Norah's Ark Page 12

  I was pleasantly surprised. His home is a high-tech country cottage with stainless steel appliances, a plasma screen television, computer wires and a dining room set that looks as if it came off the Starship Enterprise. These twenty-first century accoutrements shared space with an inviting fireplace, portraits of racehorses, overstuffed chairs and heavy footstools, like those in an old-time private men’s club. He watched me as I gazed from high-def and TiVo influences to snuggly wool throws and healthy-looking houseplants. There were wind chimes outside several windows and I could hear their delicate tinkling on the breeze.

  “Eclectic. I like it.”

  Nick gave me a lopsided grin that reminded me not to underestimate his charm. “My decorating has a split personality,” he acknowledged. “When you’re looking at a fifty-two-inch plasma HD screen, you still have to be comfortable, right?”

  The man knows about comfort.

  And cooking.

  “Did you actually make these?” I held up a grilled shrimp-and-vegetable combination on a skewer. “Your appetizers are better than most full-course dinners.” I sat, swallowed up in one of the large chairs, watching him move easily around his kitchen. He also knows how to use a wicked-looking chopping knife, which I suppose isn’t too surprising considering he’s an officer of the law. Maybe they take a course in knives and hand-to-hand combat…or he’s an escapee from a culinary school.

  He pushed a chopping block filled with fresh vegetables my way. “Do you want to peel and slice the avocados or chop tomatoes?”

  “Both. If you trust me, that is. My idea of the perfect kitchen is a vending machine for every food group.”

  I was joking, but not much. My idea of a balanced diet really is popcorn in one hand and a soda in the other. “Besides I don’t want you to quit working on whatever it is you have going there.”

  “Flan. I thought we’d go south of the border tonight. Custard al baño Maria.”

  Custard baked in a water bath.

  I’d never met a man before who actually knew what flan was, let alone could cook it. I could be interested in a guy like this…. I nearly severed my index finger from my left hand at the thought. I’ve definitely been hanging around Lilly too much. I’ve begun to think like her.

  “Hurt yourself?” He frowned as he noticed me sucking on the tip of my finger.

  “Just a scratch. I wasn’t paying attention.” I was looking at you.

  “Maybe I’d better have you watch the beans instead.” He gestured toward the stove.

  “You even make your own refried beans? I’m impressed.”

  “Takes a little longer, but it’s worth it.” He handed me a tall cold glass of sweet tea.

  “Where’d you learn to cook like this? Cordon Bleu?”

  “Actually, I did take a few classes. Sometime I’ll cook pan-seared sea scallops with soba noodle salad or cedar-planked salmon with horseradish dill cream, two of my specialties, for you.”

  “A cooking cop. Making the world safer one meal at a time.”

  While he worked, I drifted around the kitchen. The man owns his own cookware, gourmet cookbooks and even a spice rack. The kitchen was immaculate but had a cozy, domestic feel I didn’t expect. It was a real kitchen, not just a stopping-off place when one wanted to use the microwave. I could get used to this.

  “I was on leave from the police force for a few months and thought I’d go crazy if I didn’t do something. I wasn’t able to do anything too physical, but I could still manage a cooking pot, so I tried it.”

  “Medical leave?” I ventured.

  “Yes.” The way he said it did not invite more questions.

  He was quiet a long while before adding, “Injury on the job. When I was in narcotics.”

  His broad shoulders had gone rigid and I could see it cost him to say that.

  Okay. Bad home life. Injured on job. Time to find a cheerful subject.

  “What do you think of our little church? And of Shoreside?”

  I saw the tension slide from his features. “So far, so good. I feel well accepted.” He straddled a stool across the counter from me and sat down. It occurred to me that Nick managed to look even more masculine in this kitchen.

  “I do have a question for you, however.”

  “Ask away.”

  “How…sound…is…”

  “Auntie Lou?” I felt a twinge of anger at the question. “She’s fine. Sound. Sane. Rock solid. She’s just old, not senile.”

  He held up a hand. “Whoa. I didn’t say she was, did I?”

