| The Courtyard Chapter 7 |
| Hanna awoke to the sound of voices near-by, then froze for a moment when she realized she wasn’t alone. At some point during the course of the night, Lance had discarded his shirt and her hand rested in the light curls on his chest. As she lightly skimmed her palm over the taut muscles of his chest and stomach, he awoke as well. “Good morning,” she whispered as he stretched under her touch like a cat. He brought one hand up to hold hers against his chest, then rubbed his other across her back. “I could get use to waking up like this,” he said lazily. “My sentiments exactly,” she agreed. “I could stay like this all day, but you’ve got a house full of guests and it sounds like some of them are already up.” He turned his head slightly to catch the sound of voices drifting up from the courtyard below. “I wonder if they know there’s croissants and bagels in the kitchen,” he questioned absently, then hugged her to him. “I don’t suppose there’s coffee down there too?” she asked hopefully. He looked at her suspiciously. “Don’t tell me that I can be replaced by a cup of caffeine?” “Every girl has her weakness,” she returned apologetically. “Thrown over for Mr. Coffee,” he complained as she crawled out of bed. “How humiliating.” She laughed without sympathy as she searched through her luggage to find some clean clothes. “Just thank your lucky stars that I woke up in a good mood this morning. I’m usually a real grouch until I have my coffee.” “Not a morning person, huh?” He ran his hands over his face, then through his hair. “We’re going to make quite a pair growling at each other every morning.” “That’s something for us to look forward to when all this perfection stuff gets boring,” she said, stopping to give him a tiny peck on the lips as she made her way to the bathroom. Lance was gone by the time she finished showering and changing and she smiled at the haphazard way he had made the bed. “At least he made the attempt,” she whispered to herself, then straightened the comforter and sheets before heading down stairs. She tossed a wave to a few people that she passed in the courtyard, then said hello to a couple loitering in the kitchen as she got her coffee. She stirred in a teaspoon of sugar, but was barely given the chance to take a sip when Jodi and Marcy flew into the room, grabbed her by the arms and literally cornered her away from everyone else. “So tell us what happened,” Jodi demanded in a hurried whisper as she glanced around to be sure they were truly alone. “How was it?” Marcy promptly followed, both eagerly waiting for the details of the night before. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hanna hedged, attempting to take a second sip from her cup, but Jodi’s hand on her arm stopped her. “Come on Hanna. We know that you and Lance spent the night together last night. How was it?” “I don’t believe the two of you.” She shook her head at her friends. “What happens between Lance and me behind closed doors is private. Do you really want me to give you a play by play?” “Yes!” they responded in unison. Hanna chuckled softly and managed a second sip of her coffee. “Okay,” she began, leaning toward them conspiratorially. “Nothing happened,” she whispered. Her friends exchanged a disbelieving look as they pulled back. “Nothing happened?” Marcy repeated. “Nothing,” she returned succinctly. Jodi studied her friend’s face closely. “You’re serious,” she said, not quite convinced. “Well, other than a couple of kisses, all we did was sleep. No grabbing, groping or grunting,” she added with a smile. Jodi shook her head. “Only you could spend the night with a gorgeous man who’s crazy about you and not have anything happen.” “I think it’s sweet,” Marcy announced. “Thank you, Marcy,” Hanna returned with a nod of gratitude. “Of course I don’t believe a word of it,” she concluded and Jodi broke out in laughter. * * * “Ah! Finally, someone that can help,” Nicki said in relief when she discovered Hanna going through linens in the smaller of two dining rooms. “Would you look at these?” Hanna asked in return, lifting one of the lace table cloths up for her inspection when she walked over to her side. “I think all of these are hand stitched,” she said in amazement. “Exquisite,” Nicki pronounced as she ran her hand over the material. “Where ever did you find them?” “I was sweeping out the laundry room and, when the broom bumped a hidden panel in the wall, these came tumbling out on top of me.” “This villa has turned into a treasure-trove of surprises. I just came across a stash of old oil paintings up in the attic. Some of them are completely ruined, but most of them are in beautiful shape. That’s what I wanted to ask you about. Do you think that I should bring the paintings down for cleaning and reframing?” Hanna hesitated for a second, then shook her head. “Maybe you should wait on that. Lance wanted to go through all of the paintings himself. He’s the one that you should be talking to.” “But he’s no where to be found,” she returned. “I’ve been looking for him everywhere.” “He’s got to be around here somewhere. Let me put these up and I’ll help you look.” Hanna started to gather up the fragile lace carefully, then stopped abruptly when the sound of a familiar voice echoed through the halls. She clutched the table cloths to her chest as her eyes closed, then she sent out a desperate prayer. “Please God. Don’t let it be her. Not here. Not now. Please God, please!” Nicki looked at her curiously as the sound of Greg’s voice came in from