4.

GEMMA LAY IN bed, staring at the ceiling of Colin's room, and wondered if it was safe yet to go downstairs. Last night's dinner had been awkward, and at times truly unpleasant. She'd said very little, only complimenting Jean on her food, but otherwise remaining silent. She was afraid that if she spoke she'd somehow reveal that she'd been hired for the job.

She sat beside Colin, Jean on his other side, and across from them were Kirk and Isla, with Lanny in the middle. Mr. and Mrs. Frazier took the ends. Young Shamus had, somehow, managed to escape the ordeal.

Isla dominated the conversation as she told amusing stories of what went on at the university. She and Kirk had received their masters from other schools, so they hadn't been there nearly as long as Gemma.

Isla was a good storyteller, and everyone laughed at her portrayals of professors and students. It was only when she started on Gemma that things got embarra.s.sing.

"Gemma is our resident student," Isla said. "She's been there longer than a lot of the professors."

"We call her Mother Goose," Kirk chimed in.

"Yes," Isla said as she took a bite. "Gemma is nearly always followed by a gaggle of football players. They trail after her all across campus."

"You should hear her!" Kirk said as he went into a falsetto. " 'Who is Mussolini and what is a fascist?' 'Who wrote the Declaration of Independence and if I hear "John Hanc.o.c.k" even as a joke that person will be benched.' 'Why was it impossible for the South to win the War Between the States? Remember what Rhett said?' "

Gemma was glad when no one but Isla laughed at his impersonation.

"What you did sounds quite laudable," Mrs. Frazier said to Gemma as she cut Kirk an icy look.

When he didn't seem to mind, Gemma guessed that he'd figured out that he wasn't going to get the job. But it looked as though he thought Isla had won.

As for Isla, all evening she could hardly take her eyes off Lanny. They kept exchanging quick looks, and twice Isla gave what could be called a giggle.

Both times, Gemma and Jean looked at each other across Colin. The second time, he said, "Am I in your way? Would you two like to be together?"

"No," Jean said, "I like the view." She gave Colin a look that let him know that he was the view she liked.

Any doubts Gemma'd had about their being a couple were banished in that one look. Gemma kept her head down so no one could see her expression. She had the job, so she had no right to feel that she'd lost everything. But she did. It wasn't easy to wait out what seemed to be an interminable meal. By the time they got to dessert, she was ready to run from the room. Part of her wanted to tell Isla that she wasn't going to get the job, so she should stop making a fool of herself.

When the meal was finally over, Gemma was going to help clean up, but Mrs. Frazier dismissed the housekeeper and asked Isla and Kirk to "help." She then left them with the entire job.

Gemma knew that when Isla and Kirk finished the cleanup, they were going to be in a foul mood. She didn't want to be there. When she saw Shamus, an art kit under his arm, walk past the living room, she gave quick good nights to everyone and ran after him. He led her upstairs to Colin's room and left her there. She was glad to escape the tension downstairs, but she was far from sleepy. When she was finally alone, she began to think about what it meant that she was going to work there. She hadn't realized how much she'd been worrying about getting her dissertation done until the problem was solved.

She'd be living there two whole years, she thought as she undressed and put on her pajamas. And the more she learned about the job, the town, and the family, the happier she was with it all. The good time she'd had with Colin was just that. He'd be her friend, and that was going to have to be enough.

When she thought that tomorrow night she might be sleeping in the guesthouse, surrounded by all those original sources, she began to dance about the room. She'd have to fly home and pack up her belongings, then drive back to Virginia. All that would take at least a week, but as soon as it was done, she'd be able to start work.

She made herself stop twirling around and get into bed, but she couldn't sleep, so she got her beloved Kindle out of her suitcase and looked up Luke Adams. Maybe if she read a little fiction, it would put her to sleep. She found his first book, pushed the BUY b.u.t.ton, and the novel appeared on her screen about thirty seconds later. She started reading-and didn't turn off the light until 3 A.M.

It was morning now, late for her, as she was usually at the gym by six or six-thirty every morning. She knew she should go downstairs, but if Isla and Kirk were still there and they'd been told they'd lost out to Gemma, they wouldn't be gracious about losing.

"Gemma Ranford," she said out loud, "you're a coward."

As she started to get out of bed, she glanced at her Kindle, with its black-and-white photo of Emily d.i.c.kinson, and she was tempted to slide the b.u.t.ton and go back to reading. That this man, Luke Adams, wrote novels set in the eighteenth century fascinated her, and she really wanted to meet him.

