A Creed in Stone Creek
“The cobbler, already thawed and heated through, sat cooling on the counter nearest the stove, covered by a clean dishtowel. The antique table, which too often served as a catchall for newspapers and junk mail, looked like something straight off the cover of Country Living magazine.
Melissa took a moment to admire the crisp white tablecloth, the green-tinted glass jar in the center, spilling over with perfect white peonies from the bushes on either side of the front steps. The plates, purchased on impulse in, of all places, an airport gift shop, were decorated with checks and flowers and polka dots.
She tilted her head to one side, considering the look. Fussy, yes. Feminine, definitely. Cheerful, to the max.
But was it too fussy, feminine and cheerful?
After all, this wasn’t a reunion of her high school cheerleading squad; she was entertaining a little boy and a grown man.
And what a man. There should have been a law.
Melissa chewed briefly on one fingernail, fretting. With the excepti...on of the flowers in the jar, none of this was at all like her—the fancy dishes had been gathering dust in the cupboard above the refrigerator for a couple of years, she hadn’t cooked the food and she had exactly one tablecloth to her name—this one.MoreLess
Melissa took a moment to admire the crisp white tablecloth, the green-tinted glass jar in the center, spilling over with perfect white peonies from the bushes on either side of the front steps. The plates, purchased on impulse in, of all places, an airport gift shop, were decorated with checks and flowers and polka dots.
She tilted her head to one side, considering the look. Fussy, yes. Feminine, definitely. Cheerful, to the max.
But was it too fussy, feminine and cheerful?
After all, this wasn’t a reunion of her high school cheerleading squad; she was entertaining a little boy and a grown man.
And what a man. There should have been a law.
Melissa chewed briefly on one fingernail, fretting. With the excepti...on of the flowers in the jar, none of this was at all like her—the fancy dishes had been gathering dust in the cupboard above the refrigerator for a couple of years, she hadn’t cooked the food and she had exactly one tablecloth to her name—this one.MoreLess
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