not five minutes later. Redwood steps led down the steep slope between the driveway and the house. Jake took them ahead of Anne, pausing only when he realized she was standing in utter shock at the top of the steps. “Don’t you want to see it?” he inquired politely.

“Since when have you ever had the least interest in acquiring a house?” she blurted out.

“Never, particularly. I don’t really care where I hang my hat. But you do, don’t you, Anne?”

His words sent a shiver up and down her spine. Her new boots suddenly picked themselves up and took off down the stairs after him. “Jake-”

“The grounds require almost no care. There’s no lawn to mow, since the woods lead right up to the beach. That’s not the reason I bought the house, though. I couldn’t resist that glassed-in room over the lake.”

Not the usual motivation for buying a piece of real estate. Head swimming, Anne stepped through the doorway ahead of him.

The house was built in a basic square, with a kitchen island set kitty-corner in the center of the main living area. Its counter faced the glass-enclosed living area. Two low, well-stuffed couches in cantaloupe faced the lake as well as the stone fireplace. Near the hearth was an area that could serve as a living room, although at the moment there wasn’t a stick of furniture in it. Off-white carpeting ran through both rooms, thick and springy beneath Anne’s feet.

She kept moving, out of the living-dining area toward an open door. The master bedroom was next. Her practical side noted its built-in closets, the king-sized bed and ivory shag bedspread, the need for plants and pictures. Her less practical side kept focusing on the huge, jeweled window. The stained-glass design was a profusion of hyacinths in coral and lilac and ivory. The pastel softness cast a sensual glow of color and shadow on the entire room; Anne could imagine it at dawn and sunset. With her heart racing oddly, she found herself staring, mesmerized…

Then she realized Jake was standing at the door. Anne bit her lip, and ducked under his arm. Too many feelings were flooding her mind; she wasn’t ready to face them yet. She turned the knob on a closed door and felt Jake’s hand clutch at her shirt, plucking her back from a potentially very wet, very cold, most unexpected dunk in the lake. “Our garage,” he said wryly.

A boat was bobbing in their “garage.” No huge ocean liner, but white and gleaming and large enough for a cabin.

“An absolute necessity,” Jake explained. “During Idaho winters, the roads are often impassable with snow around here. The lake’s so huge it rarely freezes over, and there are docks in Coeur d’Alene.”

“I see,” she said faintly, and kept on going.

Beyond his “boat garage” were two spare bedrooms that faced the woods. Both were decorated with nut-brown carpeting and apricot curtains, but they were without furnishings as yet. She found one last room as they finished their tour of the house. It was a study with three long, rectangular windows, half-filled bookcases, an oxblood leather couch and oak desk complemented by warm paneling and dark blue carpeting. In furnishings and mood, the room was completely different from the rest of the house.

“Your office,” Jake mentioned.

Anne’s already well-established case of panic went into high gear.

“You’re looking pale, honey. I’ll get you something to drink.”

“Not alcohol,” she said swiftly.

“Not alcohol.” Jake grinned, her favorite crooked smile. The one that had torn at her heart from the first, so many years ago. “Because they built the kitchen at an angle in the middle of the house, one of the bathrooms on the other side is a triangle. Check it out,” he advised as he sauntered off toward the kitchen.

She did. The tub was in one point of the triangle, a sunken affair, large enough for two to stretch out in…if both were shaped rather triangularly. Not funny, Anne… Melon tiles climbed the walls; gold fixtures reflected back from the mirror. So did Anne, or at least there was some strange woman staring back at her with vulnerable green eyes and a mane of ash-blond hair.

What was he trying to do to her? He hadn’t said one word about the house, not when he was trying to convince her to come west with him, not during the three days they spent in his ghost town. She walked out of the bathroom and turned the corner to find Jake in the open kitchen, holding a cup of peppermint tea out to her. That struck another note of anxiety; so he had stocked peppermint tea. He must have bought it even before the trip. Jake leaned back against the counter as Anne took the warm cup in her hands. He said nothing, as if waiting.

Words struggled out of her dry throat. “This house cost more than a penny here and there.”

“A little more coin than that, yes.” He made a sweeping gesture. “The whole place needs furniture.”