Cherry Ames Set 3, Books 9-12 by Helen Wells

Author:Helen Wells
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Springer Publishing Company
Published: 2007-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XIII

A Rare Perfume

THE TELEPHONE RANG A FEW MINUTES BEFORE CHERRY was to meet Alan.

“Miss Cherry Ames, please.” The voice sounded so dignified and far away that Cherry replied, “This is Miss Ames,” and then realized she was being formal with her own mother.

“Cherry dear, do you think Charlie would enjoy turkey at home, or shall we go to Grandma’s this year?”

“Wha-a-at?” Her mother, and her brother Charlie, too, spoke a family shorthand which was intelligible only if Cherry were at home to hear the earlier part of the conversation. “Please start at the beginning, Mother.”

“Thanksgiving. It’s next week. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten! You’ll be home for Thanksgiving, won’t you?”

“Well, I suppose so. If Mrs. Harrison—”

“I’ll write to Alicia,” Cherry’s mother said, disposing of that. “Besides, Dr. Joe wants to talk with you.”

“What about? Please don’t keep me in suspense.”

Her mother in Hilton laughed. “Dr. Joe is being mysterious, but I told him you’d surely come home for Thanksgiving.”

“Of course I will, Mother. How are you and Dad?”

They talked a little longer, then Cherry hung up. As the telephone clicked, she heard Alan’s car stop in the driveway.

Leaping Lena had been washed and polished for the occasion, and Alan’s handsome face shone, too. It may have been due to the nippy air, or to pleasure in his companion. Cherry settled down in the front seat and opened the window wide.

“Where to?”

“Let’s just ride,” Cherry said. “And talk. How fast can this car go?” she asked to please him.

“Sixty easy. Seventy if I urge her. When Lena was younger, I got her up to ninety. Want to try it? This road’s empty.”

“No, thanks! I’m no speed demon. But Leaping Lena is a good girl.”

“So are you. One of the best. Why don’t we see each other oftener? Work, work, work!”

Cherry smiled and again said, “Let’s just ride.”

She and Alan were good enough friends by now to enjoy a comfortable silence together. They liked the same things—the sight of a red barn against the bright blue sky, the wind whipping in their faces, seeing a deer suddenly dart across the road and vanish among trees.

Cherry was grateful to him for taking her away from the chateau for a few hours. The tension of waiting out the balance of the seven days, while the perfume ripened, was difficult to put out of her mind. The perfume’s outcome weighed on Alan, too. Both of them were making an effort to avoid talking about it, but when they stopped for a hot drink, the subject popped up.

“Have you and Lisette decided on a name for it? Or did old Pierre name it?”

“No, he didn’t. I suppose the manufacturer will choose a name—that is, if it turns out well enough to interest your Mr. Clary or someone like him.”

“Why not call it Bride’s Bouquet?” Alan looked at her intently, across the booth table. “You know, Cherry, you’re one of the prettiest girls I ever saw.”

“Thank you.”

“And one of the very best nurses I ever worked with.

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