Chapter Fourteen
Honey had called her father and Diana, telling them that she was fine, but that she wanted some time away from the house. Away from the scrutiny. She also told Diana where she was, and to Brian, anyway, that felt like a good sign.
They drove back to his apartment, parked in the undercover garage and, luckily, ran into no one on their way to the second floor.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” Honey asked as Brian switched on lamps. “I don’t want to make things any worse for you.” Logically, she should go home—alone.
“I’m sure if you are—even if it isn’t the most sensible thing to do,” Brian returned as if he could read her mind, moving to stand beside her. “I know you’re going through a lot. You might not feel like hanging around with an almost-unemployed, emotional coward.”
Honey laughed softly. “Now that shows how little you know me. That is exactly my kind of guy.”
“Lucky for me,” Brian said, wrapping an arm around her.
“I hope so.” Honey leaned into his embrace, thinking how very natural and right it felt. “You know earlier today you had quite a list of things you wanted to do with me.”
“That is true,” Brian conceded.
“And we’ve done the fried chicken thing. What was next? Walks on the beach or maybe just walking in general?”
“I do like to walk. It’s very beneficial to a person’s health. But do you think we could save that for another day and make a start on some of those other things on my list?”
“It’s too warm for a fire,” Honey murmured. “I seem to remember that being on it.”
“Guess it will have to be something else then.”
“Fine by me.”
“What was it now…?” Brian wondered if he really had lost his mind, but this thing, being with Honey, having dinner with her at the farm, even doing the dishes all felt so very right.
“Something you wanted to do over and over again if my memory serves me.” Honey affected an air of confusion.
“Right, making beds or changing beds, no wait, that’s not it.”
“It definitely involved a bed though,” Honey said with a smile.
“To start with anyway,” Brian grinned and hand in hand they headed into the bedroom.
The following morning Honey headed back to Bluff House alone, and she felt happy. What kind of person did that make her? She and Craig might have fallen out of love, but surely she couldn’t just brush him aside and go on with her life?
A frown wrinkled her brow. She knew that her marriage had been over long before she had taken steps to end it, and when Craig had suddenly agreed to the divorce, she’d begun to believe that she could start again. But now, Craig was gone and someone, possibly someone she’d met, had taken his life. The thought was more than just disturbing.
To her relief the press had gone. Her gates were clear and she entered the code to open them, wondering whom she had to thank for the reprieve from the scrutiny. Her father? The police? An even more salacious crime? She walked slowly, savouring the crispness in the air, the glimpses of the Hudson River in the distance and the beauty of a garden she rarely spent time in. As she rounded the last curve of the long drive, her expression softened at the sight of the man sitting on her front steps.
“Ford. What are you doing sitting out here?”
Ford Gray scrambled to his feet, his expression instantly apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Houghton,” he said, “but there were some things I thought I should go over—papers and stuff. I guess someone will take on anything that was in progress, and I wanted it to be all sorted. I should have phoned you and checked. I should have waited outside the gates.”
“Ford, no.” Honey hurried to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You have nothing to apologise for and you could have gone inside. You have an alarm code.”
All of their employees had alarm codes for the house, as did her father, Diana, Jim and Cilla.
“It didn’t seem right,” Ford confessed.
“Well, let’s go in together,” she suggested, pulling her keys from her bag. She shepherded the young man ahead of her, punched in her own code and turned to see Ford still standing in exactly the same spot. He looked so lost and forlorn she almost hugged him. He had loved Craig— a sort of hero worship, but she also knew that Craig had valued his dedication and treated him well. It was important she remember that. Craig was a real man—good and bad, kind and careless.
“Why don’t you go on upstairs,” she said. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee and bring it up and maybe get some of Mrs. Bateman’s muffins. She said she was going to make some, and you look like you should eat something.”
Ford nodded his head. “Okay. That would be nice. I haven’t been very hungry the past couple of days. You probably haven’t either.”
Considering the food she’d consumed at Crabapple Farm the previous evening, Honey felt a stab of guilt.
“It’s getting better,” she said, and then added because she didn’t want to deceive this man who had cared for her husband. “We hadn’t been that close lately, you know. I mean I feel awful that he’s gone and it’s so unfair, but…”
Ford smiled and patted her hand. “You cared about him, and he cared about you. That’s what matters. People don’t always stay in love, but it doesn’t mean it was never there.”
