Velvet stood on the wide wraparound porch of a lovely Victorian style home in one of Cedar Falls’ more affluent residential neighborhoods. She was uncomfortably hot, the August heat making her feel especially heavy and causing sweat to pool in places she didn’t even have seven months before. She wore a lightweight linen blend sundress but even that felt like too much clothing. She sincerely wished she were back at the townhouse, spread out on Jonah’s bed in the cool dark of his air conditioned bedroom, wearing nothing at all. She cast her glance sideways at the tall, handsome, wholesome looking man next to her on the porch and flashed back to what he’d done to her earlier that morning.
And with that decidedly unwholesome thought in her head her cheeks were stained with high color when the front door opened inward and she came face to face with Mr. Delaney, Jonah’s stern looking father.
“Well, Hello!” Greeted the gruff older man in what Velvet assumed must be his most genial sort of voice, though to her mind it was still rough and somewhat ornery.
“Hi, Pops.” Jonah responded and embraced the man, clapping him on the back before reaching his hand to Velvet and pulling her forward to meet his dad. “Velvet, this is my father Ethan Delaney; Pops, this is Velvet.” Jonah said with a wide smile.
“I know this young lady well enough—Though she may not remember me.” Mr. Delaney said, extending his hand and shaking hers while leading her into the blessedly cool interior of the Victorian home.
Velvet smiled prettily. “You’re friends of my parents?” She guessed. It was always the case when some older person seemed to feel fairly well acquainted with her but she had no recollection of meeting them.
“Indeed, your father was our lawyer since the time Evelyn and I married and moved to town.” He said. And Velvet noted that Mr. Delaney, like so many others, never followed such a statement with anything close to ‘He was a good man, your father.’ She often wondered about this glaring omission. It seemed to be something people said of the dead, whether they particularly meant it or not, and yet somehow, when it came to Sebastian Calder Esquire, people seemed content to leave the perfunctory phrase unsaid.
Her smile deepened as Mr. Delaney navigated them toward the wide archway of the front parlor where she saw Nolan, already arrived, playing a board game with an adorable boy of maybe eleven or twelve.
“I’m supposed to offer you two lemonade.” Mr. Delaney said with a sigh, “Would you care for any Lemonade, Mrs. Grey?”
Velvet’s smile slipped and Jonah’s fingers found hers, encircling her hand and squeezing firmly. “Pop.” He said, a warning note in his voice.
“Jonah?” The older man replied, a steely note behind it.
“Please, call me Velvet.” She heard herself saying smoothly, covering the tense little standoff between father and son with her pleasant tone. “And lemonade would be heaven, thank you.” She added, sweet as pie.
“Alright.” Mr. Delaney replied cordially enough, not taking his eyes from Jonah. “How ‘bout you two, you all set with lemonade?” He called into the parlor beyond.
“Hey!” Nolan said in greeting.
“Hi!” Velvet responded enthusiastically, stepping into the parlor and tugging gently on Jonah’s hand to follow, hoping to diffuse the situation further. She didn’t need him ruffling feathers and drawing battle lines within his own family on her account.
“We’re good here, Pop.” Nolan said chipperly as he made a discreet gesture to the boy, who saw it and promptly rose to his feet with a ready smile.
“Be right back then.” Mr. Delaney grumbled and headed toward the back of the home where Velvet imagined the kitchen was kept.
Jonah turned to her, looking troubled and apologetic. She shook her head before he could speak and she smiled. There wasn’t time for more because Nolan was approaching with the youngest Delaney brother.
Velvet watched Jonah’s stormy expression clear instantaneously when he saw his little brother. “Cale soup!” He declared, pulling the young man into a bone-crushing hug. The boy erupted in a peal of laughter and then blushed furiously, casting an eye at the pretty lady in their parlor.
Velvet accepted Nolan’s hug and kiss on the cheek while Jonah ruffled their brother’s hair affectionately. “My Pop and Jones already at eachother’s throats?” He asked in a low whisper.
She held up her thumb and forefinger, indicating ‘just a little’ and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Pop’s pretty old-fashioned.” He said, and she wasn’t quite sure if it was a warning or an excuse or something else.
“Velvet, I’d like you to meet my brother Caleb.” Jonah said, half-laughing at something the boy had just said or done. “Caleb, this is my good friend Velvet.”
