Engaging Deception, page 28
Now he knew, and it was all he could do to slow down and give Olive time to come to the same conclusion.
He loved her. He loved her quiet courage, he loved her steadfast goodness, and he loved her determination. Who else would’ve accomplished so much with so little encouragement? Even though she had her insecurities, she had pushed through them. And he wanted to be there to bolster her courage on the hard days when the doubts returned.
The four of them rode the trolley to Schifferdecker’s Electric Park. Olive held Stella on her lap while Maxfield dug through the picnic basket to prove to Leo that it had everything they needed. Although the park had wild rides like the Dazy Dazer, it also featured sprawling green lawns, and the one he was aiming for overlooked the pavilion.
The band wasn’t playing yet, but Maxfield figured when they did, they could hear from the rise as well as anywhere. He handed the basket to Olive so he could spread the blanket and establish boundaries for Stella before she wandered off in search of the petting zoo.
“Stay on the blanket.” Olive had the same idea as she set Stella on the old quilt and opened up the basket. “This is a special treat, isn’t it? We’ve never eaten outside together before.”
“We have,” said Leo. “Daddy eats outside with us all the time now.”
“Just lately,” Maxfield said, “but only the three of us.”
“Just the three of you?” Her eyes crinkled with mischief. “You felt the need to clarify?”
“You are pleased that I did, are you not?”
She pulled out the plates and the crock of barbecue that he’d ordered. Removing the lid, she took a deep breath of the savory meat. “I hope you brought more than a handkerchief. This is going to be messy.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m feeling reckless.” Although he should’ve thought to pack napkins. Smeared barbecue wasn’t romantic. Then again, neither were toddlers and children, yet Olive looked as content as he’d ever seen her.
Together they served the children and arranged them to make their meal as trouble-free and clean as possible.
“Ordering the food was a wonderful idea.” Olive helped herself to some fried pickles. “I was hungry after work today.”
“I’ve been ordering meals to carry away for a few weeks. Once I made the decision to spend more time with the children, I had to figure out what to do for dinner. Mrs. Wester was always happy to start supper, but they are ready to get outside by then.” Stella leaned across his knee to grab a piece of bread. “And while they are becoming better at eating in a restaurant, this is much more relaxing than sitting at a table and waiting for our dinner.”
“It’s delightful.” The flowering azaleas behind her framed her with riotous purple. “I would eat outside all the time if given the opportunity.” She crossed her legs in front of her and smoothed her skirt over them before taking another slice of fried pickles and dropping it into her mouth.
Life was beautiful. This caring, intelligent woman had never looked happier than she did right now with his children around her. The breeze fluttered her collar against her creamy skin. Her one clean hand smoothed Leo’s hair out of his eyes, then she stuck her barbecue-covered finger between her perfect lips and sucked it clean.
Those lips. He’d done his best as a gentleman to banish that encounter to the outskirts of his memory, but it came roaring back with a clarity that astonished him. Max looked at his children with alarm, with the suspicion that they had read his thoughts, but of course, they were unaware. He chuckled to himself. He was as jittery as a first-time beau.
“What’s so amusing?” Olive asked, eager to be in on the joke.
He held her gaze, wishing he could create something as beautiful as the moment. Before long, he’d tell her how much she meant to him. He’d tell her everything. “I laughed in appreciation of God’s sense of humor. Sending you, a skilled architect, to watch my children.” That was the safest explanation he could come up with.
“It might be less miraculous than you think.” Olive sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I think Calista arranged for me to take that job when she saw that it was the famous Maxfield Scott asking. God does have a sense of humor, and He proved it when He surrounded me with those crazy cousins of mine.”
“So I have the preacher’s wife to thank for all this mess?”
“You think you’ve suffered?” She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea what they’ve put me through over the years.”
“I forgot about Amos. If the rest of them are anything like him . . .”
“It’s a wonder I’m so levelheaded and reasonable.” She passed an unopened soda bottle to Maxfield.
“I don’t know about that. What levelheaded woman decides to become an architect and then carries it out beneath the noses of her clients without them having a clue?” He popped off the top of the soda bottle lid with his pocketknife.
“Only a levelheaded woman would be capable of succeeding,” she said, then admitted, “although she had to endure a string of emotions that makes the Dazy Dazer look tame.” Then with a shy glance, she added, “And I haven’t quite put that exhilarating ride behind me yet.”
“I hope there are more to come,” he said.
