Free After the Loving by Gwynne Forster Page B

warehouse today.”
    “Henry, I am not going to Baltimore to avoid Russ.”
    “You are so. He’s running from you, and you’re running from him, though I can’t for the life of me see what the two of you are running for . Any adult who’s around you for ten minutes can slice the heat with a knife, it’s so thick.”
    “That’s not very consoling, Henry.”
    “I ain’t supposed to console you. That’s Russ’s job. I’m just watching the two of you postpone the inevitable. Soon as Tel and Alexis get back here and start showing you how nice it can be… You just watch. I ain’t saying no more.”
    After determining that Henry didn’t need anything from Baltimore, she started on her journey, shocked to have discovered that Russ had driven the car out of the garage and positioned it so that she wouldn’t have to back out.
    “I could love that guy,” she said to herself, and not for the first time. “He’s everything I need, but I don’t believe he’s even thinking about developing a relationship with me, to say nothing of marrying me.”
     
    In Baltimore, she made her first stop at a real estate company that specialized in small business needs. After settling with the agent as to what she wanted, she headed for Layne Bryant’s, intent on seeing how she would look in jeans.
    She didn’t like the jeans, stretch or otherwise, and settled on two pairs of pants, one oxford gray and the other dark tan. She looked around until she found a sweater, below-hip length and very loose with one side tucked and held up with a self bow. She liked the design and bought lavender and burnt-orange versions of it. Then, she gathered her courage and went into the dress department, trying not to notice the beautiful caftans as she passed them. She saw a navy blue silk-crepe dress that had three-quarter-length sleeves, a fitted silhouette and flared ruffles at the hem. She tried it on and, encouraged, found a burnt-orange replica and bought both of them.
    Maybe I’ll never wear them, she thought, unless Alexis says they look all right. But what did her svelte sister know about what did or didn’t look right on a short, overweightwoman? She put her parcels in the trunk of the car, bought a bag of miniature Snickers to make herself feel better and headed back to Eagle Park, munching as she drove, diet forgotten.
    She arrived at Harrington House half an hour before seven, heard Tara practicing the piano and rushed to her room to shower and change. She expected comments from Henry and Tara, but she prayed that Russ at least would keep his opinions to himself.
    When she got downstairs, feeling self-conscious in her brown pants and burnt-orange sweater, Tara greeted her, “Aunt Velma, Mr. Russ came to my school today and talked to my teachers and he brought me home from school, so I didn’t have to ride the bus. Mr. Russ loves me.”
    She knelt before the little girl and wrapped her arms around her. “Of course he loves you, all of us love you.”
    “You look pretty, Aunt Velma. Is Mr. Drake coming home tonight?”
    “No, dear. He’s gone to Barbados for a few weeks.”
    “Oh. He likes to go there a lot.”
    Tara took her hand and walked with her to the breakfast room where Russ and Henry waited for them. As soon as they sat down, Russ said grace.
    “Mr. Russ says my grace takes too long,” Tara said, blessing them all with her smiles and giggles.
    “Henry, this food is first class,” Russ said of the medallions of pork, saffron rice, artichoke hearts in cream sauce and asparagus.
    “I made a brown Betty for dessert. Alexis left a slew of recipes, and I’m using ’em. I suppose you know how to cook, Velma.”
    At least he hadn’t mentioned her clothes. “Henry, I have two degrees in home economics, and I make a livingcatering galas and other affairs. And you ask me if I can cook.”
    “Well, you don’t have to do the cooking yourself. You can hire somebody.”
    She glanced at Russ, and found his gaze pinned on her.