“A pleasure to meet you.” The boy said, and Velvet couldn’t help raising her brows at the formality. Then, “Is that your real name?” He asked quickly.
She giggled, signaling to Jonah and Nolan that she wasn’t the least bit put-off by the query. “It really is.” She answered. “My mother was debating between that or Lacey, and I think I’m glad she went with Velvet. What do you think?”
The boy laughed. “Lace is for old ladies.” He said decisively. “How old are you?” He asked next.
She let out a trill of laughter. She wasn’t ever around children much. She decided she liked Caleb Delaney very much. “Not old enough for stuffy old lace!” She said, and felt Jonah’s arm wrap around her shoulder. “I’m seventeen.” She answered. “Almost eighteen. How old are you?”
She watched the boy’s eyes flick to her hugely pregnant belly before he answered. “I just turned eleven.” He answered proudly. “How old are you Jonesie?”
“Alright, enough with the third degree.” Jonah said, laughing. “Ma in the kitchen?”
Nolan grinned. “She is. Making your favorite, you lucky dog.” He winked at the pair of them before suddenly seizing his little brother and throwing him over his shoulder, cave-man style. “Let’s go finish the game before we have to go in to dinner.” He declared over the boy’s surprised peals of laughter.
Velvet allowed herself to be led from the parlor back into the front entryway where Jonah pulled her as close as possible, with her huge belly in the way, and placed a soft, sweet kiss on her lips. “I love you.” He whispered, searching her eyes, looking deep into her.
She sighed. “I love you with all my heart.” She replied effortlessly. The more often she said it the more it felt right, the less it felt like her husband might appear in a cloud of dark smoke and challenge Jonah to a duel. The more she said it the lighter her heart felt, a little freer every time from the shackles of her disastrous marriage.
“Your Lemonade, Mrs. Grey.” The disapproving voice of Mr. Delaney grumbled to her right.
“Pops—“ Jonah spoke through clenched teeth.
“Thank you, Mr. Delaney.” Velvet cooed, stepping out of Jonoah’s arms hurriedly and taking the offered beverage with her best smile. He looked at her as though she were an unclean temptress. She sipped the iced lemonade and felt the cool, tart zip of energy returning to her frustratingly sapped body. It went a long way in clearing her head, too. “You have a lovely home.” She spoke genially, despite his stern, unforgiving countenance. “I simply adore the historic district.” She sipped again and willed her skittering nerves to subside. “Would you mind terribly giving me a tour?”
“I’ll show you—“ Jonah began, but his father cut across him with authority.
“I’d be glad to give you a tour.” He answered in the affirmative, but Velvet was certain the ‘glad’ had been a mere figure of speech. Determined might have been the better choice of word there. He offered his arm, which took her aback, but then she remembered her advanced state of pregnancy and how it tended to make older folks think her fragile and helpless. She smiled graciously and slipped her arm thorugh his while handing her perspiring lemonade glass to Jonah, who took it from her reflexively. “We’ll start upstairs—that way we can finish in the dining room for dinner.”
She laughed lightly. “You’ve given this tour before, haven’t you, sir?”
To her enormous delight and relief she saw his lips twitch and his eyes crinkle just a bit. “Ah, once or twice.” He admitted, his voice flavored with pride. “We’re on the historic society’s tour, afterall.”
Velvet raised her eyebrows as they started for the wide, graceful staircase. “Are you?” She asked, letting her tone show a proper level of impressed. “How many homes receive such an honor?” It was the right question. The man looked proud enough to strut.
“Only three private homes on the tour.” He informed her importantly. As they began to climb he stopped and turned. “I can manage, young man.” He spoke to Jonah, who had followed them and seemed intent to accompany them on the tour. “Your mother asked to see you in the kitchen before dinner.”
Jonah frowned, his brows drawing together fiercely. With her free hand Velvet reached over and gave his hand a squeeze. He searched her face. She smiled. “Go on.” She told him gently. “I’m in good hands.” She dazzled Mr. Delaney with a warm smile, and it did seem to melt his rigid cold at least a smidgen.
“I wouldn’t keep that woman waiting if I were you, boy.” Mr. Delaney cautioned, and, dismissing his son turned and resumed the climb up the wide Victorian staircase, with Velvet on his arm, discussing crown molding and lead glass windows.
