Chapter 14
ANITA SCANNED THE FRONT ROOM that she’d vacuumed and dusted. There wasn’t much else to do in preparation for her guest unless she decided to completely redecorate. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, especially with her car repair bills. The Bug sat beneath the carport now, new starter installed, which had put a sizeable dent in her checkbook.
She’d been distracted most of the day and hadn’t made much progress on her newest commissioned art project. She’d had lunch with Phyllis—which was becoming a regular occurrence. Soon after lunch, she gave up on trying to concentrate, and instead baked cookies. Carly would be happy at least. Anita couldn’t remember the last time she’d had freshly baked cookies waiting for Carly after school. It was interesting how some traditions faded over time. One day, they were part of regular life, the next, they were a memory.
Anita crossed to the front window and stood where she could see the corner of the street. Wyatt should be arriving in the next few minutes. He hadn’t called, so she assumed there hadn’t been any work delays. Or Carly could arrive first. She had been walking home with her new friend Sara the past two days, and Anita couldn’t be happier for her. Moving on from Samantha and Evie had been a good choice. Not only for Carly’s school life, but their home life had been more peaceful.
A cherry-red Cadillac turned onto the street. It had to be Wyatt. She smoothed her hair. She’d brushed it into a low ponytail, not wanting to put too much effort into her appearance. Nerves thrummed through her as it was.
The car slowed and pulled alongside the curb. Anita stepped back, staying out of plain sight as Wyatt climbed out. He wore a button-down shirt, a dark tie, slacks...pretty much what she always saw him in. She wondered if he ever dressed down. Well, of course he did, but she was curious all the same.
Her heart rate began to skip as he walked along the sidewalk, then headed up the driveway. She moved into the kitchen, just standing there, waiting for him. She didn’t want to open the door mere seconds after he knocked. Anita exhaled, telling herself to calm down. She wasn’t a teenager. This wasn’t a date. They were two adults working together to help his grandpa. Besides, Carly would be walking in the door soon, and that would keep everyone grounded.
The knock on the door jolted through her. Anita scoffed at herself. There was no reason to be jumpy. She headed into the front room, and after a couple deep breaths, she opened the door.
“Hi,” she said.
Wyatt’s eyes crinkled at the corners with his smile. “How are you?”
“Fine, fine. Come in. How was work today?”
“I got in extra early, and things wrapped up quickly. So I was happy about that.” He glanced about her front room as she led the way to the kitchen.
“That sounds good.” The small talk was agonizing. “Well, have a seat. Carly should be here in a moment. I have pens and a notepad and the typewriter. There’s the phone and phone book. What else do we need?”
Wyatt moved toward the kitchen table, but he didn’t sit down. “Your garden looks amazing.”
She followed his gaze to where the back windows overlooked the garden she’d spent years cultivating. “It’s a work in progress. Carly used to help me a lot, but now school and homework are a lot busier. So there are places that I’ve fallen behind on.”
Wyatt moved toward the back door. “Can you give me a tour?”
“Um...” Anita had thought they’d start right away making phone calls. They only had a couple of hours before businesses would shut down. But the lighting really was better right now, and she could show him more things. “Sure.”
Wyatt had noticed her hesitation. “Or not. I don’t want to be nosy.”
“It’s fine.” Anita flashed him a smile, and wished her pulse weren’t jumping around so much. Her garden was like a second child. She was proud to show it off, yet it was also very personal. But it wasn’t like he was going to criticize anything. “Come on through.”
Wyatt stepped out the back door after her, and Sassy showed up, apparently from a reprieve in the garden. “Oh hello,” he said. “This your cat?”
“Meow,” Sassy answered, rubbing against his legs.
“Sorry about the cat fur,” Anita said.
“It’s fine.” He reached down to give Sassy a scratch. “Friendly cat.”
“Yeah, I think she spends more time at the neighbor’s than here. You’re not allergic?”
“Nope.”
