Chapter 13

The quartet of them had talked, over tea and cookies, and Alexandra found herself becoming more enthralled with Mr. Blake with every passing hour. The way he used his hands expressively to talk, when he hadn't on the porch because it had been too cold outside. The way he could listen, that let you know, even if he was being totally silent, that his attention was entirely focused on you and you alone. And of course the tones in his voice.

Alex had discovered there was more to love than just the sheer musical lilt of it, though just in hearing that she would bet he could sing beautifully. There was something in the way he spoke, a pattern in which words he stressed, the speed of his speech and the mellowness of his attitude that completely captivated his audience. And the way he told his stories…Alex found herself savoring the words, replaying them in her mind, and that half an hour after she had met this man for the first time she was wishing he would never leave.

But he did leave, though he was kind enough to break the news to them gently.

"Well..." He said, just after he had gotten through telling them a story of when he had done some carpentry work in Mexico, "I really must be going. I'm sorry, but with us being neighbors, I'll come back and visit often." He said, rising slowly from the chair and looking out the window while he did so. "Night's coming on quickly." He observed.

"It does that more in a snowstorm." Mrs. Howard said, getting up to whisk away the plates and teapot.

"And when it's edging towards the equinox, too." Mr. Blake agreed, a smile flashing again. "The time when the world turns around." His voce took on a slightly darker and more mystical shade.

"That it does." Mrs. Howard concurred with the remark, piling the dishware on the drying board and turning back to Mr. Blake, who had sat down on the little bench to tug on his boots again. "If you believe the old legends, that is."

Mr. Blake chuckled merrily. "Mrs. Howard, you ought to know better than anyone else that there isn't a place in Massachusetts that doesn't have its old tales and secrets."

"Oh, I don't know about the rest of the land." Maeve Howard said idly. "But my grandparents lived on this bluff, as did their grandparents, generations back. I guess some might consider those to be old secrets. But they're probably only boring old family gossip."

"Ha!" Mr. Blake exclaimed. "There's an admirable woman for you. Most women I know would be fascinated by gossip, even three centuries old."

Alexandra could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. He knew other women? She found herself intensely, ravenously curious as to how many, what age, and what relation they had to him.

"Three centuries?" Mrs. Howard inquired politely. "You have ancestors who lived in New Salem, Mr. Blake?"

Mr. Blake winked at Mrs. Howard, and Alex's eyes widened. She had never seen anyone wink at her mother, before. Strangely enough, her mother didn't seem instantly offended.

"Well, now, I'd have to, to have inherited the house, wouldn't I? Not the type to go rushing into a place if I don't feel like I might be welcome there." He explained, and with the boots firmly on, he stood. "But you three have certainly relieved all my fears about moving to a new place all alone. It's always good to have kind neighbors."

"Oh, we're all kindly neighbors, up here." Mrs. Howard said, returning the strange smile.

"Well...I'll say then that this appears to be exactly the kind of place I was hoping for." Mr. Blake nodded, and turned toward the door.

"When you get the house looked at, tell us what your problem are. Mr. Howard does a fair bit of handy work, and it's possible he'll be able to help out." Mrs. Howard offered in a friendly manner. "After all, anything to help out a neighbor."

"I appreciate the offer, Mrs. Howard." Mr. Blake said, his face brightening as he crossed the kitchen to shake her hand. "But now I really must be on my way. Thank you so much for your hospitality. Bye, girls." He said, shaking Alex and Grace's hands in turn, and then waving as he left through the heavy kitchen doors. The trio waited a few seconds in the kitchen, until they heard the motor of his truck start.

Alex blinked and stared at her hand a little. Her head still felt like it was buzzing a little, as if she had just recovered from a fever. Was it possible, or had she just imagined it, that he had held her hand for a few seconds longer than he had Gracie's or her mothers? She closed her eyes and imagined the strength and vitality in that hand again. Oh, she'd never wash this hand as long as she lived. But that was ridiculous...he couldn't actually like her. He'd barely said more than a quick farewell on the way out. And she was only seventeen…he had to be twenty-three, maybe older. Too old for a high-school girl. Of course, she was almost eighteen. Maybe someday. Maybe someday soon. Her gaze drifted towards the kitchen door.

"Alexandra?" Her mother's voice called her back to the present. "Do you feel a little better now? The color's come back to your face."

"Huh? Oh. Yes, I feel fine now." Alex said, smiling absently, the emotion lighting up her pale porcelain face and making roses in her cheeks. She looked like Snow White. "I suppose the tea helped, or something."

"I suppose it did." Mrs. Howard said distractedly. In fact, she looked very distracted, as if her mind had bizarrely become occupied by things entirely different than what she had been thinking only minutes before. Her face cleared for a minute, like that of a child that has suddenly discovered how to catch a butterfly, and then she blinked and the abstracted air again replace the clarity. "Hmmm. We really ought to be getting dinner started...your father will be home from work soon."

Mrs. Howard started to go around the kitchen, removing the applesauce already made and getting various dinner accoutrements out and ready to go. She was so distracted and oblivious the rest of the night that it left Alexandra free to drift about and dream, which she did, sighing every once in awhile.