"Don't worry, dear, I'll be back before you know it," the man said as he bent to give his young wife a brief kiss on the cheek.
"But you promised, Charles," the woman softly replied, her quavering voice doing little to cover the desperation in her eyes as Charles gave a frustrated sigh. He was not fond of having to repeat himself.
"Look Meg, it's only a week. I have to go, we've been over this!" Charles shrugged into his trench coat as a rap sounded at the already open door.
"Good morning, Miss Becker. Mister Becker, sir, if we're to make the airport on time," the spindly driver commented in a dry voice, beckoning to the waiting Jaguar that purred idly in the driveway.
Charles nodded once before the driver returned to the car and waited beside the rear door, ignoring the gentle spring drizzle that had just begun to fall. Meaghan could not help thinking that the man's stiff black uniform and the dull black of the car in the cloudy half-light reminded her too much of a funeral. As she turned to face Charles, all thought of protesting further fell into gloomy resignation. "Have a safe trip, Charles," she murmured, her gentle soprano hovering just above a whisper.
Her apparent acceptance of the situation caused Charles' features to soften immediately, a warm smile appearing on his tanned face as he raised his hands to brush Meaghan's cheeks, his fingers gliding through her silky waves of hair, the cinnamon-tinted auburn tresses falling well past her shoulders.
"God, kid. You're too beautiful for words sometimes," the man said in a still voice, bending to press his lips firmly against hers, his hands curling around her slim waist just as a polite cough came from the direction of the Jag. "Sorry, Meg. Gotta run." Charles flashed a bleached-white grin at his wife as he placed a hat over shortly cropped hair almost blond enough to match. "Don't forget, the carpenter and his crew will show up sometime this afternoon. You'll know what to do."
Meaghan began to speak, but her husband turned and dashed out to the car as the drizzle began to fall in a determined shower. The car was soon speeding down the winding drive through the trees. Meaghan waved them off, but neither husband nor driver saw the gesture, nor the tears that finally spilled over the woman's cheeks, her bright green eyes shimmering like well-polished emeralds.
She leaned her petite frame against that of the doorway for a long moment, not caring as the rain began to blow into the foyer to cover her face in a thin film of water, the raindrops quickly mingling with her tears. The commotion inside the house of the usual goings-on roused her from her inner thoughts as she pushed the door shut and paused to regard herself in the mirror next to the coat stand. Nimble fingers quickly put her hair back in place before dabbing at her face with a clean handkerchief. "Quit acting like a child," she admonished herself under her breath. Her hands clenched at her sides for a brief moment as she took a deep breath. Then composed as ever, she went on with the day.
* * *
The early afternoon sun had just begun to peek through the clouds as the doorbell rang, but Meaghan was too engrossed in her work to take much notice. It wasn't until one of the house assistants poked her head in to announce the arrival of the carpenter that Meaghan blinked up from her paperwork to frown at the young woman. "Carpenter? Oh, for the renovations," she muttered to herself as she slowly stood from the desk, motioning towards the maid. "I'm sorry, I'd completely forgotten. Please show him in." Quickly settling into her brisk business attitude, she smoothed the mild wrinkles in her slacks and straightened her blouse while silently cursing Charles for dumping this in her lap.
The door opened wide to admit a young woman just a touch taller than Meaghan and perhaps a couple years older but not much beyond that. Meaghan's eyes drifted past the other woman at first, looking for the expected carpenter, but a polite cough brought her eyes back with a surprised flash. In a couple quick seconds she took in the woman's hearty build, the toned muscles of her arms, the tan covering her body in warm tones. "I had assumed," she began in an embarrassingly unsteady voice.
"Always a dangerous thing, assuming," the woman interrupted with a light chuckle as she strode over towards Meaghan, holding out a hand. "Samantha Kirsson, though most call me Sam."
Meaghan began to smile as she took Samantha's hand and gave it a quick shake, her mood already improving thanks to the sheer charisma of the other woman. "That would explain the confusion," she answered lightly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Samantha." She hesitated then as Samantha took a step back. The carpenter's eyes were the warm brown of seasoned oak, a few shades lighter than the hair she kept pulled back into a pony-tail, leaving bare a neck that looked to be both strong and softly smooth.
Quickly abandoning such strange and dangerous thoughts, Meaghan smiled a bit more and gestured to a door off to the side. "If you'd like, I can show you the 'project' my husband and I have in mind." At Sam's quick nod, Meaghan turned to head towards the door a bit more quickly than intended, leading the carpenter through the house at a brisk pace as she chattered quietly about the work they'd done in the past couple years and the history of the estate.
