Read Online A Minute to Smile by Ruth Wind, Barbara Samuel - Free Book Online
Authors: Ruth Wind, Barbara Samuel
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loaf of French bread and a bottle of white wine.
He felt extraordinarily aware and alive today, as if all of his senses had been half sleeping and now stretched, awake and refreshed. Thick bands of gold light bronzed the air, and violet shadows fell from the trees to the grass. Against the western sky the mountains stood sentinel, like soldiers in rough blue wool. The sidewalk warmed the soles of his shoes and a soft wind fluttered by, smelling of pine.
Rather than ringing Esther’s bell when he came upon her house, he followed the sidewalk toward the backyard. Here the light was thicker still, and a scattering of wrens picked through the soil of the herb garden. As Alexander stepped into their realm, they flapped into a tree, whistling in alarm and worry.
He settled the irises on the table and opened the waxed paper covering the bread, then broke off pieces and tossed them toward the garden. In unison, six small gray heads quirked; a dozen tiny black eyes looked at the offering. He chuckled to himself.
From behind him, Abe said, “You like birds, Alexander?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “They just always seem to be so much at the mercy of everything.”
Abe flashed a crooked grin, munching cheerfully on a banana. “Esther told me about your pirate cat.”
“He’s a pirate, all right.” Abe had carried out a glass bucket of ice and a platter of sandwiches, covered against the air. “Can I do anything to help?” Alexander asked.
“Esther’s finishing the fondue in the kitchen. You might be able to help her lug some of the stuff out.”
“Gladly.” He gathered the flowers, leaving the bread on the round wooden table, and went inside.
In the dimness of the kitchen, he paused momentarily. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Esther standing over the counter, piling strawberries into a bowl. Diffused north light poured in through the window and washed over her. The pale red hair was caught back in a black velvet ribbon and her head was bent over her task. In the old-fashioned kitchen, with ferns and ivies spilling from the windowsills, she looked like a painting of a woman in the middle ages—there was that fullness and richness about her figure and the simple contentment she radiated.
For the first time, she wore something ordinary, a blue tank-top sort of dress that left her arms bare and clung to her curves. Alexander felt himself grow hot as he looked at her, his heightened senses whirling at the smell of chocolate and irises, at the delightfully beautiful woman in her serene kitchen. As he watched, she took a strawberry from the bowl and put it into her mouth, and a single bead of silvery water clung to her lower lip.
He must have made some sound, for she turned. “Alexander!” she said, her voice honeyed with pleasure. “What beautiful flowers.”
He gave her a mock bow and raised an eyebrow. “For the loveliest lady in the kingdom.”
She smiled, her eyes glowing as she accepted them. Bending her head into the velvety petals, she inhaled their scent, then closed her eyes and very slowly moved her chin and cheek and nose over the flowers in an unselfconsciously sensual gesture. “Thank you.”
He stepped closer, drawn against his will. Taking her free hand, he lifted it to his lips, allowing himself to taste the heat and silkiness of her flesh for an instant before he let her go. “It was my pleasure.”
“How gallant you are,” she said, flashing her inviting smile. “Perhaps I should call you Lancelot instead of Alexander!”
“Traitor’s name!” he protested jovially.
“Ahh.” The word was a sigh. “Then you must be Arthur himself. I should have known it.”
He smiled, enjoying himself. “And what would lead you to such a conclusion?”
A hint of color touched her cheeks and she lowered her eyes for a moment. He wondered how such a vitally sensual woman could have learned to be shy and thought again that her ex-husband must have been a
He felt extraordinarily aware and alive today, as if all of his senses had been half sleeping and now stretched, awake and refreshed. Thick bands of gold light bronzed the air, and violet shadows fell from the trees to the grass. Against the western sky the mountains stood sentinel, like soldiers in rough blue wool. The sidewalk warmed the soles of his shoes and a soft wind fluttered by, smelling of pine.
Rather than ringing Esther’s bell when he came upon her house, he followed the sidewalk toward the backyard. Here the light was thicker still, and a scattering of wrens picked through the soil of the herb garden. As Alexander stepped into their realm, they flapped into a tree, whistling in alarm and worry.
He settled the irises on the table and opened the waxed paper covering the bread, then broke off pieces and tossed them toward the garden. In unison, six small gray heads quirked; a dozen tiny black eyes looked at the offering. He chuckled to himself.
From behind him, Abe said, “You like birds, Alexander?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He shrugged and glanced over his shoulder. “They just always seem to be so much at the mercy of everything.”
Abe flashed a crooked grin, munching cheerfully on a banana. “Esther told me about your pirate cat.”
“He’s a pirate, all right.” Abe had carried out a glass bucket of ice and a platter of sandwiches, covered against the air. “Can I do anything to help?” Alexander asked.
“Esther’s finishing the fondue in the kitchen. You might be able to help her lug some of the stuff out.”
“Gladly.” He gathered the flowers, leaving the bread on the round wooden table, and went inside.
In the dimness of the kitchen, he paused momentarily. As his eyes adjusted, he saw Esther standing over the counter, piling strawberries into a bowl. Diffused north light poured in through the window and washed over her. The pale red hair was caught back in a black velvet ribbon and her head was bent over her task. In the old-fashioned kitchen, with ferns and ivies spilling from the windowsills, she looked like a painting of a woman in the middle ages—there was that fullness and richness about her figure and the simple contentment she radiated.
For the first time, she wore something ordinary, a blue tank-top sort of dress that left her arms bare and clung to her curves. Alexander felt himself grow hot as he looked at her, his heightened senses whirling at the smell of chocolate and irises, at the delightfully beautiful woman in her serene kitchen. As he watched, she took a strawberry from the bowl and put it into her mouth, and a single bead of silvery water clung to her lower lip.
He must have made some sound, for she turned. “Alexander!” she said, her voice honeyed with pleasure. “What beautiful flowers.”
He gave her a mock bow and raised an eyebrow. “For the loveliest lady in the kingdom.”
She smiled, her eyes glowing as she accepted them. Bending her head into the velvety petals, she inhaled their scent, then closed her eyes and very slowly moved her chin and cheek and nose over the flowers in an unselfconsciously sensual gesture. “Thank you.”
He stepped closer, drawn against his will. Taking her free hand, he lifted it to his lips, allowing himself to taste the heat and silkiness of her flesh for an instant before he let her go. “It was my pleasure.”
“How gallant you are,” she said, flashing her inviting smile. “Perhaps I should call you Lancelot instead of Alexander!”
“Traitor’s name!” he protested jovially.
“Ahh.” The word was a sigh. “Then you must be Arthur himself. I should have known it.”
He smiled, enjoying himself. “And what would lead you to such a conclusion?”
A hint of color touched her cheeks and she lowered her eyes for a moment. He wondered how such a vitally sensual woman could have learned to be shy and thought again that her ex-husband must have been a
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