Alicia insisted on grinding the coffee-beans and making the coffee, to spare Jane's hands. She brought the tray into the living-room. When she saw Jane's hand move to the cafetière, she said quietly, "Let me do that for you, Jane." She quickly poured three cups of coffee, gesturing to Beau, indicating the cream and sugar.
He shook his head. "No, thank you. Just black."
"Same as Alicia and I," said Jane. Turning to Alicia, "Next time, you don't have to put all that stuff on the tray, Alicia." Beau noticed that Lise--as he kept thinking of her--shyly shrugged an elegant shoulder, smiling at his aunt.
Twenty minutes later, Alicia rose, saying, "High time I went home. I've put all the dishes--except these cups--into your dishwasher, Jane. I know you're tired, and it won't do Beau any harm having an early night and giving his head a little more rest. But remember, if there should be a recurrence, you let me know? Good night, Jane. Good night, Beau," she said softly.
"Let me walk you home, Lise," Beau offered impulsively.
"Thank you, Beau, but I've got my car here. I delivered Jane's grocery-shopping earlier."
To his surprise, he sensed a coolness. He wondered if she could've picked up vibes from him earlier, when he was so taken aback at what he felt. Damn.
"Let me at least see you to your car," he insisted, putting his hand under her elbow. He opened the kitchen door, letting her precede him outside. He moved to her car, opening the door, holding it for her. She gave him one of her quiet smiles.
"Thank you, Beau. Good night," she said softly. Once she was behind the wheel, he held out his hand to her, and when she put her fingers into his, he again brought them to his lips.
"Good night, Lise. And thank you again for your magic fingers," he murmured. "Shall I see you tomorrow?"
Surprised, she gazed at him. When she saw his eyes change from dark brown to almost black, she said, "I don't know, Beau. Surely you're here to be with your aunt? And--please say if I was wrong?--I got the impression that you wouldn't welcome seeing me again?"
Oh, damn. She did pick up on those vibes. What can I do now?
He decided to opt for the truth, or as much of the truth as he could safely afford.
"No, Lise, that isn't it, not at all. It's merely that I'm so deeply involved in research for my present book, I haven't a lot of time to devote to personal friendships. That was all I was thinking. That you deserve better than I'm able to give."
Slowly, she said, "Thank you for your honesty, Beau. I guess you won't want to see me again. Except of course if your headache should return. Once again--good night, Beau."
He felt a strange sensation of loss, of profound distress overwhelm him, as she looked away from him. He lifted his hand in protest, saying, "No, Lise, please. I don't--" But she started the engine and slowly drove the brief distance to her own cottage. Uneasily, he was aware that he had, somehow, mishandled his beginning relationship, whatever it was, with this exceptional woman, so different from anyone else he had ever met.
He waited until he saw her open her garage door with some automatic gizmo, and drive into it. He went back into the kitchen, locking the door behind him, joining his aunt in her living-room. What will Aunt Jane think? he wondered.
He need not have worried. Jane did not, by word or gesture, indicate that he had been rather a long time saying good night to someone who had her car parked at the back-door.
Quietly, he said, "Aunt Jane, I like your friend. And I'm so grateful to her for massaging my headache away. But--"
His aunt said quickly, "Beau, honey, if you're still grieving for your wife, believe me, no more will be said, either by me or by Lise. That's a pretty name you invented for her. It's just that, sometimes, I think perhaps you should try to stop grieving and find yourself a new life, a new love. Happiness instead of contentment. Passion instead of sexercise as I heard someone call it on a TV programme, the other day."
He smiled a little sadly. "I know, Aunt Jane. You want me to have more in my life than what I have at present. But you know me so well--you know I can't give my heart easily. I don't fall in love out of the blue. Never have and, after Felicity died, I was determined not to. It certainly saves a lot of wear and tear, don't you agree? But I'm sorry if you think I treated your beautiful friend unkindly. That wasn't my intention. I'll apologize to her tomorrow, promise."
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