The Chance at Willow Manor

"Correct, Sherlock," she smirked.

"How 'not local'?" I prodded.

She mumbled something, as she looked away.

"Sorry, I didn't hear that," I chided.

"Chicago" Soola repeated, in defeat.

"CHICAGO," I exclaimed.

Her eyes rolled bigger this time.

"You've driven 700 plus miles. What kind of trip are you on? Some vacation tour, on which somebody told you stop here and see me. And that makes you faint?"

"Sort of" she answered, in a clipped fashion.

"Okay...'sort of'...hmmph," I sighed, with some exasperation, "Then what did you come here for?"

"Ummmm..." Soola said, as her eyes wandered away from mine, "...fishing."

"And, am I going to find fishing poles in the trunk of your Lexus?" I asked, half in humor, half in frustration.

"I think I should be going," she said, abruptly and a bit aloofly, "I want to find a hotel and get out of these dusty clothes. Can you recommend somewhere?"

"NO"

"Why?!" she said, the aloofness vanishing.

"The nearest hotel worthy of you is probably 12 miles away," I said, "You will stay here!"

"What!" Stay here with you? Alone?" she said, with unconvincing shock on her face, "And what? Have you creep into my bed in the middle of the night?"

"If you thought I would do that, you wouldn't have driven 700 miles just to come to Willow Manor, and meet me," I said, staring her down.

Her calm, cool demeanor was fraying, "Who said I came all this way just to be here and meet you!? Your arrogance does not befit your reputation!"

I grinned, "Ah ha! So, you know my reputation, do you? And arrogant, huh? That's it! I'm not letting you get away until I know what this is all about!"

Her eyes went back down, and she slumped, "That might take a while!"

"I like a good mystery," I said, again approaching exasperation, "You saw all those mystery books on the bookshelf, didn't you?"

"Yes"

I mildly growled, "I'm getting the luggage, which I assume you brought, and putting you in the guest room. I still have the key fob for that fashion statement of a car, Are you going to fight me on this?

"No" she said, in resignation.

"Good! I'll be back in a minute." I walked out, still wondering what this was all about. She did have two beautiful pieces of luggage, which I carried back in through the front door.

"Where is she?" Looking around, I didn't see her, anywhere.

I called out in frustration, "Soola, my little sneak. Where are you!"

"In the guest room. The one on the left at the top of the stairs!"

I almost dropped her bags. "How did she know where that guest room was? And the house had 3 guest rooms. She was in Emmi's old room, next to my bedroom. Was that just luck?"

I went up the stairs and walked into "her" room.

"Thank you," she said, "And I'm sorry - again. I forgot my manners. This is a lovely room, and Willow Manor is very beautiful. You did a truly amazing job with the renovation."

"You knew that from my reputation, right?" I asked, certainly curious.

Soola turned so that I could not see her face, "Of course...by your reputation."

"I assume you can find everything on your own?" I said, expecting she might already know where anything was.

"I'm fine," she said, "Give me some time to change, and I'll come back down, if that is acceptable to my 'jailer'?"

"The family room, again, when you're ready," I said, exhaling my confusion. I turned and went into my room. I took a quick shower to wash the sweat from the mail box post project off of me. Then, I changed out of my work jeans and into casual clothes. As I was going downstairs, I realized I had left the yard cart with my tools and shirt by the road. So I walked out and towed them back.

Around 5 minutes later, I heard her coming down the stairs. She even walked gracefully, as I heard her casual cadence.

Soola walked in with her hair pulled back into an explosion of a ponytail. It really set off her cheek bones, and those were what made her sumptuous eyes look deeper set. She had on short spike heels, but the legs of her fitted, denim pants nearly hid them. Above that was a billowy, peasant top in a deep tan. That color was an enticing compliment to the rich color of her skin. The gold bracelets were gone, but gold earrings were now visible.

Her eyes looked at me, waiting. My eyes didn't notice that as I hadn't finished devouring her, yet. She smirked, "Maybe I should get that hotel room after all, given the look on your face? My virtue appears to be in danger."

"Sorry!" I said, snapping back to polite. "You are quite...well...appealing to observe."

"I wouldn't dress like this if I didn't want to be 'observed'!" she said, and her full wattage smile took over her face. "And you put a shirt on in my absence...how unfortunate."

"That smile could be the death of me!" I mentally groaned, while I felt the blush rise on my face.

Soola pivoted, neatly, in a 360 degree circle, "Still Vogue, inside cover?"