the hallway. “Ma’am, I don’t know who you are, but I happen to know that Hanna doesn’t have a sister. This is a private residence and you can’t just come barging in,” Greg insisted as he followed in the woman’s wake. Hanna groaned at his words. It was her. When the sound of their footsteps grew distinctly louder, Hanna darted a glance at the door and wondered if she still had time to escape. But, just as she took her first step, she was caught. “Hanna! Darling!” the newcomer called out as she walked into the room, her arms held high to show off the expensive silk cape to its best advantage. “You look...” She paused in word and step as she gave her a long glance. “You look like you need a shower,” she finally concluded, appearing to rethink giving her a hug, then she laughed and wrapped her arms around her. Hanna fumbled with the table cloths until they all toppled from her hands, then she sighed heavily and returned the hug. “What are you doing here?” she asked without preamble. “Now is that any want to greet me after all this time?” she asked with a crimson pout. “You didn’t even call to let me know that you were back in town. I have to read it in a newspaper.” Hanna stooped down to retrieve the fallen table cloths, then straightened again as she shook her head rapidly. “What newspaper would print something like that?” “The ones that follow the lives of fabulously successful people,” she countered with a reproachful look. “Come now, darling. You can’t be dating someone like Lance Kline and not expect it to be in the papers.” “You expect me to believe that the fact that I’m dating Lance made the papers down in San Diego?” she asked incredulously. “Los Angeles,” she corrected. “Whatever.” She hesitated for a second, then tossed her hands in surrender. “Okay, so it wasn’t in the papers, but it will be one day.” Hanna shook her head to let that particular part of the conversation drop as she began tossing table cloths from the floor back onto the table. She’d rather not think of the possibility that her private life would one day be on public display. That was something that her mother would love, but she preferred her privacy. “You still didn’t answer my question,” she repeated as she deposited the last of the table cloths next to her mother. “What are you doing here?” “Well,” she said as she perched on the edge of the table then crossed her legs as she began unwrapping her silk cape. “If I need a reason, then I’m here to check out my future brother-in-law.” “Son. Son-in-law,” she said, then shook her head rapidly again when she realized what she was saying. “Will you stop doing that, Mother!” “Stop what?” she returned in all innocence. “Mother?” Greg broke in as he gave her a second look. “You don’t look old enough to be Hanna’s mother.” “Thanks a lot,” Hanna said sarcastically as her mother turned to give Greg her full attention. “Who’s this delightful creature?” she asked as she made a display of tugging off her sleek leather gloves. “Greg Smithers,” Hanna began as she gestured in his direction. “This is my mother, Francine Clifford.” “It’s Breck now,” Francine corrected as she extended her hand to Greg. “But you can just call me Francine.” “Breck?” Hanna choked as she gave her a mother a stunned look. “You got married again? When did this happen?” “About three months ago,” she returned, then gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry that I didn’t invite you to the wedding, darling, but Steve is such a romantic. He insisted that he couldn’t live another day without me and whisked me off to the Islands. I barely had time to pack. Not that I needed much for a honeymoon anyway,” she added saucily. “You got married and didn’t even tell me?” she asked, the words catching in her throat. “You’re married to Steve Breck?” Nicki asked in amazement and drew a curious look from Francine. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” Francine said politely, welcoming the distraction as she extended her hand. “Nicki Peyton,” she returned as she clasped her hand. “Not Nicki Peyton of Se Chic?” She placed her hand over her heart. “You’ve heard of my gallery?” she asked, a little breathlessly. “I don’t believe this,” Hanna mumbled as she started rubbing her temples. Her mother only had to walk into a room to be the center of attention and she thrived on it. “Of course!” Francine gushed. “As a matter of fact, Steve and I were planning on attending your last show, but there was a last minute rewrite in the scripts and we had to cancel.” “I’m flattered,” she returned. “I have another show scheduled for the first of February and it will definitely be the talk of the town. I’ll be sure to send you an invitation.” “Why thank you, Nicki. That’s very sweet of you.” “What’s going on?” Lance asked. Hanna groaned as he walked into the room. Now her humiliation was going to be complete. “Run,” she begged him. “Get out while you can.” “Hello handsome,” Francine said with one of her most dazzling smiles as she slipped off the table, allowing her skirt to raise provocatively. Lance shot Hanna and uncertain look as Francine approached slowly. “I’m Lance Kline,” he said in introduction, but Francine ignored his out-stretched hand to place hers against his chest. “Lance,” Hanna began and sighed heavily at the blatant way her mother was circling him like he was her prey, her hand gliding over his shoulder. “Meet my mother. The irrepressible Francine Breck.” “Your m...” he began, jerking involuntarily when Francine’s hand, which had been trailing across his back, dropped far lower. “Rich, handsome, straight and single,” Francine said with a nod of approval. “But isn’t he a little to stuffy for you, darling?” “Mother!” “You know I’m only teasing you, Hanna. I see that the same old buttons still work.” She ignored her daughter’s growl in frustration as she extended her hand to Lance. