A Gift of Love Page 3

  The day they arrived, she placed her framed copy on her nightstand, then she stretched out on the bed on her back to make certain she could see his picture with her head on the pillow. Lifting her head, she peered at Diana, who was sitting at her feet. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she sighed. “He’s Matt Dillon and Richard Gere rolled into one – only better looking. He’s Tom Cruise and that guy Harrison whathisname-“

  “Ford,” Diana provided with typical attention to details.

  “Ford,” Corey agreed, picking up the picture and holding it above her face. “I’m going to marry him someday. I just know I am.”

  Although Diana was a little older, and definitely wiser and more practical, she wasn’t immune to Corey’s contagious enthusiasm or the energy with which Corey always tackled life’s obstacles. “In that case,” Diana said, getting up and reaching for Corey’s phone, “we’d better make sure your future husband is home before we take the other copy to Mrs. Bradley. We can walk over there, it’s only two miles.”

  Mrs. Bradley didn’t merely like the photograph, she loved it. “What a talent you have!” she exclaimed, her arthritic hand trembling a little as she touched Spencer’s face in the picture. “I shall place this on my dresser. No,” she said, getting up, “I shall place it here in the living room where everyone can see it. Spencer,” she called out as he bounded down the staircase, heading for the front door. In answer to her summons, he strolled into the living room, wearing tennis whites and carrying a tennis racket – looking to Corey even more gorgeous than he had in a tuxedo.

  Oblivious to Corey’s hectic color, Mrs. Bradley gestured toward the girls. “You know Diana, and I’m sure you remember Corey from the party Saturday night?”

  If he had said no, Corey would have died of humiliation and disappointment right there – expired on Mrs. Bradley’s Persian carpet and had to be carried out and buried.

  Instead, he looked at Corey with a smile and then nodded. “Hi, ladies,” he said, making Corey feel as least twenty.

  “The girls have just brought me a very special gift.” She handed him the picture in its frame. “Remember when Corey asked us to think of a special moment while she took the picture? – look how it turned out!”

  He took the picture, and to Corey’s almost painful joy she saw his expression go from polite interest to one of surprised pleasure. “It’s a wonderful picture, Corey,” he said, turning the full force of his deep voice and magnetic gaze on her. “You’re very talented.” He returned the photograph to his grandmother, bent down, and brushed a quick kiss on her brow. “I have a tennis date at the club in thirty minutes,” he told her. To the girls, he said, “Can I give you a ride home? It’s on my way.”

  Riding beside Spencer Addison in his blue sports car with the convertible top down soared straight to the top of Corey’s “Major Events of a Lifetime” list, and during the next several years, she managed to create a great many more events of a similar nature. In fact, she developed a positive genius for inventing reasons to visit his grandmother, whenever Spencer was home from college for an occasional weekend. His grandmother inadvertently collaborated in Corey’s grand design by sending Spencer over to the Fosters'’ to deliver things she’d baked or to pick up some recipes or patterns she wanted to try with Grandpa’s specially made crochet hook.

  As the weeks passed, Corey used her interest in photography as an additional excuse to see Spencer and capture more treasured shots of him. Under the ploy of wanting to perfect her ability with “action photography,” she went to Spencer’s polo matches, his tennis matches, and anywhere else she could possibly go where he was likely to be. As her collection of his pictures grew, she started a special scrapbook and kept it under her bed, and when that was filled, she started another, and then another. Her favorite shots of him, however, were always displayed around her bedroom, where she could see them.

  When her grandmother asked why most of the pictures in her room were of Spencer Addison, Corey dissembled with a long, involved, and mostly trumped-up explanation about Spencer’s unique photogenic qualities and how concentrating on a single “subject” in a variety of settings helped her to gauge her improvement as a photographer. For good measure, she threw in a lot of jargon about stop-action photography and the effect of aperture settings and shutter speeds on the final result. Her grandmother walked out of Corey’s bedroom looking a little dazed and thoroughly confused, and did not broach the subject again.

