“I must run into it at least once a week. That hitch is evil incarnate.” Still wincing, he pulled down the garage door and then took her arm. Either the storm had intensified or it just seemed more brutal this near to the lake. With his head tucked into his shoulders, Ezra led her up a narrow path to the house.
“I don’t think I would recognize your house without a sheet of snow in front of it.” She had to raise her voice to be heard above the howls of wind sweeping in off the lake.
“The storm should have been letting up by now,” he shouted back.
They hurried up the steps. In the house, they were greeted by howling even lustier than that outside. Ezra jerked off his boots and tossed a curt ‘excuse me’ over his shoulder to Claudia. He pulled open a door and the sound heightened to a roar.
On the other side sat a black and tan bloodhound, nose pointed to the ceiling as it proclaimed soul-deep misery. The opened door caught her eye and it stopped in mid-bay. The dog looked pleased.
“Quit acting as though you’ve been locked in for a month on bread and water, Sapphira, and come meet Claudia.”
Sapphira wriggled her backside and slowly, slowly raised it from the floor. She took her time at Ezra, nosing suspiciously around his socks and pants.
“That’s enough. I haven’t been frolicking with any other canines.”
He tugged her gently by the collar, and with an equitable sneeze she headed to Claudia, where she repeated the ecstatic inhalation of a new and tantalizing human aroma.
Claudia knelt before the old bloodhound, and in spite of a very definite doggy aroma, let Sapphira snuffle. “She’s a darling! Why didn’t I see her last time I was here?”
Ezra, hanging up his coat and hat, held out a hand for hers. “I had her in the back, in the pound. The walls are pretty soundproofed, but I’m still surprised you didn’t hear her complaining. She was actually Tom Ebenezer’s dog. You remember. Bernice’s husband? Poor old girl is almost deaf after too many gunshots right next to her ears.”
Claudia ran her fingers gently down those ears, and Sapphira gazed at her with adoration. She padded alongside as Claudia settled onto the flowered sofa and parked at her feet, looking sideways out of her deep-set diamond eyes. Claudia took the hint and began scratching the wrinkled folds along her neck.
Ezra busied himself rousting the smoldering fire back into action. He busied himself getting lemonade and a tray of artfully arranged crackers and cheese, and he busied himself serving Claudia, straightening the rug and patting distractedly at his pockets. Claudia and Sapphira watched in amusement. Claudia showed mercy first. “Ezra, I sat on the sofa instead of the rocker on purpose. So you could sit next to me.”
“Of course.” Ezra smoothed his hair and checked his pockets again. “Only makes sense.” He positioned himself to sit near her. “This is a date, right?” He stopped in midair to position himself several inches away, hesitated, and moved closer. “We can sit next to each other.”
Sapphira, disgusted, pitched in and drove her soggy muzzle into his solar plexus. He collapsed onto the cushion half an inch from Claudia’s shoulder.
“Why didn’t you introduce me to this delightful dog last time?” she asked again, redoubling her massage of the furrowed neck. Sapphira laid a jowled chin on Claudia’s knee and waited for the answer.
“Delightful dog? She’s lazy, a fussy eater, and when she swings her head her saliva splashes a ten-foot swath around the room.”
Claudia and Sapphira waited patiently.
“And because I already knew that I wouldn’t be able to stand it if you didn’t like her.”
FOURTEEN
The storm, her host assured her, certainly would clear up by eight o’clock. It seemed in no hurry to leave, and intensified throughout their dinner, but couldn’t distract Claudia from the excellent meal. Ezra decreed there would be no discussion of Roi, Peter, or even Amos while they ate. She was to focus on the food. He began with a creamy red pepper soup and some divinely crusty bread followed by salmon in dill sauce, green beans with butter and walnuts, and boiled red potatoes. Everything was served with style and a touch of self-satisfaction.
The only break in his complacency came when Claudia poked at the walnuts and asked, “What if I told you I’m allergic to nuts?”
His eyes widened and he stood up so quickly the water sloshed in the stemware.