Sassy got distracted and bounded off after something. Anita led Wyatt to the worktable.
“This is where you work?” he asked.
“Most of the time,” Anita said. “When the weather cooperates, of course.” Today, the clouds blocked most of the sun, but the rain had held off.
Wyatt touched the edge of the table. “What’s this project?”
“Oh, it’s three sisters,” she said. The canvas was a large square, and she’d started the dresses on two of the girls, using dark green and deep burgundy leaves for the skirts, and a third one was outlined. “Their mother wants this done before they all become teenagers.”
Wyatt studied it for so long that Anita felt antsy.
“You have a remarkable talent,” he said at last. “I didn’t even know this type of art existed.”
She gave a small shrug. “It’s all around us. In the trees, the bushes, the flowers. Shapes that resemble people.”
He nodded, then his green gaze cut to hers. Out here, in her garden space, her mind started to sort through the leaves and plants she’d choose to create his image. She’d have to mix two greens to get the right shade of his eyes.
“I don’t think that stuff has ever crossed my mind.” His mouth lifted into a smile. “Like I said, you have a unique talent.”
All right then...Anita could stare into his eyes longer, or she could get moving to show him around before Carly arrived.
“Mom?” Carly’s voice echoed through the house, then a door slammed.
Too late. She was here.
“We’re in the garden,” Anita called, breaking her gaze from Wyatt’s scrutiny.
Seconds later, she appeared, backpack slung over her shoulder, face flushed as if she’d run the whole way home from school. And perhaps she had. The cat appeared again and trotted to Carly, who picked it up.
“Oh hi, Mr. Davis,” she said.
“Wyatt,” he corrected. “How was school?”
“Boring,” Carly said, petting the cat. “The only good thing about it was the brownie at lunch.”
Anita frowned at her daughter. “Don’t tell me you only had a brownie.”
She raised her brows in innocence, ignoring the statement. “What are you guys doing? I thought you’d be making a bunch of phone calls.”
“Your mom’s showing me the garden,” Wyatt said. “Wanna come?”
Carly scoffed. “No. Mom will just tell me to weed something.”
He chuckled. “It only adds to your life skills.”
“I won’t have any life skills if I don’t eat soon.” She looked at Anita. “Can I have that leftover pasta salad from last night?”
It took her a moment to catch up with the conversation. “Uh, yeah, sure.”
Carly grinned and headed back inside, carrying the cat.
“I can’t believe she only ate a brownie all day,” Anita said after she left. “Kids can’t focus in class living on sweets.”
“Agreed. Does she not pack a lunch?”
Anita had to sigh at that. “She used to, but then it wasn’t cool anymore this year. So we’ve been paying for school lunches—or brownies, I guess.”
Wyatt patted her shoulder. “I’m sure it will all balance out in a twenty-four-hour period.”
He was right, Anita knew, but she was thinking about his hand on her shoulder. He moved it and walked past the table to the first row of rosebushes. She’d cultivated various colors, and he bent to touch one of the lavender petals. “I don’t think I’ve seen roses this color before.”
“They’re hybrid,” Anita said, rotating her shoulder. It still felt the same. For the next fifteen minutes, she showed him the various garden quadrants and answered his many questions. He seemed very interested in her answers. She hadn’t really talked so in-depth about things like seasonal growing and fertilizer.
“Oh, hello-oo,” Phyllis said from her backyard, hovering quite near the fence.
When had she come outside? The woman moved like a cat.
Anita waved at her. “Hi, Phyllis.”
“Who’s this? Your brother?”
Phyllis very well knew that she didn’t have any siblings. “This is a friend of mine, Wyatt Davis. Wyatt, this is my neighbor Phyllis.”
“Nice to meet you, Phyllis.”
Her eyes narrowed a touch. “Nice to meet you too, Wyatt. Where are you from?”
“Here,” he said.
“Oh, that’s nice, and what do you do?”
“I’m an accountant.”
