Summer decided not to mention that Connie had been rather more vocal with her roommate. Summer knew how disappointed Connie had been when her brother had moved back home after so many years only to treat her in very much the same heavily paternal manner that he would have shown her had she still been an adoring ten-year-old. Giving unwanted advice, criticizing her choice of jobs and lack of long-term career goals, reminding her that her impulsive nature and stubborn independence had led her into an ill-fated marriage before her eighteenth birthday. Expecting Derek to return to the States as a sophisticated, indulgent older brother with the heart of an adventurer and the fascinating stories of a seasoned world traveler, Connie had instead been faced with a determinedly conservative businessman, closemouthed about himself and intent on settling into a quietly successful routine.
Derek turned the conversation back to Summer before she had time to comment on his relationship with his sister. “All I know about you is that you’ve been rooming with Connie for eight months, that the two of you have a great deal in common, according to her, and that you both work in the accounting department of Pro Sporting Goods. You’re, uh—” he paused, seeming to grope for the right words “—you’re different than what I expected.”
“In what way?” she asked curiously, wondering if his preconceptions of her had been as inaccurate as hers of him.
But he refused to enlighten her. “Just different,” he replied unhelpfully. “I’d like to know more about you. So answer my question. Where are you from. Memphis?”
“You’re close. I’m from Rose Bud, Arkansas.”
He sighed. “Why do you insist on making fun of me when I’m only trying to talk to you? Where are you really from?”
Relieved at the change of mood, Summer laughed at him. “I told you. Rose Bud, Arkansas. Population two hundred and two. It’s just down the road from Romance, about fifty-five miles north of Little Rock, if that pinpoints it for you.”
“You’re serious?”
“Yep. My parents own a seed and feed store there.” She waited expectantly.
He groaned, thinking of her last name. “Not, er, Reed’s Seed and Feed?”
She laughed again. “That’s exactly what it’s called. The store was nearly blown away by a big tornado a couple of years back that wiped out about half the buildings in Rose Bud—even the pool hall. But Dad got busy and rebuilt his place and most of the other merchants did the same, and now the town looks almost new. We even got us a red brick post office.” She was chattering to mask her lingering nervousness, but Derek only listened, looking at her as if he weren’t quite sure whether to believe a word of what she was telling him.
When he spoke, it was in a carefully neutral voice. “I like your laugh. It sounds like… like…”
“Like the tinkling of dozens of fairy bells?” she supplied helpfully.
“Certainly not,” he retorted with a look of disgust that sent her laugh pealing through the room once again. “Who told you that?”
“A very handsome young man with aspirations of becoming a poet.”
“Did he succeed?”
“Not so far. The last I heard, he was selling waterless cookware.”
Again Derek shot her a suspicious look before asking another question. “Do you have any sisters or brothers?”
“Two sisters. Spring’s a year older than I am—she’s twenty-six. She’s an optometrist living in Little Rock. Autumn’s about to turn twenty-four. She’s an electrician.”
“An electrician? That’s an unusual occupation for a young—Dammit, Summer,
I told you to cut the bull! Do you honestly expect me to believe that your parents named their daughters Spring, Summer and Autumn? You’ve been feeding me a line all along, haven’t you?” He glared at her as she rocked with laughter, her sore knee forgotten.
“Oh, Derek!” she gasped. “I love that look of outrage on your face. It’s so cute. And now you look outraged and appalled. I love it!” Wiping at the tears of laughter that were making streaky paths through her faint mascara rings, she shook her head, trying to control her amusement. “I swear to you that every word I told you is true. I can’t help it if my life sounds like one of those phony southern television programs—The Dukes of Hazzard or Gomer Pyle U.S.M.C. or something equally stupid. That was really the way I grew up.”
“You really have a sister named Spring who’s an optometrist and one named Autumn who’s an electrician? And your father really does own a store called Reed’s Seed and Feed in Rose Bud, Arkansas?”
“I truly do and he truly does,” she assured him, making a determined effort not to laugh again. Really, Derek could make some of the funniest faces. Connie hadn’t been exaggerating about that, even if she had misled Summer by telling her that Derek was dull and ordinary. Summer was finding out rapidly that nothing could be further from the truth.
Derek shook his head. “No wonder you and my sister are such good friends. At least it sounds as if you fit in very well with your family. Connie swears she must have been given to the wrong family at the hospital. Neither my parents nor I could ever really figure her out.”
Summer sobered abruptly. “You’re wrong about my family. I never fit in, either. My parents might sound like nuts, but they are staid, hardworking people with very little imagination. Dad’s store is called Reed’s Seed and Feed because that’s his name and that’s what he sells. My sisters and I were named after the seasons of our births—Spring’s birthday’s in May, mine’s in July and Autumn’s is in September. My parents always complained that I laughed at them from the day I was born and they could never catch on to the joke. I love them, of course, but honestly, they can be so exasperating.”
“And your sisters? Are they dull and uptight like me?” Derek inquired glumly. “Do you and Connie make jokes about them, as well?”
Summer’s hand fluttered in the air as she searched for words to describe her sisters. “We’re just different, that’s all,” she said finally. “Spring’s the brainy one, the one with all the ambition. She worked her way through college, then optometry school, and now she has opened a nice practice in Little Rock. She’s quite serious, though she can be fun when she loosens up. She really has a cute sense of humor; she just keeps it well hidden. She reminds me a little of you, actually. Perhaps you should meet her, Derek. Did you say something?”
“No,” he answered wryly. “Go on. Tell me about Autumn.” He shifted a little closer on the worn couch, lazily, as if he were only interested in hearing more about her family. His leg brushed Summer’s thigh, and she backed off immediately, then mentally scolded herself for bringing a knowing smile to his eyes.
“Autumn’s the liberated one,” she said a little breathlessly. “Fiercely independent, determined to prove herself equal to any man. It’s her way of rebelling against the small-town Southern values that were pounded into all of us while we were growing up. You know, women exist only to serve men, a woman’s greatest destiny is helpmate and mother, et cetera, et cetera. When she’s not on her soapbox about the oppression of women, Autumn’s okay. Spring disapproves of my lack of ambition, and Autumn thinks I’m a traitor to women because I believe in fairy tales, but we get along fine as long as we don’t spend extended periods of time in one another’s company.”