Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(163)

Her housemate remained an enigma. Edward adored her, and the feeling was mutual, but Kristy was so reserved otherwise that Rachel didn’t have a clear picture of the person beneath that plain, efficient exterior.

She still hadn’t responded to Ethan’s knock, so Rachel called out for him to come in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kristy take a deep breath and turn back into the calm, reserved woman who did everything so well. It was as if the moment of surprise had never happened.

“We’re just getting ready to eat, Ethan,” Kristy said as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. “Would you like something?”

“Um. I shouldn’t.” He gave Rachel a chilly nod.

She took in his light-blue oxford shirt, which was neatly tucked into a pair of khaki trousers that bore a knife-sharp crease down the center. His blond hair was perfectly cut, neither too long nor too short, and with his height, those blue eyes, and his finely balanced features, he might have been a GQ model instead of a member of the clergy.

“I just stopped by to drop off material for the newsletter,” he told Kristy. “You said you’d be putting it together in the morning, but I won’t be in until two.”

Kristy took the folder of papers he handed her and set it aside. “Wash up while we put the food on the table. Rachel’s fixed a wonderful homemade marinara.”

Ethan didn’t bother with much more than a token protest, and they were soon seated. As he ate, he confined his remarks to Edward and Kristy. Edward gave a detailed account of his experience that day feeding Snuggles, the class guinea pig, and Rachel realized he had a relationship with Ethan that she knew nothing about. She was glad that Ethan hadn’t projected his hostility toward her onto her son.

Kristy, she noticed, treated Ethan as if she were his mother, and he, a slightly backward ten-year-old. She chose his salad dressing, shook Parmesan on his spaghetti, and, in general, did everything for him except cut his food.

He, in turn, barely seemed to notice her attention, and he certainly didn’t notice the hungry yearning in her eyes when she looked at him.

So, Rachel thought. That’s the way it is.

Kristy refused to let him help clean up, something Rachel wouldn’t have had any qualms about, and Ethan left soon after. Rachel sent Edward outside to catch fireflies while she and Kristy washed dishes.

As Rachel dried the plate Kristy handed her, she decided to meddle. “Have you known Ethan for long?”

“Nearly all my life.”

“Um . . . And I’ll bet you’ve been in love with him most of that time.”

The bowl Kristy was holding slipped from her fingers and dropped to the linoleum floor, where it split into two precise pieces.

Rachel looked down. “Jeez. You even drop things neatly.”

“Why did you say that? About Ethan? What did you mean?”

Rachel bent over to pick up the broken bowl. “Never mind. I’m too nosy, and your love life is none of my business.”

“My love life.” Kristy gave an unladylike snort and slapped the dishcloth into the sink. “As if I have one.”

“So why don’t you do something about it?”

“Do something?” Kristy took the broken pieces of bowl from Rachel and dropped them in the trash can under the sink.


“It’s obvious you care about him.”

Kristy was such a private person that Rachel expected her to deny it, but she didn’t.

“It’s not that simple. Ethan Bonner is the best-looking man in Salvation, maybe the entire state of North Carolina, and he has a weakness for beautiful women in rhinestones and Spandex skirts.”

“Put on some rhinestones and Spandex. At least he’d notice.”

Kristy’s delicately arched eyebrows shot up. “Me?”

“Why not?”

She actually sputtered. “Me? Me! You expect a—a woman like me— A—a church secretary . . . I’m—I’m plain.”

“Says who?”

“I’d never do something like that. Never.”

“All right.”

She shook her head determinedly. “I’d look like an absolute fool.”

Rachel propped one hip on the kitchen table. “You’re not exactly dog meat, Kristy, despite your boring wardrobe.” Rachel smiled and glanced down at her 1950s Sears and Roebuck housedress. “Not that I have room to cast stones.”

“You don’t think I’m dog meat?”

Kristy looked so hopeful that Rachel’s heart went out to her. Maybe she finally had a way to repay this intelligent, insecure woman for her kindness. “Come on.” She guided her into the living room, where she seated them both on the couch. “I definitely don’t think you’re dog meat. You have beautiful features. You’re petite, which is something men seem to go for, not that I’d know anything about it. And you seem to have fairly nice breasts hidden away under that blouse, not that I’d know about that either.”

“You really think I have breasts?”

Rachel couldn’t hold back a smile. “I guess you’re a better judge of that than I am. What I think, Kristy, is that you decided a long time ago that you weren’t attractive, and you’ve never bothered to reassess yourself.”

Kristy sagged back into the couch. Disbelief, hope, confusion played over her face. Rachel let her take her time, and while she waited, she gazed around at the simple, rustic living room and thought how much she liked it. The breeze coming in through the screen door smelled of pine, faintly overlaid with the sweet scent of honeysuckle. Outside she saw Edward chasing after a firefly, and she wondered if Gabe had ever sat here and watched his son do the same thing. The image was too painful, and she shook it off.