Anne

To her surprise, the Stewarts weren't at all upset by the destruction of the tablet. Matt smiled a gentle smile and patted Anne on the shoulder.

"These things happen," he whispered- Matt always whispered. Anne had never met a more gentle, kinder soul than Matt. "We'll get you a new one tomorrow."

She wondered if he might be so kind if she told him how she managed to break the tablet. She'd left the details vague in hopes they wouldn't press for more information, and so far they were content with her explanation.

Well, for the most part. Mary...Well, Anne didn't need much imagination to know Mary wouldn't be half as understanding as her older brother. Stern and imposing where Matt was soft spoken and meek, Mary was the real head of the family. Anne hadn't been around long, but she listened more than most people gave her credit for. They saw a girl who daydreamed and so they assumed she was absent minded.

She knew neither of the siblings had ever been married. At least, not to a person. If you asked Mary, she'd tell you she was married to her job, but Anne didn't miss sadness in her eyes. It was the look of someone who'd had a great romance that failed, and she wondered if Mary was so dedicated to her job because of it or if that was what caused the failure to begin with. As for Matt- well, she thought he was far too shy. If he'd ever spoken to another girl besides herself and Mary, she would be surprised. He definitely didn't have the capacity to be intimate with one.

"I'll swing by the store and get it on my way home, Anne," Mary said just before she slid a bite of fluffy, mashed potatoes between her bare lips. She swallowed, then patted her mouth. "But I'll expect you to keep a case on it."

"But a case will ruin its lines," Anne protested. She thought of the pretty, rose colored trim of her last one. To hide it would be a terrible thing.

"So will dropping it," Mary replied.

"Okay."

It wasn't worth pushing the matter. The less time spent on the subject the less chance Anne would end up being forced to come clean. Besides, Mary would never understand Anne's obsession with pretty things. The woman was all efficiency and no nonsense, right down to the severe style of her hair. She wore it in a bun so tight that it pulled her skin back, and Anne couldn't tell if her smooth skin was a result of the hairdo or excellent genetics.

And of course, she didn't wear a scrap of makeup. No mascara, lipstick, or blush. There had been little Mary had denied Anne when they went shopping for her room and school, but she'd drawn the line at what she called fripperies.

"Well, other than breaking your tablet, how was your first day of school?" Matt asked.

"Oh, it was fine. Most of the teachers are dull. They've no imagination-"

Metal clanked against porcelain as Mary dropped her fork. "What in heavens is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, for instance, I told Mrs. Jacoby that her reading of To Kill a Mockingbird would be greatly improved if she would use different voices and act it out in front of the class. She told me it would be greatly improved by my silence."

Anne seethed as she remembered her English teacher's ready dismissal of her proposal. Couldn't the woman see that half of her students were falling asleep as she droned on? Really, it would've been better to let the students read. The woman wasn't made for oral presentations- not with a voice that sounded like a disturbed beehive. If bees had sinus problems.

"I see." Mary said, amusement coloring her voice, but she didn't laugh.

And for that Anne was grateful. She'd confessed on her first day at Gable House (that's what the Stewart's called their Estate) that she loathed being laughed at when she was speaking about something with utter seriousness. Oh, she might not care if someone laughed at her- it happened quite often, but she couldn't stand to have her ideas and thoughts laughed at. It always felt as if someone was mocking her soul. Her very essence.

"Excuse me, Mr and Ms. Stewart, Anne." The housekeeper, Mrs. Lynn said as she entered the dining room. "Someone is at the door for Anne."

"Oh, well now," Matt said with a merry twinkle in his eye. "Who might that be?"

Oh, please be Di. Please be Di. Anne squeezed her eyes shut and chanted the delicious thought over and and over again her mind. She'd not been able to stop thinking about her new friend, and she hoped the girl was returning with news of an approved sleepover.

"A Mr. Gavin Blythe."

All the wind went out of her sails, and Anne sank low in her chair. Of all the people... Her hand went over her mouth and she choked back a bitter sob. What god had she angered that he would abuse her so by sending her greatest enemy to her home? This was the absolute worst thing that could happen... and then she realized it could actually be worse. He might be here to out her. To tell Matt and Mary that their new child was a vile tempered, deviant who broke her tablet over his head.