The temptation to say more was building until it felt like a physical force. In fact, a physical force hit him right between the shoulder blades and bounced a charred rib off his plate and onto his fawn-colored trousers.
“Uncle Maxfield!”
There were soft little arms around his neck.
Reaching behind his back, Max grabbed young Norris, pulled him over his shoulder, and dropped him on the blanket in front of him. The squeals of the Vogel children joined Leo’s and Stella’s as they fell into a writhing mass of juvenile shoes, ribbons, and sweet barbecue sauce.
“Hey kids, I didn’t say to jump in the middle of their dinner,” Eric said as he and Elaine approached. Although he was talking to his children, both of the parents couldn’t stop looking at Olive.
“I’m sorry, Max,” Elaine said. “As soon as they saw their friends, they took off running. I should keep them on a shorter leash.”
Maxfield set his plate aside, stood, and tipped his cap at Elaine. “You’ve come at the perfect time. I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Miss Olive Kentworth.” He took Olive’s hand to help her get to her feet. “Olive, this is Eric and Elaine Vogel. Old friends of mine, and Eric is the best draftsman I know.”
Elaine smiled sweetly. “Nice to meet you, Miss Kentworth. I think your name has come up in conversation with Maxfield a couple of times. Remind me again, how do you two know each other?”
Oh, Elaine was a clever one. It was impressive how she pried without effort.
Olive wasn’t quite as smooth. “I used to watch Leo and Stella in the evenings when Mr. Scott was entertaining. Lately I haven’t been doing that as much. . . .” She looked to him for help, but Maxfield only grinned. He wasn’t going to rescue her. He wanted to hear exactly how she defined their relationship. “Tonight, we’re watching the children together.”
“Is that so?” Eric beamed at Maxfield, making Max regret ever telling his friend about the kiss. “So it’s purely a professional association?”
“Professional in more ways than I expected,” said Maxfield. “It turns out that Miss Kentworth is also an architect—one with great skill, actually.”
“An architect? How interesting.” No one could fail to see the speculative look Elaine gave Eric, but Eric shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d known for weeks that Maxfield was collaborating with someone on the department store.
“She’s incredible,” Maxfield said. “You’ve seen the Lighthouse miners’ center, haven’t you? And the Crystal Cave? She designed the visitors’ center for that. Both are fantastic, creative works.”
From their expressions, they didn’t know what to think. Then again, neither had Maxfield when he first learned of her secret.
CHAPTER
28
Elaine and Eric were impressed, and Olive was embarrassed. Maybe it was on the strength of Maxfield’s testimony, but the Vogels didn’t question her skills. They didn’t laugh or belittle her work. They beamed as Maxfield extolled her praises, almost as if they were proud of her themselves.
How could praise be so hard to hear and yet so wonderful? She knew she’d relive this moment a hundred times over. She’d quote to herself all the generous opinions he was sharing about her and her work. All of them would be stored away like flowers pressed between pages of a heavy book, to be treasured later.
But right now, they were painfully awkward. All the years she hid from sharing her passion, she’d told herself that it was because she would fail and be ashamed. Now she realized that even in success, she still felt pained. There was no winning. Would she ever grow used to compliments? Did she want to?
“If Maxfield is saying that you are good, then you must be the best,” Mr. Vogel said. “He’s very particular . . . when it comes to buildings, anyway.”
His wife burst out with a sharp cough and a sharper look of warning. Mr. Vogel avoided his wife’s gaze while winking at Maxfield. What was he talking about? She looked to Maxfield, who was sending his friend the same look of warning as Mrs. Vogel was.
The tussle of children was growing rowdier with every misunderstood jest. Leo and the Vogel children sped toward the stage, playing tag or some such game. Olive barely snatched Stella by the arm before she got out of range as well.
“I wanna go,” she pouted.
“You’re too little,” Olive said. “Let’s see what they packed for dessert.” Then remembering their guests, “Would you like to join us?”
“Sure . . .” said Mr. Vogel. “That food looks—”
“It’s a pity you don’t have time,” said Maxfield. “Or else we’d love for you to stay.”
“I don’t have time?” Mr. Vogel laughed. “That’s news to me. I was hoping to get to know Miss Kentworth better and to make sure she knows you well enough.”
“Now that you mention it, I just remembered that the children have been longing to spend time with their friends.” Mrs. Vogel made a wide-eyed look at her husband. “Why don’t we take Leo and Stella with us? They could stay as late as you want. In fact, let the children stay the night. You can pick them up in the morning.”