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said with a smile. “Don’t believe a word she says about me. Her father had her brainwashed as a child.” Hanna chuckled at that in lieu of screaming as she rubbed her hand over her face. “Don’t start in on Dad again,” she warned. “You see what I mean?” she asked, giving Lance a playful wink. “Same old buttons,” she said as she moved back onto the edge of the dining table. “So Mr. Kline,” she began, then hesitated to be sure that she held center stage once more, the place where she was accustomed to being. “What are your intentions where my daughter is concerned?” “Dear God take me now!” Hanna begged, her arms stretched out to heaven. Lance glanced back and forth between the two for several seconds, then he hitched his thumb toward the door. “Why don’t we get out of here so that the two of you can talk,” he suggested and received a grateful look from Hanna. Mother and daughter waited silently until the door to close behind the other three, then turned immediately toward each other prepared for battle. “Don’t start with me,” Francine warned. “You deserved that after not telling me you were moving back home.” “I did tell you,” Hanna countered. “I wrote you months ago.” “Months ago? If I remember correctly, you said that you were thinking about moving. Just thinking. I assumed that it had something to do with your divorce.” “Isn’t that enough to, at least, warrant a response? I must have left a dozen messages with your answering service, but you never called me back! Why here? Why now?” “I’ve been through divorces too, my dear, so I knew that the last thing that you would want is someone playing mother hen. You’re too independent for that.” Francine sighed as she slid off the table to face her. “Isn’t it enough to know that I came up to see you as soon as I heard you were here?” “Here as in San Francisco or here as in this villa with Lance?” she countered to cut through the excuses and get right to the heart of her suspicions. “Now that’s not fair!” Francine argued. “How dare you insinuate that I don’t care about you or that I would use you like that. When have I ever given you any reason to question how I feel about you?” Hanna folded her arms over her chest when it began to ache. “When?” she asked mockingly. “Pick a year! I don’t even warrant a phone call when you get married, Mother. But, then again, you and Daddy were divorced for three years before you even bothered to tell me.” “Will you please stop calling me that.,” she asked for what seemed the hundredth time. “I do have a name you know.” “I call you mother because you are, in fact, my mother and that makes another point. How many kids do you know that call their parents by the first name? It makes me feel like you’re ashamed to be my mother.” “Oh don’t be ridiculous Hanna. Just because I prefer not to be labeled doesn’t mean that I don’t love you,” she said, trying clumsily to calm the tension. “I realize that your father and I were not the most conventional of parents, but...” “Conventional?” She couldn’t stop herself from pouncing in the word. “You and Daddy gave me marijuana for my eighteenth birthday, for heaven’s sake! How conventional is that?” “We thought that you might be curious and we decided that we would rather have you get it from us than from some stranger on the street. At least we knew that it was safe and not laced with something.” “Because you smoked it yourself,” she said slowly in the hopes that her mother would understand that she was only proving her point repeatedly. Finally, Hanna began to laugh at the lunacy of the conversation that they were having as she ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t even remember what my question was now,” she admitted as she pulled out a chair and sat down heavily into it. Francine followed suit as she studied her daughter’s face carefully. “You asked me why I came here,” she supplied for her. “And I told you. I just wanted to see you.” She shook her head as she smiled over at her. “Forgive me for being a little suspicious, Mother, but you haven’t exactly gone out of your way to visit with me in the past.” She fidgeted slightly from the truth in her statement. “I know that I haven’t been the best mom in the world, but I’m trying to change that,” she said, then reached out to take her daughter’s hand. “When I heard you were in San Francisco, I caught the next flight out. I missed you.” Hanna softened at the note of sincerity in her voice. “Do you think that there will ever be a time that you and I can carry on a normal conversation?” Francine grimaced slightly, the tension gone. “It’s within the realm of possibility, but the chances are fairly remote.” “You’re probably right,” she agreed and gave a slight chuckle. “I’m starting to wonder if we just got use to confrontations or if we’re beginning to like them.” “A little of both, I think,” she returned. “We’re definitely getting better at them.” “Yeah. You had Lance running out of here in less than a minute. That’s a record. You’re definitely improving.” Francine cocked her head slightly at the gibe. “So’s your taste in men,” she volleyed, then turned to give a glance at the door where he had departed. “He’s