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She brushed her eyes with both palms before turning.
“Mrs. Truitt.” She stammered the two words before falling silent.
What else could she say? What else was there to say? She’d made things worse, humiliated them all.
“Why don’t you come and sit and have something to eat before you leave?”
Ursula blinked. Jay’s mother’s tone was neutral, as if she wasn’t speaking to a sniveling mess on the verge of ruining her family’s floors.
“I’d hate for you to leave without at least offering you something.” Mrs. Truitt’s eyes glittered with moisture, but her voice was kind and held a hint of mirth almost exactly like Jay.
Her stomach rumbled. It was impolite to rush out, and this was Jay’s mother. And, if she could pull herself together before she returned there’d be no questions. She swayed back and forth, hopping from foot to foot.
“It wouldn’t be any trouble.” The note was there again, the Jay-like note that was such a siren’s call no matter the words.
Ursula wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Just a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.
Chapter Twenty
Ursula followed Mrs. Truitt through the house and out into the bright courtyard. She blinked in the blinding sunlight and dabbed her eyes with Jay’s handkerchief. So soft. She was never returning it. No matter what. Even if it exposed the secret he hadn’t shared.
Blue and white urns of potted flowers, yellow and orange and pink surrounded a clothed table set with similar porcelain—the advantage of the far-east trade.
Jay’s mother indicated to a pristine cushioned chair. Ursula sank down while the other woman slid into a seat across. She rang a small bell and a housekeeper appeared. After a little discussion of tastes and choices, tea and a plate of pastries were set before them.
Chocolate. So much chocolate and jam, apple, raspberry, and lemon curd. Ursula reached for a sweetbread and put it to her lips.
Paradise.
The lump in her throat began to dissipate. Her stomach still clenched and ached, but she was able to breathe once more. The sun tanned her face, but it didn’t matter.
Sugar was perfect. Well, almost. Her lips curled upwards as images of her and Jay the other day flashed in her head. How would that work with sugar? Perhaps sprinkled down Jay’s body for her to find, after he took a turn at the same game...
“I heard you were fond of sweets.” Mrs. Truitt’s voice broke her from her sugarcoated flights of fancy.
At least there was no censure in the voice, only amusement. Thank goodness the woman didn’t have her son’s mind-reading abilities. Or did she? No, she was talking about the sweets and her appetite—for food.
She fiddled with the napkin on her lap before clearing her throat. “Is it that common knowledge?”
“It’s the talk of Delaware.” Mrs. Truitt laughed, a full throaty laugh, like Jay, almo
st exactly like Jay.
Ursula’s stomach fluttered. She had a dimple, too, and fine, soft, brown hair, streaked with gray. Would that be what Jay’s hair would look like in twenty years? He’d be even more handsome that way. The little crinkles around his mother’s eyes would suit him. It’d be infuriating, but he’d age so well.
“They could say worse things about me.” She had intended the words as a quip but today they made her sniff more. Humiliating. A tear trickled down her cheek. She waved it away, pretending to push back her curls. She fingered her spoon. “I’m sure they do.”
She peeked at Mrs. Truitt through her lashes. The woman dabbed her own mouth with her napkin before taking a delicate bite of a berry. She chewed for a moment, her eyes never leaving Ursula.
“Jealousy, mostly. It is a bit unfair that the girl who eats the most has the smallest waist.” Her eyes, the same color as Jay’s, glided over Ursula’s body. “Though I suppose the weight did eventually find somewhere to go.”
What did she—? Ursula glanced down.
Et tu, Mrs. Truitt?
The apple really didn’t fall far from the tree. The knot in her stomach loosened a bit more though. “You sound like your son.”
Mrs. Truitt laughed again and took a sip of iced tea. Ursula did the same. The cold glass was already tepid after a few moments outside.
