Chapter 59
Cordelia searched the depths of Angel’s closet and tried to concentrate on choosing a shirt.
She rubbed her arms, thankful for the space that separated her from Angel. The intensity of his stare had made her skin tingle.
Her thoughts were suddenly diverted at the glimpse of color amidst the black and she reached out, holding the long sleeve shirt up to the single bulb that lit the closet. She fingered the brushed silk and studied its deep lavender color.
“Where did this come from?” Cordelia popped out of the closet and held up the shirt. “It’s not flashy enough be a left-over from the evil season.”
She held the shirt up against Angel’s chest. “Not fair. With your pale skin, you should only look good in winter colors, but …” Cordelia grabbed his wrist, studying it for a moment before speaking again. “Ahh, that explains it.”
Angel stared at the underside of his wrist trying to see whatever Cordelia had seen.
“Under the paleness,” she said, trailing a nail down his forearm, “You’ve got an olive tone.” Cordelia stepped back, tapping her forefinger against her chin. “Go, grr.”
Angel was sure that he had never experienced an odder conversation.
“Do it.” Cordelia poked his chest.
“Stop that.” Angel growled, grabbing her hand.
“Good.” Cordelia pulled her hand away.
Angel shifted on his feet, not believing that he actually turned on her demand.
“Whoa.” Cordelia studied him like an artist studied her creation. “When you go ‘grr’ you’re definitely a winter. The gold in your eyes need rich pure colors.” Cordelia shrugged. “Who knew that Angelus really did know fashion?”
“Uh.” Angel’s human face slipped back into place as he grabbed at her wrist, pulling her back towards him. “What?”
“You wore black leather and deep red. Angelus obviously knew that it would look good both in vamp and human mode. Hey, Angelus isn’t gay, is he? I mean, those great colors, not to mention you and Spike …”
“I – you – Spi –?”
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “Is there something I should know? Or, more to the point, is there something Buffy should know?”
Angel choked.
Cordelia started to laugh. “Oh, calm down. I was just joking. And here. Put this on.” She pushed the lavender shirt towards him. “You won’t be going ‘grr’ on Miss Twittle, so we don’t have to worry about red shirts looking better.”
Angel grabbed the shirt. “Don’t you have flowers to arrange?” he snapped.
Chapter 60
Cordelia watched as Angel came down the stairs.
“You look great.” She bit her tongue, surprised that the compliment came out of her mouth after he had been such a jerk about changing.
She huffed and changed the subject. “It’s almost six. Should we stand outside and wait or should we wait near the door, or…?”
Angel grabbed her arm. “Everything looks great. Everything.”
Cordelia glanced up at him. She frowned; confused by the certainty of his tone and the needy way he touched her.
Then she saw the contrition in his dark eyes. Probably he was sorry for being an ass earlier.
Nice to know. But she was already over it. “I know.” She patted his cheek. “So are we waiting in or out?”
Angel brought his hand up to his cheek as he stared at Cordy’s back. His mind was playing a game of leapfrog – gratefulness that she still didn’t think he was a jerk and smugness that she said he looked good.
“Angel.”
“Oh, um.” Angel gulped.
Cordy shook her head. “Your stuttering is pretty uninformative.”
Angel narrowed his eyes at her. “Uninformative? How about – you stay here. And I’ll go check the sauce.” He smirked, before disappearing into the kitchen.
Cordelia stomped her foot. “Hey, ” she called after him. ” I said WE, not ME.”
“Great,” she grumbled as she paced at the front door.
Her stomach dropped at the loud melodic chiming that pierced the room. She prepared a big smile as she swung the door wide.
“Miss Twittle,” she greeted the older woman. “You shouldn’t have.” Cordelia took the Bundt cake from her hands. “Thank you.”
“Of course I should’ve, dear,” Miss Twittle said.
Cordelia fidgeted under the older woman’s inspection. She couldn’t help the sigh of relief at Miss Twittle’s approving nod. She cringed, however, at Miss Twittle’s continuation of her lecture.
“One must never come empty handed to another’s house for dinner. Surely your mother taught you that.”
“Of course,” Cordelia admitted. “It’s just that you’ve done so much for me – us-already.” Cordelia held up the Bundt cake. “This was unnecessary. I mean you’ve already gone beyond the expected.”
“That’s yet to be seen, dear.”
Miss Twittle put an arm around her in a half hug. “But that’s neither here or there. Still, it’s no reason to forget your manners.”
Cordelia straightened at the slight reprimand and took a quick step away. “I’m so sorry, please come in.” She led Miss Twittle into the mansion.
“Thank you, dear.”
“I’ll just put this in the kitchen,” Cordelia said.