It was such an astute observation that Honey felt her eyes fill and for a moment she clung to the young man’s hand. “I’m not surprised Craig relied on you,” she said. “You’re very wise.” She needed to check with her father about another role with the company for this dedicated young man.
Ford shrugged, but something of the sadness in his eyes seemed to shift. “I’ll go on up,” he said.
Ten minutes later, Honey climbed the stairs carrying a tray with a pot of filtered coffee and a plate of warmed banana-and-walnut muffins. She knocked on the study even though it had been left ajar.
Ford’s “Come in” sounded hesitant, but she pushed the door with the tray and set foot in her husband’s study for the first time since his death.
Craig’s former assistant was working on the other side of the desk, the computer spun around to face him.
She crossed the room and placed the tray on the low black coffee table. Without asking, she poured coffee for them both. Then selected a muffin and placed it on a small side plate and took both to the desk.
Grabbing her own coffee, she too avoided Craig’s leather chair and sat in the other reserved for visitors.
“This is nice of you,” Ford said. “You haven’t had a very good time lately.”
Honey wondered if he was referring to Craig’s death or being a suspect in his murder or the article in the paper, or possibly all of the above.
“I’m guessing you don’t think too highly of me at the moment,” she said finally because she saw no point in hiding from that either.
Ford blinked several times but didn’t look away and didn’t immediately respond.
“I’m not sure what I think about me, if you want to know the truth,” Honey continued. “But for maybe the first time in my life I do know what I feel, and I don’t want to run away from it.”
“You shouldn’t,” Ford said. “You deserve to be happy. Craig would want that.”
“You really think so?” Honey was surprised to hear the quiver in her voice. She might feel rebellious and independent, but she’d spent all of her life trying to please people and gain their approval. It was a hard habit to break. “Ford, what about the apartment he asked you to look for? Can you give me any details?”
The young man shrugged. “It was only about two weeks ago and he came to me, asked if I’d look for something close to downtown. That he didn’t think he’d be living here much longer. But he asked me to keep it strictly confidential. I thought it was because he didn’t want you to know. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Honey returned. The timeline fitted with her pressing Craig about their future, separate futures, to be more accurate. But she knew that she wasn’t the person Craig was hiding the split from.
“Craig had found someone he loved, really loved, I think. He’d want you to have that, too.” Ford certainly seemed sincere.
Honey nodded, then slowly his words, and their possible importance, registered. “Who was it, Ford? Can you tell me her name?”
Kayla Richter had suspected her husband knew about her relationship with Craig. Now, she was sure of it. She should have realised it sooner, but she had been distracted. If she were honest, she’d admit that when Craig had told her that he and his wife were on the verge of a divorce she’d been surprised, and maybe a little worried. It made things so real. Put choices front and centre.
She studied the man she’d married, five years earlier, through the veil of her lashes. It was unusual for them to eat dinner together, but he had definitely been more attentive the past couple of weeks. Was that because having discovered the truth about her and Craig, he wanted to make amends? Even as the thought passed through her mind, she dismissed it. It was far more likely that he was playing with her. Moving her about as if she were a piece on a chessboard. That was how he operated.
Funnily enough, Craig had admired it—at least at first. Seeing Neil as someone to emulate—his own man. But slowly, like some others, like her, he’d found Neil’s need to control stifling rather than reassuring. And the more time she and Craig had spent together, the harder it became to resist the attraction they felt. But attraction didn't pay the bills, did it? And she knew she hadn't been the only one. A rueful smile played on Kayla’s lips before her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. If she were honest, she’d have to admit that neither she nor Craig were accustomed to denying their wants and desires—and there were consequences for that. Consequences that may well have caught up with her, just as they had with Craig.
Honey didn’t manage to get any concrete information from Ford about the woman Craig had planned to make a life with. Knowing how much her husband relied upon and trusted the young man, this suggested there were reasons for keeping her identity secret. Even the knowledge that Craig had been seeing someone might give the police some ideas. She glanced out the window of her living room, relieved to see Diana’s SAAB round the corner of the driveway and ease into the empty spot next to her own Volvo. The car was one thing both her father and Craig agreed on—sort of. Matt wanted her to drive an American car and Craig felt that a luxury automobile was more fitting. Her response had been that the Volvo had a top safety rating, handled well and she liked the colour. Both men had rolled their eyes and given up.
