Second Chances in Lavender Bay (The Lavender Bay Chronicles #3)

42. Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty

D iana knelt on the floor of her sewing room, a smattering of straight pins hanging out of her mouth as she marked the hem on a pair of slacks Grace Gibson had purchased on a recent trip to New York City. Grace stood on the step stool, trying to stay still as Diana edged her way around her on her knees.

“So, did you enjoy yourself?” Grace asked.

Diana took the remaining pins out of her mouth. “I’m sorry?” She looked up at Grace.

“The benefit. At the country club. Two nights ago.”

“Oh, that.” Grace must not have heard about her disgrace on the dance floor, or she wouldn’t be asking about it. Diana had done her best to banish the fiasco from her mind. Knowing that Grace was one of the organizers of the event, she focused her reply on the positive. “I did enjoy myself. The food was delicious, and the orchestra was divine.” What she didn’t say was that she enjoyed herself even more after the benefit. Sitting out on the porch steps with Mark until the light of dawn had awakened feelings in her that she had thought were long dead.

Grace smiled. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Once she finished pinning the trousers, Grace jumped down from the stool. “That’s a job done. When can I pick them up?”

“Next Tuesday?”

“Perfect.”

After seeing Grace out, Diana was straightening up her sewing room, picking up errant straight pins from the carpet, when the doorbell rang. She jabbed the pins into the pincushion and headed toward the front door. When it rang a second time, she called out, “Coming.” If it was her four o’clock appointment, the woman was early. Diana had been hoping to sneak in a quick cup of tea and a cigarette.

She opened the door to find Mark standing on the porch, holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Hello, Diana.”

“Mark.” Smiling, she stepped aside to allow him in. As he crossed the threshold, he looked around the parlor and smiled. “You’ve got new furniture.”

“It was time.”

“Um, these are for you.” He handed her the bouquet of flowers: pink roses mixed in with some pink alstroemeria and white baby’s breath. Diana had never received flowers before; even back when she was dating Preston, none had been forthcoming. It made her very happy. Her smile hurt her cheeks.

“Thank you,” she said, touched by the gesture. “Let’s find a vase for these.” She went off to the kitchen, and Mark followed her.

“How’s your mother?” he asked.

“She’s well. She’s at her bridge game today.”

Diana pulled a glass vase from a cupboard, arranged the bouquet in it, and took a sniff. She filled the vase with tap water and set the arrangement in the middle of the table.

She invited him to sit down, but he said he couldn’t stay. “I’ve got a faculty meeting in half an hour. Start of the new semester and all that.”

She nodded.

A looming silence threatened to descend upon them. She thought of the other night, when they sat in the darkness and the conversation flowed around them.

“Thank you again for the beautiful flowers,” she said.

His expression was pained, and for a moment she wondered if he was all right, if he was sick or something. Or worse, maybe he wanted to take back all those wonderful words he’d said to her the other night.

“Look, Diana, I don’t know how to do this,” he said.

“Do what?”

He waved his hand around, his face full of anguish. “This.” He struggled to get it out. And because she didn’t know what he was trying to say, she couldn’t help him.

“Mark, you’re going to need to be more specific,” she said.

“I don’t know what to do with you.”

She laughed. “You don’t have to do anything with me.”

The frown on his face deepened. “I mean, how to court you. Is that even a word they use nowadays? I’m rusty, Diana.”

His struggle, his worry, his pain, endeared him to her even more.

“We’ll figure out what works best for us.” she said. “I like being with you, Mark. And that’s enough for me.”

He nodded, the muscles of his face relaxing, the frown disappearing. “That’s how I feel.”

“But since we’re being honest,” she said, “I’d feel better if there was total transparency and you knew what you were getting into.” She took a deep breath and slowly removed the scarf from her head, revealing the damaged side. She needed no mirror to know what it looked like. The large bald patch on the left side of her head, the thick ridges and discoloration of the skin graft that made up the landscape of her healed scalp avulsion.

He did not flinch. His eyes didn’t widen, and his mouth didn’t fall open. She saw no revulsion or horror in his features. He just was. Slowly, he moved closer to her as if approaching a terrified animal. Diana’s eyes never left his face. He studied the side of her head, and she was afraid he was going to attempt to touch it. She hoped he wouldn’t. But he didn’t. He placed his hands on her upper arms, leaned in, and kissed her on the forehead.

“Still beautiful, Diana.”

She sagged against him, inhaling the familiar scent of cherry tobacco. Tears pooled in her eyes. She stepped back and began putting the scarf back on her head.

“Let me try,” he said in a whisper. He attempted to tie the scarf around the back, inspected his work, and announced, “I’ve made a right mess of it.”

With a laugh, she whipped it off again and reapplied it, having done it a thousand times before.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be so presumptuous,” he said. He paused and took a step back. “May I call on you, Diana?”

“Yes, Mark, you may.” And the smile she gave him could have lit up the entire town of Lavender Bay.