“Don’t be. You’ve been awake for a while.”
I shrugged. “But I’m glad to be with you. I want you to know that.”
He squeezed my hand. “I do.”
We pulled in front of a lovely Georgian-style house with a circular drive. As we walked to the door with my luggage in hand, all I could think about was the fact that Neil and I hadn’t kissed yet.
At the airport, we’d been surrounded by people and the carbon monoxide cocktail that was cigarette smoke and car exhaust. Then we’d been to the restaurant and back…and nothing.
I knew in the back of my mind that I was feeling tired and insecure, and that at some point Neil would probably kiss me and I didn’t need to read anything into the timing. And yet, all of the knots that had untangled during dinner returned with a force. I felt deeply out of place and didn’t relish the feeling—but hadn’t Neil done the same thing when he’d visited me?
A glance at my phone told me I had no texts from home. Mom was fine, the restaurant was fine. Two fewer things to worry about for now.
But as we walked to the door, daisy-fresh waves of anxiety filled my mind. What if Neil’s friends hated me? I’d never met these people, and I’d be staying at their house for the better part of a week. I’d be staying with people who didn’t like me, and Neil hadn’t even kissed me yet.
As if he knew that I was about to completely freak out while walking on his best friend’s flagstone walkway, Neil squeezed my hand.
“You okay?”
“Sometimes I’m not very good with people,” I whispered. “Sometimes they think I’m weird, or intense, or stuck up, or—”
Neil lifted my chin and kissed me hard, his lips telling me exactly what he thought about my concerns.
“Enough of that,” he said when we came up for air, his voice quiet but intense. “You’re perfect. They’ll love you. Not as much as I love you, but enough. And if, for some reason, their brains are taken over by aliens and they aren’t the people I’ve known and loved for the last six years, just say the word and I’ll take you to a hotel. Any hotel. You can pick the hotel. You can stay at the Peabody and watch the ducks march every night.”
“Ducks?”
“Either way, I’ll take you to see the ducks.”
“This conversation stopped making sense three or four sentences ago. The only marching Ducks I know about play musical instruments on football fields.”
“Don’t worry.” He planted a kiss on my temple. “It will.”
“I missed you.”
He gave a crooked half smile. “I missed you too.”
My heart swelled as I looked at the wonderful man in front of me, his gingery hair shimmering under the exterior floodlights. I wanted to grasp his hands in mine and beg him to move to Portland, to be with me.
But I knew he had a life here, a life and a job and friends, roots maybe not as deep as mine but deep enough that I had to respect them.
So I pasted on my bravest face, a face I was getting perhaps too good at. I hung on to his hand and walked the rest of the way to the front door.
Neil rapped three times and opened the door himself. “Tarissa fusses at me if I ring the bell,” he said.
The door opened into a wide, high-ceilinged foyer. A sweeping staircase began at the right, leading to the second floor. There was an office behind french doors to my immediate right, with the living room and formal dining to my left.
“Is that them? Neil? Are you here?” A feminine voice sounded from a hallway that seemed to originate from behind the stairs.
“I’m here, I brought Juliette,” Neil called back, winking at me.
Footsteps quickened. “Juliette!” Tarissa appeared through the hallway. She cut a striking figure in a mustard-toned shirtdress cinched with a wide leather belt, the yellow of the dress setting off her chocolatey complexion.
Her face brightened when she saw us. “Perfect timing! I just pulled the peach cornbread out of the oven.” Tarissa’s wide smile instantly put me at ease. She pulled me into a hug and then held me at arm’s length. “Look at you! Just off a plane and looking so pretty. Come on back for some cornbread—Callan! Look who I found!”
“I’m guessing it was Neil and his friend, since we weren’t expecting anyone else,” Callan drawled, stepping forward and offering his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. We’re glad you’ve come to stay with us.”