  The rest of the family undoubtedly suspected Corey’s true feelings, but they were all kind enough not to tease her about them. The object of her unflagging devotion seemed perfectly at ease around her, as if he had no idea that she lived for his visits, and he visited often, although mostly on errands for his grandmother. The reasons he came to the house didn’t matter to Corey; what mattered was that he was rarely in a hurry to leave.

  If she had advance notice of his arrival, she spent hours in her room frantically restyling her hair, changing her clothes, and trying to decide on a good topic for conversation when she had a chance to talk to him. But regardless of how she looked, or what topics she chose, Spencer unfailingly treated her with a gentle courtesy that evolved into a kind of brotherly affection by the time she was fifteen. He took to calling her “Duchess” and teasing her about being beautiful. He admired her latest photos and joked with her and talked to her about college. Sometimes he even stayed for dinner.

  Corey’s mother said she thought he came over to the house and stayed for a while because he’d never had a real family, and so he enjoyed being with theirs. Corey’s father thought Spencer enjoyed talking with him about the oil business. Corey’s grandfather was equally certain that it was his garden and greenhouse that interested Spencer. Corey’s grandmother was adamantly of the opinion that he knew the value of healthy cooking and eating, which was her forte.

  Corey clung to the hope that he enjoyed seeing and talking to her, and Diana was young enough and loyal enough to completely agree with Corey.

  Four

  SOMEHOW, COREY MANAGED TO MAINTAIN THE FACADE OF wanting only a platonic friendship with him until she was sixteen. Until then she’d kept a tight rein on herself, partly because she was terrified of overwhelming him with her ardor and losing him completely, and partly because she hadn’t found a risk-free opportunity to show him that she was old enough and more than ready for a romantic relationship with him.

  Fate handed her that opportunity the week before Christmas. Spence had come over to the house to deliver an armload of Christmas gifts from his grandmother to each of the Fosters, but for Corey there was a special gift from him to her. He stayed for dinner and then for two games of chess with her grandfather. Corey waited until afterward, when the family had gone upstairs, then she insisted he wait while she opened his gift to her. Her hands shook uncontrollably as she spread the tissue in the big box aside and lifted out a large beautifully bound book of photographs by five of the world’s leading photographers. “It’s beautiful, Spence!” she breathed, “Thank you so much! I’ll treasure it always.”

  She knew he was on his way to a Christmas party being given by some friends of his, but as she ushered him across the foyer in her new high heels, long plaid skirt, white silk blouse, and wine –colored velvet blazer, she had never felt more confident and mature. Because she’d known he was coming that night, she’d put her hair up into a chignon, with tendrils at her ears, because the style made her look older, and because Diana and she agreed it made her blue eyes look bigger.

  “Merry Christmas, Corey,” he said in the foyer as he turned to leave. Corey acted on sheer impulse because if she’d thought about it, she’d never have had the nerve. The house was decorated for the Christmas season in pine boughs and holly – and hanging from the crystal chandelier above the foyer was a giant bunch of mistletoe tied with red and gold ribbon. “Spence,” she burst out, “don’t you know it’s bad luck not to honor the Christmas traditions of your friends when you’re in their home?”

 
He turned, his hand already on the front door handle. “It is?”

  Corey nodded slowly, her fingers clasped behind her back in a pose of nervous expectation.

  “What tradition am I violating?”

  In answer, she tipped her head back and looked meaningfully at the mistletoe overhead, “That one,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady. He looked up at the mistletoe, then down at her, and his expression was so dubious and hesitant that Corey abruptly lost much of her nerve.

  “Of course,” she fabricated hastily, “the tradition doesn’t require you to kiss me. You can kiss anyone who lives in the house.” Trying to turn it into a joke, she continued. “You can kiss a maid. Or Conchita. Or our cat. My dog…”

  He laughed then and took his hand off the doorknob, but instead of leaning forward and kissing her cheek, which was about all she’d let herself hope he’d do, he hesitated, looking at her. “Are you sure you’re old enough for me to do this?”

