The Glass Slipper Project (10 page)

He laughed.

“I’m serious.”

He looked at her, a smile tugging on his mouth. “You don’t even know me.”

“Do I have to know you to be glad that you lived?”

He turned away.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked, wondering if there had been others who hadn’t felt the same way.

He shook his head, then returned his gaze to her. “No, you’re very sweet.”

“I wasn’t trying to be
sweet.
I was being honest.”

He moved his shoulders in a manner to dismiss the seriousness of her words and looked away again. “Yes, well, uh…anyway I came back and did odd jobs. I met Alex at one of his construction jobs and we got on well and have worked together ever since.”

“Alex has a lot of plans for the house.”

“You don’t have to worry. He doesn’t plan to make too many changes.”

“I’m not worried. I trust him. He said that you have some ideas of your own. He really respects your opinion. I’d love to see what you’ve come up with.”

Tony opened his jacket and pulled out a large folded piece of paper. “I have some sketches here.”

Gabby took it from him and opened it up. It revealed a layout of the house with the proposed ideas. “That’s incredible. It’s a perfect blueprint.” She looked up at him impressed. “That’s wonderful. You’re very good.” She handed it back to him.

He folded it up, agitated.

Gabby watched concerned. “Did I say something wrong again?”

“No, you’re very —”

She held up a hand. “Hold it. I’m not being sweet or kind or cute. I’m being honest. I think you’re very talented. Now stop treating me like some child.”

He tucked the paper in his jacket. “I’m old enough to be your —”

“But you’re not and that makes a difference.”

His gaze challenged hers. “What kind of difference?”

Gabby lowered her gaze suddenly feeling flustered.

Tony briefly shut his eyes and softly swore. “I’m sorry. I —” He stopped and turned. “I’m sure Alex has returned. If I’d brought my cell with me we could have called him to find out.”

“I don’t have one, either. We’re too broke for a cell phone and the extra charges.”

“Marrying Alex will change all that for you.” He smiled, but to Gabby it felt a little sad. “I’m truly happy for you.”

Gabby touched the leaves of an evergreen, wondering why she wasn’t ready to go back yet.

When they returned to the house, Tony listened to a voicemail message from Alex, saying that he would have to cancel his meeting with Gabby and that he needed Tony to prepare dinner for two business associates.

“Do you need help?” Gabby asked him.

Again Tony hesitated then said, “Sure.” They spent the next several hours planning the menu, shopping for the items, taking the groceries home and preparing the meal. Alex came through the door as Gabby was setting the table. “Mmm, something smells good,” he said. When he saw Gabby he kissed her on the cheek. “I left a message at your house that I had to cancel.”

“I know, but since I was already here I thought I would help Tony.”

Alex stared at the table and sniffed the air. “You two make a great team.”

Tony and Gabby shared a look, then quickly looked away.

Gabby walked to the door. “I’d better go. I told my sisters I’d only be gone a few hours and it’s nearly dark.”

Alex walked her to the door. “I’ll make this up to you next time.”

“You don’t have to make anything up to me.” She glanced at Tony. “I had a wonderful time.” He waved then disappeared into the kitchen.

Gabby drove home in a mental fog. Twice she missed the turn to her street and when she finally reached home, she didn’t remember getting there. Mariella met her at the front door. “Where were you? We expected you home hours ago. Alex called here to tell us he needed to cancel.”

“I know,” Gabby said in a soft, distant voice. She walked to the living room where Isabella sat curled up on the couch studying and Sophia and Daniella lay on the floor flipping through a fashion magazine.

“But where were you?” Mariella demanded.

Gabby flopped down into the side chair. “With Tony.”

“Why?”

She sat. “I helped him.”

“Do what? Find his dentures?”

Gabby glared at her. “No. First we went on a walk and then I helped him prepare dinner for Alex’s guests.”

“Why? That’s his job. You’re going to be Alex’s wife soon, I doubt he expects to find you in the kitchen with Tony.”

“I didn’t mind helping him. He’s very nice company.”

Daniella flipped a page. “I don’t see how you two could have much in common.”

“He’s very smart.”

Daniella frowned. “But he’s old.”

“He’s not that old.”

“And he’s poor,” Mariella said.

“He’s not that poor.”

“And he’s plain.”

Gabby folded her arms and tapped her foot. “I think he’s handsome.”

