Free Beach Winds by Grace Greene Page B

left something undone.”
    “ Take the hardware down, by all means. Could you pick up some vertical blinds?”
    She tossed her head and put her hands on her hips. He figured she was annoyed again, but he noticed how her hair looked when it brushed her shoulders. Silky hair. It picked up the sunlight.
    “ Nothing high-end, though. Something that will work until the house is sold.”
    Sold. That stung. Subdued, he answered, “Whatever you say. Any other orders?”
    Fran went into the kitchen and started slamming through the cupboards. He was no longer in the mood to harass her, but she was still worked up and he couldn’t resist a last jab.
    “ Don’t break those cabinet doors.”
    She stopped mid-movement and looked over at him. She said coolly, “You never answered my question. What about those strips of paper with verses? I found a couple more. Why does my uncle hide them around the house?”
    “ Ask him.”
    Astonished, she said, “That’s insensitive.”
    “ I didn’t say when to ask. You might have to wait awhile.”
    She was still holding on to the cabinet door handle, and staring fire at him. She spoke in a civil, but icy tone. “Thank you for the clarification, Mr. Donovan. Would you care for a cup of tea?”
    “ No, ma’am. I’m not a tea guy unless you’re talking a tall glass of iced tea. What is it with you and tea?”
    “ What is it? Lots of people drink tea, even the hot kind in cups.”
    “ Sure they do.” He picked up his shirt and took his time sliding his arms in and buttoning it. He couldn’t help himself. “I hear it’s supposed to be calming. You know, that means it calms people down.”
    “ Sure.” Her eyes narrowed. “Tea can be very calming depending on the blend, and whether anyone needs calming.”
    “ Chamomile. Is that it?” He grinned, surprised he’d remembered the name. He saw instantly that she’d taken his grin to mean something else entirely which amused him all the more.
    “ Chamomile? Yes, I’m familiar with the properties of Chamomile tea. I happen to be drinking Samurai Chai.”
    “ Samurai?”
    She kept her eyes fastened upon his face as she slowly, deliberately eased the cabinet door closed. “Maybe one of these days I’ll give you a lesson in the art of tea.”
    Her voice sounded different. He didn ’t know how to describe it, but her body had changed. Even as she gave the appearance of imminent eruption—that was it, her voice had a smoldering quality—she stood taller, straighter, ready to take on anything, anyone. He suspected he was about to meet the real Fran.

     
     
     
    Chapter Eight
     
     
    I t was fun sparring with Brian. It didn’t come naturally to her. She preferred peace. Obviously, petty bickering was Brian’s preferred pastime.
    After he ’d left she ran through their conversation in her head. She usually thought of snappy comebacks when it was too late, but she was proud of the Samurai line she’d delivered. His baby blue eyes had seemed to take on a whole new focus. Even now, it made her smile.
    Then, well, she ’d realized what was happening. The swagger that had suddenly come over her, that caused her to broaden her shoulders, to lift her arm, to shift her hips, to all but pose between cabinet and counter, practically preening—that was a cliff she didn’t want to go over. She reined it all back in. Brian left soon after. She felt deflated.
    She ’d do better to take care of business, the real business she was here for. Like going through Will’s papers. Reluctant to read his truly personal papers, she’d put it off, but there might be creditors she didn’t know about or maybe a storage unit that held treasured items he’d lose if she didn’t pay the rent.
    Frannie sat at the roll top desk and began searching through the drawers.
    There were several packets of letters. Judging by the yellowing of the envelopes, some were much older than others. She picked up the first bundle and the thick rubber band disintegrated.