  Corey got lost in those tawny eyes, mesmerized by something she saw flickering in their depths. Yes, she told him silently, beckoning him to kiss her. I know I’m old enough. I’ve been waiting forever. She knew the answers were in her eyes, and she knew he saw them, and so she smiled a little, and with her hands still clasped behind her back, Corey softly and deliberately said, “No.” it was an instinctive piece of highly effective flirtation, and just as instinctively he recognized it… and succumbed.

  With a husky, startled laugh, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tipped her head back, and brushed his lips slowly back and forth across hers… just once. It took only a moment for the kiss, but it was another, longer, moment before he took his hand from her chin and an even longer one before Corey opened her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Duchess,” he said softly.

  Corey felt the blast of icy air as he opened the door. When it closed behind him, she reached out automatically and switched off the foyer lights; then she stood there in the dark, reeling from the tenderness she’d heard in his voice after the kiss. For two years, she had fantasized about Spencer Addison, but not even in her fantasies had she ever imagined that his voice could be as stirring and as tender as a kiss.

  Five

  THE ONLY BLIGHT ON HER HAPPINESS WAS THAT SPENCER HAD said he planned to stay at college over spring break, studying for final exams, and that he didn’t intend to be back in Houston until after he graduated in June.

  Corey, who hadn’t had much interest in dating, decided to use the months between January and June to broaden her knowledge of the workings of the male mind by going out regularly with a variety of boys. Spence was almost six years older than she, and a hundred times more worldly, and she was beginning to worry that her lack of dating experience would eventually embarrass him or somehow stop him from getting any more deeply involved with her.

  She was popular at school and there were a gratifying number of boys who were eager to take her out, but it was Doug Hayward who quickly became her favorite and most constant escort, as well as her confidant.

  Doug was a senior at her high school, the captain of the debate team, and the quarterback of their football team, but his greatest attraction from Corey’s standpoint was that he, too, was hopelessly in love with someone else who lived far away. As a result, she could talk to him about Spence and get some male insight from and older boy who, like Spence, was smart and athletic and who also regarded her more as a sister than a real girlfriend.

  It was Doug who tutored her on what “older men” liked in their girlfriends and who helped her come up with ideas to capture Spencer’s attention and then his heart. Some of Doug’s ideas were useful, some impractical, and some downright hilarious.

  In May, just after Corey’s seventeenth birthday, they had a long discussion about kissing techniques – a subject in which Corey felt woefully inexperienced – but when Doug earnestly attempted to demonstrate some of the techniques they’d discussed, they ended up convulsed with laughter. When he told her to slide her hand around his nape, Corey made a comic, threatening face and slid her hand around his throat instead. When he attempted to lightly kiss her ear, she got the giggles and laughed so hard she bumped his nose.

  They were still laughing as he walked her to her front door that night. “Do me a favor,” Doug joked, “if you ever tell Addison what we did tonight, don’t mention my name. I don’t want my right arm broken by some jealous running back before I ever get to play college football.”

  They’d already discussed the possibility of making Spence jealous as a way of forcing him to notice Corey, but the methods Doug came up with had seemed trite and transparent to Corey, and the outcome far too uncertain. “I can’t see Spence getting jealous over anything connected with me,” she said with a sigh, “let alone having him get physical about it.”

  “Don’t bet my life on it. There’s nothing like knowing your girl has been kissing someone else to make a sensible guy lose his mind. Believe me,” he added as he left, “I know from experience.”

  Corey watched him walk down the sidewalk to his car in the driveway, her imagination running away with itself as his words revolved in her mind and an idea took shape.

  She was still standing on the porch long after his taillights disappeared. By the time she finally went inside, she’d made a decision and was working out the fine details of the plan.