Even though Di had a key, Honey ran down the stairs to meet her friend. Already the house, once she left her own suite of rooms, felt less and less like a place where she belonged. Once the funeral was out of the way she would put it on the market. Too bad if people thought it was too soon.
She unsnapped the multiple locks on the main entrance and was enveloped in a hug before the door was fully open.
“How are you?” Diana asked as she slipped inside and they closed the door behind them.
“I’m fine. Good, actually,” Honey returned. “Is that an awful thing to say?”
“Of course not!” her friend declared.
“I had a call from the police. They’re willing to release Craig’s…body so I need to organise the service. I imagine that will dampen my mood considerably.” Honey led the way up the winding staircase. “I’ve pulled down some albums and a couple of DVDs but couldn’t bring myself to look at them until you arrived. What a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” Diana scolded gently. “It’s a horrible thing to have to do.”
“I don’t know if it would be easier or harder if Craig had family of his own. Oh, I hate myself, but I so want to think about something else.”
“Good. Let’s talk about Beldens. I can guarantee that will distract us both.”
“Thirty minutes of distraction and then I need to do the right thing by Craig. I owe him that much.”
Minutes later the two women were ensconced on the third floor.
“Oh, Diana, I feel awful about Mart losing his job. It’s bad enough that Brian’s been suspended, but Mart being fired… You should tell him to go ahead and write whatever he wants.” Honey sank down on the sofa next to her friend, having opened a bottle of wine and brought it, two glasses and some cheese and crackers, into her cosy living room. She wondered why Brian hadn’t told her about his brother’s situation.
“I most certainly will not.” Diana mock glared at her best friend. “It showed good judgment on his part and it showed that he loves me.” Her expression softened as she spoke and Honey grabbed her hand.
“How could he not?”
“Very easily, I imagine,” Diana laughed. “But he does. He even told me so, and believe me, Mart might be good with words, but simple statements like that one are pretty rare. I love him, too, so it’s looking good.”
“I’m so glad for you.” Honey hugged her friend, spilling just a little wine in the process. “If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” The lovely dark-haired woman returned the hug. “So, where are things with you and Brian? You said on the phone that you’d fill me in, and I have been here for a whole eleven minutes and you’ve given me squat.”
It was Honey’s turn to laugh. “My apologies, Ms. Lynch. I’d forgotten how impatient you are.”
“Who me?” Di cried, feigning shock. “I am the soul of patience.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound right, does it?”
“No,” Honey agreed. “I think it’s the soul of discretion and maybe the embodiment of patience or patience personified?”
“Why do I always attach myself to people who read too much? Or know too many words?” Di asked. “I never understand half of what Mart says and occasionally you lose me, too. I am just not smart enough.”
“There’s no such thing as too much reading,” Honey scolded. “And don’t you dare criticise my best friend’s intelligence! You always underestimate how smart you are.”
“Thank you. Now stop trying to distract me with flattery and answer my question.”
Honey leaned back against the sofa and took a sip of wine, a slow smile forming on her face. “Brian is…so right. You know what I mean? It’s crazy and maybe it’s delayed shock or something, but being with him is the most natural thing in the world and the sex…”
“The sex?” Diana lifted a brow.
“I know now why people like Jennifer Crusie wrote all those scenes.”
“The sex is Crusie worthy?” Diana’s black brow shot up further.
Honey smiled and nodded. “I’ve always liked sex, but this is on a whole different level. What he can do with his hands and his mouth… and we haven’t even got out of the bedroom yet.”
“You’re planning on a multi-room approach?” Di grinned.
“Yes, we are. I might even hold onto this house for a while. It does have a lot of rooms,” Honey mused, imagining her and Brian, naked in the light-filled conservatory or in the huge double shower that served one of the guest rooms.
Elegant and stylish Diana Lynch spluttered her mouthful of wine at this and Honey laughed.
“You should see your face.”
“You should see you own face,” Di returned.