Phyllis’s eyes went wide. “How lovely. Do you do personal taxes?”
“Corporate.”
She frowned then. “Very interesting.” She paused as if she were about to ask something else, then changed her mind. “Well, nice to meet you, and have a lovely evening, you two.”
In seconds, Phyllis was back inside her house.
Wyatt looked over at Anita, his brows raised.
“She’s sweet, but quite nosy,” Anita said with a shrug. “I’ve no doubt she’s still watching us from one of her windows.”
He snapped his gaze back over to the neighbor’s house.
“Don’t look.” She laughed. “Come on, we’ll finish the tour.”
“Lead the way,” he said with a smile.
When they reached the far side of the garden where she grew climbing ivy that sprawled along the cinderblock wall, Wyatt asked, “Did you go to art school? Or is this something you figured out on your own?”
“I went to a semester of art school,” Anita said. “Then Bobby and I got married. We’d been together since high school. I guess I had my blinders on, and I agreed. A year later, Carly was born, so I became pretty busy.”
“I’ll bet.”
She could see the questions in his eyes—the question of what happened to her marriage. And why, after so many years, was she still single.
But he didn’t ask those questions. Instead, he said, “Did you grow up with a garden?”
“Not at my house. My grandfather gardened, and I helped him a lot. Hated to stay around the house when both my parents were home. They had one of those marriages that should have been a divorce. Instead, they stayed together and just fought all the time.”
Wyatt grimaced. “Sorry.”
“Mom.” Carly’s voice sounded from the house. “How long are you going to be? I’m making popcorn to go with your cookies.”
“We’re being summoned,” Anita said with an apologetic smile.
“Sounds like it.” Wyatt glanced around them. “Maybe we can finish the tour another time.”
“There’s not much else.” She stepped back onto the path she’d created with white gravel.
“Oh, I have lots of questions,” he said, following her.
She laughed. “I don’t think a kindergartener has as many questions as you.”
“You might be right,” he said, his tone warm, “but this is all out of my depth, so it’s kind of fascinating.”
Anita had to focus on not walking awkwardly after that. His compliments were subtle, but seemed sincere. As they neared the house, she smelled cooking popcorn. “I guess she’s still hungry. Brownies just don’t cut it.”
Wyatt chuckled.
Inside the house, Carly stood next to the stove, pouring kernels of corn into a pan with sizzling oil. She stirred the mixture with a wooden spoon, then set the lid on it and turned down the element. The first kernel popped.
Anita found a bowl for the popcorn, then opened the refrigerator. “What would you like to drink, Wyatt?” she asked. “We have cream soda, water, milk.”
“It’s powdered milk,” Carly shot out. “You should pass on it.”
He paused by the counter. “Water’s fine.”
“You can’t have water with popcorn,” Carly said. “You have to have cream soda.”
“Carly—he can have water,” Anita started.
“I’ll have the cream soda, then,” Wyatt said with a smile. “You’re a persuasive young lady.”
Carly only grinned, and Anita pulled out three cream sodas.
Soon, they’d all settled at the table, popcorn between them. Wyatt turned to Carly. “Since you have the best handwriting here, can you be the scribe?”
Anita raised her brows. How he knew anything about her handwriting was a mystery, but she pulled the notepad toward her, looking very pleased.
“Now,” he said, “we should start with the phone book and call all the Martins in the area.”
“What are we going to say to them?” Anita asked.
“What if no one wants to give out information?” Carly added.
“We hope they’ll want to help an elderly man find his old high school friend,” Wyatt said.
The next hour they took turns making phone calls. Even Carly made one of the calls. But they kept hitting dead ends. The sky outside darkened with rain clouds, and soon it started to drizzle, making the world turn gray.
Anita turned on a couple of lights. “Do you think we could ask the city office where Susan lived in Nevada to mail phone records of any Martins they have?”
“It’s worth a try.” Wyatt dialed information, then asked for the number. Next he called the city office.
