Larkspur Dreams - By Anita Higman Page 0,11

He stared at his knee. Looked like he’d picked up another tic. His foot bounced, making his leg continually jiggle. “Where did that come from?

“Maybe I’m being punished for something. And do other guys talk to themselves so much?” Of course, most men probably let off steam with their friends. But people just made life so tedious; he wondered if friendship was ever worth the bother. Everett pushed on his leg, forcing it to stop bouncing.

But on the other hand, the holidays were coming, and friends did come in handy to make things more festive. Christmas. Sure, he’d attend a client party or two and show up at a church activity, but for the last several years, the big day had been spent alone. He’d eaten foods he’d had catered and opened presents he’d given to himself. None of his life seemed dismal until now. Until he’d had a window view of the most maddening and fascinating woman he’d ever met. Larkspur. A woman who seemed to glow from the inside out. Kind of like a light bulb, only a lot brighter.

But what kind of strange air was he breathing in this neighborhood? I don’t even know the woman. Then he remembered her holiday invitation. Hmm. A thought: Eating over at her house would certainly save money.

He stared back at his screen and the glaring numbers. He was always the bottom line guy. Charts and spreadsheets and graphs had always been a part of his life, but now he wondered if they had consumed him. Some people had even come to fear him at meetings because of his stern reports. Everett whispered, “I’ve become the bad-news guy.”

He looked up and noticed his sister’s music box on the shelf. He lifted the memento down and rubbed his finger along its rough, carved surface. It was one of the last belongings of hers he’d kept. He tried to rotate the little crank, knowing it wouldn’t turn. Greta had broken it from twisting it over and over until she’d wound it too tightly. The box seemed to reflect her life all too well.

He then saw the licorice chewing gum Lark had given him the day he’d moved in. The packet sat on his desk, daring him to try another piece. Finally, he rolled his eyes in exasperation and opened a stick. He studied the powdery grayness of it, thinking how ungumlike it looked and then stuffed it in his mouth. He chewed for a moment. Sweet. Unique. The flavor reminded him a little of molasses. Guess you’d either really love the stuff or really hate it. No middle ground. After another chew or two, Everett tossed the rest of the packet of gum in the wicker trash bin. He missed. Who cared? Time for action.

He snatched up his keys to his brand new sedan with all the bells and whistles and headed out. Everett wasn’t even sure where to go. Maybe he’d get a real cup of coffee downtown. And then later, he’d try to find the heaviest wooden blinds money could buy.

Seven

After a shower and a few more hours of catching-up with Calli, Lark’s stomach began to growl.

“I heard that,” Calli said. “Now did you mention some homemade cinnamon scones, or was I dreaming?”

Lark tugged on her friend’s arm. “Come on. You weren’t dreaming.”

“I’m wearing elastic jeans so I can eat more than one.”

They both laughed.

Just before they headed down the stairs again, Calli glanced over at a canvas sitting on an easel. “Now what is this one going to be?”

Lark paused before going downstairs. “I’m not totally sure. I’ve sketched in some of it. A garden with a woman sitting on a bench. But something is missing. The balance is off. It needs something. . .or someone.”

Calli tapped her cheek. “Yeah. Maybe you’re right.” As she gazed out the window, her eyebrows creased, making angles on her perfect oval face. “Will you just look at that?”

Lark followed Calli’s gaze into her neighbor’s office. Oh my. She flipped off her lights and watched the play-by-play as a crimson-faced Everett trudged up a stepladder to fasten some monstrous, wooden blinds to his bare office window. He struggled with the blinds as if he were wrestling with an alligator. Without warning, Everett fell off the ladder.

Calli gasped.

“Should we call an ambulance?” Lark asked.

“Wait a sec,” Calli said. “Maybe he’s okay.”

Everett stumbled to his feet again, amazingly unhurt.

Lark and Calli sighed with relief and then sputtered some pent-up giggles.

This time Everett made it up the