“Oh, no! Epipen allergic? Or just hives? Give me your plate. I’ll dump the whole thing in case the nuts touched anything else.”
Claudia put a restraining hand on his wrist.
“Ezra, I am so sorry! I was kidding, I have zero allergies, and I would fight you for everything on this plate.”
He sat down, mollified. “You’re enjoying the meal?”
“Enjoy’ is a meek term for the exploits of my culinary senses. I thought you didn’t really cook much?”
He played with his fork before he looked her in the eye. “The beans come from my mom’s garden via the freezer, and she gave me written step-by-step instructions on how to prepare them. She also made the sauce for the salmon, which came from my broiler via my freezer via Lake Superior and my superior fishing skills, I’ll have you know. Dad grows the potatoes, and even I can’t ruin boiled potatoes. The soup came from Blossom’s, but she won’t tell what’s in it and that is sort of a relief. Bread from my bread machine.”
“I’m impressed! And flattered at the thought you put into this meal. Even if you didn’t ask if I had any food issues.”
He mumbled to himself before responding. “I’m giving myself a little lecture about the importance of checking allergies or preferences. Especially since the brownies I made from scratch are full of hazelnuts and chocolate and some more chocolate with a few hazelnuts thrown on top, and real whipped cream. Nuts, dairy, wheat, and chocolate. I couldn’t have crammed in more problem foods if I tried.”
Claudia laughed. “The brownies sound heavenly. Between Ann’s breakfasts and dinners at Blossom’s and your dessert, I soon won’t be able to bend down and strap on skis.”
“Tell you what. I’ll let you work off your meal by helping me clear up and then walking into the living room to have coffee and dessert by the fire. Sound good?”
Never had Claudia enjoyed clearing up after a meal as much as she did working alongside Ezra. She stacked plates to bring to the sink, found plastic containers to hold leftovers, and wiped the table, all while trying to avoid falling onto Sapphira’s broad back. Thrills, she decided, occur in exotic settings or exciting circumstances while contentment crept along to flourish in domesticity.
Ezra told her he would take care of dishes in the morning before church. “But if you really want to contribute, would you mind whipping the cream for the brownies? Whipping cream scares me.”
Claudia poked in cupboards for mixer, bowl, and beaters, vanilla, and sugar, and in the refrigerator for the cream. While she beat it into soft mounds she watched the drifts outside climb against the window. Another couple of feet and she wouldn’t be able to see out at all. She drew Ezra’s attention to the accumulating snow. He frowned and reiterated, “Weather station said this would be over by now.”
Once the topping seemed satisfactorily stiff, she was sent into the living room to wait while he assembled the dessert.
“Take Sapphira too, will you? Oh, and if you don’t mind poking at the fire a little?”
The window in the stove showed the fire still burning with vigor, but Claudia, ever obedient, found a poker and opened the door with caution. She poked a few random places that seemed to neither help nor hurt the fire’s cause and then shut the door. She settled back on the sofa while Sapphira, lowering herself in cautious stages, finally sprawled in front of her.
By firelight, the living room looked different. The part of the lovely floor not covered by ugly throw rugs reflected light and softened the gaudy furniture. A particularly energetic flame leapt high, and the photo on the curved mantel caught and released a reflection. Claudia stepped over an a
lready-snoring Sapphira to get the photo and examine it by the lamp.
Ezra came in carrying a tray stacked with plates, mugs, a coffee pot, a platter of hefty brownies and a bowl of the whipped cream. Claudia noted with dismay that maybe she hadn’t whipped long enough. The snowy peaks were collapsing into a sodden puddle. He put the tray on the coffee table and sat on the sofa, patting the seat next to him.
Claudia brought the picture, a family portrait. A vigorous looking man, possibly in his late 60’s and with Ezra’s long, mobile face sat next to a rosy matron who wore her comfortable rolls with aplomb. Ranged alongside and behind them were several people, most unfamiliar to Claudia. She recognized a younger Lem, one arm on his father’s shoulder and the other around a beaming lady holding a baby. To his right a young man wearing a military uniform and a mischievous grin held a toddler, and next to him a girl who seemed barely out of her teens held the identical twin of that toddler. In the back row, Ezra, stood with a young woman in the curve of his arm. She had a cloud of smoky hair, huge long-lashed eyes, and a lovely figure. The mass of hair couldn’t hide the sagging left side of her face.
