Love by the Numbers

by Karin Kallmaker

“Superficial, an insignificant part of your DNA. You should know that, Professor Hathaway.”

  She wasn’t used to being found inconsistent. She also wasn’t used to being teased, which Lily’s tone suggested. She was glad of the darkness of the car though even in daylight Lily would have had no way to see that Nicole had an absurd tingling in the region south of her stomach.

  Lily had been rustling in her handbag. “I knew they were in there.” She held out a small wrapped packet of crackers from breakfast. “Want one?”

  “Sure.” Nicole glanced away from the road long enough to reach for the cracker.

  Their fingertips brushed.

  Nicole swerved the car back into the center of her lane. “Sorry about that.” She glanced at Lily.

  Lily had an arm protectively over her stomach. “It’s okay. You’re a very good driver. Adapting to the other side of the road and all the different signage when you don’t speak the language isn’t easy.”

  Her pleasure at Lily’s compliment left her more flushed—that or the air-conditioning was being even less successful. The GPS warned her about the upcoming turn toward their hotel in Dijon. She’d offered to drive after their bookstore event because Lily looked like she wanted to drop where she stood, but she had thought the drive would be entirely in daylight. She’d forgotten that Lily had warned her of the peculiarities of time zones and their use in Europe, which made clock time seem earlier than the sun’s position. The dark hadn’t unsettled her, though. If she’d known a GPS unit was so useful she’d have insisted that she really didn’t need an assistant for the trip.

  But if she had, Lily wouldn’t be within arm’s reach. Both arms’ reach.

  Stop it, she warned herself. You’re not going to hold her. It’s not going to happen.

  “Look,” Lily said. “To the right—that’s a Roman highway, isn’t it?”

  As she completed the turn onto the road to central Dijon, she was able to give the crumbling structure of arches a quick look. “What’s left of one, I’d say.”

  “Amazing.” Lily was definitely feeling better, Nicole thought. She was amused by the little lilt in Lily’s voice when she was going to give one of her quick sketches of a region. She’d learned she had no need of a guide book. All she had to do was ask Lily.

  “Dijon is a mix of architectures, from medieval to Renaissance to nineteenth century. Our hotel is supposed to be one of the closest to the seat of the Dukes of Burgundy. We can see the ducal palace before we have to leave tomorrow, and possibly walk through the museum of fine arts. The Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon.”

  It was ridiculous to want Lily to speak more in French. It didn’t matter what she said en français, the slightly more husky tone suited her. “I’d like that, though it’ll be nice to sleep in.”

  “Me too. Shall we meet in the lobby at nine? We should leave for Lyon by one.”

  “We can probably find a quick lunch.”

  “Who needs lunch?” Lily gestured at the open fields to their left. “This is the French countryside. We’ll picnic on bread, cheese and fruit as we drive.”

  “Sounds charming.”

  “Are you being sarcastic?”

  “No, actually.”

  “I couldn’t tell just from your voice.”

  “Do I always sound sarcastic?”

  “Well, perhaps sardonic is a better descriptor.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I tended toward either.” She paused. “Okay, I realize that I sounded sardonic just then.”

  Lily laughed.

  Nicole focused on the road and the increasingly narrow street. Lily’s silence left Nicole to realize that in just a few minutes Lily had given her a vast insight into her sister, had mocked her for not having seen it for herself, and then pointed out Nicole could be grim and sarcastic, something Kate had accused her of. She’d have resented it from Kate, but why oh why did she not mind it at all from Lily?

  It didn’t matter what Lily said to anyone, it seemed, she got what she wanted but never gave offense. She’d convinced a surly German shopkeeper to accept her last British pounds for a purchase and by the end of the transaction he’d been one more happy, smiling male conquest. It extended to women as well, with more than one bookseller earnestly expressing an interest to work with Lily and Insignis again for future author tours. Waitstaff seemed to always provide Lily with excellent service. She was never haughty, though she’d chilled that reporter from the local Brussels news with a glance when he’d put his hand on her knee. Nicole had felt an unaccustomed rush of loathing for the man but doubted she could harm him more than Lily’s withering glare.

