Page 42 of A Twist of Fate

Page List


Font:  

“Charming man,” the older woman agreed, and paid even more attention to the windowsill. “So he’s moving in today?”

“Why do I get the feeling that I’m giving you yesterday’s news?” Erin asked suspiciously. “You’ve already talked to Kane about this, haven’t you?”

A smile spread across the wrinkled face. “Someone’s got to look out for your best interests.”

“And so you just appointed yourself guardian angel. Is that it?”

“Close enough,” the little old lady averred. “Now don’t you go jumping off the deep end, Erin,” Mrs. Cavenaugh cautioned, and wagged a warning finger at Erin. “I just happened to mention in passing that there was an apartment available….”

“In passing! When did you see him?”

Mrs. Cavenaugh’s face puckered for a moment. “Now listen here, young lady. I may not be as young as I used to be, but I have a pretty good idea of what goes on around here. I’ve seen Kane come and go, and I’ve also got it figured out that, for some reason, the good Lord only knows why—” she threw her hands heavenward in supplication “—you keep running away from him.”

Erin began to protest, but the gray-haired lady would have none of it. “It’s a mistake, pure and simple, for you to run from him. That man is hopelessly in love with you, Erin. Only a fool would let him slip through her fingers!”

“Oh, Mrs. Cavenaugh,” Erin sighed, smiling wistfully. “If it were only that simple.”

“It’s as simple as you want to make it!” The old lady eyed Erin speculatively, and noticed the resigned droop of her shoulders. “Why don’t you call it a day—the apartment looks fine. You go and get ready for your Kane and his daughter. They’ll be here this evening, won’t they?”

“Just where do you get all of your information?”

“Like I said before, I know what’s going on around here!” Before Erin could voice any further questions or objections, the little bent figure hustled her out the door. “And don’t you dare accuse me of snooping,?

?? she cautioned. “It’s just that I care.”

“I know you do,” Erin replied thoughtfully, “but you do seem to have an uncanny sense about some things….”

“Comes with age, don’t you know? My eyesight isn’t what it used to be, and my hearing’s, well, you know, a little less than it should be. But I can still see love when it stares me in the face. Now you hurry up and change into something pretty and make that man something to eat. I bet he’ll be starved by the time that he gets home—the girl too.”

Erin started to protest, but Mrs. Cavenaugh pursed her lips, and balanced the wet paintbrush on one of her hips. “Scoot,” she ordered authoritatively, and slammed the door tightly shut.

Several hours had passed, and somewhat reluctantly Erin had taken Mrs. Cavenaugh’s well-meant advice, although she doubted that the little old lady downstairs would consider her slim designer jeans and print cotton blouse as “something pretty.” But Erin had made dinner for Kane and his daughter, and then, realizing that Krista probably wouldn’t be able to manage the two flights of stairs to Erin’s loft, Erin had moved the meal downstairs to Kane’s new apartment.

She paced nervously while waiting for Kane and glanced at her watch for the sixth time in the space of two minutes. The trying weekend without Kane had made Erin anxious and tired, and she found that her nerves were stretched as tightly as a piano string. How would she react to Kane’s daughter, and how would Krista take to Erin? she wondered.

Erin had attempted to bring as much warmth as possible to the small first-floor apartment by bringing down a few pieces of her own furniture. To her credit, the interior did look a little less stark and more comfortable for all her efforts. The creamy new coat of vanilla paint gleamed against the walls, and the few small pieces of furniture, though sparse, added a homey familiarity to the otherwise vacant rooms. Erin had even managed to cover the card table with a linen cloth and centered a basket of freshly cut flowers on it. All in all, she had done a decent job of making the tiny apartment attractive, but she found it impossible to shake the feeling of apprehension that shrouded her.

