The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,45
up to see the Senator sitting across from her, looking concerned. Squeezing her eyes shut, she told herself she was hallucinating, but when she opened them again, he was still there.
“Griff told me he loves me.”
“How wonderful! Don’t you love him?”
“I—I’m not sure. We haven’t known each other very long.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t take very long. The moment I saw your mother I fell head over heels for her. Now, she took a little longer to bring around.”
Cass couldn’t believe that she was sitting in the office calmly discussing her love life with a ghost. This was crazy.
As if he could read her mind, he smiled.
That made her more nervous. Still, she said, “Mom and Aunt Min don’t like him.”
“They didn’t like me either, not at first. The important thing is not how they feel about him but how you feel. Listen to the quiet little voice deep inside you, and you won’t go wrong.”
“But—”
Just as quickly as he’d appeared, the Senator faded, and she was left talking to an empty chair.
Chapter Eighteen
Friday morning was a glorious day in Austin, with clear skies and with temperatures expected to be in the eighties. Dressed appropriately in shorts and sandals, Cass pulled to a stop in front of her house at exactly ten o’clock. Greg’s big pickup was already there, and he was sitting on the front steps, waiting. Did his eyes linger a bit too long on her legs? If so, she didn’t mind. In fact, she felt a little smug about still having good legs. She reminded herself it was past time to get back into her jogging routine. Monday for sure.
Hurrying up the broken concrete walk, she waved. “Am I late?”
“Nope. You’re exactly on time.” Clipboard in hand, he smiled and stood. “I’m a little early. Ready to measure?”
“I am.” She held up her retractable tape. “Let me unlock the door. Karen isn’t here today. We’re hoping to find someone to move the office furniture today.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about the office.” He motioned toward the sign beside the front door. “Exactly what is POAC?”
“POAC stands for Preserve Old Austin’s Charm. It’s a nonprofit organization that supports what its name implies. I’m the president.” She told him a little bit about projects the group had been involved in.
“Cool,” Greg said. “It breaks my heart when I see some of the landmarks torn down and paved over. I don’t want Austin to become a city with a bunch of skyscrapers dominating the landscape.”
Cass chuckled. “You sound like me. We’d love to have you as a member.”
“Where do I sign up?”
She took a form from the filing cabinet. “Fill this out and send it in if you’re truly interested.”
“I am.” He slipped the form into the papers on his clipboard. “Where is POAC moving?”
“To the building of one of our members, a couple of blocks over—if I can locate some muscle and a truck pretty soon.”
“I’ve got some muscle and a truck. Is this all you have to move?” He motioned to the desk, folding chairs, a folding table and a file cabinet.
Cass looked around at the motley assortment of equipment and furniture and grinned. “This is it. Did I mention we keep the overhead low? Everything we have is either donated or bought from the Salvation Army store. We pay our secretary barely enough to keep her in gas money to work a few hours a week.”
“I’ll call two of my guys to come over, and by the time we’re finished measuring, they’ll have everything loaded up and ready to go.”
“Oh, Greg, I hate for you to do that. I don’t want to impose on your workers’ time.”
“Not a problem.” Greg phone Chick, whoever he was, and told him to bring a couple of helpers to this address.
“That’s very sweet of you, Greg.”
He grinned. “I’m a sweet kind of guy. Let’s use my tape.” He unclipped an enormous tape measure from his belt and whipped it the length of the living room. “Sixteen.” He moved and whipped it again. “Thirteen.”
Cass hurriedly wrote down the numbers as he moved from room to room and called them out.
“Golly,” she said when they were finished. “That took a whole five minutes. You’re speedy.”
He chuckled. “The other house had the exact same floor plan, so these same measurements should do for them. Let’s talk about the fireplace. I assume you’d want it in the living room.”
“Sure. I suppose another option would be between the living room and dining room.” They walked back in