A Gentleman's Agreement by Joy Avery Page B

she’d dozed almost
the second he nestled behind her.
    What she’d shared with
him was something close and personal. Why had she chosen to share it with him
of all people? She hadn’t even shared the traumatic experience with Trevor. The
way he’d held her in his arms… Like he was truly trying to shield her from
demons.
    She’d forgotten how
great it felt to fall asleep in someone’s embrace. Why did it have to be his ?
Damn you, Blake Farrington . For reminding her how much she’d missed the comforting
act.
    Inching out of the bed,
Eunice escaped to the bathroom. After a quick shower, she ventured downstairs
and allowed her nose to lead the way toward the delicious aroma of coffee.
Clearly, none of the countless other visiting family members were morning
people because Mr. and Mrs. Farrington were the only two in the kitchen.
    “Good morning,” she
said, entering the room.
    “Good morning,” they
said in unison.
    “Happy, happy
anniversary.”
    “Thank you,” they said,
then kissed.
    “I love this woman,”
Mr. Farrington said, eyeing his wife with pure admiration. “I’m nothing without
you.”
    These two are too
adorable . “Wow. Someone’s been cooking up a storm,” Eunice said, eyeing the
large spread. Bacon, sausage, country ham, grits, eggs, pancakes, biscuits, and
toast. Enough food for two armies. “Do you need any help? I’m a fair cook.”
    Aunt Belle entered the
room. “I was married to a cook once. He died. Slipped on a grease spot and
broke his neck.”
    Mr. Farrington waved
Aunt Belle’s words off, twirling his finger on the side of his head. “She’s
crazy,” he whispered.
    “Solemn!” Mrs.
Farrington scalded. “No, honey. I don’t need any help. Fix yourself a plate and
relax.”
    Eunice felt awful that
Mrs. Farrington was working in the kitchen on her anniversary, but she didn’t
argue with her. She took Mrs. Farrington to be a no-nonsense type of woman. Her
petite stature may be misleading to some, but not to Eunice. She had no doubt
the woman could be as vicious as a caged lion. She’d raised three boys. She had
to be tough. Eunice made a mental note to not give the woman a reason to
unleash on her. And that meant giving an Oscar worthy performance.
    “May I?” Eunice said,
pointing to the coffee pot.
    “Absolutely,” Mrs.
Farrington said, passing her a mug. “Cream and sugar?”
    Eunice shook her head.
“No, ma’am. I take it black.”
    Mr. Farrington’s face
scrunched. “Yuck!”
    Mrs. Farrington
laughed. “Not everyone has to load their cup with a pound of sugar and a gallon
of cream, Solemn.”
    “Thelma, no cream or
sugar is like having fried fish with no hot sauce. Just wrong, I tell you.”
    “I was married to a
fisherman once. He died. Slipped on a fish and fell overboard.”
    “Crazy as hell,” Mr.
Farrington said, excusing himself from the room.
    “Solemn!” Mrs.
Farrington shook her hand. “That man of mine.”
    Eunice moved to the
table with her hot brew.
    “Are you not hungry,
honey?” Mrs. Farrington asked.
    Eunice took a sip from
her cup before answering. “No. I’m really not a breakfast eater.”
    “It’s the most
important meal of the day.”
    Eunice smiled because
that was exactly what her mother used to say. “Maybe I’ll have a few strips of
bacon.” She stood, but Mrs. Farrington waved her back in her seat.
    “I’ll fix you a plate. Is
Prat still asleep?”
    “Yes, ma’am.” Eunice eyed
Mrs. Farrington. “Why do you call him Prat?”
    Mrs. Farrington glanced
out of the window and toward the lake. “His grandfather—Solemn’s father—used to
call him that. When he was young, Blake always followed Ian and Tucker around.
They would call him a brat.” She laughed. “Blake asked his grandfather what
brat meant. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, he told him they were saying prat and that it meant he was super smart. So Blake came to me and told me he wanted
to be called Prat.”
    Eunice laughed.