Mr. Vogel wavered. He squinted at Maxfield. “I’m not sure I’m that good of a friend,” he said.
“I knew there was a reason she was my favorite,” said Maxfield.
Olive’s arm tightened around Stella’s waist. The children were her shield. She’d had the security of knowing that nothing too personal could occur with them as escorts. But if they were gone . . .
“My wife is right, I suppose. We’ve already had our dinner and were on our way home. We’ll take the kids, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to leave them all night. I wouldn’t want you to be lonesome at your house all alone, Maxfield.”
Now it was Max’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I’ll get them as soon as I walk Miss Kentworth home. It won’t be past ten. I promise.”
Olive handed Stella over to Mrs. Vogel. After the niceties of first meetings and promises of second meetings were performed, the Vogels left with the children, leaving Olive and Maxfield alone.
This wasn’t what she’d planned. Not knowing what to do, Olive gathered their supper and stuffed it in the basket. She looked at the half-empty soda bottle and took a long swill from it. Suddenly finishing off the rest of the drink was all she could think of. It kept her from having to think of something to say to Maxfield. She’d lifted it to her mouth again when Maxfield pulled it away.
“You don’t have to finish it all now.”
“I thought we were tidying up here so we could go.”
“Go where?”
“You said you’d walk me home.”
“The music hasn’t started yet.”
Olive looked around them. They were at the edge of the green with hedges at their backs and a long rolling vista before them that stretched to the white gazebo where the bands performed. Not private, exactly, but definitely not where they’d likely be interrupted should anything occur. And all she could think about was what might occur and how badly she’d botched it last time.
“You want to stay for the concert?” She felt a nervous belch working its way up.
“That’s what we came for.”
“Even without the children?”
“Especially without the children.” His eyes sparkled.
“I don’t think I can sit through a concert. I feel like walking.”
“You aren’t happy to be here?” Seeing her shrug, Maxfield picked up the blanket. “What do you think is going to happen to you?”
Olive lifted the picnic basket. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m sure of it.”
“And yet, you’re worried. Could it be that you agreed to come only so you could see the children? I’m sure you’ve missed them.” He folded the blanket beneath his arm.
“I have missed them. I didn’t expect that they would go home and leave us here alone.”
“You weren’t this nervous in your office.”
“We were talking business there. You already said that there’d be no talking business tonight. I’m not sure what else we can talk about.”
“We can talk about us.” The tuning fiddle alerted them that the band was about to commence. Olive watched the figures finding their spots on the lawn beneath them. The people’s shadows were longer than they had been before. The sun was going down, and she was alone with Maxfield.
With a tilt of his head, he motioned her to a path, too new to be more than some trampled grass leading toward the water. Olive fought her fears. She’d been brave of late. Why shouldn’t it continue? She could do this.
The music started in earnest, growing louder even though their steps took them away from the venue. Olive looked both ways on the water. The boats had been tied up for the evening and the park-goers were enjoying a lively tune on the other side of the rise.
“Do you know why Mr. Vogel was teasing about me being picky?” Maxfield waited for her to come over the crest before pointing to the dock and starting that way. “He never liked Ruby. Neither did Elaine. They thought she was cold and shallow.”
“Cold?” Olive shook her head. Her footsteps echoed on the boards of the dock. “Ruby is energetic and charming. I don’t see how anyone could call her cold.”
“She wasn’t you. Now that I know you, I know what I was missing, and no one else will do.” He took the basket from her and laid it on the bench alongside the blanket and soda bottle.
Olive looked out over the smooth water reflecting the last light of the sun. She’d risked so much in stepping out with her career. Was it greedy to hope for two miracles?
“Somehow,” she said, “when I look ahead at what I think the future is going to hold, all I ever see is disaster.” He took her hands, sheltering them inside of his. “For years, I knew that my mother was going to die. Every morning I woke with the reminder that there was great, unavoidable sorrow awaiting me and my family. Now that it’s happened, it seems like there should be another great sorrow amassing to take its place. I can’t imagine life without imminent disaster waiting around the next corner. It makes me hesitant to plan for tomorrow. Afraid to step out.”
“None of us are guaranteed a life free from sorrow.” Giving her a look of warm encouragement, he said, “Whether you know there’s sorrow ahead or not, we can’t prevent all of it.”