  “No,” I admitted, chagrined. “But a lot of people seem to think that old and out of it go together. Her body might be stiff and sore, but there’s nothing wrong with her mind.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that.”

  “She’s very worried that if she tells anyone about the jewelry from her store being missing, they’ll start to say she’s too old to be running the store any longer. Auntie Lou is a proud woman.”

  “I can see that’s true. But even though she doesn’t feel old or vulnerable, someone thought she was defenseless enough that they could get into that case and out again without being caught.” Nick stretched out his long legs and put his palms on the counter and stood. “I’m going to keep a close eye on her place for a while.”

  I felt a surprising bit of relief at his words. I’ve been feeling a lot of responsibility for my elderly friend’s welfare.

  The hours passed like minutes before I found myself announcing, “If I eat another fajita I’m going to start speaking in Spanish.”

  “More guacamole? Salsa?” Nick handed more food my way. The table was littered with near-empty dishes and there was a glob of sour cream and drizzles of salsa decorating the tabletop.

  “Stop! You’ll have to rent a cart to roll me home if you don’t quit feeding me.”

  “Does that mean you aren’t quite ready for dessert?”

  “Just aim me toward a couch and let me rest awhile. Even my jaw is tired from chewing. That was far and away the best meal I’ve eaten in recent memory.” Even better than Ziga’s.

  I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was nearly 7:00 p.m. We’d managed to cook, talk, eat and laugh the day away. “I should probably go home.”

  “Without dessert?” He reached out a hand. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  “For me? I’m a sucker for surprises.”

  In the living room he handed me a videotape.

  “An old movie. The Thin Man, the first of the Nick and Nora series. Remember them?”

  “I don’t, but I’ve heard of it. There are always clues for their dog, Asta, in the crossword puzzles.”

  “I haven’t seen them, either, but it seems appropriate somehow. Want to watch it?”

  He’d gone to all that trouble just because our names were Nick and Norah? Touched by the thoughtfulness, I curled myself into a ball at the end of the couch while he started the video.

  Nick took the other end and put his long legs on the leather ottoman he used for a coffee table. “You don’t have to hide in that corner, Norah. Make yourself comfortable.”

  So I did.

  Boy, did I ever.

  I awoke as the end credits rolled across the screen and realized that I’d seen little more than a minute of the movie before I’d dozed off. And, as I always do when I sleep, I’d hogged as much space as I could. Most of the couch, in fact, leaving Nick about eighteen inches in which to sit.

  I bounced upright so fast I gave myself a brief headache. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

  “That’s all right. I wasn’t much interested in the movie, either, but I had a great time listening to you snoring. I had a speedboat once that did that putt…putt…putt…thing when I didn’t have the gas mixed just right.”

  I tried to think of something more embarrassing than this but I couldn’t. Snoring and drooling in front of a man I’d just met is at the top of the list. I was about to apologize profusely when I saw the grin on his face.
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br />   “I did not!” I eyed him cautiously. “Did I?”

  Then I threw a couch pillow at him. “You tease!”

  He caught the pillow in one hand and shook it at me. “You’re very easy to tease.”

  Funny, until now, I wouldn’t have thought of that as a compliment.

  Nick walked me home after our flanfest during which we nearly finished an entire flan made up of eggs, milk and sugar.

  “I should keep walking until I’ve worn off all the calories I ate today,” I said as we reached my yard.

  “You’d end up in New York City,” he pointed out reasonably, “and besides, you could use a pound or two. You work hard in that store of yours.”

  I could? I do? How nice of you to notice.

  “Would you like to come in?” I asked as we stood on my front step. “There’s no food but I could probably rustle up a soft drink.”

  “Thanks. Can I take a rain check for another time?”

  “Sure. I had a great day.” I reached out and squeezed his hand. It was meant to be a purely friendly gesture but he held it until the heat of his skin warmed mine.

  “Me, too, Norah. I’ll cook for you anytime.” He tilted his head and stared into my eyes. A rush of blood flooded my cheeks with color.

  Is he going to kiss me?

