Jennifer Greene - Silver and Spice

Color stalked up Anne’s cheeks. “I love you, too,” she whispered back to Jake. “That has nothing to do with anything!”

She pivoted in search of the dressing room, and escaped promptly behind a coarse white drapery. In seconds, she had stripped off her gray wool skirt and cranberry blouse. Mirrors reflected her oyster satin camisole on three sides; she fumbled for the gold cords and started pulling them on. Before she had them snapped at the waist, the drapes parted, and Jake let himself inside, ignoring her startled gasp.

“Did you mean it?”

“Jake, you’re going to get us kicked out of this store!”

“Nonsense, there’s almost no one else out there. The saleswomen understood. Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what?” She snatched up a camel and brown flannel shirt and pulled it on, ten thumbs struggling with the pearl buttons.

“That you love me?”

Her hair got caught in everything, the hair that she had neglected to coil up sensibly that morning. “Conflicting lifestyles and potential divorce are the issues, Jake, and you know it. Not loving. You know I’ve always loved you-”

“No.” Jake turned suddenly quiet, ominously quiet, although he shoved aside her hands, efficiently brushed back her hair and dealt with the buttons himself. “You haven’t always loved me. You accused me of acting only on sexual vibrations, but that, sweetheart, was a description of you. It was fun in the beginning, Anne. I enjoyed playing the aggressor who came back to storm the fortress and win the lady again-but it was you who let the physical chemistry block out a thousand other feelings…feelings that mattered. I waited a long time for you to see more, for you to see the man I am. I had a role in your life, but only as lover, Anne-because you didn’t want more.”

“That’s not true. You always took off-”

“And I always asked you to come with me.”

The shirt was a bit too snug. The jeans were a tad long. She stripped off both shirt and jeans, reaching for a pair of denim pants. She was shaken, and badly. He was her dark prince-she had given him that name, and it wasn’t pleasant to be accused of being insensitive to his feelings. Only he wasn’t accusing her of anything; his voice was gentle with understanding, and somehow that hurt more. “Jake, it isn’t that simple. A woman these days has her own life, her own work. Do you really think it would be easy for me to drop my life and take off on one safari after another?”

“You’ve got a good head for finance, Anne, but that doesn’t mean you’re limited to working in a bank. You could be a broker or a CPA. I’ve been telling you that I need some financial advice, but you haven’t helped me at all. You could at least lift your wings-even if you don’t want to spread them.” The last seemed to come out in a mild roar; then Jake changed subjects so smoothly she almost missed the transition. “This outfit looks better. The first blouse pulled under your arms. This one-”

“You don’t really need my help,” she blurted out.

“The hell I don’t.”

“You know perfectly well you made up the whole thing about wanting a trust.”

“I don’t care what I made up. I need your help.”

She drew in the first deep breath she’d taken in several minutes. Jake’s critical eye was fastened on the mirror, taking in the pink and tan flannel molded softly over her breasts. The tan cords fit like an Italian kid glove. Unobtrusively, she stole a glance at her rear end in the mirror, and was not overly thrilled at what she saw. “These pants are too tight,” she said swiftly.

“They are not.”

“Yes, they are.”

“Bend over.”

Enough was very close to enough. She glared at him.

“Test them out,” he said patiently. “Bend over-see what happens.”

Nothing remarkable happened. Jake gave a short, boring lecture on the fit of jeans. Anne cut him off in midsentence. “Look. You must know that if I ever thought you really needed me, Jake, I would be there. It’s not-”

“Good. I do.”

The saleswoman was waiting for them with a sassy grin. Anne had the feeling the woman had heard enough to last her the rest of the day, and now Jake was arguing with her over who was going to pay for the outfit…at least until he pulled out his wallet.

A sheepish grin came over his face as he glanced up at Anne. “All I have is four dollars and thirty-five cents.”

She started chuckling as she paid the bill, and was still chuckling as they drove to the bank. Jake paid for lunch. Corned beef on rye with dill pickles. “We have to get you some shoes,” he said abruptly.

“I have tons of shoes.”

“Not the kind to wear with jeans.”

He purchased ankle-high boots in a soft deer hide, nothing Anne would have chosen for herself in a thousand years. Back in the motor home, she relaxed in the passenger seat and enjoyed the feel of new soft textures next to her skin. Jake kept casting her wayward grins.

Her heart was trying to work itself into a major anxiety attack over the subjects they had broached in the clothing store, but the momentum seemed to be lacking. Jake had dropped the topics like hot potatoes, just as if they had never been mentioned.

After they left Coeur d’Alene, the road wound along the water’s edge for miles. Wolf Lodge Bay, Beauty Bay, Gotham Bay, Silver Beach…the sparkling blue waters of the endless lake snuggled into coves at every turn. In spots, tall white pines and paper birch hugged the shore. Suddenly there was a row of unique cottages and homes; then red rock cliffs edged right down to the side of the road. The gold leaves of autumn were reflected in the mirror-still surface of the water. Ferns played on the forest floor, turned apricot for the season.

Jake pulled off the lake road and motioned below…another private cove, with three spacious homes set far apart on the wooded shores. “What do you think?” he asked her.

Anne had no problem. “Gorgeous.”

“Of the three houses, which is your favorite?”

She studied each one, treating the game with mock seriousness. The first was an A-frame with a glass front and a wooden balcony, very trim and attractive. The second was a three-story brick house, narrow and tall, built into the side of a ravine with balconies on all three floors and immaculate landscaping.

The third had forest-green wooden siding and was built low, half on the water, with ceiling-to-floor glass paneling in a huge room that jutted out over the lake. The green house wasn’t meticulously landscaped like the others. Sprawling trees and bushes created a privacy that the other houses lacked. A deck extended from the glassed-in room, leading out to a gazebo over the water, and one side of the house held a triangular stained-glass window that caught the sunlight on the lake and sent back rainbows.

“You like the brick one, I’m betting,” Jake said.

The more, conventional, conservative one. Anne shook her head. “Sorry, Jake, but I can’t always fit the mold. It’s the green one that draws me-”

He let out a loud, pent-up sigh. “Thank God.” He sent her a happy smile. “That one’s ours, honey.”

“I’m almost certain I misheard you,” Anne said crisply.

“I’ve only owned the house for four months, Anne, and haven’t had the time to really do much with it. You’ll have to see what you want.”

Relaxed and easy, Jake parked the motor home not five minutes later. Redwood steps led down the steep slope between the driveway and the house. Jake took them ahead of Anne, pausing only when he realized she was standing in utter shock at the top of the steps. “Don’t you want to see it?” he inquired politely.