“Gabby, you’re being silly,” Mariella said. “I know he’s Alex’s friend, but you don’t have to make him sound better than he is.”

She set her mouth firmly.

“Leave Tony alone,” Sophia said. “He’s a very nice guy.”

Mariella rested a hand on her hip. “He’s a personal servant.”

Gabby jumped to her feet. “He’s an
assistant
and he makes a good living and he’s very talented and kind and…”

Mariella waved her hands. “Hey, there’s no reason to get upset. I was just saying —”

“I don’t like what you’re saying. I don’t want you talking about him like that. He deserves better.”

Isabella watched her sister closely then said, “You like him.”

“I do.” When Mariella opened her mouth, Gabby quickly added, “But not like Alex, so don’t look at me that way.”

Mariella, Daniella and Sophia seemed pleased with Gabby’s statement, but her words made Isabella curious.

I
sabella looked at her quiz grade and groaned. After four classes she knew one thing: She was failing. She looked at the giant red D on her paper and felt like crumpling it up. Mr. Yanders’ words echoed in her mind: “I want you to see me after class.” He probably thought she didn’t belong there. She agreed with him. Why couldn’t she grasp anything?

Alex leaned towards her. “Let me see that.”

She covered the paper with her hand. “No.”

“I can’t help you if you don’t let me see where you went wrong.”

“I don’t need help.”

He clicked his tongue. “We wouldn’t want to be
arrogant
would we?”

“It’s embarrassing,” she grumbled.

“Failing the entire course would be even more embarrassing, plus a waste of money.” He kept his hand held out. She reluctantly handed him the paper.

He took it and studied it for so long that her cheeks began to burn.

“Mr. Yanders wants to see me after class,” she said, desperate to fill the silence.

“I’ll talk to him for you.”

“But I don’t need —”

Alex stopped her with a stern look. She bit her lip.

He looked at the paper again. “I’m going to offer to tutor you and don’t tell me you don’t need one.” He held up the paper. “This makes it obvious.”

“I don’t think I can pay you.”

He stilled then abruptly stood. “I’m sick of this. I’m trying to be nice to you, but you keep getting on my nerves.” He leaned over her, his eyes like flashes of lightning. “What’s the point of being so proud that you’re willing to fail a class just to spite me?”

She opened her mouth to protest.

“I’m not finished.”

She closed it.

“You don’t have to like me. That’s okay because right now I don’t like you very much, either. But I can help you. Close your mouth. You’ll know when I’ve finished talking.”

She folded her arms and waited.

“I’m going to be at the library at seven tomorrow. I’ll wait for five minutes. No more. I don’t care if you come at six minutes past seven, I will be gone. It is your choice to show up or not. Do you understand? You don’t need to say anything, just nod your head.”

She frowned, but nodded.

“Good.” He grabbed his books and left.

Isabella broke from her paralysis and followed him out into the hall. “You’re a —” she began, but the words froze in her throat when he spun around.

He walked towards her, large and intimidating. “I’m a what?”

She gripped her books to her chest. “You’re a bully.”

“And do you know what you are?”

She boldly met his eyes though her knees trembled. “What?”

He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Desperate.”

“I am not desperate. You obnoxious —”

He covered her mouth with his hand then said in an ominous tone, “One more word and I might not show up at all. Now go home.” He turned and walked away.

Isabella threw her books in her car and pounded the steering wheel.
Arrogant, pompous jerk.
She didn’t need his help. She just needed to study harder. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of showing up at the library. His ego was inflated enough. No, she wouldn’t go.

That night she tossed and turned in her bed, debating her decision. She really needed to pass the course. More importantly, she needed the knowledge to impress Mrs. Lyons and knew that Alex could help her. For some reason he knew everything although he spent half of the class with his eyes closed. She remembered a prior class when Mr. Yanders called on Alex.

“Mr. Carlton?” Mr. Yanders had said.

Alex lazily opened his eyes. “Yes?”

“Could you answer the question?”

Isabella watched him with a smug grin certain he’d say, “What question?” Instead, he surprised them all by stretching and answering the question and adding a tidbit nobody knew.

The teacher stared stunned as did everyone else.

“Am I correct?”

“Yes,” Mr. Yanders said quickly. “Very good.”

“Thank you.” He closed his eyes again.