“It’s not just the sex though,” Honey said. “I mean I can snap at him and call him names.”
“It must be love then.”
“I know how idiotic it sounds, but I don’t feel as if I have to be super sweet and considerate every second of every day when I’m around Brian. I can say what I think.”
Diana’s brow wrinkled. “Does that mean that you do do that with everyone else, even me? Because you know you can call me any name you like, and I’d still love you.”
Honey laughed and hugged her friend, spilling more wine. “I don’t ever seem to want to snap at you. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
“Still…” Di shook her dark head. “It’s important you know you can say what you think with me and to me. You don’t always have to be the sweetest person anyone has ever met.”
“Crazy lady!” Honey said, affectionately. “I’m not that anyway. I’m totally cranky a lot of the time.”
Di grinned at the label. “That’s better. Now I’m going to call Mart and tell him we’re having a sleepover. So let’s top up our wine and do you have any of that pate you’re so fond of?”
“And smelly blue cheese, too,” Honey beamed. “You really are the perfect best friend.”
“And crazy lady, don’t forget crazy lady, cranky pants.”
“Fine, fishy breath.” This was in reference to Diana’s preference for smoked salmon and caviar.
“Back at you and your love of mouldy cheese.”
“Eyelashes batterer, batter, whatever.”
“Limpid eye gazer.”
They collapsed against one another. “Who knew this insulting thing could be so much fun?” Honey managed between gasps of laughter.
“You got me. I’m going to try it with all of my friends and family.”
Honey tilted her head to one side and considered this idea. “Sorry, no. I am not trying this on my parents. One wouldn’t get it and the other…”
“Totally would,” Diana finished. “It’s just you and me then and our menfolk. We should keep insulting them.”
“Deal.”
The two shook hands and Honey’s smile slowly faded. “I’m going to get the rest of the snacks and then start planning the service.”
“And I am going to help you do it.”
TBBH MAIN NEXT
Author's notes: Thanks go to my editor, Dana, as she wrangles my errors and nonsense with grace, humour and love. All remaining wrinkles are mine and mine alone. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
They drove back to his apartment, parked in the undercover garage and, luckily, ran into no one on their way to the second floor.
“Are you sure you want me to stay?” Honey asked as Brian switched on lamps. “I don’t want to make things any worse for you.” Logically, she should go home—alone.
“I’m sure if you are—even if it isn’t the most sensible thing to do,” Brian returned as if he could read her mind, moving to stand beside her. “I know you’re going through a lot. You might not feel like hanging around with an almost-unemployed, emotional coward.”
Honey laughed softly. “Now that shows how little you know me. That is exactly my kind of guy.”
“Lucky for me,” Brian said, wrapping an arm around her.
“I hope so.” Honey leaned into his embrace, thinking how very natural and right it felt. “You know earlier today you had quite a list of things you wanted to do with me.”
“That is true,” Brian conceded.
“And we’ve done the fried chicken thing. What was next? Walks on the beach or maybe just walking in general?”
“I do like to walk. It’s very beneficial to a person’s health. But do you think we could save that for another day and make a start on some of those other things on my list?”
“It’s too warm for a fire,” Honey murmured. “I seem to remember that being on it.”
“Guess it will have to be something else then.”
“Fine by me.”
“What was it now…?” Brian wondered if he really had lost his mind, but this thing, being with Honey, having dinner with her at the farm, even doing the dishes all felt so very right.
“Something you wanted to do over and over again if my memory serves me.” Honey affected an air of confusion.
“Right, making beds or changing beds, no wait, that’s not it.”
“It definitely involved a bed though,” Honey said with a smile.
“To start with anyway,” Brian grinned and hand in hand they headed into the bedroom.
The following morning Honey headed back to Bluff House alone, and she felt happy. What kind of person did that make her? She and Craig might have fallen out of love, but surely she couldn’t just brush him aside and go on with her life?
A frown wrinkled her brow. She knew that her marriage had been over long before she had taken steps to end it, and when Craig had suddenly agreed to the divorce, she’d begun to believe that she could start again. But now, Craig was gone and someone, possibly someone she’d met, had taken his life. The thought was more than just disturbing.