She dressed quickly, then went down the outside stairs and into the kitchen. The housekeeper, Rachel, whom she'd met the day before, was there, but she wasn't wearing a uniform. She had on jeans and a T-shirt and she was young and pretty, with dark hair and eyes. She didn't look like anyone's idea of a housekeeper.

"The winner!" Rachel said as soon as she saw Gemma in the doorway.

"That I am," Gemma said as she sat down at the island. "Who's up?"

"Scared of Isla's wicked mouth, are you?" Rachel asked as she pulled a tray full of biscuits out of the oven.

"Terrified."

"You can rest easy because Mrs. F ran them both out this morning. It wasn't a pretty scene."

"Really?" Gemma's eyes were wide.

Rachel lowered her voice. "Seems Isla and Lanny did the naughty last night."

Gemma laughed. "I could see that Mrs. Frazier wouldn't like that."

"Lanny is a flirt. Did he come on to you?"

"Not at all."

"Oh, that's right. Mrs. F put you under Colin's protection, didn't she? About the only thing that makes Lanny back off is whenever his big brother lays claim to something."

"It was hardly that," Gemma said, but she was pleased to hear it. "Colin and I went into town for lunch because I was late. Could I have one of those biscuits?"

"Nope. I was told that if you came in here I was to send you into the dining room to eat with what's left of the Frazier family. Lanny's been sent back to Richmond in disgrace." Rachel grinned. "It'll probably be three or four whole days before his mother forgives him. And Shamus is with his school buddies."

"What about Colin and Jean?"

"Colin's at work, and she's gone. Jean just shows up, does something marvelous, jumps on Colin, then goes away to be a lawyer."

Gemma hid her disappointment at hearing that what she'd suspected was true, then she looked at Rachel in surprise. "You sound like you don't like Jean."

Rachel put a slab of ham in a skillet. "She's great. She gave me a Prada bag last Christmas. I expect a pair of Manolos for my birthday. She's always kind and considerate and she makes me laugh. I have nothing to say against her."

"But . . . ?"

Rachel turned around to face Gemma. "Colin seems to think Jean's going to move to itty-bitty Edilean, pump out three kids, and they'll live happily ever after."

Gemma thought of the house Colin had bought and what he'd said about his friends starting families. It looked like Rachel was right. "Isn't it fashionable for women today to give up their careers and become stay-at-home moms?"

Rachel snorted. "You've met Jean. Do you think Edilean is exciting enough for her?"

Gemma hadn't seen much of the cute little town, but it was true that she couldn't see Jean in her heels and her fabulously expensive clothes walking about. "Maybe she could be mayor," she said.

"And deal with lost dogs? I don't think so." Rachel pulled a buzzing cell phone out of her pocket and looked at the screen. "It's Mr. F. He's sitting at the table but there's no food. To him, this is a great catastrophe."

"He texted you from the dining room?"

Rachel was smiling. "That's right. He bought me a BlackBerry and pays the bills just so he can tell me where he is and where I'm to take his food. You'll learn that the Fraziers aren't like the rest of the world." The phone vibrated again, and she looked at it. "He's reminding me that I'm supposed to send you in."

Gemma got off the stool. "Now that Isla and Kirk are gone, I'd love to have breakfast with Mr. and Mrs. Frazier." Pausing, she looked back at Rachel, her face serious. "Is there anything I should know about these people? I'm going to be here quite a while."

"They're nice. A bit spoiled by too much money, maybe, but they're good people. Stay away from Lanny-unless you want to become a notch on his bedpost, that is-and let Shamus draw you. And when Pere comes home, don't fall for him. His parents don't know it, but his heart is already spoken for."

Gemma ran her hand along the cool countertop. "What about Colin?" When Rachel didn't answer, she looked at her.

Rachel wasn't smiling but her eyes were dancing. "Colin is the best of the lot. But you need to know that he is fantastically loyal and . . ."

"And what?"

"Jean owns him. Remember Shrek fighting the dragon to get to Princess Fiona?"

"Yes."

"That dragon is a delicate little b.u.t.terfly compared to Jean. Unless you plan to fight to the death, stay away from Colin."

"Thanks," Gemma said and started toward the door. "What about some doctor? Tristan, was it?"

Rachel waved her hand in dismissal. "Dr. Tris is not to be had. The impossible dream. The mountain never climbed. If you even get a date with him, consider yourself lucky, but if you set your heart on him, it'll be broken."

Gemma raised her eyebrows. "What an extraordinary town this seems to be," she murmured as she went into the dining room.

Mr. Frazier was sitting at the head of the table, reading a newspaper. " 'Bout time," he said without looking up. "I'm starving."

