Frustrated, Ellen tightened her grip on the iron. Reed was right. She was being unreasonable and she really didn’t understand why. But she was honest enough to admit, at least to herself, that she was attracted to this man whose house she occupied. She realized she’d have to erect a wall of reserve between them to protect them both from embarrassment.
“Morning, Ellen,” Derek said as he entered the kitchen and threw himself into a chair. As he emptied a box of cornflakes into a huge bowl, he said, “I’ve got some shirts that need pressing.”
“If you want anything pressed, do it yourself,” she almost shouted.
Stunned, Derek blinked. “Okay.”
Setting the iron upright again, Ellen released a lengthy sigh. “I didn’t mean to scream at you.”
“That’s all right.”
Turning off the iron, she joined Derek at the table and reached for the cornflakes.
“Are you still worried about that math paper you’re supposed to do?” he asked.
“I’m working my way to an early grave over it.”
“I would’ve thought you’d do well in math.”
Ellen snickered. “Hardly.”
“Have you come up with a topic?”
“Not yet. I’m going to the library later, where I pray some form of inspiration will strike me.”
“Have you asked the other people in your class what they’re writing about?” Derek asked as he refilled his bowl, this time with rice puffs.
Ellen nodded. “That’s what worries me most. The brain who sits beside me is doing hers on the probability of solving Goldbach’s conjecture in our lifetime.”
Derek’s eyes widened. “That’s a tough act to follow.”
“Let me tell you about the guy who sits behind me. He’s doing his paper on mathematics during World War II.”
“You’re in the big leagues now,” Derek said with a sympathetic shake of his head.
“I know,” Ellen lamented. She was taking this course only because it was compulsory; all she wanted out of it was a passing grade. The quadratic formula certainly wasn’t going to have any lasting influence on her life.
“Good luck,” Derek said.
“Thanks. I’m going to need it.”
After straightening up the kitchen, Ellen changed into old jeans and a faded sweatshirt. The jeans had been washed so many times they were nearly white. They fit her hips so snugly she could hardly slide her fingers into the pockets, but she hated the idea of throwing them out.
She tied an old red scarf around her hair and headed for the garage. While rooting around for a ladder a few days earlier, she’d discovered some pruning shears. She’d noticed several overgrown bushes in the backyard and decided to tackle those first, before cleaning the drainpipes.
After an hour, she had a pile of underbrush large enough to be worth a haul to the dump. She’d have one of the boys do that later. For now, the drainpipes demanded her attention.
“Derek!” she called as she pushed open the back door. She knew her face was flushed and damp from exertion.
“Yeah?” His voice drifted toward her from the living room.
Ellen wandered in to discover him on the phone. “I’m ready for you now.”
“Now?” His eyes pleaded with her as his palm covered the mouthpiece. “It’s Michelle.”
“All right, I’ll ask Monte.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a smile of appreciation.
But Monte was nowhere to be found, and Pat was at the Y shooting baskets with some friends. When she stuck her head into the living room again, she saw Derek still draped over the sofa, deep in conversation. Unwilling to interfere with the course of young love, she decided she could probably manage to climb onto the roof unaided.
Dragging the aluminum ladder from the garage, she thought she might not need Derek’s help anyway. She’d mentioned her plan earlier in the week, and he hadn’t looked particularly enthusiastic.
With the extension ladder braced against the side of the house, she climbed onto the roof of the back porch. Very carefully, she reached for the ladder and extended it to the very top of the house.
She maneuvered herself back onto the ladder and climbed slowly and cautiously up.
Once she’d managed to position herself on the slanting roof, she was fine. She even took a moment to enjoy the spectacular view. She could see Lake Washington, with its deep-green water, and the spacious grounds of the university campus.
Using the brush she’d tucked—with some struggle—into her back pocket, Ellen began clearing away the leaves and other debris that clogged the gutters and drainpipes.
She was about half finished when she heard raised voices below. Pausing, she sat down, drawing her knees against her chest, and watched the scene unfolding on the front lawn. Reed and his brother were embroiled in a heated discussion—with Reed doing most of the talking. Derek was raking leaves and didn’t seem at all pleased about devoting his Saturday morning to chores. Ellen guessed that Reed had summarily interrupted the telephone conversation between Derek and Michelle.
With a lackadaisical swish of the rake, Derek flung the multicolored leaves skyward. Ellen restrained a laugh. Reed had obviously pulled rank and felt no hesitation about giving him orders.
To her further amusement, Reed then motioned toward his black Porsche, apparently suggesting that his brother wash the car when he’d finished with the leaves. Still chuckling, Ellen grabbed for the brush, but she missed and accidentally sent it tumbling down the side of the roof. It hit the green shingles over the front porch with a loud thump before flying onto the grass only a few feet from where Derek and Reed were standing.
Two pairs of astonished eyes turned swiftly in her direction. “Hi,” she called down and waved. “I don’t suppose I could talk one of you into bringing that up to me?” She braced her feet and pulled herself into a standing position as she waited for a reply.
Reed pointed his finger at her and yelled, “What do you think you’re doing up there?”
“Playing tiddlywinks,” she shouted back. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“I don’t know, but I want you down.”
“In a minute.”
“Now.”
“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mocking salute and would have bowed if she hadn’t been afraid she might lose her footing.
Derek burst out laughing but was quickly silenced by a scathing glance from his older brother.
“Tell Derek to bring me the broom,” Ellen called, moving closer to the edge.
Ellen couldn’t decipher Reed’s response, but from the way he stormed around the back of the house, she figured it was best to come down before he had a heart attack. She had the ladder lowered to the back-porch roof before she saw him.
“You idiot!” he shouted. He was standing in the driveway, hands on his hips, glaring at her in fury. “I can’t believe anyone would do anything so stupid.”
“What do you mean?” The calmness of her words belied the way the blood pulsed through her veins. Alarm rang in his voice and that surprised her. She certainly hadn’t expected Reed, of all people, to be concerned about her safety. He held the ladder steady until she’d climbed down and was standing