The sound of feet shuffling in the hall snapped her attention to the doorway. She knew in an instant that Kane and Krista had made it home. Nervously she wiped her suddenly wet palms against her jeans and pasted what she hoped appeared to be a pleasant smile upon her face. The door swung open, and father and daughter entered the room. At the sight of Kane, Erin’s heart turned over. How, in less than a week’s time, could anyone change so dramatically? He was dressed casually in jeans and a dove-gray sport shirt, but that’s where the casual part of his image stopped. Erin could sense the signs of strain that hardened his features, the thin light lines of worry that crowded his forehead, and the somber tilt of his dark eyebrows that were drawn thoughtfully together. His eyes met hers for an instant, and a small flicker of relief and affection lessened the severity of his gaze.

At the whirring sound of the electric wheelchair, Erin’s attention shifted from Kane to his daughter. Krista was beautiful in the classical sense: a small, evenly featured madonnalike face was surrounded by thick sun-kissed curls, and her deep-set, perfectly round icy blue eyes held a sparkle and a vibrancy of youth. Krista’s cheekbones were high and noble-looking with just a hint of pink on her otherwise cream-colored skin. Even in the awkward stage of adolescence, it was apparent that Krista was an uncommonly beautiful girl. Only the mechanical apparatus of the wheelchair detracted from her wholesome, California-fresh appearance. The presence of the chair served to remind Erin just how difficult the past year of Krista’s life must have been for the girl. Krista was much too young to have lived through the trauma of witnessing the death of her mother. Erin felt her heart go out to the attractive young girl in the mechanical beast.

There was a tense, uncomfortable moment as Kane dropped a bundle of blankets that he had carried into the apartment and shoved them into the corner of the room. For a split second Erin faced Krista alone and was surprised at the frigidity in the pale blue eyes of the girl. Uncontrollably Erin shuddered and hoped that she could somehow warm the cool look that hardened Krista’s gaze.

After unsuccessfully arranging the pillows and blankets on the floor, Kane gave up and turned his attention to Erin and his daughter. He seemed to appraise the uncomfortable situation with knowing eyes, and in a minute, he stood near to Erin. He was smiling, but the grin was tight, forced as if it had been slapped on his face out of courtesy. He showed Erin no outward signs of affection, but his stormy gray eyes reached out for hers, and Erin realized that he was asking her indulgence with Krista. It was as if he had expected a confrontation.

“Krista,” Kane said softly, and Krista’s blue eyes sparked upward to him. “This is Erin. You remember, I told you all about her. She works with me at the bank, and she’ll be our landlord until we can find a house of our own.”

Krista’s eyes skimmed over the interior of the apartment, and from the bored expression on her face, Erin sensed that Krista disapproved of her new, temporary home. The girl remained silent, and for a moment Erin wondered if the child had even heard the introduction. Kane’s black eyebrows melted together at Krista’s rudeness, but for the moment, he chose not to reprimand her.

Continuing the stilted introduction, he said more firmly, “Erin, this is Krista.”

Erin ventured a sincere smile for Kane’s daughter and wondered if the young girl in the wheelchair was just being shy, or if she was purposely giving Erin the cold shoulder.

“Hello, Krista. It’s nice to meet you. I hope you like it here.” Erin offered her outstretched hand to the girl.

Krista didn’t immediately respond to Erin’s attempts at warmth or friendliness. In fact, Erin was sure that if Kane hadn’t been in the room, the blue-eyed girl would have ignored the greeting altogether. As it was, Krista hesitated and then gave Kane an accusatory glare before finding her manners and answering. “Hello,” Krista muttered, almost to herself, and reached for Erin’s open hand. Her eyes never met Erin’s puzzled gaze.

There wasn’t time for a proper handshake. The instant that Krista’s smaller fingers touched Erin’s open palm, Krista withdrew her hand as rapidly as if Erin’s touch were white-hot. Erin found herself standing with her open palm suspended in midair and an astonished expression of disbelief disturbing her features. Was the girl always so rude, or did she just dislike Erin?


Tags: Lisa Jackson Romance