Quickly, she pushed the door open and stepped in. “Claire,” she said then stopped. There was no-one in the bed, no-one in the armchair by the window. But she’d just heard Claire’s voice. Had it been her imagination?
She looked around the room and that was when she noticed that the door to the bathroom was slightly ajar. That had to be where Claire was. And then her eyes flew back to something unusual, a big pink box lying in the middle of the bed, a smaller white box on top of it.
Golden raised her eyebrows. It looked like Claire was on the receiving end of some gifts. She put a finger to her lips, thinking. Had she missed her birthday? But no, that was not until December fifteen. This must be for something else.
“Claire?” she said again, glancing toward the bathroom door. She didn’t get an answer but there was a cheerful sound, almost a giggle, and Golden smiled, knowing her friend was fine. That was by no means a sound of distress.
Feeling much more relaxed she walked into the room and plopped down onto the vacant armchair. “Claire,” she called out, “I’m here like you ordered. What’s so urgent? This had better be good.” Then she chuckled. “You pulled me from my grand shopping spree, you know.” She shrugged. “Not that I have anything to show for it,” she said drily.
Then, as if by an invisible magnet, her eyes went back to the elegant boxes laid out on the bed. And then she saw it. There, nestled among the pink ribbons was a pink envelop with the name Golden Browne printed in big, bold letters. Golden stared, open-mouthed. Were the gift boxes for her?
“Claire, what’s going on? You get out here right this minute and explain yourself.” Now it was Golden’s turn to be imperious.
In response she got some more giggles then Claire, Therese and Elizabeth burst into the room, broad smiles adorning their faces. “Surprise,” they yelled then they all rushed over as fast as their arthritic legs would take them, to smother her with hugs.
It took a while before Golden could pry her way out of their embrace.
“What have you done?” she wailed. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, we should,” Therese declared, jamming her fists on her h*ps and glaring at Golden through horn-rimmed glasses.
“I was the one who called,” Elizabeth said, putting up her hand like a student in the classroom. “How was my acting? Did I sound like a real supervisor?”
“You certainly did.” Golden laughed. “You got me down here so fast I’m lucky I wasn’t pulled over for speeding.”
Claire jerked her head. “Go on. Open it. The big one first.”
“It was Claire who got these,” Elizabeth said. “We just came along for the fun.”
Golden drew in her breath slowly. Should she or shouldn’t she? She thought for a moment, remembering the frustration of her failed shopping expedition. She released her breath in a sigh. Yes, she should.
Decision made, she reached for the big box, her eager fingers quickly unraveling the ribbon. She lifted the cover off the box and, reaching in, she pulled out a dress of the softest silk, russett gold like her hair, a simple yet elegant gown that looked like it was a perfect fit.
“Oh, heavens,” Golden breathed. “It’s beautiful.”
“Open the other box,” Therese urged, clasping her hands together like she was the one getting the gifts.
Golden did and in it she found matching slippers with crisscrossed straps of the exact color of the dress. It was like the pieces had been made by the same hand.
“Oh, my goodness. Where did you find these?” Sudden tears sprang into Golden’s eyes. “Claire,” she said, her voice cracking, “these are wonderful. They’re fit for the grandest ball.” And before the tears could spill over and embarrass her she reached out and pulled Claire into her arms and hugged her tight. “Thank you. Thank you so, so much.”
Her resolve not to cry was dashed when Claire hugged her back then gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. “No, thank you, my dear,” the kind lady said, “for all the joy you’ve brought into my life.”
With those words Claire shattered Golden’s feeble hold, making her dissolve into tears. It took several seconds before she could let go. Finally, she released Claire then pulled back with a sniff. “You’re so kind,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’ve never had a friend like you before.”
“You deserve lots of friends, my dear,” Claire patted her gently on the arm, “and I hope this young man will be one of them. Now hurry up and get on home. You don’t want to be late for your first date.”
Quickly, the ladies repacked the boxes and bundled her out of the room. Golden didn’t even get a chance to hug Therese and Elizabeth.
But as she hurried home in her faithful old Vauxhall she was all smiles. Even if nothing else went well on the date tonight she knew she would look spectacular.
She hoped Reed would notice.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
You’re an idiot. You’re the biggest fool alive. Why don’t you just give up?
“Oh, shut up,” Reed muttered under his breath as he steered the Aston Martin down the country road toward Golden’s home just outside of North Ockendon.
He had one part of him spurring him on, telling him to go with his heart, but then there was another part trying hard to drag him back down to reality, a reality he didn’t give a damn about. Not right now when he was about to spend the evening in the company of one of the most intriguing women he’d ever met.
It had been just a little over twenty-four hours since he’d last seen Golden but it felt like a year. He still couldn’t believe how much the girl had grown on him. He’d spent most of the day on the golf course but all he’d been able to think about was his employee – Golden smiling, Golden busily tapping away at the keyboard, Golden staring off into the distance when she thought he wasn’t watching, looking like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. God, he was pathetic. It was like he was sixteen, not twenty-six.
Looking for some distraction Reed switched the radio on then relaxed back in his seat to enjoy one of his favorite classics, ‘Dancing Queen’ by Abba. He might be only twenty-six but he was an old soul where music was concerned. His face broke into a smile at the thought that most of the songs he loved were a lot older than Golden or even himself. She would probably find him strange, maybe even boring. Somehow, though, he had a feeling that if even not with music they would find they had a lot in common. He certainly hoped so.