To her relief the press had gone. Her gates were clear and she entered the code to open them, wondering whom she had to thank for the reprieve from the scrutiny. Her father? The police? An even more salacious crime? She walked slowly, savouring the crispness in the air, the glimpses of the Hudson River in the distance and the beauty of a garden she rarely spent time in. As she rounded the last curve of the long drive, her expression softened at the sight of the man sitting on her front steps.
“Ford. What are you doing sitting out here?”
Ford Gray scrambled to his feet, his expression instantly apologetic.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Houghton,” he said, “but there were some things I thought I should go over—papers and stuff. I guess someone will take on anything that was in progress, and I wanted it to be all sorted. I should have phoned you and checked. I should have waited outside the gates.”
“Ford, no.” Honey hurried to him and placed a gentle hand on his arm. “You have nothing to apologise for and you could have gone inside. You have an alarm code.”
All of their employees had alarm codes for the house, as did her father, Diana, Jim and Cilla.
“It didn’t seem right,” Ford confessed.
“Well, let’s go in together,” she suggested, pulling her keys from her bag. She shepherded the young man ahead of her, punched in her own code and turned to see Ford still standing in exactly the same spot. He looked so lost and forlorn she almost hugged him. He had loved Craig— a sort of hero worship, but she also knew that Craig had valued his dedication and treated him well. It was important she remember that. Craig was a real man—good and bad, kind and careless.
“Why don’t you go on upstairs,” she said. “I’m going to make a pot of coffee and bring it up and maybe get some of Mrs. Bateman’s muffins. She said she was going to make some, and you look like you should eat something.”
Ford nodded his head. “Okay. That would be nice. I haven’t been very hungry the past couple of days. You probably haven’t either.”
Considering the food she’d consumed at Crabapple Farm the previous evening, Honey felt a stab of guilt.
“It’s getting better,” she said, and then added because she didn’t want to deceive this man who had cared for her husband. “We hadn’t been that close lately, you know. I mean I feel awful that he’s gone and it’s so unfair, but…”
Ford smiled and patted her hand. “You cared about him, and he cared about you. That’s what matters. People don’t always stay in love, but it doesn’t mean it was never there.”
It was such an astute observation that Honey felt her eyes fill and for a moment she clung to the young man’s hand. “I’m not surprised Craig relied on you,” she said. “You’re very wise.” She needed to check with her father about another role with the company for this dedicated young man.
Ford shrugged, but something of the sadness in his eyes seemed to shift. “I’ll go on up,” he said.
Ten minutes later, Honey climbed the stairs carrying a tray with a pot of filtered coffee and a plate of warmed banana-and-walnut muffins. She knocked on the study even though it had been left ajar.
Ford’s “Come in” sounded hesitant, but she pushed the door with the tray and set foot in her husband’s study for the first time since his death.
Craig’s former assistant was working on the other side of the desk, the computer spun around to face him.
She crossed the room and placed the tray on the low black coffee table. Without asking, she poured coffee for them both. Then selected a muffin and placed it on a small side plate and took both to the desk.
Grabbing her own coffee, she too avoided Craig’s leather chair and sat in the other reserved for visitors.
“This is nice of you,” Ford said. “You haven’t had a very good time lately.”
Honey wondered if he was referring to Craig’s death or being a suspect in his murder or the article in the paper, or possibly all of the above.
“I’m guessing you don’t think too highly of me at the moment,” she said finally because she saw no point in hiding from that either.
Ford blinked several times but didn’t look away and didn’t immediately respond.
“I’m not sure what I think about me, if you want to know the truth,” Honey continued. “But for maybe the first time in my life I do know what I feel, and I don’t want to run away from it.”
“You shouldn’t,” Ford said. “You deserve to be happy. Craig would want that.”
“You really think so?” Honey was surprised to hear the quiver in her voice. She might feel rebellious and independent, but she’d spent all of her life trying to please people and gain their approval. It was a hard habit to break. “Ford, what about the apartment he asked you to look for? Can you give me any details?”
The young man shrugged. “It was only about two weeks ago and he came to me, asked if I’d look for something close to downtown. That he didn’t think he’d be living here much longer. But he asked me to keep it strictly confidential. I thought it was because he didn’t want you to know. Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Honey returned. The timeline fitted with her pressing Craig about their future, separate futures, to be more accurate. But she knew that she wasn’t the person Craig was hiding the split from.