Max had had little warning when his wife died, and the shock of it threw him off-kilter. Which was better? To dread an event for years or to have it suddenly come upon you? Maybe her experience wasn’t the worst and maybe she shouldn’t always expect the worst.
Despite her nervousness, his hands felt secure. With all the potential future disasters, all the imaginary scenarios she could dream up, his touch was real and anchoring. She closed her eyes, noticing that the band had started a languid ballad and the birds were in the trees, chirping to each other as they settled in for the night.
Settling in. She should stay here, in this moment, and not get carried away by what could happen. Was that possible? Surely other people did it, but Olive could never quite grasp the skill.
“Think about right now,” Max said. He released her hands and pulled her next to him. Lulled by the lapping waves against the dock, Olive allowed her body to rest against his. “Listen to the music, listen to the birds. I would say smell the roses, but there aren’t any roses in this part of the park, so smell the fishy water. Feel how the air is starting to cool. There’s a touch of dampness in it. Before too long, it might have a touch of chill.”
For this moment, she’d stop questioning and she’d obey. She let her mind be led as he described the things they were both experiencing. Her hands were tucked between them against his chest.
“There might be a chill but not here between us. Feel how nice this warmth is next to me. Feel how precious it is to be held, to belong, to occupy a space where so few are admitted. My children—Leo and Stella—I would let them share this space but no one else. It’s reserved for you.”
She had feared words of romance, but this was different. This wasn’t about loud declarations and prideful public appearances. It was about belonging, companionship, and something that could be enjoyed privately in the security of home.
“Would you like to be a part of this, Olive?” His hand wrapped around her waist. “Who knows what can happen? We can only control our decisions, and I’m asking you to help me decide my future. Please tell me, does being a part of my life, my family, appeal to you?”
That’s what it came down to, wasn’t it? Her family would tease her endlessly, but if people could grow used to the idea of a female architect, surely they would cease to wonder at Maxfield Scott wooing Olive Kentworth.
She was tired of the fear. Tired of denying what she wanted just to spite herself. There was no one against her. Nothing that stood in her way besides her own feelings of inadequacy. She was ready for another step forward.
“This . . .” she said, “this is how I want to spend the rest of my life.”
He loved her. He loved her quiet courage, he loved her steadfast goodness, and he loved her determination. Who else would’ve accomplished so much with so little encouragement? Even though she had her insecurities, she had pushed through them. And he wanted to be there to bolster her courage on the hard days when the doubts returned.
The four of them rode the trolley to Schifferdecker’s Electric Park. Olive held Stella on her lap while Maxfield dug through the picnic basket to prove to Leo that it had everything they needed. Although the park had wild rides like the Dazy Dazer, it also featured sprawling green lawns, and the one he was aiming for overlooked the pavilion.
The band wasn’t playing yet, but Maxfield figured when they did, they could hear from the rise as well as anywhere. He handed the basket to Olive so he could spread the blanket and establish boundaries for Stella before she wandered off in search of the petting zoo.
“Stay on the blanket.” Olive had the same idea as she set Stella on the old quilt and opened up the basket. “This is a special treat, isn’t it? We’ve never eaten outside together before.”
“We have,” said Leo. “Daddy eats outside with us all the time now.”
“Just lately,” Maxfield said, “but only the three of us.”
“Just the three of you?” Her eyes crinkled with mischief. “You felt the need to clarify?”
“You are pleased that I did, are you not?”
She pulled out the plates and the crock of barbecue that he’d ordered. Removing the lid, she took a deep breath of the savory meat. “I hope you brought more than a handkerchief. This is going to be messy.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m feeling reckless.” Although he should’ve thought to pack napkins. Smeared barbecue wasn’t romantic. Then again, neither were toddlers and children, yet Olive looked as content as he’d ever seen her.
Together they served the children and arranged them to make their meal as trouble-free and clean as possible.
“Ordering the food was a wonderful idea.” Olive helped herself to some fried pickles. “I was hungry after work today.”
“I’ve been ordering meals to carry away for a few weeks. Once I made the decision to spend more time with the children, I had to figure out what to do for dinner. Mrs. Wester was always happy to start supper, but they are ready to get outside by then.” Stella leaned across his knee to grab a piece of bread. “And while they are becoming better at eating in a restaurant, this is much more relaxing than sitting at a table and waiting for our dinner.”
