I pulled the dress out to take a look at it and make sure it was doing well. I didn’t want to be responsible for ruining my aunt’s designer gowns. It looked good and I placed it back inside the armoire. I didn’t notice the match book until I closed the armoire’s door. It must have fallen out when I took the dress out.
I snatched it up. Le Procope. I opened the match book to find a few matches left and a message written on the inside flap. Meet you tonight at eight.
I smiled thinking my aunt was having a clandestine affair, imagining her involved with some wealthy, powerful man and the reason she never married. I stuck the matchbook in my pocket and shut the armoire. I gave a glance around the attic and almost changed my mind about having my office up here with how much I had to clean out. But it was time. I couldn’t hold on to things forever—right?
It wasn’t a task I wanted to tackle today so I left the attic and returned to my office. It was time to seriously map out what I wanted to do with the idea for the journal books proposal.
But first I had to decide what prepper conventions I would go to. I always enjoyed attending them and had met many great people some becoming lasting friends. I’d always had a good time and I’d jump at any chance to go to one, especially with my expenses being paid—until now and Ian. I would miss him.
I leaned forward in my chair and braced my elbows on the desk and dropped my face into my hands shaking my head. I couldn’t believe I just thought that. It was a sure sign I was falling hard for the guy, not just any guy, but a cover model.
My cell rang and who was it? You guessed.
“Hi, Ian,” I answered.
“Hi, lass. I got a short break between shots and wanted to see how you were doing.”
I realized only then that I had a slight headache. I’d been too busy to give it thought, but I wasn’t about to burden Ian with that. I was a big girl and could take care of myself.
“Nothing more than a slight headache,” I said not knowing where my words had come from.
“I wish I didn’t have to get these shoots done today or else I’d be there with you. Take something for the pain and rest, and I’ll be by as soon as I can.”
Had that been why I had told him, to see what he would say? Now I felt guilty.
“Don’t rush. Really, I’m good.”
“I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself, Pep, but I’d feel better if I was there with you. I guess I’m old-fashioned. I like to look after my lass.”
Good lord, his brogue was going to do me in.
“Hope to be there before suppertime.”
He hung up before I could offer an excuse, feeling even more guilty but also feeling warm and fuzzy inside. I really did like the man.
“Oh, admit it, Pepper, you’re falling hard for him.”
Mo looked up at me concerned I was talking to myself, and Roxie shot me a you-disturbed-me look.
I leaned back in my chair, my mind a jumble of thoughts.
Busy hands quiet the mind.
I could almost hear Aunt Effie in my head. She had said that to me on several occasions when I had unexpectedly dropped by to find her tearing her closet apart or painting a room. I had often wondered what had been on her mind that she had to quiet it.
I decided to declutter the top of my desk before I did anything, then my mind kicked in and I recalled that I was about to look over the different prepper conferences and decide which one to attend. I gave the list a quick glance when a thought came to me. Ian was about to sign for that big modeling job which would take him away for a while. If I could find out when that would be, I could go to the conferences at the time he was away.
“Drats and double drats, Pepper, are you seriously thinking of scheduling your life around a man you’ve just met?”
Mo looked up at me again
“I’m losing it, Mo, and I don’t mean my mind,” I said, never in a million years would I have thought I’d ever have a chance to date a cover model, not that I ever wanted to. We’d have nothing in common, so why did Ian and I share so many interests?
Busy hands. I definitely had to keep my hands busy.
I gathered up papers I no longer needed and after shredding them placed them in a purple bin in the garage with MOM marked on it. My mom ran an art class for kids and adults—different days—and would use the shredded paper for papier-mâché projects. I was always amazed at the items the kids and adults made. She’d be thrilled that the bin would be full by the time I got done.