  Nicole had begun to wonder if Lily exuded some kind of unique pheromone that amplified the effect of her petite beauty and charming manner. High-powered pheromones might explain Nicole’s own preoccupation with her.

  They checked in smoothly with Lily speaking what sounded like excellent French to the smiling clerk. Two rooms, two keys and they were off to the lift.

  Finally alone in her room, Nicole let tension roll out of her body. It was draining to be on her guard against revealing her attraction to Lily.

  She was startled by a knock on the door.

  Lily stood there with a sheepish smile. “We forgot to eat dinner. Aren’t you famished?”

  “Now that you mention it.” That explained all the flutters in her stomach. Hunger, not imaginary butterflies.

  “The hotel café is still open.”

  “Let me get my key.”

  When the elevator arrived it was occupied by a large family. Lily quickly squeezed in. “There’s room,” she said to Nicole.

  Nicole stepped in and the doors closing quickly behind her jostled her into Lily. They stood, breast to breast, during the slow descent. Lily’s gaze was on the floor in keeping with crowded elevator spacial dynamics. Nicole realized that Lily’s head would nestle perfectly onto her shoulder. She closed her eyes, only for a moment, and imagined dancing with Lily. A long, slow dance that ended in kisses.

  Pheromones. It had to be pheromones. Their special properties explained what was causing her physical response to Lily. The explanation failed, however, to give her any clue of what to do about it.

  * * *

  “Will this do?” Lily pointed at the displayed menu outside the little hotel restaurant. Anything to keep Nicole’s gaze off her flushed face. Next time they were confronted with an elevator that crowded, she was taking the stairs. “Omelets all day, ragoût de bœuf, soupe de poulet, melange…”

  “This will be fine. Something simple and a good night’s sleep.” Nicole opened the door that divided the restaurant from the lobby.

  “Pour deux,” Lily said to the young woman who greeted them. They were led to a table for two at a window facing one of the entrances to the ducal palace, just across a road paved in patterns of white stone. A few people lingered at a café on the other side, but otherwise the streets were quiet. “Is it Sunday?”

  Nicole pulled her phone from her pocket with a look of surprise. “Apparently, travel can inhibit the signals from the hippocampus. Yes, it’s Sunday.”

  Their server spoke more than adequate English but also endured Lily’s French with a smile. It was passable for conversation but she knew her accent was distinctly American. Her plans had once included intensive language courses to work on her vocabulary and accent, but that would have to wait. These past two weeks had been engaging, exhausting and a great balm to her spirit, but even with ten more weeks to go she could hear the ticking of the clock. She had no clue what she would do once she returned Nicole to New Hampshire. She didn’t want to think about that.

  Tap water was delivered and she drank thirstily. Whatever it was that had made her sick the night before was waning, thankfully. Now she was mostly feeling the lack of sleep and looking forward to the simplicity of chicken soup. Whenever there was salade niçoise on the menu Nicole ordered it, so Lily wasn’t surprised by her choice.

  “Stomach okay?” Nicole asked.

 
“A good night’s sleep, as you said. I’ll avoid another face plant into bratwurst when we get back to Germany too. That sort of started the whole issue. All that wonderful rich food. So yummy.”

  “I’m very fond of apple pie and never understood the purpose of strudel when apple pie was already excellent.” Nicole was gazing out the window toward the palace. “Now that I’ve had real strudel I understand the culinary necessity.”

  “Wasn’t that bakeshop fun?” Their meals had been almost entirely comprised of walk-up fare, and eaten while walking or driving. Sitting at a table to eat was a treat. Lily realized how little she and Nicole had been face-to-face. “She told us it was the best strudel in Europe and she may have been right.”

  “I had presumed it was puffery.” Nicole continued to look out the window.

  The waitress returned with a small basket of sliced breads. In French she said, “Compliments of the house. I apologize that it’s dry, but it’s the last of today’s delivery. The chef will throw it away tomorrow, but a little stale is very good with soup, n’est ce pas?”