“Craig had found someone he loved, really loved, I think. He’d want you to have that, too.” Ford certainly seemed sincere.
Honey nodded, then slowly his words, and their possible importance, registered. “Who was it, Ford? Can you tell me her name?”
Kayla Richter had suspected her husband knew about her relationship with Craig. Now, she was sure of it. She should have realised it sooner, but she had been distracted. If she were honest, she’d admit that when Craig had told her that he and his wife were on the verge of a divorce she’d been surprised, and maybe a little worried. It made things so real. Put choices front and centre.
She studied the man she’d married, five years earlier, through the veil of her lashes. It was unusual for them to eat dinner together, but he had definitely been more attentive the past couple of weeks. Was that because having discovered the truth about her and Craig, he wanted to make amends? Even as the thought passed through her mind, she dismissed it. It was far more likely that he was playing with her. Moving her about as if she were a piece on a chessboard. That was how he operated.
Funnily enough, Craig had admired it—at least at first. Seeing Neil as someone to emulate—his own man. But slowly, like some others, like her, he’d found Neil’s need to control stifling rather than reassuring. And the more time she and Craig had spent together, the harder it became to resist the attraction they felt. But attraction didn't pay the bills, did it? And she knew she hadn't been the only one. A rueful smile played on Kayla’s lips before her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. If she were honest, she’d have to admit that neither she nor Craig were accustomed to denying their wants and desires—and there were consequences for that. Consequences that may well have caught up with her, just as they had with Craig.
Honey didn’t manage to get any concrete information from Ford about the woman Craig had planned to make a life with. Knowing how much her husband relied upon and trusted the young man, this suggested there were reasons for keeping her identity secret. Even the knowledge that Craig had been seeing someone might give the police some ideas. She glanced out the window of her living room, relieved to see Diana’s SAAB round the corner of the driveway and ease into the empty spot next to her own Volvo. The car was one thing both her father and Craig agreed on—sort of. Matt wanted her to drive an American car and Craig felt that a luxury automobile was more fitting. Her response had been that the Volvo had a top safety rating, handled well and she liked the colour. Both men had rolled their eyes and given up.
Even though Di had a key, Honey ran down the stairs to meet her friend. Already the house, once she left her own suite of rooms, felt less and less like a place where she belonged. Once the funeral was out of the way she would put it on the market. Too bad if people thought it was too soon.
She unsnapped the multiple locks on the main entrance and was enveloped in a hug before the door was fully open.
“How are you?” Diana asked as she slipped inside and they closed the door behind them.
“I’m fine. Good, actually,” Honey returned. “Is that an awful thing to say?”
“Of course not!” her friend declared.
“I had a call from the police. They’re willing to release Craig’s…body so I need to organise the service. I imagine that will dampen my mood considerably.” Honey led the way up the winding staircase. “I’ve pulled down some albums and a couple of DVDs but couldn’t bring myself to look at them until you arrived. What a coward.”
“You’re not a coward,” Diana scolded gently. “It’s a horrible thing to have to do.”
“I don’t know if it would be easier or harder if Craig had family of his own. Oh, I hate myself, but I so want to think about something else.”
“Good. Let’s talk about Beldens. I can guarantee that will distract us both.”
“Thirty minutes of distraction and then I need to do the right thing by Craig. I owe him that much.”
Minutes later the two women were ensconced on the third floor.
“Oh, Diana, I feel awful about Mart losing his job. It’s bad enough that Brian’s been suspended, but Mart being fired… You should tell him to go ahead and write whatever he wants.” Honey sank down on the sofa next to her friend, having opened a bottle of wine and brought it, two glasses and some cheese and crackers, into her cosy living room. She wondered why Brian hadn’t told her about his brother’s situation.
“I most certainly will not.” Diana mock glared at her best friend. “It showed good judgment on his part and it showed that he loves me.” Her expression softened as she spoke and Honey grabbed her hand.
“How could he not?”
“Very easily, I imagine,” Diana laughed. “But he does. He even told me so, and believe me, Mart might be good with words, but simple statements like that one are pretty rare. I love him, too, so it’s looking good.”
