Dream a Little Dream (Chicago Stars, #4)(37)

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.


“So what should I do about it? “ Kristy finally said.

“I don’t know. Maybe a makeover?”

“Makeover?”

“Go to a good salon and have them do your hair and makeup. Visit a trendy little boutique for a wardrobe update.”

For a moment she looked hopeful, and then her expression clouded. “What’s the point. I could walk into Ethan’s office stark-naked and he wouldn’t notice.”

“We can try that, too.” Rachel smiled. “But let’s do the makeover part first.”

Kristy looked shocked, and then she laughed.

Rachel decided that she might as well go all the way. “One more thing. You have to stop fussing over him.”

“What do you mean?”

“How can he look at you like a lover when you treat him as if you’re his mother?”

“I do not!”

“You put the dressing on his salad!”

“Sometimes he forgets.”

“Then let him forget. You baby him, Kristy. He won’t die if he has to eat his salad plain.”

“That’s not fair. I work for him. Looking after him is my job.”

“How many years have you done this job?”

“Eight. Ever since he took over as pastor.”