Status: Finished
Matt Sanders
02
I can't think of anything I would consider more fun than taking Emmaleigh on a shopping excursion.
Elizabeth is going to think I'm crazy, Aubree thought.
Plus, standing here in such close promimity to his lips, she could think of one thing that would be quite a bit more fun thank taking Emmaleigh on a shopping excursion. Or maybe two.
"I'll look after it," Matt Sanders said, coolly adding with formal politeness, "thanks for dropping in Miss Dawson."
And then he dismissed her, strode back to his soldering station, turned his back to her and was instantly engrossed in whatever he was doing.
Aubree stared at him, but instead of leaving, she marched over to one of the bins just inside the front door. It contained coat hooks, in black wrought iron.
She picked up a pair, loved the substance of them in her hands. In a world where everything was transient, everything was meant to be enjoyed for a short while and then replaced--like her purple sofa--the coat hooks felt as if they were made to last forever.
Still, his work with the soldering iron and other metals was incredible, flawless. The metal was so smooth it might have been silk. The curve of the hanger seemed impossibly delicate. How had he wrought this from something as inflexible as iron?
"I'll trade you," Aubree said on impulse.
He turned and looked at her.
"My time with your daughter for some of your workmanship." She held up the pair of coat hooks.
She could already picture them hanging inside her front door. She already felt as if she had to have them. Even if he didn't agree to the trade, she would have to try to buy them from him.
But she saw she had found precisely the right way to get him: a trade in no way injured his pride, which looked substantial. Plus, it got him out of the dreaded shopping trip to the girls' department.
He nodded, once, curtly. "Okay. Done."
She went to put the coat hooks back, until they worked out the details of their arrangement, but he growled at her.
"Take them."
"Saturday morning? I can pick up Emmaleigh around 10."
"FIne." He turned away from her again. She saw he was heating back up his soldering iron to repair another cable from his console.
She turned and let herself quietly out the door. Only as she walked away did she consider that by taking the coat hangers, she had taken a piece of him with her.
Aubree was aware she would never be able to look at her new acquisition without picturing him, iron in hand.
"I wonder what I've gotten myself into?" she asked out loud, walking away from the old building, the last of the leaves floated from the trees around her. And then she realized just how much Matt Sanders had managed to rattler her when she touched a piece of paper in her coat pocket.
And realized it was the permission slip for The Christmas angel, still unsigned.
Elizabeth is going to think I'm crazy, Aubree thought.
Plus, standing here in such close promimity to his lips, she could think of one thing that would be quite a bit more fun thank taking Emmaleigh on a shopping excursion. Or maybe two.
"I'll look after it," Matt Sanders said, coolly adding with formal politeness, "thanks for dropping in Miss Dawson."
And then he dismissed her, strode back to his soldering station, turned his back to her and was instantly engrossed in whatever he was doing.
Aubree stared at him, but instead of leaving, she marched over to one of the bins just inside the front door. It contained coat hooks, in black wrought iron.
She picked up a pair, loved the substance of them in her hands. In a world where everything was transient, everything was meant to be enjoyed for a short while and then replaced--like her purple sofa--the coat hooks felt as if they were made to last forever.
Still, his work with the soldering iron and other metals was incredible, flawless. The metal was so smooth it might have been silk. The curve of the hanger seemed impossibly delicate. How had he wrought this from something as inflexible as iron?
"I'll trade you," Aubree said on impulse.
He turned and looked at her.
"My time with your daughter for some of your workmanship." She held up the pair of coat hooks.
She could already picture them hanging inside her front door. She already felt as if she had to have them. Even if he didn't agree to the trade, she would have to try to buy them from him.
But she saw she had found precisely the right way to get him: a trade in no way injured his pride, which looked substantial. Plus, it got him out of the dreaded shopping trip to the girls' department.
He nodded, once, curtly. "Okay. Done."
She went to put the coat hooks back, until they worked out the details of their arrangement, but he growled at her.
"Take them."
"Saturday morning? I can pick up Emmaleigh around 10."
"FIne." He turned away from her again. She saw he was heating back up his soldering iron to repair another cable from his console.
She turned and let herself quietly out the door. Only as she walked away did she consider that by taking the coat hangers, she had taken a piece of him with her.
Aubree was aware she would never be able to look at her new acquisition without picturing him, iron in hand.
"I wonder what I've gotten myself into?" she asked out loud, walking away from the old building, the last of the leaves floated from the trees around her. And then she realized just how much Matt Sanders had managed to rattler her when she touched a piece of paper in her coat pocket.
And realized it was the permission slip for The Christmas angel, still unsigned.