She slipped into the kitchen. “Put this somewhere” She shoved the bundt cake toward Angel.
Angel continued to stir the sauce. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “Take it.”
Angel took the cake from her hands.
“Thanks.” Cordelia darted out the door. “You owe me,” she said over her shoulder.
***
“Miss Twittle,” Cordelia called out, tensing again, as she saw the older woman by the weapons cabinet. She hadn’t checked it after Angel said he would move the weapons.
“Cordelia.” Miss Twittle beckoned her over.
“I’ll kill him,” Cordelia mumbled. “Coming,” she said, not at all liking Miss Twittle’s expression.
Cordelia crossed the room, trying to think of an excuse for the Grim Reaper’s favorite and its friends in the cabinet.
“This is empty.”
“Yeah,” Cordelia said, not really sure what else to say.
“Yeah? Cordelia, Yeah is a comment of one with out the benefit of an education. Is that you?”
“Um…. No. Yes, I mean, Miss Twittle.” Cordelia barely stopped her eyes from crossing. She was going to kill Angel for leaving her to deal with the before dinner entertaining.
“I’ve noticed,” Miss Twittle looked around, “that there’s no television. I’d thought this was an entertainment center. If it’s not in here, where is it?”
“Oh, um, Angel doesn’t have a TV.”
Miss Twittle’s face paled. “He…No Television?”
“He just rented the place.” Cordelia said quickly to defend Angel.
Miss Twittle frowned. “Yes, I see can that maybe a television wouldn’t be his very first priority, but he’s been here for several days.” Her gaze narrowed on Cordelia. “Honey, if you don’t think this is the place for you to stay then just tell me now. Fluffy, remember?”
“What? No, it’s fine. He has a list of things that we still need to get – a TV is on it. It’s just that with finding a safe place, getting it fit with utilities, convincing me and you that he’s a good guy, and cooking dinner tonight, he hasn’t had much time.”
Cordelia watched as Miss Twittle considered her words. She couldn’t help but thinking that Miss Twittle was sweet but insane. And she hadn’t realized that she had been holding her breath, until Miss Twittle finally nodded. “Would you like something to drink? Angel bought a bottle of wine.”
“Wine?” Miss Twittle raised a brow.
“Not for me, of course,” Cordelia said immediately. “For dinner. For you — and Angel’s over 21, but not me. I get soda,” Cordelia continued, resisting the urge to kick the couch, then herself, and then Angel.
“Well then, yes, a glass of wine would be appreciated. Though, I don’t think it would be proper for you to carry an alcoholic beverage.”
“Of course.” Cordelia turned on her heel towards the kitchen.
Chapter 61
She stood behind Angel. “Get your butt out there, now.”
“Sauce.” Angel lifted the wooden spoon again.
“Don’t give me that excuse. And you should be careful. This,” she glared grabbing the utensil, “could be used as a weapon. Especially if you don’t get Miss Twittle a glass of wine.”
“And you can’t, why?”
“I’m too young.” Cordelia huffed. “Now, go. I’ll stir the stupid sauce. Oh, and you’re getting me a TV.” Cordelia ignored Angel’s puzzled look. “Don’t ask, just repeat after me, ‘I, Angel, have been too busy making the mansion habitable and protecting Cordy, but next on the list is getting a TV. Got it?”
“Go,” she ordered at Angel’s refusal to move. “And I told you so. The first thing she did was look in the weapon’s cabinet. Maybe if you pretend to be over-the-top charming you can stop her from looking under the beds until after dinner.”
Cordelia sighed as he finally moved to where the wine bottle stood.
Angel poured two glasses. “I can’t believe you’re letting her intimidate you.” He grabbed the two full wine glasses before he left.
Cordelia barely stopped herself from throwing the wooden spoon at Angel’s back. With a huff she turned back towards the stove, jabbing it into the simmering sauce.
***
“Miss Twittle, I’m sorry that I couldn’t welcome you sooner.” Angel held out a glass of wine.
She pursed her lips at the glass. “Angel, you are aware of Cordelia’s age.”
Angel paused, trying to think of the evolving age rules that came as the decades and centuries past and remembered that you had to be twenty-one to drink now. “I can assure you, that Cordelia hasn’t had any alcohol here.”
Miss Twittle nodded. “I wouldn’t expect anything else.” She circled the room. “I was surprised when I heard the address. West Haven has been condemned for twenty years.”
“So, I heard.” Angel took a sip of his wine, thinking of how to appease her worries. “The structure of this house is solid and I’d hoped that the reputation and the inhabitable conditions of West Hell would make it difficult for Damien to find us, if he happened to come Sunnydale.”
