A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(56)

Her cell phone pinged from another room. She hurried to the kitchen, rummaged through her purse, found it and read, "Running a little late. Be there soon." Good, she had more time to prepare. She sent a smiley face.

She found a cut-glass vase in the cupboard above the refrigerator for the roses, arranged them and placed them on the table. She set an unopened bottle of Ravish next to the vase. It was suddenly important to her that he like the wine. Too important. As if his like or dislike of it portended something about their future. She wiped her hands on her jeans and walked into the kitchen.

Her cell vibrated in her pocket. "On way," she read.

"Good." Her fingers felt thick and clumsy as she typed.

Gwen finished off her first glass of wine and poured another. The twinkling candles, the warmth of the fire, and the heat of the wine combined to drive away the chill she'd been feeling since she'd talked with Art.

She hummed to herself while she cut the loaf of bread. It would be okay. Tonight was a festive occasion, an opportunity to commemorate the biggest deal she'd ever participated in, nothing more. It was an evening to relax, enjoy herself and explore future options. Things were a bit up in the air. That's why she felt jittery. Tomorrow she'd be back on solid ground.

Gwen put the bread into a napkin-lined basket and brought it to the table. As she set it down, she heard a rap on the front door. Lance was on time after all.

Her hands tingled as if she'd grabbed a low voltage electric fence. She walked into the entryway with careful, measured steps. The door stood before her, dark brown and solid. She reached across what seemed a great expanse of tile for the gleaming, brass doorknob, turned it and threw open the door.

"Oh, it's you." A thin woman with tufts of gray hair poking out from under her umbrella squinted at Gwen and blinked twice.

#

"Mrs. VanVlear. Can I help you?" The words rushed from Gwen's lips.

"I saw lights and wondered if the Frobishers were home." Esther VanVlear tilted her head to the side, trying to see into the house. Gwen held her arms wide to block as much of the view as possible.

"I'm getting ready for an open house," Gwen said.

"You have candles lit." It was not a question. It was an accusation.

"Yes," Gwen said. Sometimes the less said at these times, the better.

"Trying to create some ambiance, I guess?"

"Yes." Good response. Gwen wished she'd thought of it.

"You're drinking wine?" Not an accusation, a request.

"Yes." Gwen couldn't invite her in. Lance would be there any moment.

Mrs. VanVlear stood, dripping rainwater, on the front stoop like a stray cat looking for a warm hearth. The standoff lasted an uncomfortable thirty seconds. She pursed her lips and wrinkled her forehead, but before she could come up with a reason she should be allowed in, Gwen said, "I've got a lot to do before I can head home. I'd better get busy. Thanks so much for stopping by." She began to close the door and heard her cell phone ping from the dining table.

"I could help," Esther said.

"No, really. That's so sweet of you. I've got it." Gwen's pulse danced with impatience.

"No trouble." Esther VanVlear put one foot inside the house. Gwen's phone chimed again. "Do you need to get that?" Her other foot slid over the doorstep.

Gwen dropped her arms in defeat and went to retrieve her phone. The screen read, "Need anything?" Yes. Help getting rid of a nosy neighbor, she thought but slipped the phone into her sweater pocket unanswered.

Mrs. VanVlear was eying the spread on the dining room table. "You go all out don't you?"

"Yes."

"If I ever sell, I'll make sure to call you." She licked her thin lips and looked longingly at the half-empty wine bottle and the chocolate ganache cake. "In fact, I'll make sure to tell the Frobishers' what a wonderful job you're doing for them. Setting the table with their best china, lighting candles all over the house, having wine and food. It's so welcoming. Just like you were getting ready for a...," she looked at the ceiling for a moment. "An intimate tête–à–tête."

Was there a threat hidden behind that waterfall of words? Gwen couldn't be sure, but thought a small bribe might ingratiate the woman. "Would you like a glass of wine, Mrs. VanVlear?"

"If you have enough. I don't want to put you out."

Gwen reached for the glass she'd set on the table for Lance, filled it a third of the way and handed it to the old woman. Then she stood, arms crossed, and restrained her foot from tapping. Her phone jangled in her pocket again, but she didn't dare read it. Every time she looked away, Esther VanVlear slid a little farther into the house.

"I hate to leave you standing in the doorway, but I don't want to get the Frobishers wood floors all wet," Gwen said.

"I understand, dear. I understand." The woman looked at her empty glass and back to Gwen. Gwen's face settled into the mask she wore with the kids on the candy isle of the grocery store.

"That was a lovely wine. It will fortify me for the trip home," Mrs. VanVlear said without enthusiasm. Why she needed fortification for a trip next door was anyone's guess.

"It was so nice of you to stop by." Gwen herded her outside.