"Anne girl, why have you gone so pale?" Mrs. Lynn asked, rushing over to her side.

"That's quite the feat, considering how pale she is already," Mary said as she eyed Anne.

She knew Anne well enough by now to be able to differentiate the signs between dramatic trauma and true illness. "Care to tell us why Gavin's arrival is causing such an upset?"

"Oh, Mary. I can't tell you that. Anything but that. Let me go and get this over with," Anne lamented, pushing back from the table and squaring her shoulders.

"I've never seen a child with such a flair for drama in all my life," Mary tutted.

Matt lit his pipe and stuck the end in his mouth, but he chose to remain silent. He rarely wasted words, and in this moment, Anne was appreciative of his restrained personality.

Anne marched down entryway, her eyes glued to the front door. Normally, this trip took her several minutes as all the fine, beautiful things the Stewarts had collected over the years caused quite a distraction. Why, she'd imagined she'd gone to India, China, and Ireland in this hallway, but this was the first trip she'd taken to hell.

She opened the door and stepped out on the porch. Gavin had been leaning against the banister, but as soon as she appeared, he straightened. A sheepish look spread across his handsome face, and he ran a hand nervously through his dark curls.

"Hello, Anne. I've come to apologize."

Her earlier promise to herself, the one where she said she'd never speak to Gavin Blythe ever again, held tight. She lifted her chin and shrugged.

"Oh, don't be like that," he insisted, stepping closer to her. His scent, something clean and boyish, invaded her space and made her stomach flip upside down. "I'm sorry I teased you, but I was afraid if I stood up for you again, Jodie would make your life a living hell."

She narrowed her eyes at him. What kind of logic was this? To protect her, he had to hurt her? She could imagine all sorts of things, but that took the cake. Flipping her braid over her shoulder, she turned her back to Gavin.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"Mr. Blythe," Mary said, coming to the door. She looked at Anne with suspicion. "How's your father?"

"Doing very well," Gavin replied, his eyes never leaving Anne's back. She could feel them boring between her shoulder blades.

"Anne, aren't you going to invite him in? It's cold out here."

"Oh, no ma'am," Gavin said, "I just stopped by to see if Anne had the notes for history. She was a little late getting there this morning because of having to pick up her schedule and all that. I was going to give her mine."

Anne whirled around. What game was he playing at? He smiled as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth as he held out a stack of papers. She took them and was surprised to see they were his real history notes. She actually did need these.

"Oh, that was very kind of you," Mary said, her hand settling over Anne's shoulder. "Anne will be getting a new phone this weekend, and I'll make sure she gives you her number so you don't have to come over in the cold like this again. Since she clearly doesn't have enough manners to invite you in."

"Mary," Anne protested, "Gavin said he couldn't come in when I asked him. He's in a hurry to leave."

"Exactly, right," he said, doffing an imaginary cap in their direction. "Gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow, Anne."

As soon as they were back in the house, Mary put her hands on her angular hips and frowned. "You be careful around that boy, you hear? The Blythe men all have pretty faces that will turn your head, and then they'll break your heart."

So, there was a tragic love story after all. Anne wanted to pry, but the hard glint in Mary's eye warned her that now was not the time. Perhaps, she wouldn't ever be willing to share more than that. In fact, as seconds passed, a strange expression crossed the older woman's features, and she looked as if she regretted speaking at all.

She went upstairs to her bedroom once Mary walked away. Tossing the notes on her desk first, she then collapsed on her bed with a huff. Oh, how she wanted to know what dark hurts Mary harbored. How had her heart broken, and could it be fixed?

"Ugh," Anne fussed, dropping the back of her hand on her forehead. "I have to know!"

But she didn't have many ways to find out. Mary wasn't speaking, and Matt probably didn't know. He didn't look like the type to involve himself in his sister's love affairs. Perhaps, Di would know something, but whatever happened had likely been before her parents' time. She'd only had a glimpse of the adult Bakers, and they were far younger than the Stewarts or Mr. Blythe. She could always ask Gavin, but she didn't think she could handle the triumphant gleam he'd surely get if she spoke to him. 

And a promise was a promise. She would not speak to Gavin Blythe.

Ever.