“No. At least his name isn’t Italian. But isn’t there an Irish mafia?”
Al laughed. “Perhaps, but that’s beyond that my limited knowledge. This isn’t like you, Jackie. What’s the matter?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Al. Maybe you’re right. I’m alone too much, and I have nothing but time on my hands.” I dropped my head back to rest on the top of the bench. “Leesa says I should go back to New York for a while. I wonder if I should consider it.”
“Not for good? We’d miss you too much if you moved away. But a little trip probably wouldn’t hurt you. Go before it gets cold up there. You don’t want to get stuck in the snow.”
“I guess.” The idea didn’t appeal to me at all. I tried to convince myself that my reluctance had nothing to do with Lucas. “But we need to start your cookbook. I can’t leave right now.”
Al studied me. “You know what I think? I think you should go home, march over to the man’s house and ask him out to dinner. Bring him here, and we’ll fix you up right, huh? Tell him you want to get to know him better, welcome him to Florida. Who in his right mind could say no to you, mia bella?”
I stood and bent over the side of the booth to kiss his worn cheek. “And this is why I love you, Al. Why on earth weren’t you born fifty years later?”
“Ah, did you ever think maybe you were born too late instead? But no, cara, I was meant to be with Elisabett. . .and there is someone out there for you, too.” He winked and patted my hand. “Closer than you think, I bet.”
“Sure, and with my luck, it’ll turn out he really is in the mafia, and I’ll have to decide between life on the run or living without my one true love.”
“Don’t talk like that.” Al glanced around again. “Listen to me now, Jackie, you’re half-joking, but even around here, there’re people who take that very seriously. People you don’t want to meet, and me, neither. So watch what you say.” He stood up next to me and jabbed me in the ribs with his elbow. “Capiche?”
“Yes, sir.” I hiked my purse onto my shoulder. “Add this to my tab, please?”
“You got it. And give me a call if you’re going to come in tonight with the neighbor. I want to save you a good table.”
“Will do. Let’s plan to meet on Monday at three to start planning the cookbook, okay? I’ll bring my laptop and some notes. You just bring your recipes.”
Al beamed. “I cannot wait to tell the grandchildren that Poppy is going to be published. They’ll never believe it.”
“Well, pretty soon you’ll be making the rounds of cooking shows, having signings at bookstores. . .I’ll be cooking your food to review in my column. You’re going to be huge, Al. And we’ll all be able to say we knew you when.” I blew him a kiss. “See you tonight. Maybe.”
I talked myself into and out of asking Lucas to dinner on my drive home.
“You can do this. You’re a strong, confident twenty-first century woman. You’re not a little girl. You’ve dated before. Just march right over there, smile big and say, ‘Hey, Lucas. I’d like to take you to dinner tonight. I’ll pick you up at six.’”
At the next stop light, though, the strong, confident woman fled the scene and left the freaked-out me behind.
“No way I can do this. I can barely string together two words when I’m talking to him. I don’t make sense. I just fall off porches into bushes. Besides, if he wanted to eat dinner with me, he’d ask. The guy does the asking. And he just moved here. Like, just. He probably still doesn’t have all his crap unpacked, and I’m asking him on a freaking date? Nope.”
I turned into my driveway, and the choice about talking to Lucas was taken out of my hands. He stood at my front door, my basket in his hand as he pushed on the doorbell. My stomach rolled over. Lucas heard the car and turned, bracing his body, his face rigid. He was so clearly in a defensive stance that for a moment, I sat in the car and gaped.
When he realized it was me, he relaxed a little bit, arranging his face into careful neutrality and leaning against the side of my house. But I noticed he kept a white-knuckle grip on the handle of my basket.
I climbed out of the car, moving slowly, my eyes never leaving him. Something crackled in the air between us: an electricity and pull unlike any I’d ever known. Lucas didn’t look away, but when I came within a few feet of the porch, he managed a smile.
“Hey. I was just returning your basket. And your dishes, of course. I didn’t know if anyone was at home.”