“It’s delightful.” The flowering azaleas behind her framed her with riotous purple. “I would eat outside all the time if given the opportunity.” She crossed her legs in front of her and smoothed her skirt over them before taking another slice of fried pickles and dropping it into her mouth.
Life was beautiful. This caring, intelligent woman had never looked happier than she did right now with his children around her. The breeze fluttered her collar against her creamy skin. Her one clean hand smoothed Leo’s hair out of his eyes, then she stuck her barbecue-covered finger between her perfect lips and sucked it clean.
Those lips. He’d done his best as a gentleman to banish that encounter to the outskirts of his memory, but it came roaring back with a clarity that astonished him. Max looked at his children with alarm, with the suspicion that they had read his thoughts, but of course, they were unaware. He chuckled to himself. He was as jittery as a first-time beau.
“What’s so amusing?” Olive asked, eager to be in on the joke.
He held her gaze, wishing he could create something as beautiful as the moment. Before long, he’d tell her how much she meant to him. He’d tell her everything. “I laughed in appreciation of God’s sense of humor. Sending you, a skilled architect, to watch my children.” That was the safest explanation he could come up with.
“It might be less miraculous than you think.” Olive sighed. “I hate to admit it, but I think Calista arranged for me to take that job when she saw that it was the famous Maxfield Scott asking. God does have a sense of humor, and He proved it when He surrounded me with those crazy cousins of mine.”
“So I have the preacher’s wife to thank for all this mess?”
“You think you’ve suffered?” She rolled her eyes. “You have no idea what they’ve put me through over the years.”
“I forgot about Amos. If the rest of them are anything like him . . .”
“It’s a wonder I’m so levelheaded and reasonable.” She passed an unopened soda bottle to Maxfield.
“I don’t know about that. What levelheaded woman decides to become an architect and then carries it out beneath the noses of her clients without them having a clue?” He popped off the top of the soda bottle lid with his pocketknife.
“Only a levelheaded woman would be capable of succeeding,” she said, then admitted, “although she had to endure a string of emotions that makes the Dazy Dazer look tame.” Then with a shy glance, she added, “And I haven’t quite put that exhilarating ride behind me yet.”
“I hope there are more to come,” he said.
The temptation to say more was building until it felt like a physical force. In fact, a physical force hit him right between the shoulder blades and bounced a charred rib off his plate and onto his fawn-colored trousers.
“Uncle Maxfield!”
There were soft little arms around his neck.
Reaching behind his back, Max grabbed young Norris, pulled him over his shoulder, and dropped him on the blanket in front of him. The squeals of the Vogel children joined Leo’s and Stella’s as they fell into a writhing mass of juvenile shoes, ribbons, and sweet barbecue sauce.
“Hey kids, I didn’t say to jump in the middle of their dinner,” Eric said as he and Elaine approached. Although he was talking to his children, both of the parents couldn’t stop looking at Olive.
“I’m sorry, Max,” Elaine said. “As soon as they saw their friends, they took off running. I should keep them on a shorter leash.”
Maxfield set his plate aside, stood, and tipped his cap at Elaine. “You’ve come at the perfect time. I’d like to introduce you to my friend, Miss Olive Kentworth.” He took Olive’s hand to help her get to her feet. “Olive, this is Eric and Elaine Vogel. Old friends of mine, and Eric is the best draftsman I know.”
Elaine smiled sweetly. “Nice to meet you, Miss Kentworth. I think your name has come up in conversation with Maxfield a couple of times. Remind me again, how do you two know each other?”
Oh, Elaine was a clever one. It was impressive how she pried without effort.
Olive wasn’t quite as smooth. “I used to watch Leo and Stella in the evenings when Mr. Scott was entertaining. Lately I haven’t been doing that as much. . . .” She looked to him for help, but Maxfield only grinned. He wasn’t going to rescue her. He wanted to hear exactly how she defined their relationship. “Tonight, we’re watching the children together.”
“Is that so?” Eric beamed at Maxfield, making Max regret ever telling his friend about the kiss. “So it’s purely a professional association?”
“Professional in more ways than I expected,” said Maxfield. “It turns out that Miss Kentworth is also an architect—one with great skill, actually.”
“An architect? How interesting.” No one could fail to see the speculative look Elaine gave Eric, but Eric shouldn’t have been surprised. He’d known for weeks that Maxfield was collaborating with someone on the department store.
“She’s incredible,” Maxfield said. “You’ve seen the Lighthouse miners’ center, haven’t you? And the Crystal Cave? She designed the visitors’ center for that. Both are fantastic, creative works.”
