Annie's Rainbow - Fern Michaels [19]
“Three weeks, and, no, she isn’t moving in. Helen, not your mother. I like to play chess, and so does she. She doesn’t like tuna and she hates coffee. Drinks tea all day long. Sweet tea, they call it down here. That’s all there is to it. Don’t you two be badgering me now.”
“A nifty bachelor like yourself is going to find himself in big demand around here. Before you know it you’ll be beating off all those rich widows with a stick. They’re going to try and tempt you with their shrimp and grits and their she crab stew,” Annie teased.
“Hrumph. Don’t like grits and never did care for stew. I’ll be seeing you in a bit. Be sure to lock up tight.”
“We will. Dinner’s at eight.”
“I’ll be there.”
“If you don’t need me, then I’m off, too,” Jane said.
“Go ahead. I have to do the books. I’ll be home by eight.”
“Annie, we’re doing so well, it’s scary. If we wanted to, we could buy ourselves a new outfit. When was the last time we did that?”
“At least a hundred years ago. We need a fella before we get duded up.”
“I’m looking.” Jane laughed as she scooted for the front door.
Annie brushed at a swarm of gnats as she made her way down the street. The humidity made it hard to breathe. Her mind wandered as she passed tourists and summer-school students. Where had the time gone? It seemed like yesterday that they opened the Daisy Shop, and here it was mid August. In another week the fall-term students would be swarming back onto the campus and they’d be run ragged again. Still, it was always better to be busy. When you were busy you didn’t have time to think. Some days she almost forgot about her big, dark secret. As Jane said a while back, things were going so well it was downright scary.
Her mother loved the Westbury Center, where she now lived. She worked in her garden every day, played the piano on occasion, and actually seemed to have a routine of sorts. She cooked simple things, and if she forgot to wash the dishes, there was someone to do it for her. She had adopted a kitten from the petting zoo and walked it on a bright blue leash several times a week. Visitor days were happy occasions. Jane and Elmo always went with Annie, and, weather permitting, they picnicked in the small walled garden.
Norma Jean Clark was happy. Annie was grateful.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t watching where I was going. I guess I was woolgathering.”
“Now that’s an expression I haven’t heard in years. My grandmother used to say that. It wasn’t your fault, it was mine. Daniel Matthew Evans,” the man said by way of introduction.
Annie laughed. “Anna Daisy Clark,” she said, holding out her hand.
“I don’t think I ever met anyone named Daisy. You wouldn’t by any chance be the Daisy from the Daisy Shop, would you?”
“I am indeed.”
“Best coffee I ever drank. I like those tuna sandwiches, too.”
“I don’t think I ever saw you in the shop,” Annie said.
“Usually I have one of my students pick it up for me. I’ll have to make it a point to come by more often.”
Annie laughed again. My God, I’m flirting. “We have a pretty good brownie on Mondays. Goes with the sandwich, no extra charge. Mondays are downers as a rule. Does that make sense?”
“In a cockamamie kind of way.”
“You don’t look like a professor,” Annie blurted. She felt her neck grow warm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that.”
“Of course you did. Don’t apologize. My mother doesn’t think I look like a professor, either. It’s these shorts and running sneakers. Now you, on the other hand, look like both a Daisy and an Annie.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It was meant as one. See you around. I have three more miles to go. It was nice meeting you, Anna Daisy Clark.”
“Likewise,” Annie called over her shoulder. Wait until she told Jane about this encounter. She practically danced the rest of the way home.
Ten minutes later, Annie bounded up the steps and into the apartment, yelling at the top of her lungs. “Jane, you aren’t going to believe this. I just met this man. I think he’s a professor. Jane, where the hell are you? I think he was gorgeous, but I can’t be sure. It was dark. I