"Sorry but it's just me," Gemma said as she sat down beside him. "No food. But Rachel was frying a piece of ham the size of a small pond."

Mr. Frazier put down his newspaper and grinned at her. "That sounds right. After last night I need sustenance. Did Rachel fill you in on all the gossip?"

"I take it Isla won't be invited back."

Mr. Frazier chuckled. "My wife believes that our sons are being seduced by every woman they speak to. Although I must say that Lanny is the only one who consistently says yes. If he ever-"

Gemma knew what he was going to say and cut him off. "I spend most of my days with very healthy young men. I can handle myself."

"Good!" he said, then looked up to see Rachel entering with a tray full of food. "I lost ten pounds waiting for you."

"You could stand to lose twenty," Rachel said, unperturbed. "Where's Mrs. F?"

"On the phone. She has half a dozen friends to call to tell about the job and Gemma and the latest of what some girl did to Lanny."

Rachel shook her head. "Nothing ever changes. You want raspberry or peach jam? No. Wait. You want both."

"Why not? We have Gemma's arrival to celebrate."

"Any excuse," Rachel said as she went back to the kitchen.

As soon as they were alone, Gemma and Mr. Frazier began filling their plates.

"What kind of car do you want?" Mr. Frazier asked.

"A Duesenberg," she said quickly.

"That's a doozy of an idea." His eyes were laughing as he let her know he knew the origin of the word.

"Gemma," Mrs. Frazier said as she entered the room and sat down at the opposite end of the table. Leaves had been removed so it was shorter than it had been last night. "I warn you not to make car jokes in this family or they'll never stop, and you'll not be able to come up with a reference that will stump them."

"That's a challenge to a historian." She looked at Mr. Frazier. "What about Duryea?"

"Duryea Motor Wagon Company," Mr. Frazier said. "Founded by Charles and Frank Duryea. They built the 'Ladies Phaeton' in 1893, and won the Chicago Times-Herald race two years later. But, alas, the brothers fought. Bad ending."

"I can see that I'll lose this one," Gemma said.

"Did you know that Shamus Frazier, the one who came here from Scotland about 1770, made the wagons for George Washington's troops at Valley Forge?"

Gemma's eyes opened so wide they were circles. "Really?"

"It's been pa.s.sed down in my family that the man was pa.s.sionate about wagons. Today we'd probably say that he had an obsessive-compulsive disorder and send him to therapy. But back then he just built the best wagons anybody had ever seen."

"Good enough to help win a war against a big enemy," Gemma said. "A hero."

Mr. Frazier looked at her with almost love in his eyes.

"For heaven's sake, Grinny," Mrs. Frazier said, "let the girl eat. You two have years to talk about history." Her words sounded displeased but her eyes glistened with happiness. "Right now we need to discuss practical matters. Gemma has to move to Edilean, so we have to figure out how to get her things here."

"I could lend you a pickup truck and you could drive there and back," Mr. Frazier said. "But I guess it depends on how much stuff you need to bring back."

"I thought I'd fly out tomorrow morning," Gemma said, "and rent a car to drive back. I don't have much to bring here."

"Not even books?"

They looked up to see Colin standing in the doorway. He smiled at Gemma as he took a seat across from her and helped himself to scrambled eggs.

"I do have a few books," she said, smiling back at him. He looked rested and happy. "But not as many as you'd think."

"You must want to say good-bye to people," Mrs. Frazier said, and they all looked at Gemma. "Last night Isla seemed to imply that there were a lot of young men in your life."

"Only my students," Gemma said. "And . . . This is embarra.s.sing, but they were so sure I'd get the job that they gave me a party when I left." She looked down in memory. Her athletic students had surprised her, and it had been a joyous event. They'd given her gag gifts of tiny boxing gloves and a T-shirt with the bottom half cut away. They'd often teased her because when she trained with them she always wore large, concealing clothes. After an hour of hilarity, one of the biggest of the young men had hoisted her onto his shoulder and carried her back to her apartment. The others had followed so that she'd been surrounded by over a ton of young, muscular male flesh. It had been an exhilarating experience.

"That settles it," Mrs. Frazier said, "we'll have everything sent here and Gemma won't have to leave."

"I'm not sure . . ." Gemma began.

Mr. Frazier was looking at his wife as though he were confused about something.

"I think it's the perfect solution," Mrs. Frazier said as she got up and went to the sideboard, opened a drawer, and withdrew a couple of keys on a ring. She handed them to Gemma. "These are to the guesthouse and the garage. If you'll give me all the pertinent information I'll arrange for movers to pack and ship all that you've left behind."