Through the receiver, Anita could hear a woman’s voice answer. Wyatt explained why he was calling. “Anything would help. My grandfather is hoping to reconnect with Susan Martin. She’d be about eighty-three right now.”
He paused, then said, “They dated, yes.”
Anita decided that his side of the conversation was getting interesting.
“I believe they were in love,” he continued, a small smile appearing on his face.
Carly drew a heart in the notepad.
“Yeah, I suppose it’s a sweet story. Gramps is very eager, that’s all I know.” He chuckled and glanced over at Anita. “Great, that would be excellent. Thank you so much.” He rattled off his home address, then hung up a moment later.
When his gaze again met Anita’s, he said, “Well, she’s intrigued and will mail us whatever she can find about any Martins in that city.”
“Wow, that’s great,” she said. “She was very helpful.”
Carly’s eyes glowed. “She’s excited about the romance. When you told her about that, she wanted to help more.”
Wyatt nodded, his smile growing. “I believe you’re right.” His gaze again connected with Anita, and she wondered if it was time to get everyone more drinks—with ice.
“Now what do we do?” Carly asked, tapping her pencil against the notepad.
“We wait for Ms. Anderson to send over what she finds.” Wyatt folded his hands on the table. “Unless there’s something else you can think of?”
“We should type up form letters,” Carly suggested. “You know, so that when we get names, and if some of the people don’t want to talk on the phone, we can send them letters.”
Anita’s brows popped up. “That’s a great idea, Carly.”
“I agree,” Wyatt said. “What should the letters say?”
Anita guessed he was including Carly in the process as much as possible, because surely he could compose a letter. Over the next hour, they put together a letter they were all happy with. Anita typed up a few versions, and only had to use Wite-Out a few times to correct errors.
“You should stay for dinner,” Carly said. “My mom’s a good cook, and I always help too.”
Anita’s mouth nearly fell open. First that she was inviting Wyatt to dinner, and next that Carly thought she was a good cook. She hadn’t really planned out a meal, and now her mind raced with what to say.
“I don’t want to impose,” Wyatt said, but he was looking at Anita.
What could she say? “It’s no problem. Don’t expect anything fancy.”
“We can have spaghetti,” Carly declared. “Do we have everything for that?”
“Yes, we do.” She exhaled. “It’s easy enough, and we’d be happy to have you.”
“Only if you let me make the sauce,” Wyatt said. “I have a special recipe.”
His smile was easy, and she suddenly felt nervous. Working together on finding Susan was one thing, but sharing a meal in her home made everything feel a lot more domestic.
“It’s a deal,” Carly said. “I’ll do the salad. I make them a lot.”
“Sounds great,” he said.
Carly pushed up from the table and headed to the refrigerator.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Wyatt asked in a quiet voice, his gaze not letting her look anywhere else.
“It’s fine,” Anita replied. “Like Carly said, spaghetti is easy, and it’s nice to have company.”
“Nice for me too.”
She wasn’t sure how to read into that, and she only grew more curious about his life and relationships. “I’m just glad Carly likes you so much. Less butting heads.”
“I’m glad too.” Wyatt stood and headed to the row of cupboards. “Can you show me where the spices are?” he asked Carly.
Anita watched him for a moment, interacting with her daughter in their kitchen. It all seemed so...foreign, yet normal at the same time. She felt like she was looking in through a window at some other family that wasn’t hers, as a man and his daughter bantered in the kitchen while they cooked. Anita gave a small shake of her head. She couldn’t let those thoughts enter her mind right now. She wasn’t looking for a relationship. And Carly didn’t need the complication of more than what she was already dealing with.
Anita stood and joined them in the kitchen, pulling out the pots—one for the sauce, one for the pasta. In the next little while, she found out that Wyatt liked to whistle, that he was particular about spaghetti sauce, and that his presence somehow made her home full of bright sunshine despite the rain outside.