Over the next two weeks Regan kept her distance and kept her façade up. The last thing she wanted him to know was that she was carrying a torch for him. So she did her best to avoid any alone time with him. And he realised that: She was avoiding him.
It was hard watching Caro and Gray. And her professional front was challenged and her personal façade was close to crumbling. So she tried to avoid them as much as possible, because seeing them together was painful.
Caro came round often during those two weeks. And if that wasn't enough, she was clearly also a touchy-feely woman, for she was constantly draped all over him. Caro was practically joined to his hip. Not that he appeared to mind. But Regan did. She'd never poached in her life, and she was not going to start now. No chance of that, as her mind reminded her about the debacle of the near-kiss. But that didn't mean that it didn't hurt, seeing them together. Even worse, her mind reminded her, was the fact that the man could pretend to like her when he barely endured her.
Seeing him with Caro, wishing it was her, rather than Caro draped all over him, ensured that wound to her heart would remain open. So she did the best to avoid any meetings with Gray. If she saw him, she ducked. If he was with his family, she would spend one or two minutes, in their company before making excuses to leave. If Gray were with Caro, Regan would say hi and move on quickly.
She arrived home late one evening to find Caro, Sam, Loretta and Gray sitting around the dining room table discussing a fundraiser day. Caro was trying to organise that event. She was setting up a small fair on the common in Waikanae, lots of little stalls with donated goods, some stalls doing the usual, tombola, raffles, various games. She had organised volunteers to man the stalls and she and others were busy collecting goods.
Loretta smiled when she saw Regan. Loretta gestured with her hand to beckon her over, "Hi Regan, come and join us. We are just brainstorming ideas of things to sell."
Regan was exhausted, but she knew that if she offered that as an excuse Gray might find a way to make it appear that she was being discourteous to Caro. So she put her bag down in the corridor, hung her coat up on the coat stand and walked into the dining room with a smile on her lips but far from her eyes.
"Have you eaten?" Sam asked with a measure of concern. He'd seen the tiredness in her eyes, and knew, given that she'd left home early that morning, that it had been a long day for her. Another long day. But he could also see that she did not want to cause umbrage. "Cause there's heaps left over. Caro thinks she has to feed an army when she brings takeaway."
Gray reviewed Regan's face and he saw that the mark of her black eye was now a shadow of the bruising. Her face still showed the marks of violence. The day after seeing her bruises, he had invested on reusable gel ice packs, disposable cold therapy ice packs and headache cooling patches, given his own experience. And because he did not see her at breakfast, lunch or dinner that day, he left it on the table with instructions for Regan. She obviously took it, which was great for his mental health. He had tossed around during the night, worried about Regan, so to find that she had taken the icepacks, ensured he could sleep and his worries about her health could be shelved for the night. Over the last fortnight, if he had a chance he would check her face, make invisible notes in his mind about the progress of the bruise and was thinking about asking her about her eye. Clearly less swelling around the eye, but the side of her face still showed the marks of her injury.
"Thanks," Regan smiled, "for the offer, but I got something earlier." She pulled out a chair and sat down, wondering how long she had to stay and pretend to be sociable, before she could make her excuses and leave.
Gray narrowed his eyes. "You got something earlier? When?"
"On the way back." Regan said automatically and looked away.
"And ate it where, exactly?" Gray pushed.
"Does it matter." Regan snapped, then held out her palm, when she noted the four people's reaction. "Sorry, didn't mean to snap." She tried to gather her composure and hedged with another ambiguous response, "I ate between home visits."
Loretta and Sam shared a look.
Loretta took up the challenge, "No offence, Gray, but we have more things to talk about for the fundraiser."
Sam looked at Regan and explained softly, "We're trying to figure out if we can get some quality stuff for the stalls that Caro has organised for a fundraiser."
"Oh. Right." Regan threw him a grateful smile. At least he deflected Gray's topic. Not for long.
Gray got to his feet and mumbled, "I am getting you some food."
Loretta and Sam shared a look. Caro blinked. Regan scowled.
"I don't need food."
"Remember, the last time you told me you had eaten, I found you having toast at midnight!" He quirked an eyebrow.
She huffed. He left the room before she huffed and got to her feet, "You are not my keeper and I am not your keeper!"