From their expressions, they didn’t know what to think. Then again, neither had Maxfield when he first learned of her secret.
CHAPTER
28
Elaine and Eric were impressed, and Olive was embarrassed. Maybe it was on the strength of Maxfield’s testimony, but the Vogels didn’t question her skills. They didn’t laugh or belittle her work. They beamed as Maxfield extolled her praises, almost as if they were proud of her themselves.
How could praise be so hard to hear and yet so wonderful? She knew she’d relive this moment a hundred times over. She’d quote to herself all the generous opinions he was sharing about her and her work. All of them would be stored away like flowers pressed between pages of a heavy book, to be treasured later.
But right now, they were painfully awkward. All the years she hid from sharing her passion, she’d told herself that it was because she would fail and be ashamed. Now she realized that even in success, she still felt pained. There was no winning. Would she ever grow used to compliments? Did she want to?
“If Maxfield is saying that you are good, then you must be the best,” Mr. Vogel said. “He’s very particular . . . when it comes to buildings, anyway.”
His wife burst out with a sharp cough and a sharper look of warning. Mr. Vogel avoided his wife’s gaze while winking at Maxfield. What was he talking about? She looked to Maxfield, who was sending his friend the same look of warning as Mrs. Vogel was.
The tussle of children was growing rowdier with every misunderstood jest. Leo and the Vogel children sped toward the stage, playing tag or some such game. Olive barely snatched Stella by the arm before she got out of range as well.
“I wanna go,” she pouted.
“You’re too little,” Olive said. “Let’s see what they packed for dessert.” Then remembering their guests, “Would you like to join us?”
“Sure . . .” said Mr. Vogel. “That food looks—”
“It’s a pity you don’t have time,” said Maxfield. “Or else we’d love for you to stay.”
“I don’t have time?” Mr. Vogel laughed. “That’s news to me. I was hoping to get to know Miss Kentworth better and to make sure she knows you well enough.”
“Now that you mention it, I just remembered that the children have been longing to spend time with their friends.” Mrs. Vogel made a wide-eyed look at her husband. “Why don’t we take Leo and Stella with us? They could stay as late as you want. In fact, let the children stay the night. You can pick them up in the morning.”
Mr. Vogel wavered. He squinted at Maxfield. “I’m not sure I’m that good of a friend,” he said.
“I knew there was a reason she was my favorite,” said Maxfield.
Olive’s arm tightened around Stella’s waist. The children were her shield. She’d had the security of knowing that nothing too personal could occur with them as escorts. But if they were gone . . .
“My wife is right, I suppose. We’ve already had our dinner and were on our way home. We’ll take the kids, but I don’t know if it’s a good idea to leave them all night. I wouldn’t want you to be lonesome at your house all alone, Maxfield.”
Now it was Max’s turn to look uncomfortable. “I’ll get them as soon as I walk Miss Kentworth home. It won’t be past ten. I promise.”
Olive handed Stella over to Mrs. Vogel. After the niceties of first meetings and promises of second meetings were performed, the Vogels left with the children, leaving Olive and Maxfield alone.
This wasn’t what she’d planned. Not knowing what to do, Olive gathered their supper and stuffed it in the basket. She looked at the half-empty soda bottle and took a long swill from it. Suddenly finishing off the rest of the drink was all she could think of. It kept her from having to think of something to say to Maxfield. She’d lifted it to her mouth again when Maxfield pulled it away.
“You don’t have to finish it all now.”
“I thought we were tidying up here so we could go.”
“Go where?”
“You said you’d walk me home.”
“The music hasn’t started yet.”
Olive looked around them. They were at the edge of the green with hedges at their backs and a long rolling vista before them that stretched to the white gazebo where the bands performed. Not private, exactly, but definitely not where they’d likely be interrupted should anything occur. And all she could think about was what might occur and how badly she’d botched it last time.
“You want to stay for the concert?” She felt a nervous belch working its way up.
“That’s what we came for.”
“Even without the children?”
“Especially without the children.” His eyes sparkled.
“I don’t think I can sit through a concert. I feel like walking.”
“You aren’t happy to be here?” Seeing her shrug, Maxfield picked up the blanket. “What do you think is going to happen to you?”
Olive lifted the picnic basket. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m sure of it.”