"I would rate that as worthy of...mmm...page 8 of Town & Country," I said, as I tried to stifle a chuckle, which resulted in a small snort.

That humor, or the snort, or whatever, must have caught her off guard, because her huge smile broke into rolling, wondrous laughs.

I closed my eyes and soaked in that magnificent laugh. "Okay, that laugh will be the death of me. The smile will just make me a helpless male!"

"Excuse me for that!" she said, chuckles still filtering through, "I do like your sense of humor, Ted! Can I call you 'Ted', since I have been so impolite as to assume, and not to ask?"

"'Ted' away, all you want!" I grinned, gesturing for her to sit. She sat back on the couch, and I in a chair, facing her. Once again, her poise shown with neatly crossed legs, and crossed wrists on top of those.

Leaning forward on her wrists, she smiled slyly, "Given the inquisition I was put through earlier..."

I gave her playful glare.

"....then, I suppose, I must reveal a few details about myself. I am a successful interior designer in Chicago. I was born in Milan, Italy, and came to the USA with my parents and little brother when I was seven. That was 34 years ago. For the sake of my 'modesty'..." and she let her eyebrows rise, "...I will let you do the math."

"Then, did you come to Willow Manor looking for business?" I asked, while still stunned that she was actually 10 years older than I had predicted.

Her smile dimmed, "No, certainly not...more to get away from business, and Chicago, and...well...other things."

"I'm sorry," I suddenly blurted, and that seemed to cause a quick ripple of surprise in her posture, "I'm being a poor host! Here it is late afternoon, and all I have offered you is water."

"I'm fine," she said, "But thank you. I think you've been quite tolerant of someone who just, literally, 'dropped' in."

I grimaced, "And you will have to be tolerant if you are to eat my cooking!"

Soola immediately replied, with a chuckle, "Oh, I heard it wasn't so bad." Then her expression sharply changed, as she sat up and clumsily backtracked, "Well! Not that I actually 'heard'...I just...well assumed, since you live alone...Never mind, please, it was just a poorly phrased remark!"

I could see on her face that she knew I wasn't buying that.

She cleared her throat, and looked at my collection of mystery books, "Have you read some of these?" she said, gesturing at the books.

"All of them," I said, as I tried to decipher all of her remarks that had indicated a prior knowledge of me.

"Any favorites?" she asked, once again politely clearing her throat.

I didn't answer right away, as I was still concentrating. Then yielding, I replied, "Anything by Harlan Coben in the Myron Bolitar series." I just decided I would let this game play out, as outside of the strange foreknowledge she seemed to have of me and this house, she was charming, intelligent, and achingly beautiful.

"Whether or not you trust my latent culinary skills, how about I take you out to Rod's Landing, just down the road? Not fancy. Food is simple, American cuisine, but perfectly prepared. They have a deck on the lake and the heat outside should be coming down. You're probably over dressed, but I think no matter how you were dressed, you would get lots of attention."

Looking very relieved, probably from the change of conversation, she responded, "I would like that. I'm no snob when offered good smoked ribs, or a steak...and French fries."

"You ready to leave now?"

"I assume my purse is still in my car?"

"Passenger foot well," I confirmed.

"Then let's take my car, and you drive," she grinned, "Since you look 4-5 inches taller than me, I assume you have already adjusted the seat, when you drove my car?

"Yes, I did," I confirmed

"Then take me to your 'evil lair' and ply me with alcohol," she said, the smile bursting on her face. To emphasize the flirtation in that remark, she took the clip off that had held her ponytail. Those lush curls rushed to surround her face and frame those dangerous green eyes.

"As you wish," I said, gesturing to the front door. I was enjoying this flirtation, even though it seemed odd for only having known her for such a short, and unusual, time.

The drive to Rod's Landing was only a few minutes, and she asked a few innocuous questions about the area. I provided equally innocuous answers as I focused on the driving and the simple comfort of her presence.

When we went into the restaurant, she put on her huge smile, and we were taken to the deck. She didn't just attract attention, she stole it like master thief once inside the bank vault. I put my hand on her back to emphasize that she was here with me.

The chatter in the room had dropped in half as she glided among the patrons. From fisherman just off of the lake, to the local gentry, to Rod, and even other women -- nobody ignored her. After I pulled her chair out, and she sat, I looked back through the big glass windows to see numerous pairs of eyes, and a couple gaping mouths. "Okay, it wasn't just me that thinks her looks are dramatic!"

Once I had sat down, she offered, "Lovely view...very relaxing," while her eyes were off checking out the scenery. I slid the laminated drink menu her way while I took in her appealing profile, since the breeze had blown her curls back to her ear.

