Duncan chiseled into the silence, letting the pieces tinkle where they may. “Mother. Dad. How are you?”
Mr. Hawthorne, Duncan’s father, lowered his phone, as if barely noticing there were two extra people in the room. Expression lifting, he smiled and rose from his chair. Apparently, someone in this family had some decency.
“Duncan!” He offered Duncan a hand and pulled him to his chest, clapping a hand on his back. “How was the trip?”
“Just fine, thanks,” Duncan said, his face seeping with relief. “Dad, Mother, I’d like you both to meet—”
Before they could say anything more, a doorway down the hall across from the living room opened, and voices began trickling in their direction. Soft, gentle, feminine voices.
“—you’ve got great mobility, all things considered,” one woman’s voice could be heard.
Its owner, a young woman with thick, mahogany hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing teal scrubs, came into view in the decadent entryway. Sporting a bright, cheerful smile, she was the friendliest person in the house.
Recognition struck Rosabel in an instant. The woman’s bright countenance, her lovely eyes and smile … “Hannah?”
Hannah Noah had been in Rosabel’s graduating class back at Westville High in Vermont. The last she’d known, Hannah had been working in Montpelier, at the Institute of Rehabilitation. They’d stayed connected through college but had lost track of one another shortly after.
“Rosabel? Oh my goodness, talk about the last place I ever thought I’d see you.”
Rosabel couldn’t help laughing. “No kidding. What are you doing here? You live in Eureka Springs?”
“You two know each other?” Duncan interrupted.
Stunned, and unable to fight a smile, Rosabel gestured to Hannah. “Yes! We went to high school together.” She turned back to Hannah. “So you moved here?”
Did Sarah know? Dad’s caretaker had also been a friend from school. The three of them had gone to lunch a few times. Rosabel made a mental note to text Sarah and ask if she knew Hannah was here.
Hannah fidgeted, her smile wavering. “Yeah. I moved a short time ago. I work as a physical therapist. I’m here helping Mrs. Hawthorne.” Hannah shuffled to make way for the elderly woman behind her.
Duncan’s grandma was hunched over, each movement a chore. Graying hair nestled in tight curls on her head, and her hand shook the crystal head of a cane impaling the green carpet with every step she took. “What you do with me is no one else’s business,” the older woman chided, which only made Hannah smile.
“Of course not.” She winked at Rosabel.
“So, how’s life?” Rosabel went on. “How’s Ryan? You guys have been together for a while now, haven’t you? Did he ever propose? Wait—don’t tell me. He’s the reason you moved here to Arkansas.” She added a grin for good measure. Memories of a good-looking blond man who’d been much older than Hannah filtered through Rosabel’s mind. They’d been crazy for each other.
Hannah ducked her chin. “No, he’s still in Westville. Or fallen off the map, for all I care.” Her eyes shifted to the door as if pleading for escape. After a quick glance at Mrs. Hawthorne and then Duncan, Hannah perked up once more. “Anyway, so great to see you. I’d better get going.”
Rosabel’s brow furrowed. Surprise and remorse stabbed at her. Hannah and Ryan had been such a solid thing; otherwise she never would have brought him up out of the blue. Here, she’d been grateful for a respite from the awkwardness, and she’d made things ten times worse.
She hurried to correct the misunderstanding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to …”
Face flushed, Hannah gave a quick smile and gripped the strap of the small black duffel bag hanging from her shoulder. “No worries,” she said. “I’ll see you later.” Dipping her chin once more, she headed out the door.
In Hannah’s wake, the elderly woman inspected Rosabel with interest. “Who might you be?”
Duncan cleared his throat. “Grandmother,” he began. Movement followed, and soon his father and mother climbed the step onto the marble entryway as well. They faced one another as if in some kind of stand-off. His father was the only person in the room who was pleased at Duncan’s presence.
Duncan placed a hand on Rosabel’s shoulder. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet Rosabel Smith—”
“Your girlfriend?” his mom asked, passing to the elderly woman. Her heels clacked across the marble as she helped Grandma Hawthorne toward the living room, down the step, and to a cushy armchair.
Duncan hurried to offer his assistance as well. His grandma clung to his arm as she lowered herself to the cushions.
“Or have you married?” Mrs. Hawthorne went on, straightening and returning to her spot on the love seat. “Is she your wife?”
Thanks to Duncan’s harebrained offer before they’d left, Rosabel’s defenses went on high alert. She raised her hands, understanding how poor Hannah must have felt when she’d basically asked her the same question about Ryan. Then again, Rosabel had cause to believe they’d gotten married long ago, considering how lovey-dovey Hannah used to be over him.
“Whoa, there, not married. Ahem. We’re not married.” She tried to breathe. They thought he would get married without telling them? What was wrong with this family?
Rosabel clenched and was tempted to move closer to Duncan, who was clearly the only sane person in the room besides her. But that would give the opposite effect either of them wanted right now. She’d never been so nervous meeting anyone. In fact, she hadn’t felt this awkward and unwanted since being picked last for dodgeball in junior high.
She thought of Hannah’s hasty retreat. An urge to break for her shoes and ditch out the door flooded her, but she also reeled with understanding in a way she never had been before. No wonder Duncan was the way he was. If his family was this personable? Holy wow.
More than that, she hoped he’d keep his word and not attempt the whole fake girlfriend ploy.
Returning to her side, Duncan spoke before she did. “No, no. We’re not married. Rosabel is my assistant. I recently purchased a home on Beaver Lake, and I also have another investment I’d like to look into while we’re here. She came along to help me handle that end of things.”
“I see,” Mrs. Hawthorne said, brightening up way too fast. Someone was glad her son was still on the market. You and me both, sister, Rosabel thought. Mrs. Hawthorne smiled at Rosabel. “In that case, welcome, Miss Smith. How long have you worked for our Duncan here?”
Their Duncan? Could have fooled her. She and Duncan still hadn’t sat down—they hadn’t even been invited to. Were they in some kind of formal interview they had to pass before they were allowed to grace the furniture?
Rosabel opened her mouth to answer when Mrs. Hawthorne interrupted. “You know, we still haven’t ordered the flowers we need for my birthday party. Perhaps that is something your assistant can take care of for us.”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to,” Duncan said, answering for Rosabel.
Eager to prove how not-dating she was with Duncan, Rosabel ignored her irritation at yet again having him offer her help without asking. “Sure,” Rosabel said. “I’d be happy to. Just let me know which flowers and how many.” She pulled out her phone to set a reminder for herself.