Cut to the Chaise

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Cut to the Chaise Page 17

by Karen Rose Smith

Her father had adopted the Malamute that had belonged to a friend who had died. Her dad and Blitz had bonded, and were practically inseparable.

  “Once you and Grant are married, Lady and Patches will be together all the time,” Nikki commented.

  “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll have to work that out. When Grant goes downtown to his office, he often takes Patches along. It will do Lady and Patches good to have a change of scene.”

  “Just like humans,” Nikki said. “Let’s go look at the space.”

  As soon as Caprice walked in to the empty building, she knew why Nikki liked it. It had plenty of windows, both in the front and in the back. It was the last store space in the row so it even had high windows on the outside wall.

  “I like the amount of light,” Caprice told her as she walked around. “But it’s not much to look at.” All of the appliances had been torn out.

  Caprice said, “I can imagine a French café wouldn’t do well in Kismet. I doubt if we have many French food connoisseurs here.”

  “Isn’t that stereotyping?” Nikki asked, trying to hide a smile.

  “We like Italian food, so of course I think there’s a market for that, and there’s definitely a market for Chinese. But the other restaurants in Kismet? We’re talking subs, burgers, and pizza.”

  “Put pizza in your Italian category,” Nikki reminded her.

  “You know what I mean.” Caprice glanced around the space again. “It’s going to cost you to put appliances in here. I know what kind of appliances you’re going to want.”

  “It’s not a matter of wanting, it’s matter of needing. I have to have the right equipment to cook as I want to.”

  “I suppose that’s true. You’re just going to cook here, correct? You’re not going to have tables.”

  “No tables. We’re not opening a restaurant. We’re a catering company, just like our title Catered Capers says. I think I will wall off a portion of this to use as an employee lounge.”

  “Do you have the funds to invest in this?”

  “I’ve been saving. Why do you think I’ve been cooking out of my condo for so long? The past year, business has really picked up. You know I don’t spend money on anything frivolous.”

  No, she didn’t. Nikki had always been the economical one.

  “Plus, I’m going to get a loan,” Nikki went on. “Brett said if the bank won’t approve as much as I want, he’ll lend me some. I don’t really want to take him up on that offer. But if I have to, I will.”

  “Have you shown Brett the space?”

  “Do you think I should?”

  At first Caprice thought Nikki was joking, but when she looked into her sister’s eyes, she realized she wasn’t. “Just how serious are you and Brett?”

  Nikki walked a few feet away and paced back and forth. “I’m not sure.”

  “If I ask him that question, will I get the same answer?”

  “Don’t you dare ask him that,” Nikki protested.

  “It was a hypothetical question.”

  “Then hypothetically speaking, he’d probably give you the same answer I did,” Nikki commented.

  “You know, sometimes I think the two of you should go away for a weekend and talk, day and night.”

  “I don’t know if he’d do that.”

  “You can ask him.”

  Nikki fidgeted with the shoulder strap on her purse. “Yes, I guess I could. But if I have to ask— don’t you think that says something about our relationship?”

  “What if he asked you?”

  “I’d go.”

  “So why is it so different if you ask him?”

  “Because I think I’ve made it more clear how I feel.”

  “Really?” Caprice asked doubtfully. “I don’t think either of you are taking steps forward.”

  “He’s had murder investigations to deal with. That limits our time together.”

  “You make time for what’s important to you.”

  “Yeah, I guess so, and so does he.”

  Impasse. “Maybe my wedding will put some ideas in his head,” Caprice suggested.

  “Or make him run for the hills.”

  Caprice shrugged. “Then at least you’d know.” Nikki spun around. “I guess you’re right. The thing is I don’t believe Brett is swayed by weddings or romantic movies or anything like that. And if there’s something in his past he’s not telling me . . .”

  “Do you think that’s what keeps him guarded and keeps him believing that you won’t stick around because he’s a cop?”

