Free Larkspur Dreams by Anita Higman, Janice Hanna

something about him ruining your date with me.’”
    Lark let out a tiny moan. “You could hear that?”
    “Well, I was in my office, and I looked down when I heard a commotion.” He smiled.
    “Oh, well.” Lark shrugged. “What can I say?”
    “I would have come to your aid, but you already had him secured in his pen,” Everett said. “Hey, you know, I thought I heard a megaphone earlier, too. Did you actually use one of those things to call him in?”
    Lark nodded.
    “I guess it worked.” Everett noticed her blush again. He wouldn’t want to take advantage of her in such a fragile moment, so he stepped back. “Would you still like to go to the party?”
    Lark blew her nose into his handkerchief, sounding like a dainty foghorn. “If you don’t mind me cleaning up and changing.”
    “Everyone’s always late to these things.” Everett hoped to make her feel at ease.
    Lark sniffled. “I guess we could come in fashionably late then.”
    “Sounds good to me.”
    Lark started to hand him his handkerchief back and then stopped. “Guess I’d better wash this first.” She hurried off into another part of the house. After a few seconds, she peeked back around the corner. “Please, make yourself at home.”
    Everett could feel his Palm Pilot in the pocket of his tux, even though he’d promised himself to keep it at home. Must have picked it up without thinking. Surely he could have disengaged himself from his world for a few hours. Guess not.
    He glanced around the room at all the paintings. Lark had her signature at the bottom of many of them. Everett studied a wedding scene, which appeared to be set in the Ozark Mountains. A bride and her groom kissed in front of a quaint chapel with all the wedding party gazing on in delight. He was amazed at how much joy and laughter filled her paintings.
    Then he took note of a still life of fruit. Incredible! It looked so visually accurate, it seemed as if he could reach in and remove one of the apples. Lark had an amazing talent. It made him think of his sister, Greta. He shook his head and moved on.
    Lark had some prints of the masters on display as well as her own. He recognized the Mona Lisa. The woman certainly had an interesting expression. In fact, it reminded him just a bit of Larkspur’s winsome smile.
    The living room was also full of family photos. He walked over to the fireplace and picked up a framed photo off the mantle. In the picture Lark seemed to be in her late teens, and she stood between an older couple. Had to be her parents. She had her mother’s eyes and her father’s light, olive skin. Lark appeared cheery then, as well. Maybe even more so. Her parents held her in a close hug as if she were a treasure. Anyone could tell they loved each other very much. He wondered if Lark’s parents lived in Eureka Springs and if she visited with them a lot.
    Everett looked at his watch. He thought it was a shame on one of his rare evenings out he’d be forced to share his date with a crowd of people, some of whom would be strangers. The minute they’d see the dazzling Lark, they’d be slinking over for introductions. And then Zeta would want to have her chunk of Lark’s time.
    Funny how life changes. Only a few days ago, he would have cooked up ways to avoid Lark and, well, all of humanity in general. But something felt different inside him. Something had willingly shifted, yet he also felt the uneasy kind of mental jostling that tends to drive a numbers-junkie toward the edge. But then maybe he’d forgotten that the view outside his precise perimeters was far more interesting. Without thinking, his hand went to his heart. He just hoped Lark came with a survival guide.
    Everett puttered around a bookshelf, noting the dust on the shelves and the rows of children’s books. He pulled a few books out until he found one Lark had illustrated. In a Giddy Pickle. Intriguing title. He studied the cover and then the drawings inside. There could be no doubt; she had