“West Hell?” Miss Twittle turned towards Angel. “So you heard the nickname. You’ve done very well, Angel. People avoid this section of town. I fear that most of the populace believes the outlandish rumors of it being haunted.”
Angel nodded. “The realtor was very surprised that I agreed to rent this place even once she assured me that it wouldn’t sink into the ground like most of the other houses.”
Miss Twittle turned to face him. “Which realtor?”
“I don’t remember the name,” Angel said quickly.
“Well, it doesn’t matter. I just hope that you didn’t let your anxiousness put you in a position to be hoodwinked. This area of Sunnydale has been laid to waste for decades. If you paid anywhere near the market price for rentals then the wool was pulled over your eyes.”
“I made a good deal. The realtor was too surprised to haggle.”
“Very good.”
“I’ve tried to make this place as habitable for Cordelia as possible,” Angel said quickly. He stood straighter when Miss Twittle arched a brow. “Of course, it doesn’t have all the amenities, but I had to act quickly and Cordy’s safety had to be my first concern.”
“Of course. But you can’t allow her comfort to suffer. I’ll agree that she is safe here, but her comfort…. Are you thinking about that?” Miss Twittle questioned with a tilt of her head.
Angel was beginning to understand Cordelia’s ramblings about a TV. He found it unbelievable that Miss Twittle would seriously want Cordelia to leave the safety of the mansion just because it didn’t have a TV, but from the frown on her face, it seemed she would. Angel couldn’t let that happen.
He needed her on his side. “I was thinking that tomorrow while Cordy was at school, I’d surprise her with a television. What do you think, Miss Twittle?”
“That would be an excellent idea.” Miss Twittle’s frown disappeared.
Angel swallowed his sigh of relief.
“I would be happy to give you my recommendations as to styles, brands and price. I realize that you don’t have the luxury of researching a Consumer Digest.”
“I would appreciate that. What do you recomm-” Angel stopped when she raised her hand.
“What if Cordy overhears? You can’t ruin her surprise. Is there some where that we can talk in private?”
“The garden.”
“Garden? Is that where all these lovely daffodils came from?”
“Yes.” Angel nodded. “It’s Cordy’s favorite place.” He led Miss Twittle to the side door.
Chapter 62
“Oh.” Miss Twittle sighed as she looked at the garden. “This is lovely.”
Angel nodded. “Cordy is ready to believe the rumors of West Hell because she can’t understand why anyone who planted this garden would leave.”
“Oh, the Richardsons left–it was that or prison. Besides they didn’t plant this garden. The Fredricks were the original owners. Amelia Fredrick was the president of the Garden Club until she died. The Richardsons bought the estate then.”
“You seem to know quite a bit about West Haven.”
“Anyone with any civic pride knows Amelia Fredrick. She designed the Sunnydale Botanical Gardens, as well as, the garden in front of City Hall.”
Angel’s brows rose. “Sunnydale has a Botanical Garden?”
“Not anymore.” Miss Twittle’s disapproval was apparent. “In what can only be described as an act of environmental terrorism, it became the Sunnydale Mall fifteen years ago.”
Angel nodded satisfied as to why he had never seen any signs of such a garden.
“As for the Richardsons.” Miss Twittle coughed. “I’ve worked at the Dress Store since I was younger than Cordelia. And while the clientele has varied over the years, their need to gossip has been consistent. And the Richardsons activities while here garnered quite a bit of it.”
Angel waited as Miss Twittle momentarily frowned and then continued.
“Bart and Stella Richardson were nouveau riche — truly without class. The first thing they did was put tacky lions at the door. I must say they look better pulverized. Though, I don’t condone vandalism.” Miss Twittle pursed her lips. “I’m pleasantly surprised that Stella didn’t turn the garden into an unseemly spectacle.”
She glanced around the garden and then the door leading into the house. “Angel, have you thought about getting Cordelia a cat? I find they are the most excellent companions.” Miss Twittle paused as she looked around again.
“An indoor-outdoor cat could be possible — but you really should make sure that there are no wandering stray dogs or other predators. It takes a lot of thought when you decide to take on a pet. I would be happy to advise you on that as well.”
“Uh — Okay.” Angel cupped the back of his neck to make sure his head wasn’t spinning at the bizarre change in subject.
Suddenly, he straightened and focused on the door. He stepped closer as Cordelia’s squeal and curse reached his ears from the kitchen.
“Angel?”
Angel turned back to Miss Twittle. “I’m sorry, but I think that -“
“ANGEL, GET IN HERE.” Cordelia’s yell could be heard in the garden.
“-Cordelia needs me.” He finished, going into the house.