  “I know that’s what I need to explore,” Nikki said with some exasperation. “But I don’t want to push him too hard. He might just . . . walk away.”

  Caprice’s cell phone played. She pulled it from her pocket. “It’s Mom. She should be in class, shouldn’t she?” Their mom was an English teacher at the local high school.

  “Unless she’s on a break between classes,” Nikki reminded Caprice.

  Caprice swiped her finger across her phone and accepted the call. “Hi, Mom. Are you calling me to tell me tonight’s not convenient to keep Lady?”

  “No, tonight’s just fine. But when I checked my phone at lunch, I had a message from Grant’s mother. So I called her back.”

  A little uh-oh went off in Caprice’s head, but she stayed silent. As she expected, her mom continued, “I hope we didn’t make a mistake asking the Weatherfords to stay with us.”

  “Why do you think it’s a mistake?”

  “Grant’s parents learned that a murder had taken place at the winery. I got an earful about how they’re not sure the reception should be there.”

  She heard her mother sigh. “His parents are very opinionated.”

  Amused by that conclusion, Caprice returned, “And you and Dad aren’t?”

  Again there was silence until her mother chuckled. “I suppose everybody has strong opinions at some point or another. And you’re right, we do say what we think. So does Nana. And that’s one reason why I don’t know if this is going to work out.”

  “Grant’s brother is going to stay at Grant’s townhouse. It’s a nice thing you’re doing, asking the Weatherfords to stay with you. You and Dad and Nana just do your best. Grant and I will deal with the fallout.”

  “Do you think there will be fallout, even if your dad and I are as tactful as we can possibly be?”

  “I truly don’t know, Mom. Grant’s dad has a habit of being critical. My advice would be don’t rise to any bait.”

  “In-law advice from my daughter. What is the world coming to?”

  Caprice laughed at the sarcasm in her mom’s voice. “It will all be fine. Grant and I are determined not to get ruffled by anything. You and Dad and Nana should make that vow too. We’ll take everything about the wedding and the reception an hour at a time. We’ll all enjoy it.”

  “Do you have your playlist finished yet?” her mom asked.

  “I’ve added For Sentimental Reasons by Nat King Cole. It’s coming along.”

  “You might have to put your playlist on my phone,” her mother joked.

  “I’d be glad to do that for you.”

  “All right. I’d better get going before my class arrives. I’ll see you and Lady tonight.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  “I love you too, honey.”

  After Caprice ended the call, Nikki asked, “Trouble?”

  “That depends. Do you think Mom or Dad or Nana can hold their temper if Grant’s father criticizes something about the house or the way they run it?”

  “I think for your sake and Grant’s, they’ll be on their best behavior. They’ll treat his parents like valued guests.”

  But Caprice was still worried whether or not she’d ever have a good relationship with her in-laws.

  Chapter Fifteen

  When Grant arrived for dinner that evening, Caprice wasn’t sure what to tell him about her mom’s phone call. In the kitchen, as she spooned beef teriyaki over wild rice, she glanced at Grant who was now sitting at
the table. Patches led Lady in a run around the circle of her downstairs. At least Mirabelle and Sophia weren’t following them.

  When the two cockers didn’t return to the kitchen, she supposed they’d found a toy to play with . . . or a feline to bother. They were all getting used to each other and that was a good thing. Why couldn’t humans adjust as well as animals?

  She brought the plates with the stir-fry to the table. Grant had poured tall glasses of iced tea. He picked his up and took a few swallows. “Sweetener is just right,” he said. “I like that bit of lemon too.”

  “Good.” She was still thinking about what she should tell him.

  As they ate, Grant told her about his day. He’d taken Patches to the office with him, so he related how his clients had reacted to him. Most of it was good. Patches had to stay with Giselle at her desk during one client interview because the man was allergic to dogs.

  “Patches did pretty well, but I think that was because Giselle gave him treats every five to ten minutes,” Grant related in a wry tone.

