Free Roses by Leila Meacham

plantation. You haven’t experienced
     anything but being a Toliver. You’ve had a very limited existence, Mary.”
    “I don’t care to know any other existence.”
    “You can’t draw that conclusion unless you have something else with which to compare it.”
    “Yes, I can. Anyway, I’m not likely to have the opportunity to make such a comparison, am I?”
    They could hear Miles and Ollie coming down the stairs. To her surprise, Mary found that she regretted the intrusion, as—she
     had to admit—she missed the solace of Percy’s arms. It was the closest she’d ever stood to him. She had never known that a
     small freckle was tucked beneath the ridge under his left eye or noticed the intriguing radius of silver around his pupils.
     “You’ve always disapproved of me, haven’t you?” she asked, the question popping out unexpectedly.
    Percy’s dark blond brows rose. “ ‘Disapproved’ is not the right word,” he said.
    “Then not
liked
me.” She held her breath, waiting for his confirmation.
    “That’s not it, either.”
    “Then what
is
the word?” Her cheeks were burning, but she was determined to learn exactly what he thought of her. Then he could be damned,
     and she wouldn’t think about his opinion anymore. It would no longer be an issue of curiosity.
    Before he could answer, Miles, with Ollie huffing behind him, entered the room.
    “Here you are!” her brother said, and for a hopeful second Mary thought he’d come in search of her. But it was for Percy he
     was looking, she realized as he ignored her and addressed his friend. “I didn’t know if you’d left or not. Will you be staying
     for supper? There’s plenty of food, but Sassie will want to know.”
    “I’m not staying,” Ollie said, looking at Mary as if he wished he were. He smiled fondly at her, and she responded with a
     warm softening of her lips.
    “I’m afraid I can’t, either,” Percy said. “We’ve got guests coming, and Mother is expecting me to play host.”
    “Who are they?” Miles asked.
    “The daughter of Mother’s roommate when they attended Bellington Hall in Atlanta and her father. The girl’s interested in
     enrolling there this fall. Her mother is dead, and they’re here to discuss the school.”
    “At least that’s the pretext her papa gave for bringing her for a visit,” Ollie said with a meaningful wink at Miles.
    “Well, the father seems the kind who operates with an ulterior motive up his sleeve, and my mother thinks their visit is a
     ruse,” Percy admitted, “but then don’t most mothers believe that every girl has designs on their son?”
    Here’s one girl Beatrice doesn’t have to worry about, Mary thought, feeling an irrational nip of jealousy at another girl
     claiming his attention for supper. Deliberately, she turned to Ollie and placed a hand on his sleeve. “Ollie, are you sure
     you won’t stay? We could use your cheerful company tonight.”
    “I’d like to, Mary Lamb, but I’m helping my father with the end-of-summer inventory at the store. Maybe tomorrow night, if
     the invitation’s still open.”
    “It’s always open to you, Ollie.”
    If Percy noticed his exclusion from her sentiment, he didn’t show it. Instead, he flashed her his familiar grin. “We’ll finish
     our conversation another time, Gypsy. Remember where we left off.”
    “If I don’t forget,” Mary replied, bridling at the use of the nickname he knew she hated.
    “You won’t forget.”
    “This houseguest… what’s her name, and what’s she like?” Miles asked, following his friends from the room.
    “Lucy Gentry, and she’s nice enough. I don’t much care for her father.”
    The rest of the conversation was lost to her as Miles saw them out. From a parlor window, she watched “the boys,” as the families
     referred to them, walk down the front walk to their spanking new Pierce-Arrows, graduation gifts from their fathers. In June,
     Miles had been puzzled and disappointed not to find