eccentric.
She was still smiling at the thought of a confrontation between her aunt and their new neighbor when she heard the tiny bell Aunt Sara kept on the table beside her chair.
That sharp, tinkling sound meant that dinner would begin in five minutes. It also meant that family and guests would also present themselves in what their hostess considered suitable attire; jackets and ties for the men, dresses—preferably long ones— for the women.
When Toni reached the door of the sitting room, she met Aunt Sara, leaning heavily on her cane, with Mrs. D close but not actually touching the older woman.
Sara Cartlaigne, as tiny as her niece, was dressed in a long navy-blue velvet dress. Her snowy white hair was worn up in a smooth coronet style that hadn't changed for as long as Toni could remember. And though her face bore the lines of age, the years had been kind. Her skin was soft and her eyes were bright
and sparkling.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," Toni said with a smile as she leaned over and kissed a soft cheek. "Billy was rather testy when I went to feed him."
"Don't apologize, Antonia," Sara briskly shushed her niece. "Having you in this old house has done wonders for Mrs. D and me. Being a few minutes late isn't a crime." She smiled. "Take my arm, child. I'm not as steady on my feet as I once was."
Toni did as she was told, careful to maintain a cheerful expression. She kept up a steady stream of chatter and felt especially grateful to hear her aunt laugh. Asking for someone's arm and admitting to any sort of physical weakness wasn't Aunt Sara's style.
Once they entered the dining room and were seated at the huge old mahogany table, Sara questioned Toni at length regarding Billy, the work Mr. Timmons had done in the yard earlier in the day, and Susie's visit. Toni painted a comical picture of the aging goat, but was careful to leave out any mention of their newest neighbor's encounter with the family pet. She dutifully recounted exactly where Mr. Timmons had planted the spring bulbs and explained that the leaves from the large oaks were being used as mulch in the flower beds.
"Susie has invited me to her house for dinner tomorrow evening. I think she has it in her mind to find a husband for me."
"Susie's a sweet girl and I'm fond of her, but she's something of a featherhead," Sara said bluntly. "She reminds me of my older sister Caroline. She was always running about, trying to arrange other people's lives."
Toni threw Mrs. D an amused glance. "Well, I can't vouch for Aunt Caroline, but Susie doesn't mean to interfere. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing what sort of man she thinks will suit me. Brent's taken, so that narrows the field considerably, don't you agree?" "I do." Toni's spritelike relative smiled. "But a man as easygoing as Brent would never do for you, Anto-nia. You need a man with spirit, one who's capable of matching that temper of yours. You're a Cartlaigne, my dear, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. We're not known for our meek, submissive ways. In some ways it's a blessing, in others it's a curse."
"So far I've found it to be the latter." Toni sighed as she thought back to the abrupt manner in which she'd terminated her engagement to Steven. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in her decision;
"One must never look back, Antonia. Only fools waste their time crying over what might have been. Consider yourself lucky to have gotten out of an unfortunate situation and concentrate on the future," Sara lectured. "But not too quickly," she added with a smile. "I like having you here. Besides, this place will be yours at my death. You're the last Cartlaigne female."
"Aunt Sara . . . please," Toni said, trying in vain to stop her. "I don't want to even think of such a thing happening."
"But you must think about it, and be prepared to accept your responsibility. This cottage is all that's left to represent the efforts and love of generations of your ancestors.
She was still smiling at the thought of a confrontation between her aunt and their new neighbor when she heard the tiny bell Aunt Sara kept on the table beside her chair.
That sharp, tinkling sound meant that dinner would begin in five minutes. It also meant that family and guests would also present themselves in what their hostess considered suitable attire; jackets and ties for the men, dresses—preferably long ones— for the women.
When Toni reached the door of the sitting room, she met Aunt Sara, leaning heavily on her cane, with Mrs. D close but not actually touching the older woman.
Sara Cartlaigne, as tiny as her niece, was dressed in a long navy-blue velvet dress. Her snowy white hair was worn up in a smooth coronet style that hadn't changed for as long as Toni could remember. And though her face bore the lines of age, the years had been kind. Her skin was soft and her eyes were bright
and sparkling.
"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," Toni said with a smile as she leaned over and kissed a soft cheek. "Billy was rather testy when I went to feed him."
"Don't apologize, Antonia," Sara briskly shushed her niece. "Having you in this old house has done wonders for Mrs. D and me. Being a few minutes late isn't a crime." She smiled. "Take my arm, child. I'm not as steady on my feet as I once was."
Toni did as she was told, careful to maintain a cheerful expression. She kept up a steady stream of chatter and felt especially grateful to hear her aunt laugh. Asking for someone's arm and admitting to any sort of physical weakness wasn't Aunt Sara's style.
Once they entered the dining room and were seated at the huge old mahogany table, Sara questioned Toni at length regarding Billy, the work Mr. Timmons had done in the yard earlier in the day, and Susie's visit. Toni painted a comical picture of the aging goat, but was careful to leave out any mention of their newest neighbor's encounter with the family pet. She dutifully recounted exactly where Mr. Timmons had planted the spring bulbs and explained that the leaves from the large oaks were being used as mulch in the flower beds.
"Susie has invited me to her house for dinner tomorrow evening. I think she has it in her mind to find a husband for me."
"Susie's a sweet girl and I'm fond of her, but she's something of a featherhead," Sara said bluntly. "She reminds me of my older sister Caroline. She was always running about, trying to arrange other people's lives."
Toni threw Mrs. D an amused glance. "Well, I can't vouch for Aunt Caroline, but Susie doesn't mean to interfere. In fact, I'm looking forward to seeing what sort of man she thinks will suit me. Brent's taken, so that narrows the field considerably, don't you agree?" "I do." Toni's spritelike relative smiled. "But a man as easygoing as Brent would never do for you, Anto-nia. You need a man with spirit, one who's capable of matching that temper of yours. You're a Cartlaigne, my dear, from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. We're not known for our meek, submissive ways. In some ways it's a blessing, in others it's a curse."
"So far I've found it to be the latter." Toni sighed as she thought back to the abrupt manner in which she'd terminated her engagement to Steven. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in her decision;
"One must never look back, Antonia. Only fools waste their time crying over what might have been. Consider yourself lucky to have gotten out of an unfortunate situation and concentrate on the future," Sara lectured. "But not too quickly," she added with a smile. "I like having you here. Besides, this place will be yours at my death. You're the last Cartlaigne female."
"Aunt Sara . . . please," Toni said, trying in vain to stop her. "I don't want to even think of such a thing happening."
"But you must think about it, and be prepared to accept your responsibility. This cottage is all that's left to represent the efforts and love of generations of your ancestors.
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