"I'm enjoying my lovely view," I smirked, looking directly at her face.

After an obvious pause, Soola turned her eyes to me, and found me looking at her. Her smile slowly grew larger, and larger, "Well...Mr. Taeger! Is this a convenient dinner for your surprise house guest, or is this a date?"

Before I could answer, I heard our server clear their throat. Soola and I both turned to find Rod waiting, with a smile so big that I thought I might need to put on my sunglasses. My mind laughed, "What? Rod never waits tables?...and never smiles? A good smirk is all I ever got for one of my best jokes!"

"Rod?" I said, a bit warily.

"Good afternoon...er...or evening...whichever you think it is?" Rod stumbled.

"My dear," I began, while stifling the humor of seeing Rod nervous, "This is the owner of this fine establishment. And no, his name is not 'Landing'. However, it is 'Rod'." As I said that, she turned to look at me. I think she could tell I was suppressing chuckling. Her eyes twinkled as her cheeks rose for an impending smile, and she gave me a conspiratorial wink.

She turned to Rod, and let her full wattage smile loose, as she extended her hand to him, "Soola Matelli. Very nice to meet you, Rod!" With her other hand, she lazily moved some curls that had drifted over her face. Then, she twisted the end of one strand through her long fingers, as she waited out his stupefied pause.

Rod suddenly came back to life, wiping his hand on his pants before extending his arm and shaking her hand. "Welcome to my restaurant...Ms. Matelli! Can me -- I mean 'we'-- Can we get you something?" She finally had to withdraw her fingers from within his, to get her hand back.

"I think he would like to know what I should ply you with, Soola?" I said, still fighting the snickers. She glanced at me, and I could tell she was not going to let Rod off easy.

"Well...let me see," she said, in a delicious purr. Then she pointed one slender finger at the drink menu and drew down, across the choices. Turning that wicked smile back to his eyes, she tilted her head, "How about...hmm...a vodka tonic, but with a twist of lemon?"

"Excellent choice," Rod grinned, "Oh...any preference on the Vodka?"

"Do you carry Finlandia?" she smiled.

"Oh, sorry, no!" Rod said, as he shifted on his feet, "Would Stoli be alright?"

"Certainly!" Soola oozed.

Rod gushed, "I'll look into getting the Finlandia...if you think you might be coming back?"

She turned to look at me, and cocked her head, "Ted?"

That caught me off guard, and my mind sprinted among the possibilities. Then, I just gave up, knowing I would be glad to have her here with me again, "I think that would be a great idea, Rod. Thank you."

Rod snapped to, "Stoli Vodka Tonic, with a twist. Coming right up!" and he turned to leave.

"ROD?" I chuckled.

Rod stopped and turned, "Yeah, Ted?"

"My usual, please?"

"Oh, sure! Comin' Right up," and he left, hustling though the glass doors.

Soola looked at me, with a satisfied smile.

"Miss Matelli, you are a naught lady!" I laughed.

She relaxed and sat back into her chair, with a few laughs, "Always flirt with the owner. You'll, absolutely, get great service...forever."

Chuckling, I opened my menu, "Guess I'd better decide what to have for dinner, in case he forgets to ask me that, too."

I heard Soola chuckle, as I scanned the first few items, but then a finger reached over the top of my menu and pushed it down. With a slight twist to the small smile on her face, she said, "Question still stands."

"Question?" I said, as my mind worked backwards through our recent moments involving the menu and then the drinks. Before I got back far enough, she responded to my apparent puzzled expression.

"Is this a date?"

My mind was getting lost with all the strange turns our conversations seem to have taken, since she had arrived earlier today. I just went with my instincts at that moment, "I hope so."

"Good" she smirked as she tilted up her menu.

Deciding I should try to play into this date idea, I reached out and drew her menu down. She looked up through the top of her smiling eyes. I grinned, "So, will you come home with me, tonight?"

She laughed, "Is this your smooth, suave approach? Ask a girl to go home with you before she has even gotten her first drink?"

"I'm out practice!" I pleaded, "And calling you simply "a girl' seems, somehow, more like an insult."

Her face rose up, eye-to-eye, "Not so out of practice as you think...thank you! Now let me study this menu, so I can focus on curling Rod's toes when he comes back"

I let her read over the menu. "I think I'm favoring the beef brisket," she finally said, "Can you recommend it?"

"Most definitely," I promptly replied, "Moist, yet still very smoky. Don't know how Rod does it."

