15. Charlotte #2
Without taking his eyes from Charlotte, he said, “And whatever Charlotte is having.”
Quickly, Charlotte replied, “Oh no, you don’t have to—”
“Please,” he said gruffly, “let me buy your lunch.”
Under his spell, she nodded. “Thank you.” To Sadie, she requested, “I’ll have the same sandwich, a large English toffee breve, and a glass of water, please. Oh, and can you add a brownie?”
Dusting snow from the ends of her hair, she stilled as his large hand stroked a curl on her shoulder.
“You missed some.” His eyes held hers as he did it again.
He was close enough to inhale the mint on his breath and the fabric softener from his clothes.
Head spinning from nerves and hormones, Charlotte grasped her opportunity. “Would you care to join me for lunch?”
Henry glanced at one of the large front windows. Charlotte braced herself, worried he was going to tell her he had to leave. He surprised her instead. “I would love to.”
Relief made her legs tremble as they walked to an empty table, and when Henry pulled her chair out for her, she all but collapsed.
Holding her chair, his fingers brushed her shoulders as his heat seared her through the thickness of her coat and sweater.
Isobel frequently complained that chivalry was dead, but it wasn’t: not in Charlotte’s beloved Jane Austen novels, or in the Jojo Moyes books she had recently discovered.
Or in her favorite TV show, Bridgerton. Or here, in real life Beverley, with Henry, whose breath whispered into her hair as he slid her chair in.
Once he sat down, he removed his Minnesota Twins baseball cap. “My mom would kill me if she knew I was wearing this indoors.” He winced and placed the cap on his knee.
“My dad was a huge Twins fan. We all used to go to a few games every year.”
The dimple in his chin flashed at her when he smiled. “Yeah, us too. My folks would load the three of us up in the car bright and early in the morning. Sometimes we’d stay overnight in the cities, all in one room. I did the same thing with Josh when he was a teenager.”
Trying to slow her racing heart, she wiped the remaining condensation from her glasses. “We did that with Isobel, but she was only interested in the snack bar.”
“You have amazing eyes.” His deep voice stopped her heart. “Like melted chocolate.”
With jittery fingers, she pushed her glasses up her nose, entranced by his blue gaze.
“I can’t believe you’re here…I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.
” His finger traced a pattern on his water glass, reigniting the naughty thoughts she’d had of him doing the same thing to her inner thigh, the tops of her breasts, her neck, in that little sensitive spot right under her ear, until so slowly, he ran it down—
“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” His soft voice interrupted her fantasy.
“I tried, actually.” When? The last time she had seen him had been outside Effie’s house.
Embarrassed by the memory, she flushed. “First at the musical last year.” His crystal-blue eyes were sincere as they held hers.
“Effie told me you were directing it, so I went to opening night.” How could she not have known?
Not sensed he was there? Amy and Isobel had come up for the weekend, and the production, her largest to date, had been both exhausting and exhilarating.
“And then I saw the one-act plays last fall.” His eyes never broke from hers. “They were incredible.”
His confession seemed loaded with a secret meaning. What else had she missed? “You came to the plays?” Without her noticing, her beverages were now in front of her.
“Each night, as a matter of fact.” His finger began drawing circles on his glass again, and she steadied herself with a sip of her drink.
“My son Josh was in some plays when he was in school over in Clover Lake, but they never did anything on the scale of what you are producing. It’s so impressive. You’re impressive.”
Their eyes locked again, and she blushed. “Thank you. I wish I’d known you were in the audience.”
His shoulders lifted in a shrug, and his fingers combed through his silvery-blond hair. “You seemed busy every time, always surrounded by people. I didn’t want to interrupt.” Imagining him there, silently supporting her, made her melancholic.
“I would have made time for you, Henry. My daughter and my best friend, Amy, came from Sioux City for both of those weekends.”
“I remember your daughter from that time in the shop.”
“She remembers you, too.” Asked about him far too often, as a matter of fact, and if Charlotte was ready to make a move.
A small smile curved his lips, and before he could respond, Colt was at their table with their lunch.
In companionable silence, they ate their sandwiches, the coffee shop so quiet Charlotte counted every breath Henry took.
Then he said, “You’ve made quite an impression in Beverley since you moved here.
I’ve kept up with all the articles in the newspaper.
Your students did well at the state oral interpretation competition. ”
Charlotte flushed. “Paul Jacobsen would not let up until I agreed to coach that.”
“I know Paul pretty well. He can be determined, which I’m sure makes him an excellent vice-principal.”
“He’s great.” Charlotte swirled her coffee. “You mentioned Josh acted in plays in Clover Lake. But not Beverley?”
“No, but he was in oral interp here. Said there were too many people already in the plays, so he found his place in that instead.”
“It’s hard to believe that you haven’t lived in Beverley forever. Everyone seems to know you.”
“Well, you’d be surprised how often folks bring their vehicles into the shop. People forget to check their oil, run their tires to shreds, ignore the check engine light.”
“Keep jumping their battery instead of getting a new one?”