The Understory by Elizabeth Leiknes

Author:Elizabeth Leiknes [Leiknes, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Literary, Humorous, Contemporary Women, Fiction
ISBN: 9781610880497
Google: HE6BiNua1dIC
Publisher: Bancroft Press
Published: 2012-01-15T08:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

When Story entered the upscale Deer Run subdivision, she realized how long it had been since she’d come into a stranger’s home without the intent of breaking in. Somehow, in the bustling madness of the past couple of days, she’d forgotten about pretending to be other people, and had accidentally been living as herself.

After driving up the long, winding driveway, she got out of her car and approached Harold Stone, who was standing near his new double-doors, watering his desert marigolds. He wore his signature carefree ensemble of Hawaiian shirt and flip-flops, but as he sprinkled water on his flowers, he did so with a delicate and nurturing touch.

Story raised her hand to say hello, and he waved her over. As she walked toward him, she was blown away by the remarkable front doors. “My God, they’re exquisite,” she said.

“I’ve got a hell of a door guy,” said Harold Stone.

“I actually know a guy,” said Story, surprised at herself. “He’s really good—”

“Come on. Who could outdo that work?”

Drawn to the doors, Story let her hands caress the fine curve on Apollo’s wavy locks, and in a silent admission, she decided Judge Stone was right. No one could outmatch the artistry she saw before her.

She outstretched her hand. “Story Easton,” she said, putting forth a strong handshake to match his, but as it turned out, his wasn’t strong at all. It pulsed in a series of mini-squeezes, all of which were inconsistent and hesitant.

“I’m, uh, Harold Stone, Judge Stone,” he said and, as if he still weren’t sure, he added, “Harry Stone.”

Story took a deep breath and put on a confident face. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but I was wondering if I could talk to you about an upcoming trip I’m planning.”

He broke eye contact and shook his head. “I’m not interested . . . there’s a sign out front about solicitors,” he said, turning to go inside.

“It’s about the moonflower,” Story said.

Harold Stone stopped in an instant, turned around to face Story, and looked her over. “How about a glass of lemonade?” he said.

Story and Harold walked into the grand entryway, complete with marble floor and massive chandelier, and he led her into the kitchen. While Harold squeezed lemons he’d picked himself, he asked Story how she knew about the moonflower.

“We have a mutual acquaintance—Martin Baxter. I work for National Geographic Magazine, and I met him in preparation for a promotional trip we’re planning to the Amazon,” she said.

By the time the glass was full of lemonade, he handed it to her and said, “You’re lying.” After a cordial smile, he added, “Does it need more sugar?”

Story said, “Yes, it’s a bit tart.” As he sweetened her drink, she said, “How did you know?”

He sat down on the barstool next to her and rested his hands on the high granite counter. “When you mentioned the magazine, you looked up and to the left, a dead giveaway for a liar. I was a judge for almost twenty years.”

“Was?”

Harold Stone stared into his glass when he answered, “Yes.

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