He didn’t take notes either, Isabella remembered with annoyance. Yet his papers always came back with high marks. He was arrogant, but he was smart and she could use him. He was going to be family soon anyway so she might as well get used to him.

She continued to debate her decision as she drove to the library. Twice she considered turning back, but the thought of being able to surprise Mrs. Lyons with her knowledge of antiquing would not let her. She arrived at the library two minutes
before
seven, but didn’t see Alex anywhere.

She checked the aisles, the magazine and periodical section and even the private study rooms, but still saw no sign of him. She selected a table near the front door and waited. After fifteen minutes she realized the truth. He wasn’t coming. To him, everything was a game and she’d come out the loser.

She grabbed her things and stormed out the door.

“Where are you going?” someone called out to her as she raced down the front stairs.

She stopped and saw Alex walking from his truck. “What do you mean, ‘Where are you going?’ You told me to meet you here at
exactly
seven o’clock.”

His eyes lit up with amusement. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did. And I was here on time and you weren’t.”

“I wanted to see if you would follow directions,” he teased.

“Is everything a game to you?”

He placed a brotherly arm around her shoulders and steered her back towards the library. “No. I’m sorry I’m late.”

Isabella tried to shrug off his arm, but failed. She wanted to stay angry at him, but his relaxed manner and her relief made that impossible. She fought the urge to move closer. “You were late on purpose.”

He held the door open for her, giving no explanation. “Why do I still get this odd feeling that you don’t like me?”

“And why do I still get this odd feeling that you’re being nice to me because you have an ulterior motive?”

He rested both hands on the door behind her, effectively trapping her in the circle of his arms. “And just what kind of motive would that be?” he asked, his voice cool compared to the heat in his eyes.

“You want me to like you.”

“Is that a dangerous request?”

She licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry. His gaze dipped to her mouth and she felt her entire body grow warm and tense. She hugged herself and his gaze lowered from her mouth to her chest. “It’s chilly,” she said in a high thin voice. “We should go inside.”

“Do you always get cold when you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared. What do I have to be afraid of?”

He raised an eyebrow, the expression full of meaning, but didn’t say a word.

“Do you want me to be afraid of you?”

“It might be wise,” his gaze sharpened as his voice deepened.

“Why?”

“Do you really need to ask that question?”

“Excuse me,” said a voice from behind them. She carried a load of books and nodded to the doorway.

“Sorry,” Isabella said and moved aside, the motion bringing her closer to Alex and the scent of wood polish and faint cologne. She looked at his chest then lifted her gaze to his eyes, expecting them to be amused or mocking. What she didn’t expect was the brief heated look of desire so quickly hidden she thought she’d imagined it. She took a hasty step back. “We should go inside.” She turned to the door.

He seized her wrist. “Don’t run from me, there’s no reason to be afraid. I was only teasing.”

“Were you?”

“I like you, Izzy,” he said as though part of him hated to admit it. “I’m not perfect, but I’m not a bad guy.”

She slowly turned to him. “I know.”

Alex sighed as though a weight had been lifted. “Come on.” He gently shoved her forward. “Let’s get to work.”

Minutes later, Alex watched Isabella in open amusement as she took out her notebook, and set her pen and colored pencils to the side. She had devised a “color-coded” method to help her remember what period different pieces belonged to.

He rested his chin in his hand and shook his head. “No wonder you’re confused.”

“What?”

“You’ve made everything too complicated. Color coding is nice, but you have over sixteen colors here.” He picked up a pencil and read its name. “What the hell is
mulberry?
”

“I need these colors. I read that study habits are very important in college. I never went and I want to do a good job.”

“I didn’t go either so don’t worry about it. The key is to do what works, not just what you’re told. And color coding doesn’t work for you.” He picked up the pencils and dumped them in her bag.

“But —”

“And now these.” He lifted all her notes. “You’re taking a course on antiquing not history. Dates are important, but this is more artistic than intellectual. What areas interest you?”

“I like porcelain.”

“Excellent. That’s where we’ll start. I’ll help you identify the different markings.” He told her all about the different porcelain marks and the history behind them, how they were used in homes then their discussion slipped into the structures of houses.

Isabella stared at him stunned. “How did you get to be so smart?”

“I stayed out of school.”