I smiled up at the man Neil called his best friend. Tall and broad-shouldered with glowing mahogany skin, he and Tarissa made a strikingly beautiful couple. “Thank you so much for having me,” I said, my gratitude genuine. “Your house is lovely.”
“Aw, thanks,” said Tarissa. “You can stay forever. Do you want some decaf coffee?”
“I’d love some coffee.”
“I would too,” Neil said.
“You can serve yourself,” Tarissa told him. “You know where everything is.”
Neil shot me a glance. “They like you better. I’ve been demoted.”
~ TARISSA’S PEACH CORNBREAD ~
3 ripe peaches, peeled and sliced
¼ cup brown sugar
2¼ cups flour
¾ cup yellow cornmeal
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1½ tablespoons baking powder
1 teaspoon sea salt
1½ cups buttermilk, at room temperature
½ cup butter, melted and cooled
3 large eggs, beaten, at room temperature
Preheat oven to 400°F. Prepare a 9×13 baking dish by greasing it or lining it with parchment paper.
In a small bowl, stir together the peaches and brown sugar. Set aside.
In a medium-sized bowl, sift together the flour, cornmeal, sugar, baking powder, and salt. In a separate, smaller bowl, whisk together the buttermilk, butter, and eggs.
Stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients, mixing until the wet ingredients are well incorporated but the batter is still lumpy. Fold in the peaches. Pour the batter into the prepared pan.
Bake for 35–55 minutes, or until the cornbread is golden and a tester comes out clean.
Serve warm with lots of butter and honey.
For it is only in company that eating is done justice; food must be divided and distributed if it is to be well received.
—WALTER BENJAMIN
Neil, Callan, Tarissa, and I spent a happy evening chatting and eating Tarissa’s peach cornbread. By ten o’clock, though, no amount of clenching my teeth or biting my cheeks could stop my yawns.
“I’m sorry, you guys,” I said, another yawn careening around the bend. “It was a really early morning.”
“Don’t be!” Tarissa jumped up and took my plate and coffee cup away. “You’ve got to be exhausted. I’ll take you upstairs, show you the guest room.”
We made a strange little caravan to the second floor. Callan carried my luggage, Neil’s grasp on my elbow kept me from falling over, and Tarissa narrated the tour from the front. Once I was settled, Callan and Tarissa said their good-byes, leaving Neil and me to have a moment to ourselves.
It would have been more romantic if I could stand up straight.
“You’re cute when you’re sleepy,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Is this gonna work out for you?”
“Callan and Tarissa are terrific,” I said. “I’m going to try to talk Tarissa into moving to Portland.”
“Not Callan?”
“He’ll do whatever Tarissa says.”
Neil shrugged. “You’re probably right. Sure, go ahead. Steal my friends.” He smiled. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.”
“Can I pick you up in the morning?”
I pretended to think about it first. “Sure. Are you sure it’s not just because Tarissa promised to make a french toast casserole for breakfast?”
“I’ve had it. It’s a good casserole. But no, that’s not the only reason. Get a good night’s sleep, and if you’re up to it we’ll visit the gardens tomorrow.”
>
“That sounds like fun.”
He tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “I love you, Juliette.” His hand cupped my cheek in a kinder, gentler version of the kiss we’d shared outside.
“I love being able to say good night to you,” I said, snuggling into his shoulder, enjoying the feel of his hand in my hair.
“Are you going to read letters tonight?”
I snorted. “Me? I’ll be asleep before my head hits the pillow.”
“You’ll have to catch me up on your grandmother’s story tomorrow.”
“Of course,” I said with a nod. “It’s been fascinating, and I still have so many more letters to go.”
“Any answers?”
“Not really. But I’ve enjoyed reading about my grandmother as a young woman. She wrote good letters.”
“So do you,” he said. Another set of whispered good-byes, and Neil stepped from the room with a wave, closing the door behind him.
That night I dreamed of kisses, humidity, and cornbread.
