Through the gathering, a gray felt Stetson stood out above the rest catching Isabel's attention. John. Although a short distance separated them, she could see he hadn't slept well. His long hair had been combed behind his ears and he hadn't shaved. Their eyes briefly held, then she looked away, feeling inexplicably self-conscious. Yesterday, she'd known he'd wanted to kiss her. But she'd pretended not to notice, too afraid to let herself melt beneath his sensual gaze. Doing so would be easy. Effortless. But she'd have to live with the repercussions.
A hush fell over the group as soon as the pop-pop and ca-pow of a rarely-ever-seen-in-Limonero motor car sounded, putting in from Main Street. Isabel hadn't even heard the noon train's whistle announcing its arrival And here came a dusty black Olds with a festive wreath mounted on the center headlamp.
Sticking up at least ten feet from the tonneau poked the tallest Christmas tree Isabel had ever seen, a fir with dense and fluffy foliage. The bluish-green needles spread all around the branches. "Olds Motor Vehicle Company--Curved Dash model," the man next to Isabel said.
The fellow beside him added, "Nicklaus must have a bankroll. Only twelve of these have been made so far."
"You don't say."
"Four-point-five horsepower with a single cylinder engine of ninety-five-point-five cubic inches mounted horizontally under the seat."
"Bet it can really open up on the road with all that power."
"Yep. One of these beauties goes for six hundred and fifty simoleons."
In the driver's seat and commandeering the automobile sat an extremely tall and broad- shouldered man in a white touring duster. He was burly enough to be a prizefighter. The chap next to him was just as husky.
Everyone cleared an opening for the Olds to pull up at the house's picket gate. The two men hopped down and swaggered toward the front door. Isabel stood on tiptoe so she wouldn't miss anything.
"What do you make of all this?" John's deep voice tickled the shell of her ear, bringing a cascade of shivers out on her arms. Turning her head toward him, she said, "I don't know what to make of it. I've never seen anything like this. Have you?"
"Reminds me of a Jig Top tent menagerie I went to with my brother. A lot of strange exhibitions."
"The front door's opening!" somebody shouted.
Isabel craned her neck to watch the door swing inward and a portly man fill its opening. A scotch plaid cap covered the snow white hair on his head. His bushy brows, full mustache, and long beard were the same aged hue. His plump cheeks had a ruddiness to them.
He wore argyle knickers and ribbed socks that sagged in spite of the elastic button-clasp garters holding them up to his pudgy knees. On his feet--felt house slippers. He smoked a pipe and dangled a metal, canelike stick in his hand
My... but this Bellamy Nicklaus was an eccentric- looking man.
"Well, hell," John muttered at her side. "He's the guy who's been slicing chip shots at me."
"What?"
John didn't get the opportunity to answer. Bellamy began talking.
"Glad to see you folks came out to watch the arrival of my tree," he said with a chuckle. Then, to the gargantuan men, he announced, as the corners of his eyes creased with glee, "You've done a fine job, Yule and Tide. This one's even better than last year's when we were on Pago Pago. Sure do miss those prickly fruits--what were they! "
"Pineapples," Yule replied.
"Ja, pineapples," Tide seconded.
To the crowd, Bellamy enthusiastically smiled. "I hope you've all been busy gathering berries." He stared directly at John and Isabel. Mostly Isabel.
The bottom dropped from her stomach, as if she'd been on a swing and had gone too high, then plummeted backward. Nordic blue eyes reached inside her and touched her heart. She couldn't explain it. But immediately she felt a kindred spirit, a fondness... and even the overwhelming desire to tell him everything about herself.
But the way Bellamy looked at her, he already knew every detail of her life: that she had never really favored the pink hair ribbons she'd gotten for Christmas when she was seven--she'd wanted cardinal-colored ones like Kate; and that she'd fibbed to her mother about losing one of the bisque china dogs from her pug-dog family... when she'd really broken the puppy and hadn't wanted to get into trouble for taking the set outside when she'd been told not to; or the time she'd "borrowed"--but she'd given it back!--Mabel Ellen Littlefield's dolly with long curly real hair and moving glass eyes because the one she'd gotten Christmas morning had been muslin with yarn hair and button eyes.
A wave of guilt knocked at Isabel. Suddenly, she felt as if she needed to say she was sorry... to Bellamy Nicklaus.
Then Bellamy's gaze turned on John and she felt him tense. The two stared eye-to-eye a long moment, then John swore beneath his breath. He shifted his weight onto the other foot... stuck a hand in his pocket... removed the hand... took off his hat and fiddled with the crown, then fit it back on his head.
Bellamy returned his attention to the audience. "We're going to put up the tree today, and Mother has some trimmings she'll be using for decorations to spruce it up. All that will be left to hang on Christmas Eve will be the berry strings." A surge of nods and smiles swam through the crowd.
"The lucky winner of the contest will be chosen that night. Mother has a keen head for numbers and can count them up quickly."
Again, Bellamy's eyes briefly met Isabel's and she didn't think it was an accident. It was as if he was sending her a message... a private one. He said he didn't need her to apologize... He understood.
Yule and Tide took up shovels and began digging in the middle of the yard. Behind them were buckets of sand that would be used to fill in the hole and keep the tree from toppling.