Her shoulders slumped, wondering if she could get him to be serious. “Oh, Lex.”

“Really. I wasn’t a good student. I didn’t have the patience. I had good teachers, but I was bored. Besides, I knew my life wasn’t going to be like the others. Nobody expected to find a Carlton in a fancy white-collar job. We were bricklayers and plumbers. So I didn’t see much use for school, but after we left…” He stopped.

“Go on,” she urged.

“Mom was able to put me in a great technical high school. It helped me learn a trade and also develop a business background. I had an idea for my own business and my mother helped me with the funding. I spent a lot of time in the library learning what I needed to do, plus talking to people in the field.”

“So that donation to the library was real.”

“Everything I do is real.”

“How much did your mother invest?”

“Enough,” he said vaguely, then, “Now let’s talk about figurines.”

“No, I want to know how you got to be so rich.”

“All my money is legal,” he snapped.

“I didn’t mean —”

“Sure you did. You were curious how some blue-collar, high school graduate could penetrate the walls of the upper-class.”

“I want to know because I want to be rich, too. If you’d remove that huge chip on your shoulder you wouldn’t have to be so defensive all the time.”

His jaw twitched then he lowered his gaze and sighed. “You’re right. I am defensive.” He met her gaze. “I have a lot of money, but I still don’t fit in. I don’t always do or say the right thing and sometimes…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I embarrass my mother and sister. They wish I were a bit more ‘refined.’”

“Gabby will smooth out any rough edges.”

He grinned. “That’s what I’m planning.”

She returned the expression. “So now that your ego has been stroked, will you tell me your secret?”

“How much is it worth to you?”

She thought for a moment. “Do you still like caramel-fudge brownies?”

“With the thin white icing?”

“Yes.”

He leaned forward interested. “Go on.”

“How does an entire batch sound to you?”

“It sounds as if it’s missing something.”

“What?”

“If I remember correctly. Those brownies always came with strawberry milk.”

“You can buy your own milk.”

He sat back and held up his hands. “No deal.”

“Okay. A batch of brownies and strawberry milk.”

“The way you make it. If you get someone else to make it I’ll be able to tell. Is that a deal?” He held out his hand.

She hesitated then shook it. “Deal. Now tell me the secret.”

“It’s no secret. I started a reconstruction business. Bought some properties and rented them.”

“You succeeded so young.”

“Only to you, I worked very hard.”

“I thought you came back for revenge.”

“Part of it was that. Mom told me we had to leave because someone wanted us to. I wanted to come back and have whoever that person was try to mess with me.” He shook his head. “No more questions. It’s time to get back to work.”

To her surprise Alex proved to be a patient tutor. Although it took her three tries to identify the proper markings on a porcelain washbowl from the 18th century, not once did he taunt her. He repeated the lesson until she understood. By the end of the session she wondered if she’d completely misjudged him. How could the arrogant, condescending man at the party be this patient, gentle man?

When the librarian, Mrs. Grace, loudly announced the library would soon be closing, Isabella and Alex both jumped.

“Is that woman going deaf?” Alex said.

“No.”

“She’d do better in an intensive care unit. She’d have people up and walking in no time.”

Isabella stifled a giggle. “That’s not nice.”

He winked at her. “No, but it’s still a funny thought.”

“Ten minutes to closing!” Mrs. Grace announced again.

Alex stood. “We’d better leave before she bursts an eardrum.”

Isabella felt an odd sense of disappointment as she gathered her things.

“You did very well,” he said.

“You’re being kind.”

“I’m being honest.” He placed a finger over her lips. “Stop contradicting me.”

“Thank you.”

“We’ll meet again on Wednesday.”

“I have Mrs. Lyons —”

“I know when you have Mrs. Lyons. We can meet before or after.”

“Are you sure you’ll have the time? I know you’re planning your engagement party.”

“I have time. I don’t plan anything. I hire other people to do that for me.”

He held the door open for her and they stepped out into the warm spring evening. The scent of wildflowers filled the air. As they descended the steps, they both noticed an old worn key lying in the corner crack. Alex stopped then began to walk past, but Isabella bent and picked it up. “I wonder what it opens.”

Alex stopped and turned. He watched her as she stood under the soft lights of the parking lot, staring at the key. The image seemed to unlock something inside him that he didn’t want to acknowledge. “I don’t know.”