Claudia’s hands were numb from gripping the photo. Ezra loosened her fingers and laid the picture on his lap.
“This was the last picture we have of my brother before he was killed. He wasn’t even on active duty. The lousy helicopter crashed during a training exercise. I wouldn’t have a picture of my ex-wife up for any other reason. Did I tell you her name is Melody?”
Claudia wanted to tell him she knew, and that she knew all about the sacrifices he had made. She wanted to tell him how sorry she was that his brother was dead. She wanted to tell him Sapphira was the most wonderful dog in the world, and she wished the whipped cream hadn’t collapsed.
“So what did you go to graduate school for?” she asked brightly, reaching for a brownie. Ezra shook his head a little, as though not sure he had heard her correctly. He frowned, took the plate with the brownie out of her hand, and set it on the table. He was offended by her lack of sympathy. Or worse. Claudia couldn’t remember if she had heard about grad school from him or from Ann. Maybe he was wondering if she engaged in gossip. She took a breath to apologize and ask a meaningful question about something, anything else. But Ezra placed a finger on her mouth.
“Shhhh. Be very, very quiet,” he told her, and moved his finger to make way for his lips.
Claudia was very, very quiet.
It wasn’t a long kiss, a bit on the dry side, and not particularly passionate, but when Ezra released her—that was the only way to describe it—and handed her the brownie, she couldn’t hide her shaking hand. She didn’t care.
She settled back next to him, closing the half-inch gap so their shoulders touched. Ezra doused his brownie in cream, and took a breath to say something. Claudia put her finger to his mouth.
“Eat your brownie before it’s fully saturated.”
They ate in contented silence, broken only by Sapphira’s snorts, dream yips, and an occasional burp. Ezra nudged her with his foot during a particularly vocal sequence. “Even asleep she has no manners.”
“Don’t wake her,” Claudia protested. “Sounds as though she has a rabbit cornered. Can I pour you some coffee?”
“Please do. Would you like another brownie?”
“Oh no, I barely got the last one down. Can I help clean up the dessert plates?’
“Certainly not. May I have another kiss?”
“Certainly.”
Several heartbeats later they were back in their respective positions, but this time Ezra’s arm was around her shoulders, and she could feel him playing with a lock of her hair that had escaped its knot.
“Ecology, Aquatic Biology, and Fishery Science Biology,” he murmured.
“Excuse me?”
“That’s what I studied at graduate school. When Melody had some health problems, I dropped out. I was doing research on Lake Superior ecology. I did water quality assessments, migratory waterfowl studies, vegetation surveys, the whole shebang. I love it up here, and while I’m not part of the ecological lunatic fringe, I believe with all my heart this world is a gift. We shouldn’t mess around with good gifts.”
“Do you want to go back and finish grad school?”
He considered. “I’m not sure. I have a pretty satisfying life, and I’m on all kinds of committees and boards for the fish hatcheries and lakefront conservation and clean water programs. Some even pay me. I don’t mind if I’m not the expert. Just so the one telling me what to do knows his business. Speaking of experts,” he added, in a brisk change of mood, “I don’t trust Peter.”
“Neither do I. Does that surprise you? It surprises me a bit. I’m trying to be fair, but Peter is no north woodsman. And he isn’t particularly altruistic. He isn’t staying up here for me. and he certainly isn’t staying because he enjoys Barley in the winter.”
Ezra squeezed her shoulder and rose to put the photo back on the mantel. He glanced out the window and motioned her to stand by him. The windows must be well insulated and double paned, because she saw no frost build-up to scrape away as she’d had to do in her Chicago apartment. She couldn’t see anything though, and told Ezra so.
“I know, and that’s what’s worrying me. I have the front porch light on and you can’t even tell. We may as well sit and relax for a bit. I can’t take you into town until this lets up. It should be soon.”