  Caprice laughed. “That’s one way to keep a friend close.”

  Grant grinned at her as he pushed his plate away. That grin always melted her insides. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings or seem critical of his parents. On the other hand, they’d always been honest with each other, even when it wasn’t easy.

  “I’ve told you all about my day, now why don’t you tell me about yours?” he prompted.

  “Do you want coffee?” she asked.

  “No, I still have iced tea. I’m good.”

  “Chocolate mousse?”

  “No, not right now. I think you’re stalling. What happened today?”

  She took a deep breath and started with something easy. “I learned more about Vivian. Just personal stuff about why William divorced her and why she didn’t stay around Kismet.”

  “Anything Brett needs to know?”

  Caprice shook her head. “I doubt it.”

  “Nikki was with you?”

  “She was. After we went to the winery, we looked at space for Catered Capers. I think she found something she likes.”

  Grant was still studying her with a steadfast look that she knew well. He was trying to read her mind. “Is that all you want to tell me?”

  “No. But what I have to say is sticky.”

  “Sticky . . . as in I probably won’t like it?”

  “You probably won’t, and I don’t want to say the wrong thing.” Her voice caught. Talking about their parents simply wasn’t easy.

  “Since when did we worry about saying the wrong thing?” His brows arched and his face registered surprise.

  When he reached across the table and took her hand, Caprice began with, “My mother called me.”

  Grant cocked his head as if that could make him listen better. “Is she still trying to coax you to change the wedding reception to someplace other than Rambling Vines?”

  “She’s not the only one,” Caprice murmured.

  “I don’t understand.” He was perplexed by her rambling explanation. She’d better just say what she had to say. “Mom had a message from your mother. She called her back over her lunch break.”

  As if Grant could see where this was headed, he pulled back his hand. “And?”

  Caprice kept her gaze on his. “My mom thinks your parents accepting my parents’ invitation to stay with them could be a mistake.”

  “Because?” Grant pressed, his face expressionless.

  Instead of answering him directly, she asked, “Did you tell your parents that the murder was in the tasting room at Rambling Vines?”

  “No. But my dad keeps up with the goings on in Kismet ever since I told him I was engaged to you. Maybe he thought I’d come back to Vermont to practice law. I don’t know. Now he realizes we’re going to make a life here. So he subscribed to the Kismet Crier. He possibly read about the murder in the newspaper.”

  “I see,” she said, not really wanting to say more.

  “Why does your mom think asking my parents to stay with them is a mistake? I can still reserve a room for them somewhere.”

  “No, don’t do that. My mom wants them there. It’s just that she’s a little concerned. She mentioned that they seemed very opinionated.”

  As Grant was about to say something, she cut in. “And I said something to Mom to the effect that she and Dad and Nana are too.”

  He nodded as if he approved.

  “But, Grant, she said your mom went on and on about why we should change our reception from Rambling Vines to somewhere else.”

  “Would that be so awful if we changed it to somewhere else?” Grant asked her.

  She was tired of everyone second-guessing her . . . second-guessing them. “The reception is all planned down to the color of the tablecloths and the type of flowers. Nikki knows where she’s going to set up, and I like the events room. Don’t you?”

  “Sure I do,” he said patiently. “Or I never would have agreed to have it there. But with the murder and the publicity—what if we end up with reporters there?”

  “They can report on our wedding.” She knew her voice had gone up in volume because Lady came barreling in, stopped at her chair, and looked up at her.

  “We don’t want our reception ruined,” Grant protested.

  “How will it be ruined if friends and family and relatives are all in that room with us? It’s bad enough Roz and Vince are on the outs. The murder was in the tasting room. That has nothing to do with the events room. They’re in separate buildings.” She knew her temper had just flared but she didn’t know what to do about it. Maybe all the planning was getting to her. She just hated to think about starting over somewhere else.