The next morning I rose and enjoyed a long, hot shower, scrubbing off the remnants of the flight from my hair. I blew out my hair and applied makeup, skipping the foundation and sticking with powder—I had a suspicion that any foundation would melt and slide off my face anyway.
My outfit for the day included the floaty cotton sundress I’d worn for Nonno’s birthday paired with comfortable yet respectable brown sandals. I left my hair loose, but decided to wear a hair band on my wrist next to my watch in case I needed to tie it up.
Neil waited downstairs at the breakfast table, chatting with Callan and Tarissa. While Callan and Tarissa were dressed for their respective workdays, Neil wore shorts and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt. His face lit up when he saw me, his grin warming me to my toes.
I hugged him good morning; he pressed a kiss to my temple.
“If I swoon,” Tarissa said, fanning herself, “just ignore me.”
Callan chuckled. “Would you like some coffee, Juliette?”
“Yes, please.” I took a seat on the last remaining chair. “You might have to watch me, or I’ll drink the whole pot.”
Neil rubbed my back. “Want some breakfast?”
“Oh yes, that would be smart.” I rose to serve myself but Neil held out a hand.
“I’ve got it,” he said, plucking a plate from the countertop and striding to the stove. He returned a moment later with a plateful of french toast casserole with two sausage patties on the side. “Carbs and pork,” he said when he slid the plate in front of me. “The perfect Memphis breakfast.”
“It smells amazing,” I said. “Thank you. And thank you, Tarissa, for making it.” My eyes widened after a single bite. “If you share the recipe, I’ll love you forever.”
“Are you on Pinterest? I’ll send you the pin,” she assured me. “What are you two up to today?”
“I think we’ll visit the botanical gardens this morning,” Neil said, “and then the Dixon and finish at the museum when it gets warm.”
Callan checked his watch. “You might want to get moving.”
I cut a larger piece of french toast and shoveled it into my mouth.
“Well, that sounds very romantic,” Tarissa said.
Neil grinned. “We’ll visit my house, and then an old-fashioned dinner date tonight.”
Tarissa clasped her hands to her heart and sighed. Callan patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll take you out soon.”
Tarissa arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you go making promises you forget to keep.”
He swooped in for a quick kiss. “Hush there. I never forget.”
“Uh-huh. Juliette, would you like more food?”
I looked down at my plate to discover that I’d polished it off. “Oh no, I’m full. But it was wonderful, thank you.”
“You ready to leave?” Neil asked.
“Are you going to make me eat and run like that?”
Tarissa held out a hand. “I’ve gotta run to get to the office, myself, and Callan’s off to the lab. Oh! Before I forget—” Tarissa reached into a kitchen drawer and retrieved a key attached to a fob. “Here’s a spare key for you, so if we’re not here, you can just make yourself at home.”
“Thanks so much!” I said, pocketing the key. “Hope your workdays go well.”
“Someone has to continue the cause of science,” Callan said. “Have fun today.”
“And if you want to miss the heat,” Tarissa said, pointing out the window, “you’d better run as fast as you can.”
“Thanks again for breakfast,” I said, carrying my dishes to the sink.
Following Tarissa’s advice, I jogged upstairs to grab my purse before running back down, said farewells to Callan and Tarissa, and walked out the door with Neil.
The humidity greeted me like a too-tight hug from a difficult relative. We’d be walking in this? I looked at Neil.
He was handsome. I wouldn’t do it for anyone else.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t think we’ll be beating the heat much. But I brought these,” he said holding up two water bottles full of ice water.
“Oh, thank you,” I said. “I’ll take one now, if you don’t mind.”
Despite the heat and humidity, we passed a romantic morning strolling through the Rhodes campus, admiring its architecture and the old trees.
After refilling our water, we walked through the Memphis Gardens. Neil stole kisses behind trees, under alcoves, over the footbridge. We also fed the koi fish. Judging from the size of the koi, we hadn’t been the only ones.
