Page 8 of Wrecked
Dean's clipped, "Goodbye," made me feel both sad and relieved. My brows drew together while I stared at the phone in my hand.
Another knock stole my attention. I dropped my phone on the bed and headed for the door. On the other side stood a woman that looked like she'd stepped out of a 50s magazine. With her shiny black hair intricately knotted on top of her head and lips painted bright red, she probably turned heads wherever she went.
"Hi, I'm Lola."
I smiled and gripped her outstretched hand, "Kenzie." Colorful patterns coiled around her arm all the way to her collarbone. There was even more ink peeking out from beneath her white crop top.Is everyone in Willow Creek covered in tattoos?
Her assessing gaze traveled from my silk blouse to my pencil skirt and down to my bare feet. I got the impression that she was sizing me up. "Nana wanted to know if you'll be joining us for lunch today."
I'd briefly met Mrs. Davis last night, she was friendly and welcoming. Having lunch with her hardly seemed like a hardship. "I'd love to, thanks."
After Lola informed me that lunch was served at one, she disappeared down the hall. I closed the door and walked over to the dresser next to the window. Tilting my head to the side, I tried to see myself through a stranger's eyes. My white blouse neatly tucked into my black skirt looked professional but probably screamedstuck-upto most.
My gaze flitted to my heels, still lying in the same spot I'd kicked them off last night before it slowly traveled to my open suitcase perched on the couch. I groaned because I knew it contained nothing but business attire. Mother would probably have a fit if her daughter traipsed around in jeans and a tee.
I could already hear her:'You only have one chance to make a first impression, Kenzie. Your clothes should reflect your sophistication.'
With that thought, Dean popped up in my mind. He shared my parents' view on how you presented yourself in public. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall a time where I'd seen him out in public wearing jeans.
Never. Slacks and a dress shirt was his idea of dressing down.
I tried my best to shake my depressed mood, but by the time I headed down for lunch, I was even more wired than I'd been when my car broke down. Pausing at the entrance of the dining room, I inhaled the delicious smell that permeated the air before I forced a smile and entered.
The space was so different from what I was accustomed to. In the middle of the room stood a big farm-style dining table, warm and welcoming. I suspected the mouthwatering aromas came from the buffet table to the left. My stomach chose that moment to remind me of how little food it'd had since yesterday. I pressed my hand against my belly as I ventured further, scanning my surroundings with every step.
To the right were three bright yellow loveseats arranged in front of the window that overlooked the backyard. I heard movement and turned my head to the table where Mrs. Davis stood smiling.
She'd just placed a small vase containing flowers on the table, and she was admiring them. I felt like a towering giant when I reached her. She had to be about a foot shorter than my five-foot-seven.
"They're beautiful," I said in lieu of a greeting. "Are they from your garden?"
The older woman beamed up at me; her chocolate eyes shining brightly. "They are," she twisted her plump body so she could fully face me. "Did you sleep well, dear?"
"Like the dead," I lied.
Mrs. Davis looked me up and down and then shook her head, "There was no need to dress up for lunch."
I felt like a complete idiot. Heat crept up my neck and settled on my cheeks. "I, uh—"
"Nana, I can't find the—" Lola burst into the room. "—cinnamon." She'd changed into a sleeveless form-fitting red number that ended about mid-thigh. She looked so stunning,Ifelt underdressed.
A soft laugh sounded from beside me, "Top shelf, my sweet Lola." With a muttered thanks, Lola ducked back the way she came. Mrs. Davis touched her palm to the back of my arm, "Come on, let's sit for a bit while we wait for Lola'sfriendto arrive."
We seated ourselves on the couches by the window. The pops of color that burst through the green were simply magnificent to see. I could imagine someone losing hours by just sitting there, staring out the window.
"The garden used to be my Gerald's favorite place," Mrs. Davis's voice was soft and wistful.
When I turned to her and saw the dreamy expression on her face, I almost didn't want to speak, afraid I'd interrupt whatever memory she was lost in. "I can see why." My voice was just above a whisper.
The doorbell sounded and a few seconds after that, Lola's cheery, "I'll get it," filled the air. That pulled the older woman from her reverie.
Mrs. Davis's smile lit up her whole face. "Ah, young love." She reached over and placed her hand over mine. "Do you have a love waiting for you at home, dear?"
Did I?"I—"
"Is that your famous roast I smell, Mrs. D?"
My blood turned to ice, and my heart flatlined before it kicked up again at an alarming pace.
