Free Ellie's Advice (sweet romance) by Alice M. Roelke Page B

pulled together for a widower, his hair combed flat and not even curling. He used water to dampen it, not grease; after it began to dry, the curls would start to stick up one at a time, till by the end of his visits he was wreathed with a laurel of beautiful, curly dark hair, the way he ought to be. She enjoyed the transformation, and every stage of it. It was only a sense of propriety that kept her from running her fingers through his lovely mane.
    Other times, he arrived during the middle of the day, in his lunch hour, looking hot and hurried from the walk, because he had been rushing so he would have time to come see her and then make it back. She always had a sandwich or more than a sandwich ready for him on those days, so he could eat and wouldn't have to go hungry.
    Mrs. Fine made almost all the meals, but those sandwiches Ellie learned to make by herself. It gave her a special feeling inside, preparing something he would enjoy, even if he hurried sometimes while eating it. On those lunchtime visits, he was not pulled together; his hair was always wild already, untamed and beautiful. His shirts and jackets were often wrinkled, and he more often than not didn't wear a tie, even if he had started the day with one. She sometimes saw it slipping from his pocket like a strange, flat snake trying to escape him, or a cloth tongue sticking out at her from his living jacket. In those moments, she had the absurd desire to laugh; and sometimes she did.
    Shel's sense of the ridiculous was such that he could laugh along, and pull the tie out and either flop it over the back of a chair to wait for him, or sling it round his neck and quickly tie it, making a face as he fumbled quickly with the soft cloth, rueful and pleased at the same time, never minding being the butt of the joke.
    Sometimes he forgot the tie and left it over the back of his chair. He hurried away, glancing back to wave briefly at her before jogging for his office. Rushing because they'd left it to the last moment to part once again.
    On those days, she eyed the tie doubtfully, holding herself back at first. And then sh e'd reach for it, pick it up, fold it in her hands, and rub the soft brown cloth against her cheek, closing her eyes until the pups started barking around her ankles or trying to tug at the hem of her dress, reminded her they needed her attention.
    The knocking increased.
    "Coming, coming!" She stopped in front of the door, pushed back strands of her loose red hair, and gave her head a slight toss. She smiled, tugging the front of her dress straighter, then pulled the door open, trying to hold the pups back with one foot. "Hello Sh — oh."
    She smiled uncertainly at her brother, standing on the doorstep. Instead of Shel's beautiful, hopeful smile, and his hands full of something he wanted to show Ellie, her brother stood there wearing a grave, disapproving expression. He had a gold watch and a rather old fashioned silver-tipped walking stick, which he certainly didn't need. He wore a costly black suit over his expansive frame; he was round with a serious, slightly flabby face. His eyes were small in his pale, crinkled face, gaze green like Ellie's, and his hair was a darker red than hers. He looked every inch the successful, stuffy businessman — and, Ellie had to admit even if only to herself, he certainly was. Appearances were not incorrect in his case.
    "Augustus," said Ellie, nudging one of the puppies back just before it lunged for his stick, its eyes gleaming and its tail flailing. It gave one short, sharp bark at the intruder, and the other pup set up a long woo-woo-woo in accompaniment. She realized with a start that her brother was much more of a stranger to the little dogs than Shel could ever be; Auggie hadn't been by since before the puppies had arrived and taken over her home and heart.
    "What a pleasant surprise. Do come in?" She realized she'd asked instead of sounding certain, so now she scooped up the pups, held them in her arms,