“Just Makani.” I dug in my purse to find the house keys. “I ran over to Leone’s to eat lunch. Come on in.” I wasn’t making that optional as I unlocked the door and swung it open. “Have you been to Leone’s yet? It’s the diner right outside Golden Rays. Best Italian food in Palm Dunes.”
Lucas followed me inside. “No, I haven’t been out much since I moved. You know, unpacking and setting everything up is time-consuming.” I was aware of him checking out the living room as I hung my keys on the hook inside the door and set my handbag in the closet, but I didn’t say anything else until I turned to face him again.
“How was the chicken?” I held out my hand for the basket. “Not too much garlic for you, I hope.”
“Not at all. It was perfect.” His fingers were warm beneath mine on the handle. “I enjoyed it. The only thing that would’ve made it better was company. I was really rude yesterday when you came by. I’m sorry I didn’t invite you in to eat with me.”
A kind of gladness swelled within me. “That’s okay. It was just meant to help you on your first night in a new place, not so you had to entertain me.” Now would be the perfect opening to invite him to eat with me tonight. I knew it, but I couldn’t get out the words.
Lucas raked his hand over his hair. “I appreciate that. And I want you to know that under other circumstances, I’d love to have dinner with you. Get to know you more. I’m sure the fact that we’re both sort of. . .anomalies in this neighborhood might give people certain ideas. And you seem to be a nice person. But right now, I’ve got stuff going on. I just—”
The bottom fell out of my stomach, and the room spun just slightly off-kilter. “Whoa, whoa. Please. Just hold it right there. What are you saying?”
Lucas stared at me, his brows drawn over his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be rude or hurtful. But I think it’s best to be honest with you from the beginning.”
“What made you think you had to be?” Damn it, tears of humiliation were forming in my eyes. This was ridiculous. I was too old to cry over a man I’d just met.
If Lucas had seemed uncomfortable before, now he looked downright pained. “I didn’t want to say anything. . .but a few of your neighbors stopped in to see me today. They all mentioned how excited you were to have me here, living next to you, and that this could be your chance—look, I don’t want to make you feel bad. I’m sure they meant well, and like I said, if things were different, I’d be really happy to take you out. Get to know you. But the way things are now, I just can’t involve anyone else. It wouldn’t be fair.”
I closed my eyes. My surrogate family, the people who loved me and watched out for me. . .of course they’d taken matters into their own hands and visited Lucas today. They’d thought they were doing the right thing. I wasn’t sure I’d ever been more touched and mortified at the same time.
“Look, Lucas, I think there’s been some miscommunication. I brought you food last night because I had to make that recipe, and I thought it would be the neighborly thing to do. I’d have made dinner for you whether you were eighty or a woman. Plus, I felt bad about my dog running into your yard. But I promise you, I’m not hatching some scheme to trap you into—into dating me. Liking me, I guess. You’re under no obligation here.”
Lucas frowned. “But Mrs. MacConnelly and Mr. Rivers said. . .” He shook his head. “Okay, you know what? I’m just going to shut up right now. Obviously there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.” He took a step back away from me, toward the front door. “I’ll say thank you for making me
dinner, like I should’ve done from the beginning. And I’ll leave it at that. Let’s forget I ever said anything else. I’m sure I’ll see you sometime.” He wheeled around and headed toward the door.
I should’ve kept my mouth shut and let him go. But apparently strong, confident me had decided it was time to make herself heard.
“Why?”
Lucas stopped in mid-step, but he didn’t turn around. He braced one hand on the corner of the wall. “Why what?”
“Why wouldn’t it be fair to get to know me right now? Why aren’t you free to have dinner with me, if you want?”
He began to answer, but I interrupted and kept talking.
“I mean, if I’m not your type, that’s okay. But you haven’t gotten to know me, so how can you be sure about that? All you can say for certain is that I cook—and actually, I’m a hell of a cook—and I’m a columnist, and I live right smack in the middle of a community of old people, and I’m a klutz who falls into bushes. I guess if you’re used to dating twenty-something supermodels, I might not appeal to you. But that’s all you have to say. It doesn’t have to be such a big deal.”
