Angel's Peak (Virgin River #10)(78)

Right inside the front door in what must be the living room, who should be standing at a circular saw cutting planks but George Davenport. She let out a breath. Well, avoiding him wasn’t going to work. She’d tried to give him a wide berth at the wedding party on Friday night, but he’d singled her out, complimented her, made small talk and even kissed the back of her hand! There seemed to be only two options to deal with the man. Face him head-on or leave town.

And there he stood, his white hair, which was not terribly thick, askew and spiking, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, covered with sawdust. His face was tan—but hadn’t he said he’d come from Seattle? Cloudy, dreary Seattle? Despite herself, she noticed his shoulders were broad, his butt was solid and his legs were long. What was a man his age doing with broad shoulders and a solid butt? She wondered what he’d look like without a shirt and was immediately appalled that she would even think that!

The thought must have caused her to make a noise because he turned toward her. The smile that split his handsome face was bright. No slippery dentures there; his teeth were white and strong. He must have been good about brushing and flossing all through the years, probably the only thing they had in common.

“Mrs. Riordan,” he said. “What brings you here?”

“Curiosity,” she said. “My son Luke told me about all the activity here over the weekend and I thought it was such a wonderful thing that I just wanted to see it for myself.” She entered the house farther. “What is it you’re doing?”

“I’m cutting the boards for the new stairs. Noah will be along when he can clear some of his morning appointments. We’ll install the stairs and, later today and tomorrow, Muriel will help with the sanding, staining and varnishing.”

“Muriel?” Maureen asked.

“You’ve met Muriel St. Claire, haven’t you? She’s an ace woodworker and she completely restored an old farmhouse on the outskirts of town. She moved in right next to Walt Booth’s place, which is how they met. They’ve been a hot item for the past year.”

“Hot item?” she said. “For a year?” She frowned. “I guess I thought they’d been a couple for a long time.” Even though many of her female acquaintances found romance later in life, Maureen never really got used to the idea. Viv told her it was high time she dispelled the notion that romance was strictly for the very young. Still, when she thought about couples the age of Muriel and Walt getting together, she couldn’t help but think of it as more practical than passionate.

“Fairly recent, as I understand it,” George went on. “Walt was widowed several years ago. And while Muriel has never taken me into her confidence, the movie rags say she’s been married and divorced a number of times.” He grinned. “She must think the day she ran into Walt Booth—stable old war dog that he is—was one of the luckiest days of her life.”

“George, I probably owe you an apology,” Maureen said. “I don’t think I was as friendly as I could have been when we ran into each other at Jack’s a week or so ago. The fact is, I do remember meeting you at Luke’s wedding. I don’t know why I was acting as if I couldn’t remember you. It isn’t like me to play coy like that.”

“I knew that, Mrs. Riordan,” he said.

She was stunned. “You knew?”

He smiled gently. Kindly. “I saw it in your eyes,” he explained, then shifted his own back and forth, breaking eye contact, demonstrating what he saw. “And the moment I met you I knew you were more straightforward than that. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

She was a little uncomfortable now, in fact. She felt vulnerable, being found out before she even had a chance to confess. “And I was widowed quite a while ago.”

“Yes, I know that, too. Twelve years or so?” he asked.

She put her hands on her hips. “And you know this how?” she asked, not trying too hard to keep the indignant tone from her voice.

“Well, I asked,” he said with a shrug. “That’s what a man does when he has an interest in a woman. He asks about her.”

“Is that so? Well, what else did you find out?”

“Nothing embarrassing, I swear. Just that you’ve been widowed quite a while now, all five sons are in the military, you live in Phoenix and, as far as anyone knows, you’re not currently seeing anyone special.”

Special? she thought. Not seeing anyone period with absolutely no intention of doing so. “Interesting,” she said. “Well, I don’t know a thing about you.”

“Of course you do. I’m a friend of Noah’s. A teacher.” He chuckled. “And obviously I have time on my hands.”

“That’s not very much information,” she said.

He took a rag out of his back pocket and wiped some of the sawdust and sweat off his brow. “You’re welcome to ask me anything you like. I’m an open book.”

“How long have you been a teacher?” she asked, starting with a safe subject.

“Twenty years now, and I’m thinking of making some changes. I’m seventy and I always thought retirement would turn me into an old fuddy-duddy, but I’m rethinking that. I’d like to have more time to do the things I enjoy most and, fortunately, I have a small pension and some savings. Besides, I’m tired of keeping a rigid schedule.”