No, he could see that Jenny would have a hard time getting along with this exquisite creature. Jenny was casual about clothes, plans, men. She was open and generous and free spirited—but she was also careless and petulant at times. Sara Parker didn’t seem to be any of the above.
Everything about her was careful; everything matched, from her fingernail polish to her creamy lipstick to the pink cloisonné comb that held her silver blond hair in place.
She cares too much, he thought to himself. Wasn’t that a sign of some sort of neurosis?
“Now down here,” she said, leading him to another room down the hall. “Here is the nursery. I’m going to need new shelves and a set of waist-high cabinets. I’d like to install a changing table here, as well.”
He nodded. “Do you have any children?” he asked, wondering if Jenny’s baby was going to be an only child.
“Not yet.” She actually smiled. “But I’m about to have a baby.”
“Really?” He knew she was expecting him to glance at her flat stomach in surprise, so he did. “Not anytime soon.”
“Yes. Very soon. Sometime in the next two weeks, in fact.” She laughed softly and her starry eyes seemed to melt into pools of silver. “I’m adopting.”
He waited a moment but she didn’t say it. He knew she was adopting her sister’s baby. Why not mention that? Why not talk about the fact that this was Jenny’s baby? Or was that some sort of secret she was keeping?
But she didn’t mention it. Instead, she gave him a smile that startled him. “You don’t know how much I appreciate you showing up,” she said. “You’re the only one. I’ve called an electrician, a landscaper and a pool maintenance man and you’re the only one who came when you said you would.”
He frowned, a defense against the smile. He didn’t want to like her.
“You’ve filled your pool already?” he noted, looking out the window at the forest behind the house. “Isn’t it a bit early?”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” She turned slowly, looking the room over as if to make sure she wasn’t forgetting to tell him anything about the job. “The weather has been so warm. And I need it filled. It looks so much better that way and I’m having a party next week. A baby shower. I need everything to look perfect.”
Perfect. Yeah, that was what she wanted. It showed.
“I’ll bet you ten to one we get another snowstorm before the season’s over,” he said, trying to burst her bubble.
But she was having none of it. Shaking her head, she smiled at him again. “No, absolutely not. No snowstorm. Spring is here.”
She walked over to her window and gestured out into her backyard where birds were chirping in the trees. “Look at all those birds. Would they be here if snow was coming?”
He followed her, then stood by her side, looking down. There were birds all right. Flocks of them. “You think birds have an inside track on the weather?” he grumbled.
“No, not really.” She frowned, considering, and he noticed her delicate eyebrows. She didn’t pluck them. She didn’t have to. They were perfect.
“But are you trying to tell me there’s no order in the universe?” she asked him, sighing softly. “That it’s all anarchy?” Her eyes clouded.
He felt a twinge of remorse. It was pretty obvious she needed order to feel secure. There was no reason to be so churlish, he supposed. She hadn’t done anything to him. Not yet, anyway.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” he admitted gruffly. “But I don’t think birds know all that much more than we do about it.”
She was still staring at him as though she were hoping to find some kind of answer in his eyes, and he moved uncomfortably, trying to avoid her gaze but unable to look away himself.
“They have instincts,” she said as though she’d just thought of it.
He shrugged. Why did this seem to be so important to her? “So do we,” he muttered, tearing his gaze away and scowling out the window.
She laughed softly, turning away, as well. “You’re right I’m sorry. I get carried away with these things sometimes.”
Afraid that she’d embarrassed him by getting a little too familiar, she glanced back. He was still frowning. His face, the set of his shoulders, everything said don’t tread on me, and she suppressed a smile. He was a good-looking man in his way, though she hadn’t noticed at first. Probably because of the long hair. But he was certainly a strong-looking man, his hands square and chiseled, his shoulders wide and western. He could have been a cowboy riding into Denver a hundred years ago, or a miner coming in off the high country with a sack of gold in his belt.
A throwback, she thought to herself. In this hightech age you didn’t see many like him any longer.
“Never mind,” she said quickly, hoping to put him at ease. “I’ll get going.”
She headed for the door, her handmade leather shoes sinking into the plush carpeting. “I’ll leave you to your measuring and your plans. Please let me see what you’ve worked out when you’re finished. I’ll be downstairs.”
“Sure will,” he said, watching her go, but she didn’t turn or smile or anything. She just kept going, and then she was gone.
He swore softly to himself. He hadn’t figured her out yet and he’d thought it was going to be easy. From what Jenny had told him, he’d expected to find a cold fish with rigid views, a sort of wicked witch of the Rockies. He’d been prepared to despise her. Obviously the judgment wasn’t that simple. Still, there was time. There was plenty of time. From what he’d been able to find out, Jenny’s baby wasn’t due for another week or so. He would have to make a decision by then.
Meanwhile, he had some woodworking to do.
Sara glanced upstairs. She could hear the carpenter moving something in the baby’s room and she hesitated, tempted to run up and see what was going on. But she thought better of it. Let him finish his work. She had things of her own to accomplish.
The baby shower was only a little over a week away and the planning was as meticulous as though she were leading an army into battle. She’d made lists and set timers and ordered things, but the work was never ending. At the moment, she’d changed into slacks and a sweater and she was checking items off the latest list.
“Windows. The window washer came this morning. That’s done. The chimney sweep came last Saturday. The gardener still needs to put in the pansies and petunias. The painter says he’s coming tomorrow to touch up the trim on the house.”
There were still so many things to fix or clean or renovate before next week. One thing was that darn pool. She’d had the gardener take the cover off for her, and the pool man had said he would be here by noon. That was five hours ago. He obviously wasn’t coming.
Glancing out at it, she frowned. The gardener had gone home and there was the pool, starting to collect leaves on its surface. She couldn’t just leave the cover there. It looked so ugly. Besides, there was a breeze and she was afraid things would blow into the pool during the night. Better to get it covered again.
She looked toward the stairs, knowing she could get the carpenter to come help her with the cover. But he was busy, and the cover was a simple affair. She should be able to do it herself.
Armed with all her self-confidence, she marched out through