“And yet, you’re worried. Could it be that you agreed to come only so you could see the children? I’m sure you’ve missed them.” He folded the blanket beneath his arm.
“I have missed them. I didn’t expect that they would go home and leave us here alone.”
“You weren’t this nervous in your office.”
“We were talking business there. You already said that there’d be no talking business tonight. I’m not sure what else we can talk about.”
“We can talk about us.” The tuning fiddle alerted them that the band was about to commence. Olive watched the figures finding their spots on the lawn beneath them. The people’s shadows were longer than they had been before. The sun was going down, and she was alone with Maxfield.
With a tilt of his head, he motioned her to a path, too new to be more than some trampled grass leading toward the water. Olive fought her fears. She’d been brave of late. Why shouldn’t it continue? She could do this.
The music started in earnest, growing louder even though their steps took them away from the venue. Olive looked both ways on the water. The boats had been tied up for the evening and the park-goers were enjoying a lively tune on the other side of the rise.
“Do you know why Mr. Vogel was teasing about me being picky?” Maxfield waited for her to come over the crest before pointing to the dock and starting that way. “He never liked Ruby. Neither did Elaine. They thought she was cold and shallow.”
“Cold?” Olive shook her head. Her footsteps echoed on the boards of the dock. “Ruby is energetic and charming. I don’t see how anyone could call her cold.”
“She wasn’t you. Now that I know you, I know what I was missing, and no one else will do.” He took the basket from her and laid it on the bench alongside the blanket and soda bottle.
Olive looked out over the smooth water reflecting the last light of the sun. She’d risked so much in stepping out with her career. Was it greedy to hope for two miracles?
“Somehow,” she said, “when I look ahead at what I think the future is going to hold, all I ever see is disaster.” He took her hands, sheltering them inside of his. “For years, I knew that my mother was going to die. Every morning I woke with the reminder that there was great, unavoidable sorrow awaiting me and my family. Now that it’s happened, it seems like there should be another great sorrow amassing to take its place. I can’t imagine life without imminent disaster waiting around the next corner. It makes me hesitant to plan for tomorrow. Afraid to step out.”
“None of us are guaranteed a life free from sorrow.” Giving her a look of warm encouragement, he said, “Whether you know there’s sorrow ahead or not, we can’t prevent all of it.”
Max had had little warning when his wife died, and the shock of it threw him off-kilter. Which was better? To dread an event for years or to have it suddenly come upon you? Maybe her experience wasn’t the worst and maybe she shouldn’t always expect the worst.
Despite her nervousness, his hands felt secure. With all the potential future disasters, all the imaginary scenarios she could dream up, his touch was real and anchoring. She closed her eyes, noticing that the band had started a languid ballad and the birds were in the trees, chirping to each other as they settled in for the night.
Settling in. She should stay here, in this moment, and not get carried away by what could happen. Was that possible? Surely other people did it, but Olive could never quite grasp the skill.
“Think about right now,” Max said. He released her hands and pulled her next to him. Lulled by the lapping waves against the dock, Olive allowed her body to rest against his. “Listen to the music, listen to the birds. I would say smell the roses, but there aren’t any roses in this part of the park, so smell the fishy water. Feel how the air is starting to cool. There’s a touch of dampness in it. Before too long, it might have a touch of chill.”
For this moment, she’d stop questioning and she’d obey. She let her mind be led as he described the things they were both experiencing. Her hands were tucked between them against his chest.
“There might be a chill but not here between us. Feel how nice this warmth is next to me. Feel how precious it is to be held, to belong, to occupy a space where so few are admitted. My children—Leo and Stella—I would let them share this space but no one else. It’s reserved for you.”
She had feared words of romance, but this was different. This wasn’t about loud declarations and prideful public appearances. It was about belonging, companionship, and something that could be enjoyed privately in the security of home.
“Would you like to be a part of this, Olive?” His hand wrapped around her waist. “Who knows what can happen? We can only control our decisions, and I’m asking you to help me decide my future. Please tell me, does being a part of my life, my family, appeal to you?”
That’s what it came down to, wasn’t it? Her family would tease her endlessly, but if people could grow used to the idea of a female architect, surely they would cease to wonder at Maxfield Scott wooing Olive Kentworth.
She was tired of the fear. Tired of denying what she wanted just to spite herself. There was no one against her. Nothing that stood in her way besides her own feelings of inadequacy. She was ready for another step forward.
“This . . .” she said, “this is how I want to spend the rest of my life.”
