A Minute to Smile Read Free

hand-lettered labels: rose petal, chokecherry, crab apple. Curiously he picked one up. “I’ve never heard of anything like this,” he commented to Abe, who had returned to sipping tea in a rattan chair next to a huge fern.
    “You ought to give them a try.” He grinned and lowered his voice. “Esther would probably hang me for saying so, but you get the flavor best if you make the toast out of white bread.”
    Alexander smiled appreciatively, for he was no stranger to the fanatical devotion of many Boulderites to natural foods. He lifted the jar toward the light, admiring the pale ruby color. “It’s beautiful.”
    “Esther makes it.”
    “Do they have healing properties?” Alexander asked with a grin.
    “No. But they’ll do wonders for your attitude.”
    Esther breezed back into the room. Once again, Alexander felt himself riveted upon her. Instead of the bright yellow peasant blouse of the festival, she wore a brown rayon dress with buttons up the front. It was oddly old-fashioned, a dress from the forties, and it clung with demure but enticing exactness to her generous curves. “Abe,” she said with a toss of wild red hair, “would you mind sitting with Jeremy outside for a few minutes? He’s pouting, but he might like a friend.”
    “Maybe I’ll go tell him some soldier stories,” Abe said with a wicked grin and headed for the backyard.
    Esther turned toward Alexander, brushing wisps of hair from her porcelain face. “Would you like to sit down?” She gestured toward a rattan love seat.
    As he settled on floral cushions, he decided that she made him think of a goddess, but not those ethereal creatures artists were so fond of, with their flat blond hair and frail figures. Rather, Esther was more like an ancient goddess of fertility—laughing and lusty, drawn in robust hues, love and appetite flowing from her like sunshine.
    Oddly appropriate that she was an herbalist.
    “Since you’re English, I’m sure my tea won’t suit you,” she said, “but can I offer you a glass of lemonade?”
    Alexander had to gather his scattered thoughts to speak and it annoyed him. He was thirty-nine years old and in addition to having been married twelve years, he was no stranger to women. What was it about this woman that tied his tongue? “Lemonade is fine,” he said gruffly.
    “Fresh squeezed,” she said, sliding open the door of a glass-fronted cooler that displayed all sorts of exotic juices and soft drinks. She poured a tall glass of lemonade for each of them from a pitcher, then settled in the chair Abe had vacated. The pose put her against the light, giving her hair an edging of gold fire. Taking a dainty sip of her lemonade, she gave him a curious glance. “So, tell me more about this class.”
    Alexander fingered his beard momentarily, gathering his thoughts. “My specialty is the history of the dark and middle ages, and I’ve several students who need a touch of reality regarding their favorite time period.”
    She flashed that inviting, mysterious, goddess smile. “How interesting. What would you like me to do?”
    “We need someone to share the old ways of medicine with us. Abe said there’s no one who knows the herbal arts as well as you do.”
    Again she brushed away the compliment. “He’s much too loyal. But I love talking about herbs on any level.” Biting her lip, she paused. “I think I may even have a few books on the dark ages in particular.”
    “An honorarium would be arranged, of course.” He forced himself to look away from the glowing colors of the woman before him and sipped the pulpy lemonade.
    “Waive the honorarium,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken a class of any kind. I might enjoy sitting in on the sessions that I don’t teach.” She looked at him, a hint of shyness in her rich brown eyes. “Would that be all right?”
    “Of course.” He smiled to put her at ease and cocked an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’ll do it?”
    “How many