Lucas laughed, a harsh bark devoid of humor. “Believe me, I don’t date supermodels. I’m sure you’re a terrific person, Jackie. What I’ve seen of you so far, I like. You’re funny and interesting, and of course you’re damned beautiful.” He made a sound, deep in his chest that almost sounded like a growl. “It’s complicated. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s my issues, and like I said. . .complicated.”
Complicated. “Like crazy ex-girlfriend complicated? Or you have some rare disease? Or you’re in witness protection? Or you’re on a reality show, and you have to hide out until it airs and we find out you didn’t get a rose?”
He turned around to face me again. “I’m not sure what the hell that means, but no. I can’t give you any details. I don’t think it’s safe to get you involved, not when I myself don’t even—” His face contorted, and his fingers gripped the wall. “I need to go. I’m sorry, Jackie. I have to leave now.”
“But—” Whatever was going to come out of my mouth next was lost in the slamming of my front door. I stumbled to the window and watched Lucas sprint across the grass to his own porch, where he darted inside.
I sat down on the edge of my couch, my head spinning. What the hell was that? It was almost as though he’d gotten some internal signal, something that pained him. That would fit into the mystery-illness scenario, but he didn’t look sick as he ran across our yards. And he said it wasn’t safe to get me involved. But it couldn’t be a matter of exposing me to a sickness since he wasn’t afraid to be in the same house as me.
We hadn’t even broached the topic of Nichelle and blood delivery. If anything, I had more questions than I’d had before our little talk.
I flopped back onto the sofa to take stock of what I’d learned. He’d said he’d ask me out if it weren’t for this complication. He found me interesting and funny and—I grinned—beautiful. No, not just beautiful, but damned beautiful. His eyes had been open and honest as he’d said that, so I didn’t think it was a line. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to say that if it wasn’t how he felt; he sure wasn’t trying to get into my bed, or if he was, he had the most roundabout route of any guy I’d ever met.
Unless he had a beeper hidden on him somewhere that alerted him to mob danger, I thought Lucas’s abrupt departure made the mafia scenario more unlikely. Which meant I was right back at square one. . .except now, I knew he found me attractive. Damned beautiful.
I held those words close to me all the rest of the day while I worked on preparing my coq au vin column to submit to my editor, perused the next cookbook in line for review and did my daily chores. All the while, I kept my eye on the house next door, watching for any movement, any visitors, or any more deliveries. There was nothing. The windows stayed dark as night fell, and when I finally gave up and went to bed at midnight, nothing stirred at all at Lucas’s house. It was as though he had gone inside and vanished.
***
“MRS. MAC, I cannot believe you did that. You went to his house and basically told Lucas he needed to ask me out? What came over you?”
We were standing in the narrow slice of grass that divided my house from hers. Mrs. Mac wore her gardening hat, as she’d been weeding her flowers when I came out to confront her.
“Oh, Jackie.” She twisted off her gloves and glanced up me, guilt in her eyes. “I don’t know what came over us. We met for breakfast at Leone’s, and then we all went over to Sheila’s to play gin. And one thing led to another, and I made us Bloody Marys. The next thing I knew, I was standing on the new man’s porch, telling him what he’d be missing if he didn’t ask you out. I’m sorry, honey.”
I blew out a sigh. “You made the drinks, Mrs. Mac? Haven’t we talked about that?” I loved this woman like she was my own grandma, but a bartender she was not. Her cocktail parties were legendary for the strength of the drinks. My dad privately called her Heavy-Handed Anna.
“I know, but no one else volunteered, and none of us was driving, so I thought it’d be okay.” She looked positively contrite, and I knew I couldn’t hold it against her.
“It’s all right.” I patted her shoulder. “I know you meant well. It just put Lucas in a bad position. And I’m afraid he thought I put you up to it.”
