Lucky Stars (Ghosts and Reincarnation #5)(82)

“One word for that and that word is ‘eek’,” Carol noted with a smile on her lips. “I’m guessing you want some alone time.”

“I want to show him my grandmother’s landscapes,” Belle replied honestly and Carol burst out laughing.

When she quit laughing, she teased, “That’s what they all say, dear.”

Belle saw the humour and grinned before she asked, “So what do you reckon I should make for a fabulously wealthy man who orders breakfast from his housekeeper every morning, has his bed made for him every day and flies to work in a plane?”

“Meat and potatoes,” Carol answered instantly. “Unless they’re poofs or celebrity chefs, which are just other words meaning poof, men like meat and potatoes. All men. Even fabulously wealthy ones.” Then she got up and walked to her purse. “Leave it to me. I’ll go to the store. I’ll stock you up. He probably eats so much fancy food, a little home cooking, he won’t know what hit him.” She moved back to Belle and held out her hand. “Keys to the cottage.”

Belle walked to her purse, dug in and gave Carol her keys and some money.

Then a little wiggle of fear spiralled in her belly, she looked at Carol and opened her mouth.

Before she could utter a word, Carol said gently, “I’ve had dinner at your house, Belle, three times. You’re a great cook. Americans usually are. I’m not kidding, love, he won’t know what hit him.”

Belle nodded, watched Carol leave and, wiggle of fear gone, she went back to work.

* * * * *

Mid-afternoon, Belinda’s head popped up at the landing to the stairs and Carol and Belle looked at her.

Her eyes were bright and her face was flushed.

“You have got to see this,” she breathed in apparent rapture then her head disappeared.

Belle and Carol looked at each other, got up and headed down the stairs.

In her shop, as well as three customers, was a peach-haired woman wearing, bizarrely, a full on, boxy tweed suit with a light wool turtleneck under it and thick tights even though it was twenty-nine degrees Celsius outside.

There was also a light-skinned, black man with a close-cropped Afro, dark-brown eyes, a strong, square jaw and the body of a defensive lineman including broad shoulders and massive height that Belle guessed was at least two inches taller than Jack and Jack was tall. He was wearing an impeccably cut suit and he could easily be scouted as a leading man in a variety of Hollywood movies including romantic comedies but especially action films.

In other words, he was gorgeous.

Not James Bennett gorgeous but as close as Belle ever got.

Eyes to the black man, Belle walked to the peach-haired lady.

“Belle Abbot.” She heard and she tore her eyes from the man and looked at Olive who was speaking.

“You’re Olive,” Belle said idiotically.

“That I am,” Olive replied and stuck her hand out, Belle took it and Olive’s fingers closed around hers. Olive’s grip was so firm it was a little scary and she shook Belle’s hand so stoutly, Belle’s entire frame shook with it and the whole time her hazel eyes never left Belle’s face.

Belle returned her look as best she could and the woman dropped her hand.

“This is Dirk,” Olive said, motioning to the black man. “He’s your new shop assistant.”

Belle’s mouth dropped open as Belinda cried, “Isn’t that great?”

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle whispered, her eyes glued to Dirk. “You’re a man,” she told him.

He grinned and his white teeth flashed so brightly Belle was temporarily blinded.

“Last time I checked,” he answered, his voice so deep it hit the room like a thunderclap.

“Oh my goodness gracious,” Belle repeated.

“Until this morning, he worked on Sloane Street. Now he works for you,” Olive announced.

Belle looked back to Olive and asked hesitantly, “Um, can I talk to you a second?”

Before Olive could answer, Belle grabbed her hand and dragged her to the back of the store, up the stairs and into the workshop.

Then she whirled on her and got close. “Does Jack know that’s my new shop assistant?”

Olive’s eyebrows went up. “Not exactly. He told me to get you an assistant. He usually doesn’t follow up once he gives a directive. He just expects it to get done. Which it always does. Hence Dirk,” she finished, throwing a hand casually toward the stairs.

“I think,” Belle said in a voice filled with portent, “he’s expecting it to be a girl.”

“He said ‘get the best’. I got the best,” Olive declared. “The best just happens to be a man.”

“I’m not sure he’s going to like this,” Belle informed her.

“Why not?” Olive asked.

“Because, well…” She paused, not certain how to point out the obvious because it should be obvious. She went with, “He’s a man.”

“So?”

“It’s not just any man, he looks like a superhero,” Belle shared. “Or, at least, he looks like he could play one on TV.”

Olive leaned back, crossed her arms on her ample chest and grinned. “I see. You think Jack’ll be jealous.”

“Um…” Belle began but her mind screamed, yes!