Samantha couldn't quite hold back a grin as she silently followed Meaghan throughout the house. She'd noticed the rather studious look her patron had given her in the drawing room, but you could never tell sometimes. Perhaps she was just surprised to find a woman when she expected a man.
As they began to climb the stairs to the second floor, Samantha let her eyes wander over Meaghan's form at a leisurely pace. Not a bad view at all, she thought as the amused grin spread into a crookedly appreciative smile. The silk blouse clung in gentle folds to the woman's form, all but inviting someone's hands to glide across the material, cupping those firm breasts before trailing across her back to slip behind the hem of the khaki riding pants that hugged her enticing hips...
"Here we are," Meaghan announced, interrupting Samantha's perusal just a moment before she turned to regard the carpenter. "It's really a mess, but... well, that's why you're here, isn't it?" she commented, grinning brightly as Samantha turned to survey the room, hoping the dingy lighting would mask the soft flush she was sure would be obvious in her cheeks by now. Meaghan brushed her hair behind her ears before crossing her arms, stepping to the side.
With a short, shallow breath, Samantha turned to give the rather large room a quick study, ideas already spinning in her head. "Actually, it's quite beautiful," she remarked with sincere approval, ignoring the dust and the dismal wall paper, the old plastic over the windows and what little furniture had been left behind. "The lines, the architecture... Definite potential." She gave Meaghan a warm smile as she walked back and leaned against the open door. "So, what's the assignment, miss..."
Meaghan gave a short laugh, embarrassment tinting her cheeks a faint rose. "Meaghan. Just Meaghan," she replied quietly, fingers fidgeting with a button on her blouse as she glided past Samantha into the room. She tried to ignore how near she came to the woman and slowly relaxed as she moved farther into the large room.
"Obviously, you're not here to clean up," Meaghan joked lightly, beckoning for Samantha to follow. "This place was such a disaster when we took over the estate. We've been able to touch up the bottom rooms ourselves, but this is all a bit beyond what we have the time or skill to handle."
Samantha stayed close as Meaghan went on to describe what they'd like to do with the remaining rooms on the second floor, eventually taking out a small notebook to scribble down some notes now and then. She could quickly see why they'd decided to hire a carpentry crew, and as Meaghan continued, she began to feel a real appreciation for the plans the other woman eventually unveiled. So many of her previous clients had no sense of style or aesthetics, but Sam was never really in a position to argue as long as the checks came in on time.
At last, the two returned to the first room. Samantha slowly walked along the far wall to check the moldings around the windows, and Meaghan found herself simply watching. This woman fascinated her in a way she couldn't quite puzzle out, though she was determined to try. Samantha was athletically feminine in a way that had always appealed to Meaghan. Her jeans were just tight enough to show off the nice line of her legs and the smooth curves of her hips, and she wore a heavy, flannel shirt of evergreen that she had tucked into the jeans. Her trim waist seemed to give the solid appearance of an athlete while her small, rounded breasts did a beautiful job of softening the overall effect.
A tiny prick of frustration nestled in the back of Meaghan's mind as this mystery refused to be solved. She must have given some outward sign of the struggle, because Samantha suddenly turned to her with a questioning look. "Perhaps I should call in the crew," she said, a light tone of uncertainty in her voice that seemed horribly out of place.
Meaghan blushed, abruptly clasping her hands together as she began to shuffle towards the stairs. "I'm sorry, I'm probably in the way. If you need me for anything, I'm usually not too far away." She then turned and left the room at a pace that reminded Samantha of a startled doe.
A curious little smile crept over the carpenter's face as she tapped a finger against her lips. Then, with a secretive laugh she put her musings aside and began to prepare for the day's work.
* * *
Meaghan couldn't wait to get out of the house, her heart racing as she dashed into the cool air of early spring, the light rain helping to dampen the furious blush that had infused her cheeks. She shut her eyes as she leaned against the closed door, willing the chilled air to draw the heat from her body as she tried to slow her breathing.
For at least a minute, she made a conscious effort to fill her mind with the images of her husband while flashes of her encounter with the carpenter kept intruding. Finally with a defeated sigh, she opened her eyes to stare at the driveway her husband disappeared down that morning as a sad little smile crept across her lips. It finally dawned on her just what she'd been struggling with at the first sight of the carpenter. "That hasn't happened in years," she murmured in a defeated drawl, pushing herself from the door to wander towards the barn.
The rain had dwindled to a gentle mist once more that clung to her hair and her face, causing her white, silk blouse to cling all the more to her skin, a sensation she privately enjoyed. Once she reached the barn, she slipped inside quietly and closed the door, leaning against it as her hands clasped behind her neck, her head tilted back against the sturdy wood door.