"Sold" she said, and smiling as she laid her menu down.

That was when Rod returned with our drinks. He set them down and his eyes never left Soola after that. She'd given him that big smile again. "Sorry," he said, but I have to get to some things, in back...so, I'm going to have Carla wait on you from here."

"Again, nice meeting you," she said, while extending her hand.

Rod took her hand, "Delighted. You're welcome anytime. You can even bring this guy again...if you have to," he smirked, as he glanced at me.

"So glad you appreciate all my business, Rod!" I sighed, "One pretty face, and I'm out on my ear!"

"Pretty?" he swallowed, "This lady is stunning! -- Sorry to be so forward, miss, but we don't see the likes of you very often...And sorry Ted, no offense to Jill. She was a very pretty women, but...OH! I'm so sorry Ted, I shouldn't have brought up Jill. I'd better get to those things...in back...that I have to get to." He turned, quickly, and walked away.

Carla passed him as she came to our table, "I see you met Rod. Not like him to come out to a table, but I can see why he made an exception!" and she winked at Soola, who smiled back, "Like to start with an appetizer?"

"Soola, see anything tempting?" I asked.

"I forgot to review those," she said, "Please, you select."

"Pickled shrimp," I requested.

"My favorite!" Karla giggled, "Did you want to put in your order now, Ted?"

"She'll have the brisket plate," I answered.

"For sides, we have corn on the cob, steak fries, broccoli..."

"Fries!" Soola interjected, with a cheerful smile.

"For you, Ted?" Carla inquired.

"You know I'm a sucker for your New York strip. As always, medium, please. Baked potato, heavy on the butter, plus those bacon bits."

"Okay," Carla said, "Any libations, in the lovely lady's honor?"

"Libations?" I laughed, "Is Rod making you up your game?"

"Common, Ted!" she sighed, "I'm fishin' for a bigger tip. Play along!"

"Okay," I laughed, again, "So, Soola...Libations?"

She gave me a flirtatious look, "It is our first date. Dare I request champagne?"

"Do I need to bring the wine list?" Carla sighed.

"You have one?" I asked, in surprise.

"Are you kidding?...Rod? Come on!" Carla laughed, "But I'm trying to make us look classier, for you date!"

Soola laughed, "You're doing fine! Now do you have any bubbly?"

"Tattinger, Moet & Chandon, Perriet-Jouet, and that one...Veuve Clic... something.

"Veuve Clicquot," Soola added, "Ted, what is your choice for plying me?"

"Definitely the Perriet-Jouet," I said. It was another of those moments that reminded me of just how much I was enjoying this woman, who had dropped into my life today.

"Glad that's settled," Carla exhaled, "So, Brisket with Steak Fries, New York Strip, medium, baked spud, heavy butter, and bacon. Any salads first?"

"House salad, oil and vinegar," for me, and please bring the pepper mill. I looked at Soola.

"Same for me," she said.

"Got it," Carla said, "Last chance, anything else?"

I looked at Soola and she shook her head, as she chuckled. "Nope, that's it, Carla Thank you." I said.

As Carla zipped away, Soola asked, "I take it you're a regular here?"

"Yeah, my 'go to' place," I shrugged.

Then Soola leaned forward, elbows on the table, hands crossed, and her chin on her hands. She had an expression that was hard to determine, but she didn't seem upset. "So, this Jill? Anything I should be aware of?"

I took a deep breath, and held Soola's eyes as much as I could, "My late wife. I lost Jill less than two years ago. Jill's the one that loved Willow Manor. She's buried under the weeping willow, out front.

Soola's surprise was sharp, but brief. Then her face turned gentle, and she sat back and picked up her vodka tonic, "Then, let's toast to Jill."

I waited for Carla to set the pickled shrimp appetizer down, with two small plates and two forks. Once Carla left, I raised my glass. "To Jill," I agreed, tapping our glasses together. Soola's eyes and mine stayed together as we drank a couple sips. We both smiled, softly. I missed Jill so much, to this very day. But, I was still so attracted to Soola. She hummed satisfaction at her first bite of the shrimp, and gave me a wink.

I was enthralled with the way she could go from playful to soft, from funny to quiet, flirtatious to a calm poise. At any moment, she could almost be another person, the way her face changed. And, I wasn't finding any excessive ego or jealousy that I might have expected from her, given her fancy car, her very fashionable clothes, her apparent business success, and her highly desirable looks. I hoped Jill, and even Emmi, could forgive me, for Soola was quickly burrowing into my soul.