LEGEND Read online

  “You’re tired,” Gregory had said abruptly after Kady had suppressed her fifth yawn at the dinner table. “You’ve been on your feet all day. You should go home and rest.”

  “I don’t think freedom agrees with me,” Kady said, smiling sleepily. “I should have spent today in the kitchen.”

  Gregory turned dark eyes to the other two women. “Can either of you do anything with her? I have never seen anyone work as much as she does. She never takes time off, never does anything except work.” As he spoke, he took Kady’s hand and caressed it, then gave her a look guaranteed to melt her knickers.

  But when Kady gave another yawn, he laughed. “Come on, baby, you’re going to ruin my reputation as a lady-killer. What are Debbie and Jane going to think of me?”

  Kady laughed, as Gregory always seemed able to make her do. Turning to her women friends, she smiled. “He really is the best man in the world. Very exciting and all that; it’s just me. I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. I seem to be drained of all energy.”

  “Probably from thinking about having to choose furniture,” Gregory said as he stood, then pulled Kady’s nearly limp body up out of the chair. He was quite a bit taller than she was, and his face was as sharply chiseled as hers was soft planes.

  Gregory turned to the other women, smiling. “I’ll take her home then return for whatever Kady’s made for dessert.”

  “Raspberries with kirsch and—”

  She broke off when all three of them laughed, making her blush. “Okay, so I’m just tired, not dead.”

  Holding on to Gregory’s strong arm, Kady left the town house, and he walked her home, saying nothing, just keeping his arm protectively around her. At her door, he put his arms around her, then kissed her good night, but he didn’t ask to be allowed to spend the night. “I can see that you’re exhausted, so I’ll leave you.” Drawing back, he looked down at her. “Still want to marry me?”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling, leaning her head against his hard chest. “Very much.” She looked up at him. “Gregory, I really am hopeless at buying furniture. I don’t have a clue about curtains and sheets and—”

  She broke off as he kissed her. “We’ll hire someone. Don’t spend another moment thinking about it. I have a deal going in LA, and as soon as it’s closed, we’ll be able to afford anything.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “All the copper pots you want.”

  With her arms about his waist, she hugged him tightly. “I don’t know what I’ve ever done to deserve a man like you. I feel so guilty that you’re giving up your job in Los Angeles to live here with me.” She looked up at him. “Are you sure you wouldn’t want me to move there? I could open a restaurant there and—”

  “My mother won’t leave Onions, and you know that. It’s the place she and Dad built together, so it’s full of memories for her. And she’s getting older. She may seem to have the energy of a teenager, but she hides a lot. It’s easier for me to move here; then all three of us can be together.” He paused. “Unless you’re unhappy here and want to leave. Is that the case?”

  Kady put her head back down on his chest. “No, I’m happy wherever you are. We’ll stay here, run Onions; I’ll write my cookbooks, and we’ll produce a dozen babies.”

  Gregory laughed. “They’ll certainly be well fed little crumb crunchers, that’s for sure.” Putting his hands on her shoulders, he set her away from him. “Now go to bed. Get some sleep. Tomorrow your friends are going to take you to a carpet store to look at rugs to buy for the house.”

  “Oh, no!” Kady said, clutching her stomach. “I can feel an attack of bubonic plague coming on. I think I must stay in the kitchen tomorrow and brew an herbal remedy.”

  Laughing, Gregory used his key to open her apartment door, then pushed her inside. “If you don’t behave, I’ll hire a bridal consultant to ‘organize’ you. You’ll find yourself being asked to register for trash cans and monogrammed toilet-seat covers.”

  He laughed harder when Kady turned white at the very thought of such horror. Still laughing, he closed her apartment door, leaving her to get some sleep.

  So now Kady stood with her back to the door and looked about the pretty but bland apartment. She really was grateful that Gregory understood her total lack of talent in choosing furnishings. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a nice place to live; it was just that she had no idea—and, okay, no interest—in choosing chairs and such.

  “I am the luckiest woman on earth,” she said aloud, as she had twice a day since she’d met Gregory.

  But oddly enough, as she stepped away from the door, her energy seemed to revive. As she felt the tiredness draining from her, she thought she might make herself some cocoa and read a book or see if there was a late-night movie on.

  But even as she thought it, her eyes drifted to the big tin box sitting smack in the center of her living room. She could scarcely allow herself to admit this, but, truthfully, all evening this rusty old box had been in the back of her mind. As she’d been deglazing a roasting pan, she’d thought, I wonder what is inside that box?

  She absolutely refused to think that her tiredness had been an excuse to get away from the others and get back to the box and its hidden treasure. “Probably a rat’s nest inside,” she said aloud as she went to her tiny kitchen to take a short, strong offset spatula and an ice pick from a drawer. It was going to take some work to get the lid off the rusty box.

  Thirty minutes later, she had finally scraped away enough rust to pry the lid off enough to get her fingers under it. Her tugging made her fingertips hurt, and she was thoroughly disgusted with herself for her frantic pulling and scraping. After all, just as the woman at the antique shop had said, the only treasure inside was probably flour, complete with the dead carcasses of weevils.

  With her fingertips jammed under one edge of the lid, Kady gave such a great pull that she went tumbling back across the room, the lid clattering to the floor. Pulling herself upright, she leaned over the box and peered inside, and saw yellowed tissue paper.

  On top was a tiny bouquet of dried, faded orange blossoms, obviously put there with loving hands and undisturbed for many years.

  Immediately, Kady knew that what was under the paper was something very special. And something very private. Sitting back on her heels, she looked at the flowers, pinned to the paper, so they had not been dislodged in all her frantic attempts to pry the lid off.

  For a long moment, Kady hesitated with indecision. Part of her cried out that she should replace the lid and never open the box again—put it on top of her kitchen cabinet and look at the outside, forget about the inside. Or better yet, get rid of the box and forget she ever saw it.

  “You are being ridiculous, Kady Long,” she said aloud. “Whoever put this in here has been dead a long, long time.”

  Slowly, disgusted to see that her hands were trembling slightly, Kady unpinned the flowers, set them aside, then peeled back the tissue paper. Instantly, she knew what she was looking at.

  Folded carefully, untouched by light or air for many years, was a wedding dress: perfect white satin with a deep, square neck edged in a white satin ruffle. Rhinestone buttons twinkled up at her.

  There was still a feeling in Kady that she should replace the lid on the box and close it forever. But having just today had such a dreadful experience in trying to find a wedding dress and now seeing that the old flour tin she’d bought on impulse contained a wedding gown, she thought it was too extraordinary to let pass. Almost lovingly, she put her hands under the shoulders of the dress and lifted it out.

  It was heavy, since there seemed to be many yards of the beautiful white satin, all of it aged to the most perfect color of heavy cream. The bodice ended just below the waist, and below that was a skirt, smooth and straight in the front, then yards of fabric pulled to the back in a heavily ruched train that would extend three feet behind the wearer. Hand-knotted silk fringe graced the skirt and the top of the train. Below that were little pleats and the dearest handmade sil