Velvet turned her head as she ascended, keeping Jonah in her eyeline for a few moments, her eyes locked on his violet stare. “I love you” she mouthed over her shoulder.
His right hand slipped over his left breast and he smiled, his face a mixture of concern and yearning. “I’m yours.” He mouthed back.
With a giddy smile rooted in the security of a good man’s love, she turned her face front once more, and complimented the detailed woodwork on the newel post as they approached the second floor landing.
“He still standing down there mooning at you?” Mr. Delaney asked in a low voice.
Velvet startled before glancing back over her shoulder and giggling. “No.” She told him. “He’s finally cleared off.”
The older man nodded gruffly. “Damned romantic fool.” He muttered.
Velvet smiled fondly. “You’ve raised a good man, Mr. Delaney.” She told him, her tone heartfelt and open.
Ethan Delaney clucked his tongue and shook his head. “That’s what they keep telling me.” He sounded skeptical. “Not sure good men run off with other men’s wives.” He leveled. “This marble is original to the home.” He added, gesturing to the tiles on the upstairs bathroom tile.
Velvet’s eyes widened at the man’s candor. “Italian?” She murmured politely.
“Spain, I think.”
She nodded.
“What are your plans?” He asked her. “Clawfoot.” He gestured to the old fashioned tub. “Iron.”
“Must weigh a ton.” She exclaimed softly.
He grunted. “You haven’t much time left, have you?” He continued, steering her toward an upstairs parlor. “The Ladies Salon.” He informed her dispassionately. “We use it as part library, part sewing room.”
“The ceilings are higher than I’d expected.” Velvet commented, wondering how she should make answer to his more pointed questions.
He nodded. “Ten foot.” He supplied. “Twelve downstairs. And The attic is about eight, excepting where is slants.”
“Is it finished? I mean, do you have attic guest rooms?”
“The boys used to play up there as kids, but, no, we never did anything too formal with it.” He stopped before a larger window with a built-in window seat. “Because there’s no sense pulling that boy into a love triangle if he doesn’t stand a chance, and letting him get attached to a child that he can’t raise when you go back to your husband.” He told her matter-of-factly.
Velvet gazed through the original lead glass window panes at a charming backyard and a graceful oak tree with a rope swing—the kind with the wide wooden plank type of seat, maybe big enough for two. “I have no plans to go back to my husband.” She told him quietly. She was feeling a heat allover that had nothing to do with the hazy august heat outside. He’d made her feel ashamed. And embarrassed. And smaller than she’d felt in a long time.
He made a disbelieving sort of noise in his throat. “That oak is as old as the town, so they say.”
Velvet nodded absently, and stared at the thick trunk, the sturdy branches, the full, healthy green foliage. Tall and strong and sturdy. Good. She’d bet it turned auburn red in the fall. This tree reminded her of Jonah.
“I don’t want my son raised by that awful man.” She whispered, not sure what made her confess this to a man she’d only just met.
Ethan Delaney sighed. “And you’d rather my son have the job?” He asked.
Velvet swallowed the sticky thickness of her tongue and wished she’d brought her lemonade with her. “I would.” She admitted.
“Why on earth?”
She smiled at the tree before meeting the older man’s intent stare. “He’s the finest man I’ve ever met.” She told him squarely. “He saved my life.” She shrugged her slight shoulders. “I love him.” Within her the baby stirred and whirred. Her free hand went to the roundness in response and she ran her fingers over the linen-covered orb lovingly.
“So you’re a romantic too.” Jonah’s father frowned, his tone colored with something close to disgust.
She smiled sadly. “I lost my head for the wrong man, sir.” She told him plainly. “I was silly and I acted foolishly, and I have paid the price.” He narrowed his eyes at her but she continued. “I will be more careful this time—“ She smiled wistfully, “but I know it’s right this time.” She asserted. “I can feel it.”
Ethan Delaney studied her carefully for several long moments, sizing her up, taking the measure of her. “You’re a very lovely girl.” He told her begrudgingly. “And you’re not as vapid as I expected you to be.” He allowed. Velvet held her sweet smile in place and decided to withhold comment until she was quite sure he was done. “But you’re young.” He decided. “And too romantic for your own good, and you’re used to getting whatever you want.” She wanted to protest, but held her tongue uncharacteristically still. “I know your mother, and I knew your father.” He told her, and it didn’t resonate as a positive statement the way he said it, somehow. “You’re thinking you want a man to worship you, spend his life devoted to you, give you a respectable home and a fresh, clean start; someone to put down roots with?” He nodded, the question was rhetorical. “Well, you’ve found your man, little girl.” He concluded. “But I don’t think that’s really what you want, is it, Mrs. Grey?”