  When he didn’t, I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved. Still, I floated blissfully into my house and scooped Bentley into my arms. “Just wait until you meet Nick. You’re going to love him.”

  My buoyant moment didn’t last long.

  Bentley, in my absence, had entertained himself by removing every pillow and cushion from all the chairs and dragging them to the middle of the room. I could see by the fresh body imprints that he and Hoppy had made a sleeping nest there for the afternoon. To his credit, Bentley had not made a tooth mark in any of the cushions.

  It’s not easy to have a dog who demands so much time and attention.

  It’s also difficult to have a demanding man in one’s life. I decided that when I opened the door to my deck and found another bouquet of flowers there with a note.

  Norah,

  Sorry I missed you. Am going out of town for a few days. I’ll see you when I get back.

  Connor

  This time I shredded the note and put it in the wastebasket before anyone—especially Lilly—could see it.

  Then I stared at the flowers, a riot of tulips, lilies and irises, and scratched my head. Now what? I glanced across the room to a photo of Lilly and me on her birthday, the one we’d celebrated at Belles & Beaus. We had blue masks on our faces, cucumbers for eyes and our heads swathed in white terry towels. We were grinning widely and toasting ourselves with bottled water. No matter what, I couldn’t let Connor—rich, handsome, urbane—cause trouble in a friendship like Lilly’s and mine.

  After allowing Asia Mynah to tell me what a “pretty bird” I was and tell me he loved me a few times, cuddling Hoppy and having Bentley fling himself into my lap, I felt a little better. I can see storm clouds forming on the horizon over Lake Zachary and I don’t like it. Lilly is chasing Connor, Connor is chasing me. Joe is waiting for me to come to my senses about love and marriage even though I think my senses are perfectly fine already. And if that weren’t difficult enough, there’s Nick who, despite my efforts to the contrary, has lodged himself inside my head and won’t come out.

  Lake Zachary is turning into a romantic swamp of noteworthy proportions.

  As always, both when things are going well and when life seems far more complicated than it should, I turn to Scripture. Being a practical, down-to-earth type, I’ve always gone to Proverbs first. Pithy, to the point, no-nonsense Proverbs is the book that always snaps me back to my senses. And, as I’ve come to expect, it did so today, too.

  I know the Holy Spirit directs my reading material. Otherwise, why would this particular verse leap out at me now, when my friends are first and foremost in my mind? “Many will say they are loyal friends, but who can find one who is really faithful?” Proverbs 20:6.

  That’s the question, isn’t it? Who do you trust? Who, in this case, should Lilly trust? Me? I hope so, but I saw the doubt in her eyes and it hurt me to the core. It’s easy to trust people when there’s no trouble brewing, but when things look dicey, the question always comes up. It makes me terribly sad to think I could lose my friend over a misunderstanding about a man. No way. I can’t let that happen.

  “It’s harder to make amends with an offended friend than to capture a fortified city. Arguments separate friends like a gate locked with iron bars.” Proverbs 18:19. I used to think those were terribly harsh words, but I know now that they are true. Whether Lilly realizes it or not, Connor isn’t worth it, not to me even though I could be attracted to him in other circumstances.

  But how can I pull this back without damaging my friendship with Lilly or Connor, Lord? I don’t want to alienate one friend in order to appease another.

  And the Holy Spirit answered in the words of Proverbs 11:9. “Evil words destroy one’s friends: wise discernment rescues the godly.”

  Well duh! Keep your mouth shut, Norah. Think before you speak, look before you leap. Pure common sense. I love Proverbs.

  But the Holy Spirit wasn’t done with me yet, I realized when my eyes fell on Proverbs 17:9. “Disregarding another person’s faults preserves love; telling about them separates close friends.”

  I closed my Bible and my eyes.

  Lord, is that how You want me to handle this Lilly-Connor-me triangle? To watch my tongue, be smart and don’t make too much of Lilly’s faults? I want to build and keep her trust even if her suspicions are chipping away at our relationship. I’m going to need Your help with this, You know. Like everything else, I can’t do it alone. You provided me with Lilly’s friendship and now I ask that You protect it—and me—as only You can. Amen.

