“Delivery for Ms. Jameson,” the bellman said, and handed her a large white box.
What was this? She was almost afraid to take it from him, but she did.
“Thank you,” she murmured, and quickly searched for a few dollars to give as a tip. Then she closed the door and set the box on the coffee table. It carried the logo of a well-known, expensive women’s store. She stared at it for several minutes, unsure what to do. Was it really for her? Maybe it was something Connor had ordered for one of his judging seminars.
“You’re being silly.” She double-checked the box and saw her name on a label on the side, just as the bellman had said.
Finally she settled down on the couch and slowly pulled off the top and saw…a blanket of tissue covering the contents. Okay, that wasn’t too intimidating. She waded through the paper and finally found the real contents of the box.
“Oh my.” It was pink. That was the first surprise. It was also soft. And beautiful. She lifted the dress out of the box and held it up to her, then ran over and stared at herself in the mirror. It was strapless, with beading all over the bodice, to the waist. From there, layers of soft pink chiffon flowed in a soft column to the floor. It was formal, but sexy. And sweet. And perfect. She’d never seen a more beautiful dress.
It complemented her skin tone and her hair. It was simply ideal. Almost as if it had been made for her.
There were shoes in the box, as well. She slipped her foot into one of them and was amazed that it fit her. At the bottom of the box, she found a small pouch that held diamond earrings and a necklace.
She didn’t have to guess where all of this had come from.
“Connor,” she whispered, and felt a spurt of happiness that he would do something so thoughtful.
“Wait a minute,” she said, as reality sank in. Why would he ever dare to buy her a dress after she’d spent most of their dinner the other night complaining about Ashcroft doing the same thing?
So who could’ve bought her this beautiful dress? Connor was the only person who knew that she—
Her cell phone rang and she ran to answer it.
“Maggie love.”
“Grandpa. Is everything all right?”
“Fine and dandy,” he said. “And are you having a good time?”
“I am, Grandpa. Are you feeling well today?”
“Fit as a fiddle,” he said, and she could hear him patting his belly.
It was an old joke. He was tall and thin and barely had a belly to pat.
Someone giggled in the background.
“Grandpa, who’s there with you?”
“It’s our Deidre, making dinner.”
“That’s nice. And how are the goats?”
“They’re a delight as always,” he said “But how are you, Maggie love? We wanted to call and check. Is everything hunky-dory?”
“Everything’s fine,” Maggie said, touched that he was so concerned. It was unusual for her grandfather to use the telephone unless he was forced to, so maybe this was Deidre’s influence.