Velvet’s jaw fell open and she shook her head. What did he mean? “I—“
“Pops.” A voice said calmly from the door of the glorified study and sewing room. The voice sounded perfectly pleasant, but Velvet thought she detected a note of warning. “Wanna wrap up the tour? Food’s ready, and Ma doesn’t like to wait.” Nolan said with a half smile.
Ethan Delaney grumbled something indistinct. Before walking the tow of them toward Nolan and easily transferring Velvet’s hand to Nolan’s arm. “Now here’s the one with sense.” He muttered.
“Not to mention the good looks.” Nolan quipped charmingly.
Velvet was still too stunned to manage a smile. She stared at the older man as he trundled out of the room, leaving her alone with Nolan. It was quiet. She could hear a lark, or a starling maybe, singing in the handsome oak outside. She became aware of the soft ticking of an analog clock somewhere in the room. The house smelled clean, like lemon verbena and bergamot and lavender. And old woodwork. And antique books.
“Don’t listen to a word he says.” Nolan finally broke the silence in a very soft voice.
She licked her lips and stared after the man, now disappeared from view. “You have a lovely home.” She said jerkily.
Nolan sighed. “C’mon.” He urged her carefully. “Let’s get you downstairs and get the two of you some more lemonade.” She could hear the smile in his voice.
The corners of her lips lifted as she rubbed her round belly in a soothing, repetitive motion. “We’re going to have a nice home and a nice family and a big oak tree for him to climb.” She told Nolan, her eyes far away, her voice small and almost girlish, but for the aching determination lacing it with bone and substance.
“And we’ll build him a treehouse, and teach him to swing on the rope swing.” Nolan added softly.
She felt her lips form a genuine smile. “And he’ll have a lemonade stand in the shade on hot August days.”
Nolan chuckled. “His mama’s favorite.”
“Nolan?” She asked, as he led her to the top of the back stairs, what surely would have been the servant’s stair and had some history behind them that Velvet would have been made aware of, were she still on Mr. Delaney’s solid arm.
“Hmm?” These stairs were narrower, they wouldn’t be able to negotiate them side-by-side.
“Do you think we’re crazy?” She asked, at last turning to him and searching his stormy blue-gray eyes. “Do you think we’re too romantic for our own good?”
He smiled kindly, if a touch sadly. “I think you both need a healthy dose of Romance, Sis.” He told her.
Her lips parted. What had he just called her? She tilted her head to the side and stared at him, a smile beginning to open and spread across her astonished face. He shrugged and grinned a most charming grin.
“C’mon.” He urged her. “You don’t want to make a bad impression on the future mother-in-law by turning up late to Sunday dinner.” He winked and directed her hand to the handrail. “Besides, Jonah’s probably having kittens down there, he’s so nervous about what Pop might’ve said to you.”
Velvet began the descent down the servant’s stair, and she could smell fresh basil and warm bread, and the baby adjusted positions eagerly (she imagined) within her. She was smiling now. “Why, he told me that I’ve found a man to start fresh with, a man who’ll love me and cherish me and a man to put down roots with.” She breezed gaily.
Behind her Nolan laughed appreciatively.
“I see you’ve already figured out the best way to handle Pops, then.”
She giggled. “Not a problem.” She told him, taking the steps as quickly as she could with her off-balance and her cumbersome extra weight. That bread was making her salivate. “It’s much the same way I handle my mother.” She told him honestly.
“Velvet.” He said, when she’d reached the bottom of the stairs at last. She turned and looked up at him, eyebrows up and her face expectant. He shook his head and closed his mouth. “Just—“ He closed his mouth again and looked at his shoes for a moment. Velvet furrowed her brow and wondered what on earth he needed to say to her. “Just. Well.” He laughed. “My Mother’s not so easy.” He leveled with her.
She frowned. Oh Dear. If Celia Calder and Ethan Delaney were considered ‘easy’ to deal with by comparison to Mrs. Delaney, Velvet wasn’t sure she was ready for Sunday dinner.
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