“Oh, no.” She shook her head. “No, I specifically remember that we all told him that you didn’t know we were coming to see him. Earl even told him you’d probably be really mad if you knew it.”
“Well, there’s that.” I swiped a hand across my forehead. “Don’t worry. He made it crystal clear to me that he’s not interested.” That wasn’t true, strictly speaking, but trying to explain something I didn’t understand myself seemed like a losing battle.
“That’s ridiculous. How could he not be interested in you?” Mrs. Mac put her hands to her hips and pursed her mouth.
“Step down, lady. I see that look in your eyes. Just let it go. I don’t need any of you to fight my battles or find me a boyfriend. I might be younger than you, but I’m a big girl, all the same.” I cocked my head at her. “Got it?”
She nodded. “Of course, Jackie. I won’t do anything else.” She held up her right hand in a loose approximation of the Girl Scout pledge position and nodded, her eyes wide.
“Okay.” I kissed her smooth cheek. “You’re off the hook. And I have a new cookbook to check out. Just arrived in the mail. I’ve got to see what epicurean delights I’ll be sharing with my loyal readers next week.”
The idea of loyal followers reminded me of Nichelle and her visit the other night. I’d awoken this morning determined to put Lucas, his mysterious complications and how damned beautiful he found me out of my mind. I didn’t need drama, and I didn’t need to throw myself at any man. At least, that is what strong, confident me said. But it didn’t mean my curiosity had died. I still wanted to know what Nichelle had in her cooler and why Lucas needed it.
I managed to shove it all aside and dig into the new cookbook. For a change, this one was a straightforward book of recipes, all centered around eating better, using organic ingredients and whole foods. It was a movement that intrigued me; I liked the idea of locally grown vegetables and fresh baked bread, grain fed beef and happy chickens. At the same time, I didn’t want anyone taking away my potato chips and onion dip. It was a balance.
Finally, I found a vegetable fricassee recipe that appealed to me. I tried to post a variety of food in my column, and I was about due for a non-meat dish. Most of the ingredients were ones I could get at the farmers’ market just outside town, so I made a list, grabbed my purse and headed to the car.
Just as I stepped out the front door, a sleek blue Thunderbird purred to the curb in front of the house next to mine. I stood frozen as I watched a petite woman with nearly white-blonde hair emerge and walk toward Lucas’s front door. She wore large sunglasses on her small face, and she moved with purpose and precision. Her black skirt
ended several inches above her knees, and even though it was close to ninety degrees, she’d paired the skirt with a matching unstructured jacket that swung around her slim hips. I would’ve been drenched with sweat, but she looked as though she’d just stepped out of the frozen foods section.
Although I hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, my impression was that she couldn’t have been more than twenty-five. Something akin to jealousy sizzled in my gut.
I didn’t move as she rang the doorbell. Within seconds, Lucas opened the door and stepped onto the porch. I heard his voice rise in what sounded like glad welcome, and after the barest of hesitations, he hugged her.
It could be his sister. Or his niece, even. Or a cousin. An old friend. An ex-lover.
Lucas stood aside, holding out his arm to let the girl go into the house ahead of him. He followed, but before he did, he glanced in my direction, at my house. If he saw me standing in the shadows of my porch, he didn’t give any indication before he went inside.
Once he was out of sight, I finally unfroze. Stomping down to my practical silver sedan, the complete opposite of the dream machine parked at my neighbor’s house, I climbed in and slammed the door.
I drove on autopilot all the way to the Drummond farm. It had stung to see Lucas greeting the gorgeous young blonde, more than it should have. I reminded myself that I’d only met this man two days before. I didn’t know him. Anything I’d felt for him was imagined. It meant nothing.
“It’s your pride that’s hurt,” I muttered as I pulled into the farm stand. “And your crazy imagination. This kind of thing doesn’t happen in real life. It’s not all perfect meet-cutes and happily-ever-afters. Pull up your damned big girl pants and get over it.”
Death Fricassee Page 5