For lunch we stopped by Café Eclectic, one of Neil’s favorite haunts. It felt like a slice of the Pacific Northwest with its door covered in concert posters, its espresso machinery, and its hip wall décor.
I longed for a more adventurous order, but in the heat I couldn’t muster enthusiasm for anything but salad. Still, the salad included walnuts, feta, and dried apricots.
Neil ordered a burger with sweet potato fries.
“This is the place I was telling you about in our e-mails,” he said, taking a swig of sweet tea. “Their macaroni is really good. There’s live music sometimes. It’s fun.”
“Reminds me of home,” I said.
He smiled. “That’s funny. Portland reminded me of here.”
I saw the touch of insecurity in his eyes, and I knew that he wanted the city, his friends, his life, to make a good impression. I didn’t know what to say; instead, I reached across the table for his hand. “I love that we’re here together.”
“You holding up okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, hedging. “It’s…warm.” And I planned to ask Tarissa if I could wash my dress once I returned to the house. I’d sweated out the back long, long ago.
“The Dixon is air-conditioned. We don’t have to walk through the gardens there if you don’t want.”
“I’m fine. But I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
“You’ve brought me up to date about the restaurant and your family, but I’m still waiting to hear about the letters you found at the chateau.”
I leaned back to allow the waitress room to set my plate in front of me. Neil spread his napkin in his lap before digging into his burger.
“Mireille and Gabriel met while she was taking culinary classes and he was teaching for the term,” I told him. “Afterward they began to see each other socially and fell for each other pretty quickly. She told Cécile all about it in her letters.”
Neil took a bite out of his burger and nodded. “Go on.”
“She was doing well in her classes, but her mother fell ill back at the chateau. Very ill. So she went home to help care for her. Right now the letters are between Mireille and Gabriel, all about how they miss each other while they’re apart.”
“Sound familiar?”
“Somewhat,” I said. In truth, I understood the sentiments deeply. But Gabriel and Mireille, at least, were only separated by t
heir circumstances. I assumed it would be temporary. Neil and I missed each other, and yet hadn’t we walked into this relationship knowing what we were getting into?
“How many letters do you have left?”
“Oh, quite a few. I think I’m about a third of the way in. What’s interesting about all of this is the completeness of the collection. I even found the telegram Mireille sent Gabriel that told him she was leaving for Montagnac.”
“What do you think that means?”
“I don’t know yet, not really. But the letters feel very…very curated, I think is the word. The collection is too complete for it to be an accident. If they were just Gabriel’s letters to Mireille, or just Mireille’s letters to Cécile, that would be one thing. But this? I haven’t figured it out yet.”
“Do you think Mireille hunted down every letter to do with Gabriel?” Neil asked. “After he died?”
“Maybe. It would make sense, I suppose.” I shrugged. “I’m preparing myself for the fact that these letters will hold more questions than answers.”
“I sort of thought you’d have read them all twice through by now.”
I snorted. “In what, all of my spare time? And also, they’re all in French. I have to read and translate at the same time. While my French is very, very good, it still takes longer than if I were reading them in English.”
Neil placed a hand over mine. “I’m not criticizing. I’m sorry if it came out sounding that way.”
“I don’t know. I guess I thought I’d read them faster too. But I’m finding that there’s just so much there, having to reframe everything I knew about my family history—it makes for dense reading. If I only read a little at a time, it’s easier. Though,” I added, “I did read quite a few letters on the plane out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Are you kidding? I got to sit down for hours at a time! It was amazing.” I speared several leaves of lettuce onto my fork. “My hope is to get through another chunk on the flight back. Once the restaurant fully opens, free time will be harder to come by.”
Neil squeezed my hand. “I’m just glad we got to see each other now.”
We spent the afternoon exploring the Dixon gardens and art collection, admiring the fine art on the inside as much as the Neo-Georgian architecture and surrounding gardens.
Reservations for Two Page 17