  Grant rose to his feet. “You think my mom’s opinionated, but you are too.”

  “I’m the bride. I have a right to be opinionated.”

  As if it was taking all of his self-control not to say what he really thought, Grant said, “I think I’d better leave. When you calm down, maybe we can talk about this more rationally.”

  Nothing else he said could have been more incendiary. “Rationally? That’s not what you mean. You mean unemotionally. Just say what you want to say, Grant. Don’t keep it in or we’ll end up like Vince and Roz.” She felt close to tears and that wouldn’t do at all.

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “You want me to say what I think? Fine, I will. I don’t think your parents really want my parents to stay with them. They’re just doing it to look good.”

  That assessment added more fuel to her temper’s fire. “My parents don’t do things to look good. They asked your parents to stay there because they felt it was the right thing to do.”

  “So the wrong thing would be for our parents to spend their time separately so there isn’t tension between them?” he shot back.

  “We have to do something about that tension,” Caprice said. “Avoiding each other isn’t going to end it.”

  “Our parents confronting each other isn’t going to do it either.” His voice had risen now too, and Patches was looking to him and then Caprice as if he didn’t understand what was going on at all.

  “When we’re married,” Caprice insisted, “they’ll be related in a way. It would be good if they start understanding each other.”

  “My father will never understand your love for animals or my penchant for taking Patches to work with me. All the talk in the world isn’t going to change that.”

  Grant’s vehemence about that conclusion stoked worry that had begun winding inside of her at the start of this argument. “What else aren’t they going to understand?” she demanded.

  His answer was quick in coming. “Why I didn’t stay with Naomi. Why I chose to seek an annulment.”

  “Why you chose to marry me?” she added. “Maybe they would have liked to pick out the right woman for you. Maybe your mother thinks the right woman for you this time is Sharon Stillman. When we went to visit your parents after Christmas, your mother couldn’t say enough good
things about her.”

  “I knew Sharon in high school. My mother knows her parents. They’ve had a long relationship. You’re not jealous, are you?”

  “Jealous? No. I was hurt and disappointed. Why can’t your mother see my good qualities? She asked me more than once why I wear retro clothes. She also doesn’t understand why anyone would want to stage a house.”

  Grant uncrossed his arms and ran his hand across his forehead as if a headache had started there. “They’ve always lived in a small town, Caprice.”

  “So have I.”

  “You’ve been to college,” he countered. “You have a career. You know what big city life is like. You visited New York and D.C. and Baltimore. You’re well-spoken and you expect others to think like you do.”

  That last part jabbed at her heart and hurt. “Oh, really. Then why are you marrying me? I believed you and I thought about most things in the same way. Am I wrong about that?”

  Grant raked his fingers through his hair, went toward the dining room and snapped his fingers at Patches. “Come on, boy. We’re going home.”

  “That’s just great, Grant. Walk out so we can’t resolve this.”

  “I don’t think we can resolve anything tonight.”

  Caprice couldn’t help but think, Maybe we won’t resolve it ever. She felt like bursting into tears. She didn’t walk with Grant to the living room to get his jacket. As she blinked really fast, she didn’t even say good-bye. If she did, she’d cry, and she was not going to break down and cry in front of him. He’d think she was being irrational. Maybe he needed to learn the difference between emotional and irrational.

  As she heard the front door close on Grant and Patches, she realized they’d never had an argument like this before. Would he always walk away when something was too difficult to discuss?

  That question made her heartsick.

  * * *

  Caprice couldn’t stop thinking about her argument with Grant, and it kept her up most of the night. She reached for her phone to text him so many times, but texting just didn’t seem to be a solution. She thought about calling him, but she was afraid she’d hear the anger in his voice that she’d heard last night. She could confront his anger. That wasn’t the problem. It was just that he’d never used that tone with her before. Then again, when she’d blurted out everything she’d been thinking and feeling, she realized she’d never used that tone with him before, either.

 

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