  Answering in French, Lily thanked her. “It’s common in the United States to serve bread with a meal as well.”

  The waitress tossed back her straight black hair. “Bread and cheese. It doesn’t take much more to make a woman happy.”

  “I can think of one or two things.” She forced herself not to glance at Nicole.

  “You’ll have to tell me all about them.” She left in response to the sharp ting of a bell from the kitchen.

  Lily returned her attention to Nicole, who was still gazing out the window. Lily followed her gaze and could imagine herself sitting across the street in the warm night air, sipping a lovely red wine and nibbling at bread, cheese and fruit served on a well-scrubbed wooden shingle. The waitress was certainly on to something. She had far more grand dreams, but she hoped she never lost sight of how little it took to be happy.

  Looking at Nicole’s profile she wondered again why she never seemed happy. Or unhappy, for that matter. Was she ever ecstatic? Outraged? Only her intensity for her work, for its accuracy and meaning, proved that Nicole felt passion. She wondered what Nicole had been like as a child. Had she had tantrums, squealed with delight over candy or jumped in puddles?

  She looked away before Nicole caught her staring. This café also reminded her of one she’d visited with Jenna and Kirsten. To them it had been slumming and they’d been condescending to the waitstaff. Uncle Damon had once told her that everything you needed to know about a person you could discern from how they treated waiters and clerks. Nicole was polite in a perfunctory, my-mother-taught-me way.

  Nicole had turned from the window to sip her water. “What are you thinking about?”

  “Not much,” Lily evaded.

  “You look pensive.”

  “I was thinking about what makes for happiness.”

  Absolutely serious, Nicole said, “Serotonin and dopamine, in proper quantities.”

  Lily smiled at the typical answer. “I don’t understand why some people deliberately squelch their serotonin and dopamine, then. By disliking things that could make them happy.”

  “For example?”

  “I was in a place like this once with some cousins and they were determined to find it beneath them. Even the water was unsuitable.” Lily smiled her thanks at the server for her soup. She hoped Nicole didn’t ask a follow-up—she hadn’t meant to bring up family.

  Oh, let her ask, she thought. You should just tell her. You ought to trust her objectivity and ability to draw a truthful conclusion by now. “This smells perfect. Exactly what I need.”

  Nicole wasted no time digging into her salad. “Was it an enforced family gathering?”

  “No, I just have some bitchy cousins that I’m glad I won’t see more of.”

  “Not even for weddings and funerals?” Nicole offered her the pepper grinder after lightly dusting her salad.

  “Thank you, I love pepper in soup.” Over the crunch of the grinder Lily said, “Highly doubtful. Our social circles no longer overlap.”

  Nicole focused on her salad and Lily thought she was safe until Nicole asked, several mouthfuls later, “What changed?”

  She didn’t think she could shrug it off. Nicole was studying her face and had probably already taken note of her pupil size, eye movements and number of swallows as her version of a truth detector. She delayed by savoring a spoonful of soup. Just salty enough, fragrant with herbs and a touch of white wine. “At one point my parents had a lot of money. They lost it all and have passed away. I can’t afford their circle. How’s the salad?”

  “Very good. The feta cheese is flavorful and fresh.” Nicole speared an olive. “If you could afford their circle would they welcome you? I think not, from your expression.”

  Lily bit her lip to keep from asking why Nicole posed a question when she already thought she knew the answer. “No, they wouldn’t. My parents were less than ethical and their financial dealings hurt other people.” Her voice threatened to break, but she forced out the next words. “Some people firmly believe I was part of the swindle.”

  Nicole’s eyebrows went up. “Their belief can’t be rooted in fact.”

  Lily tried to squelch the tears she could feel building. So much for feeling like she was moving on. “It’s not, believe me. I wish I could figure out what to say to make people believe it.”

