Page 9 of The Matchmaker's Melody
And before she could say another word, he stormed out of her room, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER5
GORDON
HadEmma always been this unreasonable? This pig-headed? This much of a spoiled brat?
Gordon grabbed a beer from the fridge and stomped outside to the back patio where he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. He was in no mood for company right now, and the nip in the wind coming off the lake would hopefully keep everyone away. Damned Emma, shoving her nose into everyone else’s business.
This incident was particularly galling because Rob had spoken to him about his plans and had asked his thoughts. Gordon always arrived early for choir rehearsals, and often chatted with the young man as they set up the chairs and arranged the room together. He was smart and making a name for himself in the world of rock recording, but he was also shy and a bit awkward around strangers. When Halli had arrived very early that day, and had offered a tentative “Hi,” Rob's eyes had lit up behind his glasses.
After the room had been arranged, Gordon disappeared to the piano very quickly, more than happy to allow the two young people to talk. He was happier still to see the smile on both faces afterwards.
At the next rehearsal, Halli arrived earlier still and had sought Rob out at once. They talked until rehearsal began, and then again afterwards, while she helped Rob to put everything away. After she left, at last, Rob sidled over to where Gordon was still going over a few passages with Randall, and waited until he was free. Then he had asked Gordon’s thoughts on where to go with Halli. She had encouraged him, after all, and had given him her email and phone number.
And now she—no, Emma!—had all but slapped the poor guy in the face, and he was hurt and confused. No wonder.
What the hell had Emma been thinking? It was clear she had no idea what Rob did. She didn’t know a thing about him. Had she ever even said hello to him, or acknowledged his existence? Or was he just that poor schlub who was so desperate to attach himself to the choir that he was prepared to clean up after everyone else?
Selfish, spoiled, arrogant…
He popped open the tab on his beer and let the cold wind whip around him until his anger had cooled a bit.
It took a while, but the beautiful scenery eventually took the edge off his temper. The sun had long since set, but it was clear and the moon was bright on the surface of the lake. Here and there he could see the lights from other cottages twinkling through the trees, and some kids had canoed over to the little island just a short distance off shore, where he could see their bonfire and hear the faint sound of their laughter over the wind and the gentle lapping of water on the stony shore.
It was hard to stay furious in this idyllic setting.
He would have to go inside in a while. The cool air was getting cold and his beer was long gone; he rather fancied a cup of cocoa to replace it, and he knew there would be a pot on the stove. And, perhaps, he could clear the air a bit with Emma. They were stuck here together all weekend, for their families’ sakes, and it wouldn’t do to have this simmering argument making things awkward for everyone else.
The image of her indignant face floated before him, unbidden and unwelcome. He began to feel a bit ashamed of his actions, no matter how right he was. What had possessed him to block her way? And what in the world was he thinking when he followed her into her bedroom? That was uncalled for, and he knew he had to apologise. A woman’s room was sacrosanct, a place one did not enter unless invited. And that thought made him more uncomfortable still.
He gave his beer can one last shake, just in case a drop remained inside, and then pushed himself up from his seat to return to the house and the inevitable din inside.
By now, everyone had arrived and was sitting around the cosy living room as flames danced in the fireplace. He went over to shake his father’s hand and give his mother’s cheek a kiss, and aimed a playful punch at his brother’s shoulder. He had greeted Emma’s parents when he arrived earlier. Emma was sitting in the embrace of an old and somewhat threadbare easy chair, with her sister Isobel perched on one of the arms, and that’s where he headed.
He said hello to Issy and apologised for his curt behaviour when she arrived, and then turned his attention to Emma herself.
“I overstepped earlier. I shouldn’t have done that.”
She raised her honey-coloured brows over the blue eyes. “Yes, you did rather. Is this an apology?”
His shoulders dropped a bit. “I suppose it is. For my actions, not my words. I meant what I said, but I could have said it better.”
Her tone was still cool. “And I stand by what I did.” She let out a sigh. “Okay, you were right that I didn’t know anything about Rob, but seriously, he’s just a kid. He can’t be more than twenty-two or three. My friend deserves someone mature.”
Isobel was now looking very uncomfortable on her perch, and Gordon suspected this had more to do with the conversation than her choice of seat.
“Let’s leave it, Emma,” he offered. “We won’t agree, but promise you won’t interfere again?”
She didn’t promise a thing, but held out her hand. “Truce.”
Fine. It was better than nothing. He accepted the offer and shook her hand. “Truce.”
For now.
* * *
Shaftsof bright sunlight broke through the mottled clouds, casting patches of golden light interspersed with shadow, as Emma and Gordon drove through the countryside in search of apples.