certainly a lot better than Timmy.” “Tommy,” she corrected. “Whatever.” The two women looked at each other over the frequently used expression between them, then broke out in laughter. * * * Francine walked up to Lance, watching his form appreciatively as he carefully maneuvered an antique desk back into place after cleaning behind it. Yes, her daughter’s taste definitely was improving. “Hello again,” she said to draw his attention. He tossed a glance in her direction, then looked back toward the door to see if Hanna would follow her in. “Hello Mrs. Breck,” he said politely. He wasn’t sure that he was entirely comfortable being alone with Hanna’s mother after what had happened in the dining room. “Francine, please,” she returned quickly. “I never was one to care for labels.” Lance picked up a discarded towel and wiped his hands on it. “Have you had the chance to see the villa yet?” he asked politely. Safe topics of conversation were always best when he wasn’t sure what to say next. “Only what I saw when I came in,” she returned, sensing his reticence. “Hanna’s going to show me around after she finishes in the laundry room.” She paused for a second, then took a few steps closer. “I just wanted to apologize if I offended you earlier,” she said, taking a page from her daughter’s book and cutting right to the heart of the matter. “It was sort of a private joke between Hanna and myself.” He looked at her warily. He wasn’t sure what to expect from her after she grabbed his backside and he had to wonder if her apology was just another sort of come on, or joke, as she called it. The last thing that he wanted was to come between Hanna and her mother, but he couldn’t keep from voicing his impression of the scene he interrupted. “Excuse me for saying this Francine, but Hanna didn’t look like she was laughing much.” Her expression showed just a hint of surprise, then she smiled softly. “Protective,” she observed of his statement. “That’s promising. How are you in the honesty department?” “I prefer it to games,” he returned as he folded his arms across his chest. She gave him another smile. “Then I’ll be honest with you,” she said as she started to walk around the room. “I love Hanna and I always have, but she’s never quite approved of my lifestyle. She likes the more traditional view of home and family. I simply don’t fit into that mold.” “Or any mold, I would guess,” he interrupted, gaining her attention once more. “True,” she admitted. “Like I said before, I don’t like labels. I’d be the first to admit that my parenting skills were sadly lacking where Hanna was concerned. Our relationship is more of a battle of wits than the Brady Bunch.” “So I’ve noticed,” he commented as he watched her run her fingers over a cherry wood hutch. “Yes. We don’t exactly try to hide it,” she said as she looked back over her shoulder at him. “My daughter is intelligent and independent and I’d like to think that I had something to do with that although I do regret that we aren’t closer.” “You could always change that, you know,” Lance returned as he started to warm up to Francine. She wasn’t exactly baring her soul to him, but he respected her for letting him know where she stood. “I’m working on it,” she said with a coy smile. “I’ve always tried to be more of a friend to Hanna than a mother and, in either case, I’m concerned about her.” She slowly walked back over to stand in front of him. Her expression became serious as her eyes locked with his. “She’s a strong woman, but she’s been hurt a lot in the past. I don’t want to see that happen again.” “Why Francine, that sounded almost motherly,” he said in jest. The corners of her lips twitched to smile for several seconds before she finally gave in. “I like you,” she said, wagging a finger at him. “You’ve got that biting edge sense of humor that fits so well in our family.” She glanced down at her hands as she clasped them together, then looked back up at him. “I may not have been the best mother in the world, but I care about my little girl. From what I understand, you’ve got a couple of kids yourself so I’m sure that you have some idea of what I’m trying to say.” He nodded as his expression became serious as well. “I care very much about your daughter, Francine, and I have no intention of hurting her.” “How did I know that I would find you in here?” Hanna asked as she walked into the room, completely unaware of the conversation going on. “You can’t believe a word she says especially if she’s telling you her age.” “If Hanna is twenty-eight, then that would make you...” he began, but was not allowed to finish. Francine put her fingers over his lips. “That’s not a way to get on my good side,” she warned him. Hanna smiled broadly at Lance. He never missed a beat. “So are you ready for your tour, Frannie, or do you want to flirt with my fella a little longer?” Francine gave her a long look at the nickname she had chosen to use. “I think I prefer Mother to Frannie. At least that doesn’t sound like it’s from a bad sitcom.” She watched as her daughter received a quick kiss from Lance and saw his fingers linger against her cheek as she pulled away. From that one simple gesture, she knew that she wouldn’t have to worry about her daughter with Lance. He cherished her. “We’ll have none of that now,” she said as she linked her arm with Hanna’s. “I want to see every square inch of this delightful house and decide which room I will use for my long, extended visits here.” She gave Lance a pointed look. “Once you’re married of course.” “Mother!” * * * |