“I’m so glad for you.” Honey hugged her friend, spilling just a little wine in the process. “If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”
“I could say the same thing to you.” The lovely dark-haired woman returned the hug. “So, where are things with you and Brian? You said on the phone that you’d fill me in, and I have been here for a whole eleven minutes and you’ve given me squat.”
It was Honey’s turn to laugh. “My apologies, Ms. Lynch. I’d forgotten how impatient you are.”
“Who me?” Di cried, feigning shock. “I am the soul of patience.” She shook her head. “That doesn’t sound right, does it?”
“No,” Honey agreed. “I think it’s the soul of discretion and maybe the embodiment of patience or patience personified?”
“Why do I always attach myself to people who read too much? Or know too many words?” Di asked. “I never understand half of what Mart says and occasionally you lose me, too. I am just not smart enough.”
“There’s no such thing as too much reading,” Honey scolded. “And don’t you dare criticise my best friend’s intelligence! You always underestimate how smart you are.”
“Thank you. Now stop trying to distract me with flattery and answer my question.”
Honey leaned back against the sofa and took a sip of wine, a slow smile forming on her face. “Brian is…so right. You know what I mean? It’s crazy and maybe it’s delayed shock or something, but being with him is the most natural thing in the world and the sex…”
“The sex?” Diana lifted a brow.
“I know now why people like Jennifer Crusie wrote all those scenes.”
“The sex is Crusie worthy?” Diana’s black brow shot up further.
Honey smiled and nodded. “I’ve always liked sex, but this is on a whole different level. What he can do with his hands and his mouth… and we haven’t even got out of the bedroom yet.”
“You’re planning on a multi-room approach?” Di grinned.
“Yes, we are. I might even hold onto this house for a while. It does have a lot of rooms,” Honey mused, imagining her and Brian, naked in the light-filled conservatory or in the huge double shower that served one of the guest rooms.
Elegant and stylish Diana Lynch spluttered her mouthful of wine at this and Honey laughed.
“You should see your face.”
“You should see you own face,” Di returned.
“It’s not just the sex though,” Honey said. “I mean I can snap at him and call him names.”
“It must be love then.”
“I know how idiotic it sounds, but I don’t feel as if I have to be super sweet and considerate every second of every day when I’m around Brian. I can say what I think.”
Diana’s brow wrinkled. “Does that mean that you do do that with everyone else, even me? Because you know you can call me any name you like, and I’d still love you.”
Honey laughed and hugged her friend, spilling more wine. “I don’t ever seem to want to snap at you. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
“Still…” Di shook her dark head. “It’s important you know you can say what you think with me and to me. You don’t always have to be the sweetest person anyone has ever met.”
“Crazy lady!” Honey said, affectionately. “I’m not that anyway. I’m totally cranky a lot of the time.”
Di grinned at the label. “That’s better. Now I’m going to call Mart and tell him we’re having a sleepover. So let’s top up our wine and do you have any of that pate you’re so fond of?”
“And smelly blue cheese, too,” Honey beamed. “You really are the perfect best friend.”
“And crazy lady, don’t forget crazy lady, cranky pants.”
“Fine, fishy breath.” This was in reference to Diana’s preference for smoked salmon and caviar.
“Back at you and your love of mouldy cheese.”
“Eyelashes batterer, batter, whatever.”
“Limpid eye gazer.”
They collapsed against one another. “Who knew this insulting thing could be so much fun?” Honey managed between gasps of laughter.
“You got me. I’m going to try it with all of my friends and family.”
Honey tilted her head to one side and considered this idea. “Sorry, no. I am not trying this on my parents. One wouldn’t get it and the other…”
“Totally would,” Diana finished. “It’s just you and me then and our menfolk. We should keep insulting them.”
“Deal.”
The two shook hands and Honey’s smile slowly faded. “I’m going to get the rest of the snacks and then start planning the service.”
“And I am going to help you do it.”
TBBH MAIN NEXT
Author's notes: Thanks go to my editor, Dana, as she wrangles my errors and nonsense with grace, humour and love. All remaining wrinkles are mine and mine alone. Trixie Belden et al belong to Random House and not to me. No profit is being made from these scribblings.