  “It’s not in your words, but in the way you act. Unless you’re a masterfully skilled con woman, and they do exist, I’ve seen too far a range of your body language and casual interactions to believe you could be persistently unethical. I don’t mean taking an extra packet of saltines at a restaurant that you don’t need until later.” Nicole put down her fork. “Though your lowered lashes and slight flush when you do so betrays the chemical shift in your frontal lobe.”

  Trying for humor, Lily asked, “Translation?”

  “Studies of people with damage to their frontal lobe…” Nicole lifted one eyebrow. “You’re not interested in all that.”

  “I’m interested in the short version.” Lily knew her innocent blink wasn’t up to her usual best, but she tried.

  Incredibly, Nicole’s lips curved into a wry smile. “You do something that makes you feel guilty and your frontal lobe manifests the confusion with physical cues. I’ve observed that you give off guilt cues over crackers. I’m doubtful, therefore, that you could mask those cues over large sums of money.”

  It was disconcerting to find that Nicole had studied her so closely, but she was a scientist. She probably viewed her supportive statement as a product of logical deduction and observation, but Lily was content to take it as a show of faith. “So you’re saying I’ll never make a good thief.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” She sounded philosophical. “You could be a jewel thief who couldn’t lie about her activities. Which means you’d need to be a very good jewel thief to avoid having to answer questions.”

  “Well, I wish everyone thought the way you do. They don’t.” Her voice cracked.

  There was a long silence during which Nicole ate nothing and Lily stirred her cooling soup and didn’t dare look up.

  Finally, Nicole said, “Have I upset you?”

  “No. It’s not you,” Lily said immediately. She put her hand to her face to quell her quivering lower lip. “It’s just—some people won’t move on. And I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Nicole reached across the small table to briefly touch Lily’s arm. “The human attention span is highly personalized, but the majority of people do move on after any and all tragedies.”

  Unnerved by the contact and the unmistakable kindness in Nicole’s eyes—an expression she had thought an impossibility—Lily blurted out, “Uncle Damon probably told you I was doing him a favor but I’m the one who needed the favor. I really needed to get away.” She stole a quick glance at Nicole, but her gaze was now fixed on the table. “It was last minute and I did need a job and I think he would have hired just about
anyone, but still—this has been a godsend to me.”

  “You are a vast improvement over the previous choices.” Nicole cleared her throat. “I had thought there was no reason I couldn’t do this by myself. I’m used to being independent. Given that twenty minutes ago I didn’t know what day it was has caused me to reexamine my thinking.”

  Swamped by too many emotions to sort out, Lily took refuge in mock incredulity. “Are you trying to say you changed your mind?”

  “Your tone implies this never happens. I frequently receive new data and revise earlier hypotheses.”

  “I see.” She glanced at Nicole in time to see one eyebrow lifted again.

  “I’ve revised several so far. For example, though I’ve done lectures for years now, I’m surprised how tiring speaking in public is when the communication is bidirectional. Students take notes and leave. I’m not used…” Again her lips curved into a wry smile. “I had not adequately assessed how draining nonoptional social banter is.”

  “That’s because you’re an introvert. I’m an extrovert. Solitude is very hard on me.” She cleared her throat and hoped Nicole would take up the red herring.

  “Be that as it may, to feel persistently alert and energetic while managing the details that you cover would have been a serious challenge.”

  It was very Nicole that she didn’t quite admit she couldn’t have met the challenge. Lily wasn’t sure what to say.

  “You were an excellent choice,” Nicole continued. “If I were running for public office I would want you in charge of events, staging and protocol.”

  Lily’s breath caught. “That was the career I was hoping…Damn it.” She wiped away a tear.

  Nicole lapsed into silence while Lily stirred her now-tepid soup and forced down a few more spoonfuls. When Lily finally murmured a thank you, Nicole’s answering “You’re welcome,” was equally quiet.

  Not much later they rode up in a thankfully otherwise unoccupied elevator to their floor. Lily was certain Nicole knew how hard she was trying not to cry in front of her. She had thought her wounds were healing, but they were still as raw as the day she’d left New York. How could she expect other people to move on when she hadn’t done so herself?