Sam patted the chair seat, "Regan, please sit. He can get you something, you don't have to eat it. Ok. He is just worried about you."
Caro narrowed her eyes. He was worried about Regan, why? As Regan said, he is not her keeper.
Recognised the room was a tad cooler now, so Loretta again tried to reestablish the conversation about the fundraiser.
Loretta told Regan. "Caro is donating some of her old stock from the shop." Loretta added in a voice full of admiration for her boss' generosity, "But we need to bulk up, so that we don't run out of stuff. We are collecting good second hand stuff." And Loretta continued to describe the intended event, while the other three were lost in their thoughts.
Regan was trying to find a way to leave the room before Gray returns. Caro was trying to find a way to shoo Regan from the room before Gray returns. Sam was trying to find a way to keep Regan in the room to ensure she was here when Gray returns.
Five minutes later, Gray returned with a plate, with a stack of cheese sandwiches and he heard Loretta's assertion, "You know items that people buy on a whim, maybe wear once or not at all, and then it gets hung in the back of the wardrobe."
"Oh, right." Regan remembered those days fondly. Now all her clothing was used often. Most of it was functional and all of it was old. But her eyes tracked Gray as he placed the plate in front of her. She mumbled, "Thank you."
Gray nodded in acknowledgement. "I'm sure Regan could donate clothing from her wardrobe." Gray proposed as he retook his seat.
"Me?" Her eyes flicked up to meet his, and her tiredness meant she was slow to hide the concern reflected in her eyes.
Rabbit and headlights came to mind, Gray thought as he watched her rein in what he considered to be puzzling anxiety. "Yes, you must have clothes that you could donate to the stall. It's for a good cause." Gray pushed, wondering why she was being so reticent. Gray watched Regan's reaction closely, and was surprised to see that behind that façade of poise, she looked miserable and worried. It was in her eyes. She looked really unhappy. Then she avoided eye contact.
"Yes, I am sure it is a good cause." Regan began, hesitantly as she ransacked her tired brain for an excuse that would appear palatable. She needed time to think, so she reached for the sandwich.
"But?" He prompted, sensing her hesitation and wondering why his request appeared to be causing her to look depressed.
Regan pointed at her mouth, as she deliberately chewed the sandwich.
Gray banked his retort: obviously you were hungry!
She squirmed, kept chewing, while the rest watched, and then she fixed a deprecating smile to her lips as she said. "My stuff isn't trendy." That sounded like the perfect opt out clause. She felt very happy with herself for being able to come up with that statement given how tired and unhappy she felt. She took another bite of the cheese sandwich. He was right, she was hungry. She had eaten, but her dinner was a packet of crisps, four hours ago.
"It's good quality clothes we want." Loretta corrected, completely unaware of the undercurrents and thinking she was setting Regan's mind at ease. "It doesn't have to be trendy." She said quietly. "In any case, vintage is trendy!"
Regan began to feel even more self-conscious. Her clothes were old and she'd already sold some of her clothes at the up market second hand store in Hamilton when they'd needed that thousand dollars. Selling her eveningwear had brought in several hundred. What she had left were functional clothes that she needed! Old, functional clothes. In any case, once Caro saw them she'd know that they were old, not vintage, just old!
"You aren't keen to contribute?" Gray prompted seeing her hesitate. Obviously she wasn't going to volunteer items.
"It's not that, exactly." She avoided eye contact. The last thing she wanted to admit, in any company, let alone present company, like Caro, was that she couldn't afford to contribute. She was barely making ends meet. What surplus did she have to share? "Look, erh, I'll have a look." She squirmed, took another bite and chewed the bread and cheese as if it was nectar.
"Or you can donate foodstuffs for the tombola or raffle." Gray pushed, trying to figure out if she objected to the event or was just being difficult because it involved Caro.
Behind her palm, currently held in front of her mouth, she mumbled between chews. "Right."
"Or if you'd rather not do that, you could just donate cash, and Caro could use it to buy stuff for the stalls." He told Regan and watched her face for a reaction. He saw her eyes widen at that comment.
Regan nearly choked. Cash? Obviously the man thought she minted money. His words were stillworking through the fog in her brain when she re-heard the word, only to find it was her voice, "Cash."
Gray narrowed his eyes. He was dealing with a feminine equivalent of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.