Satin Sheets and Strawberries by Marcia Evanick Read Free Book Online

it?"
    She stared at the man sitting less than three feet away from her. "Have you been checking up on me?"
    "No, just listening to Ruth and Henry sing your praises."
    "Ah, and that bothers you?" A knowing smile touched her lips.
    "Immensely."
    "Why?"
    "Because I came here determined to rescue my aunt and uncle, only to discover they don’t need rescuing. They are perfectly happy here. I haven’t seen any signs of overwork or neglect. In fact I have to say you have gone out of your way to make a home for them."
    "Thank you."
    "Don’t thank me yet." He decided to change the subject. "I want to know who cleaned the living room last night."
    With a grimace Kelli quickly dabbed at the grotesque smirk she had given the fairy. She concentrated on the mistake as she asked, "Who cleaned what?"
    "The living room. Sometime between last night and this morning it magically cleaned itself."
    She turned and faced him. "Don’t be silly, Logan. Living rooms don’t automatically straighten themselves." Frustration caused his voice to grow louder. "I know that. Ruth claims she didn’t clean it. Did you?"
    "Why would I clean the room? It would hurt Ruth’s feelings if I went around doing her job."
    "If you didn’t do it, who did?"
    Kelli turned her attention back to the unfinished fairy, hiding her smile. She hadn’t actually lied to Logan, just twisted the truth. "Are you sure someone cleaned the room?"
    "Yes." After a moment’s hesitation he added, "At least I think so. There were newspapers piled on the coffee table."
    "And someone moved them?"
    "Yes."
    A gentle smile curved her lips as she faced Logan again. "I’m sorry, Logan, but moving a pile of newspapers doesn’t constitute a cleaning. I’m sure Ruth must have moved the newspapers. She probably never connected that with cleaning the room." She watched him frown and asked, "Was anything else done?"
    "Well, maybe dusting."
    A small chuckle escaped her throat. "How do you maybe dust?"
    Logan ran a hand over his jaw. She was right. He couldn’t explain exactly what was done, just that the room looked cleaner. No furniture had been moved, the doorknobs still lined the cabinet in the same order, and the wood basket was stacked as high as ever. Just a pile of newspapers had been moved. "Forget it. I must still be suffering from jet lag."
    Kelli clamped her lower lip between her teeth to keep from laughing. "No problem."
    "Can I ask a personal question?"
    "Sure," she said, wearily, "but that doesn’t mean I have to answer."
    "Fair enough. Why do you collect doorknobs?"
    She laughed out loud. "I wasn’t expecting that question."
    "What question were you expecting?"
    "I’m not sure." A wistful smile touched her mouth. "A lot of people collect keys; they can unlock a pleasant surprise, or lock in something evil. Doorknobs hold the same power. All it takes is a twist of your wrist and, presto, you’ve opened a door to the other side. Master craftsmen have been making doorknobs for centuries. Today’s doorknobs hold no creativity. They’re a run off the same press—some are chrome and some are brass, but they are all the same. Years ago people cared about details. Doorknobs are just another small detail that slipped through the system."
    "I’ve noticed that no two doorknobs in your house are the same."
    "No two rooms in the house are the same, so why should the doorknobs be?"
    He chuckled. "Point taken."
    When she bent her head and outlined the dark seductive eyes of a water nymph, he noticed how really beautiful the painter was. Intelligence and health sparkled in her eyes and her cheeks held a rosy glow. Her straight white teeth worried her lower lip as she delicately painted sweeping eyebrows on the enchantress cradled on her lap. A sudden urge to taste those lips came over him. He was just rising to his feet when Tinkerbell started to bark frantically.
    Kelli turned around and stared at Tinkerbell. The dog was barking at thin air. Nothing was there. "Tinkerbell, stop