Tapestry of Trust by Mary Annslee Urban Page B

everyone to the dining room for more refreshments.”
    Isabelle breathed relief.
     
     
     
     

8
     
    The guests filed out of the family room, but Charlie hung back. He leaned against the doorframe between the family room and kitchen. Crossing his arms, he waited while Isabelle, on the far side of the room, spoke to Mark’s mother. Lips parted into a smile, she nodded at something the older woman said. Now this, he thought, was the Isabelle he remembered. Sweet and helpful to everyone...well, except him.
    Frustration and disappointment wrapped around Charlie’s chest like a rubber band. He breathed deeply and let it out in a sigh. Isabelle’s grudge seemed to be set in stone. Although he had overheard her mention to Kate that she was glad he showed up.
    Progress, he hoped.
    He glanced over his shoulder, happy to see Erica mingling with guests in the dining room. If nothing else, he appreciated that she preferred to be cordial in public. Still he never knew when she’d blow her keeping up appearances cover, something he’d witnessed more times than he cared to remember.
    His concern must have showed because Mark stepped up and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You OK?”
    “Yeah, fine.” Charlie nodded his head, hoping to convey nonchalance.
    Mark nodded and moved on. Charlie stood there, his hands shoved low in the pockets of his jeans. He shifted on his feet. A moment passed then another, as he waited for Mrs. Johnson to finish her conversation with Isabelle. He nodded as the older woman passed him on her way toward the dining room. She paused long enough to lift a brow. “Charlie, make sure you get something to eat.”
    “Thanks, I’ll be right there.” Right after he had a little chitchat with Isabelle. He waited a moment longer. Just watching Isabelle lifted his heart. With her back to him he couldn’t help but appreciate her beauty. Shapely legs, slender waist, delicate shoulders. He gave his head a quick shake, his ability to think seriously compromised.
    Focus. He swallowed, stepped into the room, and headed straight toward Isabelle.
    “Hey, can I help with anything?”
    Isabelle stopped straightening the chairs. “Thank you, but I’m finished.” She said as she turned to face him. The corners of her mouth quirked up for a split second and then faded.
    “You’ve been quite the hostess.” He made a small gesture around the room. “The games, the food. It’s been fun.”
    Fiddling with the pencils in her hand, she shrugged. “Thanks, I’m glad you’re enjoying the shower.”
    He took a step. “I am. But actually the reason I came was to see you.”
    A pause. Isabelle’s gaze dropped, and he watched her shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath. “I don’t think that’s an appropriate statement.”
    “It’s a true statement.” Charlie moved closer, two steps from her now. Close enough to smell the sweet scent of her perfume. He inhaled, tempted to brush aside the silky hair dangling against her cheek. He blinked. Too soon. He blew out a breath. “Isabelle, I really want to make things right between us.”
    “Charlie, I don’t understand what you’re after.” Isabelle’s soft voice and the distress in her eyes as she lifted her gaze, tugged at Charlie’s heart.
    She really didn’t trust him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Charlie opened his mouth to tell Isabelle how much he still cared about her, when the sound of scampering footsteps drew near. A second later, Mrs. Johnson poked her head into the room.
    “Isabelle, could you help me in the kitchen?”
    “Certainly.” Isabelle nodded at the woman. She turned and gestured toward the doorway. “I need to go.”
    He watched her leave, sure of one thing. He was still in love with Isabelle Crafton.
     
    ****
     
    Isabelle opened the trashcan and tugged out the bulging bag. She tied the ends together as the lid clanked shut.
    “Hurry and finish with the trash. It’s about time for the lovebirds to open their gifts.”