  Life was definitely easier before Connor arrived on the scene. Then my big decisions were whether to treat the parakeets with lettuce or cucumber and give Bentley a pig ear or a nice juicy bone. It is men who are the problem. They aren’t satisfied with the human equivalent of a pat on the head or a doggie biscuit.

  Which reminds me…it’s time to order more snacks for the Bed and Biscuit. All this relationship stuff has distracted me. No doubt my customers think I’m neglecting them.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Where do you think he went, Norah? Surely he told somebody.”

  I bit my tongue and kept restocking shelves. Lilly had already been over twice this morning to speculate on Connor’s absence and his oversight of not telling anyone—particularly her—where he had gone. I’m beginning to feel trapped in a remake of Grease, propelled backward in time to my teenage years when boys, makeup, fashion and mean teachers made up ninety percent of our conversations.

  Finally, after her third “But we had such a nice time together,” I scowled at her.

  “Lilly, you’re fixated on a man. A man. You’ve got better things to do than that.”

  Lilly sighed and sank down on a pile of fifty-pound sacks of dog food. “You’re right. I am. It’s just that he’s so…”

  I held up a warning finger.

  “…that I’m so ready to help you. What do you want me to stack first, the canned cat food?”

  “Much better,” I said. “Help me get these bags out of the way and I’ll buy you a quick cup of tea when the store closes.”

  “Quick” turned into leisurely, late afternoon which turned into evening and finally Joe, Lilly and I decided to have dinner.

  We were sitting on the deck of The Waterfront overlooking the lake and scraping cheese out of the bottom of what had been a huge basket of nachos when Joe announced that his sister was getting married.

  “When’s the big day?” I asked, wondering if I’d be invited to attend.

  “Not until next summer. It’s a good thing, too. I’m not sure if he’s the right guy for Ellen. She thinks he is—most of the time—so she’s decided to go through w
ith it.”

  “That doesn’t sound promising.” I thought about those bells I’m waiting to hear. Or maybe Ellen is right and I won’t get to hear them until I’m going down the aisle. I don’t want to believe it.

  “Ellen loves him, of course, but she’s got some questions. I suppose they’ll have this year to work it out.”

  “Has she given him the Pet Test?” I swirled the dregs of my iced tea in the bottom of my glass and wished the waitress would come around to give me more.

  “The Pest Test? What’s that?”

  “Not Pest, Pet. The Pet Test.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite, what are you talking about?”

  “Does your sister have any pets?”

  “Two dogs. A black lab and some sort of yappy white thing.”

  “Yappy white thing” is not a normally acceptable description of a dog in my book, but I let it pass.

  “How do the dogs like Ellen’s fiancé?”

  “Like him? How should I know?”

  “Ask her. See what she says. It will tell you a lot about the guy, you know.”

  “Explain that, please,” Joe said doubtfully. “Maybe I’ve missed an angle on attracting a beautiful woman. Is it possible to flunk the test?”

  “Absolutely. I dated a guy in college who, I thought, might be The One, Mr. Right. Then I visited him at his home.”

  “What happened?”

  “He came to the door and his dog followed him. He started yelling at it to get away and pointing his finger. Finally he kicked at it with his foot to get it away from me.”

  “Uh-oh,” Lilly muttered.

  “We broke up on the spot. Finis. Whatever made him think his behavior was acceptable is beyond me.”

  “That’s a pretty dramatic example,” Joe said doubtfully. “I doubt Ellen’s fiancé kicks at anything. He has a dog of his own. Ellen says it’s a big annoying thing that wants to put its head in her lap when she’s eating.”

  Boundary issues. Can’t discipline properly. Owner has desperate need to be liked.

  “He treats it very well, in fact. Sometimes too well, according to Ellen. It’s a strange breed. He paid a lot of money for it and he’s always taking it in to be groomed. He likes the attention it draws when he walks it in the park. That’s how they met, in fact.”