Among the Tulips by Cheryl Wolverton Page A

relationships?
    Calling out instructions in Dutch to the driver on where to take them, he thought about Annie.
    He didn’t want to ruin what they had. He’d feltso great around her, so happy for the first time in his life that he was certain a relationship would ruin it. That’s what always happened. He just didn’t know how to go about relationships—from his parents to his ex-wife to God. Relationships just never worked out.
    Annie wasn’t the type to enjoy life here for eight weeks and then leave…and honestly, he felt like a cad for even considering it.
    Mentally drawing a line, he told himself she was to be off-limits. They would simply develop their friendship and that was it.
    With that settled, he took a breath and let it out slowly, then turned to Annie. “The windmill I’m taking you to see was built nearly one hundred and fifty years ago, if I remember its history correctly. It was constructed to help pump water. We’re below sea level, and the people of the Netherlands had to come up with some ingenious ways to tame the land.”
    â€œAre windmills very plentiful?” she asked watching the countryside.
    He followed her gaze to a small cottage surrounded by sheep and deep, tall, green grass. Life was so leisurely here, so laid-back compared to his hectic world. “The windmills aren’t as plentiful as they once were, though you can still find themaround, much like the American lighthouses. They’re there, but not used as they once were.”
    The driver pulled up to a local shop which Victor sometimes frequented. “I’ll be right back,” Victor said to Annie and was out of the car before she could comment.
    Inside it took only a few minutes to find the soft cashmere sweater he wanted for her. It was light blue and very smooth. It would look beautiful on her. He paid for it and returned to the car.
    â€œYou’ll need this.”
    She gaped at the sweater he pulled out of the bag. “You shouldn’t have.”
    â€œI wanted to.”
    â€œI don’t know of any lighthouses in Louisiana,” Annie murmured, harkening back to their earlier conversation.
    He leaned over and helped her slip on the delicate pastel sweater. Her skin was silky, and he again caught a whiff of that wonderful scent she wore.
    The driver continued down the road. “I think there might be one or two lighthouses,” Victor replied.
    She nodded absently, continuing to stare out at the beautiful, peaceful countryside. “But…oh my…”
    She’d spotted the windmill. Her earlier conversation was forgotten as her eyes took in the sight.
    â€œIt’s big.”
    He nodded. “You can’t quite get a feel of it if you don’t see it in person.”
    â€œI get that feeling when I watch shows about the Pyramids of Giza.”
    â€œThey’re huge,” he agreed.
    â€œYou’ve been there?” she asked, her gaze darting to his.
    He nodded. “You need to go if you get the chance.”
    Her gaze was drawn back to the windmill. “Unfortunately, I’m not rich,” she murmured, low enough that he didn’t think she realized he’d heard.
    Their worlds were so different, he thought. Those few words told it. She wasn’t rich. She was starting a job in the fall because of that, and yet he could take off months, even years, if he wanted, because he had enough money to retire.
    She wasn’t used to servants. He never went without servants.
    She talked about her three-bedroom house in a small, quiet neighborhood and his house was three floors with thirty-six rooms.
    She thought he went to a gym. He had a gym in the basement.
    But in other ways they were so alike. She lovedpoetry, so did he. They both loved to paint and talk about horses and the list went on and on. Everything he mentioned, she was interested in, it seemed. Or she had an opinion on it.
    The driver pulled up to a parking area and