Hannah's List (Blossom Street #7)(58)

"How long is it going to take her to finish the mural?"

I shrugged. "A couple of weeks, or so she claims." I paused. "Did I mention that she hums while she works?" In all honesty, her humming wasn't nearly as irritating as I'd implied. Besides, Les Miserables is one of my favorite musicals. I'd recognized "Master of the House" immediately.

Leanne seemed to find that amusing.

"Show tunes," I went on. "She says she's not aware of doing it, which is laughable. Then, before I can stop myself, I'm humming, too, and I have no musical ability whatsoever. Plus I have to listen to my staff joining in."

"I knew someone like Macy once. A nurse. Her name was Gayle and she was always singing. She'd also jump from one subject to the next without even the hint of a transition."

"That goes for Macy, too." The woman lived in her own world and anyone from planet Earth had to wonder what she was talking about.

I leaned closer to the table and offered Leanne my plate as she sliced the lasagna into squares. I waited until she'd served herself before I dug in. To say it was good would be an understatement of criminal proportions. I remembered eating this same meal with Hannah, and deeply appreciated Leanne's thoughtfulness in preparing it for me. I savored the second bite and the third. I devoured the lasagna and accepted another helping, which is something I rarely do.

Leanne talked about her friend Gayle, and I matched her stories, but mine were about my trials with Macy. Soon we were both relaxed and smiling at each other across the table.

"Would you like to go to a movie this weekend?" I found myself asking as we lingered over coffee.

"Sure. Anything in particular you'd like to see?"

I didn't even know what was playing. "You decide."

"Action, comedy, drama? Do you have a preference?"

"What do you like?"

"Buttered popcorn."

I smiled. "Action, then. Something along the lines of The Bourne Identity." That was the last movie I'd seen, other than The African Queen with Winter the week before.

Ritchie's Rule #17: Don't mention seeing a movie with Winter Adams while you're with Leanne.

She suggested we have our coffee in the living room and because our conversation about quirky individuals seemed to have run its course, she turned on the television. We watched a news show and when it was over, I carried my empty mug into the kitchen.

"Thank you for dinner," I said and I hoped the simple words conveyed my very real gratitude.

"You aren't disappointed that I didn't bake crispy pork chops?" she teased.

"Not in the least."

"Maybe next time," she said.

"I'd love that," I told her.

"Sure."

Winter had promised to make me a pork roast soon; I just hoped I didn't get confused about who'd made what. Between the two, Winter and Leanne, I could find myself in trouble. Ritchie's Rule #23: Keep track of meals and movies.

"Do you want to give me a call before Saturday?" she asked as she held open the apartment door.

Suddenly, I couldn't remember why I'd need to call her.

She obviously noticed my blank look. "For the movie."

"Oh, right." I felt foolish, but Leanne put me at ease with her smile.

Once I was home and sitting in front of the TV with my feet up, I reconsidered that invitation to the movies. Quite frankly I don't know what had prompted me to suggest it. My plan had been to give myself a day or two to analyze the evening before I pursued the relationship any further.

Instead, I'd arranged another date. Perhaps I felt obligated to repay her for the meal. I didn't know.

Not until I turned in for the night did it occur to me that I'd spent most of the evening talking about Macy.

Chapter Twenty-Two

A lix Turner stuck her head inside Winter's tiny office at the French Cafe. "You have a visitor," she said. Judging by her smile, Alix seemed pleased about something. She was noticeably pregnant now, and the whole staff was thrilled. Everyone had adopted Alix and, while Winter had never given birth herself, she couldn't help offering dietary advice and concocting nutritious smoothies.

Jordan, who was the most attentive husband she'd ever seen, wanted Alix to stop working, but Alix had convinced him she could continue until she felt too uncomfortable to bake. She also served at the counter when Winter needed a substitute. There were only a few weeks left before her due date, and Winter suspected Alix would work right up until she went into labor. One thing was certain; this baby would have a number of doting godmothers, and she intended to be one of them. Alix's previous pregnancy had ended in an early miscarriage last summer. That accounted for the extra care Jordan and all her friends lavished on her now.

"A visitor?" Winter looked up from the food order she was about to complete. "Who is it?" she asked automatically. Even as she spoke, she wondered who'd feel a need to be announced. Michael or possibly--

"It's Pierre." The pen Winter had been holding slipped from her fingers. "Pierre is

here?"

"Should I send him in?" Alix asked, her smile widening. She'd always been a champion of his. At times Winter had actually been a little jealous of how well Pierre and Alix got along, of the easy camaraderie between them.