Mad About You

baby....
    "Brings back memories, huh?" he asked softly, too close to her ear. She jumped, tipping the bowl of apples. He caught the bowl without sacrificing any fruit, and settled it back in her lap.
    Embarrassed that he'd practically read her mind, she said evenly, "Good and bad."
    Undaunted, he turned to Rita. "Sis, have you shown Ginny the rest of the house?"
    "Just the living room when we walked through," she said. "Why don't you show her around? Jerry can finish those apples for me."
    Virginia hesitated, but Bailey's expression looked harmless enough. Reluctantly, she relinquished her knife to Jerry. Her back became moist with perspiration as she followed Bailey out of the kitchen and into the living area.
    "In here we stripped and sanded the floors, plus replaced some rock in the hearth," he said as they walked through the family room.
    "It's beautiful. Rita said you did most of the work."
    He waved off the credit. "My schedule is more flexible than Jerry's. I just pitched in is all." Giving her a devilish grin, he said, "I'm still good with my hands."
    She rolled her eyes, unable to suppress a laugh.
    "I knew there was a good mood in there somewhere," he teased, walking close to her down a narrow hallway.
    The Shenoway farmhouse was a rambling two-story structure, made larger still by the addition of sun room and garage. Memories rushed over Virginia at every corner turned—in the den, the dining room, the cubbyhole hideaways. When they climbed to the second floor, her heart began to pound. Five bedrooms in all, and two fall baths. The first was Jean Ann's room, scattered with sports equipment and books. The master bedroom had new windows and updated lighting and ceiling fans—Virginia and Bailey had used the leaky, drafty room for storage when they'd lived there.
    The next two rooms were guest rooms, small but neat and quaint. When they approached the last room, she tried to concentrate on the new carpet instead of the fact it had once held their marriage bed.
    And still did, she noticed immediately, her pulse leaping. She'd wondered what Bailey had done with their one passable piece of furniture, but hadn't dreamt he'd kept it. Fashioned from pale gray wrought iron, the bed gleamed, the headboard a series of thin bars about six inches apart, a web of metal ivy climbing across the top. Simple posts and an overhead frame formed a canopy. Now it hung bare, but when they'd purchased it years before, she'd draped it with yards of gauze. They'd drawn the cloth together when they lay down, shutting out the world, shutting in the sounds and scents of their lovemaking.
    A multicolored handmade quilt adorned the bed, its simple design belying the heated passion that had taken place on the mattress. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she felt Bailey's eyes on her. He wanted a reaction, some signal that their past held relevance with her. That knowledge gave her the strength to adopt a bland smile of disinterest.
    "I kept our bed," he said unnecessarily, an obvious attempt to unnerve her.
    "I see." She turned her attention to other details of the room.
    "This is where I sleep when I visit," he pressed.
    Heat suffused her midsection, but she said lightly, "I don't blame you—the view is nice from this window."
    The palladium window had been the primary reason she'd chosen the room as theirs. The view of the farm was still spectacular. The ornate window dwarfed the modestly sized room, by far the most architecturally interesting in the house. The roof lines were angled, with plant shelves hugging the ceiling. Near the head of the bed, the sliding door to the working dumbwaiter remained camouflaged. To her immediate right, a door—another reason she'd chosen this room, for the adjoining nursery.
    "It's a bathroom now," he said quickly, opening the door.
    Virginia peeked inside, relieved to see no vestige of the pale-blue and white wallpaper she'd labored to paste on the uneven, deteriorating walls. "Nice," she said smoothly, then turned a smile his way. "We'd better go back down and check on Chad."
    He looked at her as if he wanted to say something, but simply swept his arm ahead. "After you."
    She descended to the first floor, her knees wobbly, and grateful to be out of close quarters with Bailey, relieved to have pulled off another act.
    The rest of the afternoon passed uneventfully. Chad had fallen in love with the farm, as she knew he would. He surprised her by making friends with Jean Ann, although she