  As soon as Spence came home in June, she had Diana suggest to their mother that Spence be invited to the house for dinner later in the week. Mrs. Foster readily complied. “Spence seemed delighted,” she announced to the family when she hung up the phone in the kitchen.

  “That young man appreciates the benefits of healthy home cooking,” Rose said.

  “He likes those father-son chats he and I have about business and making money,” Mr. Foster asserted. “I’ve missed them, too.”

  “I’d better finish that project in the workshop,” Henry mused aloud. “Spencer has an eye for fine woodwork. He should have gotten his degree in architecture instead of finance. He’s fascinated with anything that has to do with building things.”

  Corey and Diana looked at each other with a conspirational smile. They didn’t care why Spence came, so long as he came and stayed after dinner so that Corey could get him outside and execute her plan. Diana’s contribution was to get everyone else to go to the movies once they’d had dinner and a little time to visit with him. Diana had chosen a movie that Corey had already seen so that no one would think it odd when Corey decided to stay home.

  By the time Spence finally rang the doorbell, Corey was a mass of quivering nerves ,but she managed to look serenely composed as she smiled into his eyes and gave him a quick, welcoming hug. She sat across from him at dinner, surreptitiously studying the changes that a half year had made in his beloved face, while he talked about attending graduate school in the fall. His tawny hair seemed a little darker to Corey, and the masculine planes of his face harder, but that lazy, heart-stopping smile of his hadn’t changed a bit. Every time he grinned at some quip of hers, Corey’s heart melted, but when she smiled back at him, her expression was teasing, not worshipful. By her own count, she’d been out on forty-six dates with boys since he left her in the foyer at Christmas, and although the majority of them had been with Dough, her six-month crash course on dating, flirtation, and men in general had served her very well.

  She was counting heavily on it as Diana herded the entire family into the car and Spence picked up his sport jacket, obviously intending to leave also. “Could you stay for a little while longer?” Corey asked, giving him what she hoped was a vaguely troubled look. “I – I need some advice.”

  He nodded, his forehead furrowing with concern. “What sort of advice, Duchess?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go outside. It’s a beautiful evening, and I won’t have to worry about our housekeeper overhearing us.”

  He walked beside her, his sport jacket slung over his shoulder and hooked on his thumb, and Corey wished she could f
eel one tenth as relaxed as he looked. The night was balmy, devoid for once of the awful humidity that made Houston summers into a steam bath. “Where do you want to sit?” he asked as she walked by two umbrellaed tables and headed toward the swimming pool further back on the lawn.

  “Over here.” Corey gestured to a lounge chair next to the swimming pool, waited until he sat down on it, then she boldly sat down beside him. Tipping her head back, she gazed up through a canopy of blooming crape myrtles to the stars twinkling in the moonless sky while she fought desperately to recover her fleeing courage. She made herself think only of his Christmas kiss and of the tenderness in his eyes and voice afterward. He had felt something special for her that night. She was still positive he had. Now she needed to make him remember it and feel it again. Somehow.

  “Corey, what did you bring me out here to ask me?”

  “It’s a little difficult to explain,” she said with a nervous laugh that caught in her throat. “I can’t ask my mother because she’ll get all upset,” she added, deliberately eliminating what she knew would be his only escape routes from the discussion. “And I don’t want to talk about it with Diana. She’s all excited about starting college in the fall.”

  She stole a glance at him and saw him watching her with narrowed eyes. Drawing a fortifying breath, she plunged in. “Spence, do you remember when you kissed me at Christmas?”

  His answer seemed a long time in coming. “Yes.”

  “At the time, you may have known I didn’t have much experience… Did you know – notice – that?” The last question hadn’t been in her rehearsed speech, and so she waited, wanting him to deny that he’d noticed. “Yes,” he said flatly.

  Irrationally, Corey was crushed. “Well, I’ve gotten a lot more experience since then! A whole lot more!” she informed him haughtily.