Claudia hadn’t thought about heading back. The clock on the mantle showed 10:30. “Is that right?”
“Yep.”
“Goodness. This night has gone fast.”
“It isn’t over yet. I want to brainstorm more about Peter.” He led her back to the sofa. Ezra must have come too close to Sapphira’s tail because she growled in irritation but refused to open her eyes. Claudia sat, avoiding the splayed dog limbs.
“What do you think is going on?” she asked. “Why is he staying? I’m sure it has something to do with money or antiques, or a combination of the two.”
“I’ve given this a little thought. And please don’t take any of it the wrong way. Promise?”
“Promise.”
“There are two apparent reasons for his staying, at least as far as I can tell. Unless he is holding out for a reconciliation with you? No? That’s what I thought. Well, he either saw something that captured his interest, or what he accompanied up here has held his interest. Let’s start with the first premise. Where has he been since he came to Barley to find you?”
Claudia set down her coffee cup and looked at the ceiling.
“Well, he’s been to the Weary Traveler, the library, Blossom’s, the school—that’s all I know about. He’s only been here since Thursday.”
“Are you certain?”
She stared. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” he answered patiently, “do you have any proof other than his word that he didn’t get into town until Thursday? You parted ways on Monday, right? How do you know he wasn’t in town before that?”
“I guess I don’t. No one mentioned seeing him.”
Ezra shrugged this off. “That doesn’t mean anything. Unless he made himself known in a public place, he could possibly blend in. I’m guessing his was the black four-wheel-drive car in the inn parking lot? Plenty of people have those, and I doubt anyone would take particular note of Illinois plates. I’ve also seen his coat and hat. They’re identical to a dozen others up here. Heck, he looks like half the adult men in the area when he’s bundled up.”
“That would break his heart. Peter thinks he is head and shoulders above the ordinary man.”
“I hate to admit he does make a pretty dashing impression. We have no idea, though, if he got into town right on your heels, or really did come on Thursday. We can only accept as fact anything that can be corroborated. We know where he has been, and it’s possible he’s been to some other spots around town, although I can’t imagine which ones. He could be up here breaking into summer homes of the rich and famous, but that d
oesn’t seem his style.”
“No,” Claudia agreed, “quite unlikely. He did say Bud has some nice things. Maybe he ran across someone else’s treasure and figured the owner would be gullible enough to accept a lowball offer.”
Ezra shook his head. “No way. People up here are pretty knowledgeable about the value of their stuff. I’m thinking there may be something about that watch holding his interest.”
He waited, probably for her reaction, but the idea that he suspected Peter of a vested interest in the watch didn’t surprise her. Something, however, played around the edges of her mind, making her doubt Peter was staying in northern Wisconsin for the watch. She wished she could identify the source of the reservations and chose not to mention anything to Ezra. She smiled encouragement.
“I did some detective work on my own,” he said. “Don’t get too excited. It was interesting but still a dead end. I’ll tell you in a minute. What has Bud said about it? He knows antiques, even though furniture is his specialty.”
“Bud hasn’t seen it,” Claudia said slowly. “Ezra, you know what? Other than Peter no expert has seen that watch in decades. We just assumed the previous appraisals from years and years ago were correct.”
They looked at each other for a few seconds. Ezra stood up and groaned.
“If Peter is interested in the watch and it’s at the Traveler, we might as well just have handed it to him on a platter.”
Claudia pulled him back down on the sofa so quickly that Sapphira struggled to her feet, glared at them in contempt and hobbled off to the kitchen.
“What?” Ezra asked suspiciously as she took him by the shoulders. She gave him a firm, no-nonsense kiss on the forehead.
“And they accuse women of jumping to conclusions. First you decide he’s after the watch. Then you conclude, merely on the basis of your own mental prowess, that the watch is worth something. And finally, you assume I would ever again leave the watch anywhere.”
She reached into her purse and pulled the watch out of its velvet bag.
“What do you think of that?”
“Words fail me. Kisses on the other hand...”
Winter Watch Page 14