Reluctant Deception - Cambria Smyth Page 0,47
the computer. Stifling a yawn, she stretched her arms slowly overhead, sighing as the tension in her aching shoulders eased. A glance out the window confirmed it was another beautiful June day, warm and sunny, with a trace of humidity carrying the promise of imminent summer.
Libby longed to be outdoors. Puttering in the garden. Sunning at the beach. Anywhere but in her office, diligently writing the report on Harte's Desire.
It was due in one week, next Friday, and if she had to spend the entire weekend working on it, Mr. Christopher Darnell would have his precious report on time, as promised.
Libby rubbed her tired eyes, then re-read the section she'd just written. She decided her description of the Rose Room accurately reflected not only its current appearance, but Amanda Harte's intentions to make a very personal interior decorating statement.
Her hands poised on the keyboard, she mentally organized her thoughts for the next section. While writing the report, Libby safely tucked away any and all thoughts of Chris, expelling him from mind so she could fully concentrate on the task at hand. Several times she had wanted to go back to Harte's Desire, to check a detail or confirm an earlier observation. With the exception of one time, she managed to convince herself it wasn't necessary to return. Then she'd gotten as far as the front gate before turning around and sending Connie over instead.
She dearly missed roaming around the big mansion, exploring its many rooms filled with exquisite antiques. Although neglected, the rose garden was in full bloom and she missed checking the daily progress of each new blossom as she had done while working there. Libby stared pensively out the window at her own small flower garden, lost in thought.
If she were honest, she even missed seeing Chris. Somehow life was more exciting around him, more challenging when he was part of her everyday experience. Even though they were polar opposites when it came to historic buildings, it had been thrilling to be where he worked and lived. And although he was hell-bent on tearing down Harte's Desire, she missed their verbal sparring, the look of banked desire in his eyes, and the sweet electricity that flowed, unbidden but undeniably, between them.
Libby shrugged off the disturbing memories and forced herself to start the next piece of the report. The statement of significance, as it was called, was the most important part. In it Libby would have to defend the importance of Harte's Desire, not only in terms of its magnificent architecture, but as it related to the contributions of Chester Harte as a regionally prominent businessman and Amanda as an amateur landscape architect and horticulturist.
Libby loved writing this section because it was the body and soul of any thorough study of a historic building. It was also the most difficult section to write because it demanded an intimate knowledge of history, architecture, and cultural themes. She'd gotten half-way through the first sentence when Connie Garrett appeared in her doorway.
"Sister Mary Clare is on the phone, Lib. She wants to know if you're attending the special awards dinner at the Orphanage tomorrow night?"
Connie eyed her boss politely, waiting for a reply. Connie knew when Libby was in the throes of writing, her job as administrative assistant meant interrupting with only the most important messages or phone calls.
"Oh dear, I've been so busy with this, I forgot all about it." Libby waved to the papers strewn over the desk and photos of Harte's Desire tacked to the walls. "I promised her a month ago I'd come. Would you please thank her for reminding me and assure her I will be there?" Libby said, rubbing her tired eyes. "And find out what time, too, please?"
Connie chuckled inwardly at Libby's forgetfulness. Usually sharp as a tack, Libby had been distant and pre-occupied these past few weeks. Easily flustered and distracted, too. All the signs of a woman in love, Connie determined, knowing now was not the time to probe. After the report, but only then. She headed back to the phone.
The Orphanage, Libby thought. How could she have forgotten? She scrutinized the bulletin board hanging in front of her desk, then removed some of the photos pinned to it until the invitation was discovered under the 8 x 10 of the gazebo.
Libby looked over the engraved card announcing the awards dinner honoring the St. Bernadette's Orphanage Man of the Year. Libby wondered again how her promise to attend had slipped through her memory