by Jill Winters
“Oh...yeah. Sometimes you can pick up a signal, but not always,” she explained. “I guess Nina didn't have her own network set up. I'm not sure.”
“No Internet connection?” Cameron blurted “That's crazy! I’m serious—you know how Thirty is the new Twenty?”
“Okay...” (Since her friend had recently turned thirty-one, she figured she’d be agreeable.)
“Well, Wireless is the new Air.”
She gave a laugh at that, and Trevor nodded. “I could see that.”
Just then her cell phone rang; she reached far back to grab it off the end table. “Hi, dad,” she said cheerfully.
“Hi, sweetie. You sound happy.” She filled him in on her friends' impromptu visit and her new dog, Puddle. “That's a big responsibility,” Anthony said.
“I know. Oh, you know what else happened today? Abel Kelling showed up at the house. Then he came and found me at the library, because I wasn't home. He was missing Aunt Nina and wanted to reminisce about her. Isn't that kind of random? But I guess he's pretty lonely without her.”
Anthony got quiet on the other end.
“Dad?”
“I don't like the sound of this,” he said finally.
“What do you mean?”
“Why should Abel Kelling show up at the house—your house?”
“Well—“
“Why try to reminisce with you of all people? It doesn't make sense, Nicole; I don't like it.”
“Dad, you make it sound so bad,” Nicole said, disbelieving. “I admit it's kind of weird, but he's probably going through some emotional thing. Is he retired? Because I'm thinking that maybe he's just bored, and I'm sure Aunt Nina's death left a huge void in his life.”
Anthony didn't touch the topic of Abel's emotional voids, but he did address the more concrete topic of his occupational status. “He is retired, yes, but I wouldn't say by choice.”
Nicole's eyes widened. “You mean he got fired?” Now she really felt sorry for the guy.
“No, his business failed. Now I don't have all the facts, but I do know that Abel was running his own hedge fund company for many years, but with the downturn in the economy, he struggled quite a bit, and ultimately, he just couldn't make it work. That's what my sources indicate anyway.”
“You have sources?”
“Your mother used to have me check up on him from time to time. Whatever I could find out. Since I work in finance, too, it's not difficult. And then after...” After the divorce, Nicole figured. “I suppose I was just curious on my own.”
“Why did mom have you check up on him in the first place?”
“Looking out for her sister, I suppose. You know I just did as I was told,” Anthony said with lighthearted deprecation. A charming notion, but not quite true overall. Nicole was pretty sure that her mother had never told Anthony to cheat on her, but he'd done it anyway. Sometimes Nicole wondered if it had been that one affair several years ago that did her parents' marriage in. If there had been more and what Gwen had or had not known. But of course, Nicole didn't truly want to know herself.
“Listen, maybe I should come down there,” her father suggested now. “Check out Abel's situation for myself.”
“Dad, you don't need to do that.”
“Sweetie, let me look out for you, let me help you.”
“You always do—and I appreciate it. But I think he's harmless. I mean, yes, it was odd that he wanted to be in the house when I wasn't there, but he let it drop. It's not like he pushed the issue or acted psychotic about it.”
“Well, if he comes around again, don't let him go in unattended.”
“I know—look, I remember how he acted at the reading of the will—like there was more he wanted or expected. You think I'm so gullible, but I remember. All I'm saying is that if Abel is lonely and missing Aunt Nina, what's the harm in meeting him for lunch in town?”
Rap, rap, rap.
“Oh, that's the back door. Dad, I've got to go, can I call you tomorrow?”
“All right, if you need me, call. Honestly, I think you might be in over your head with this inheritance. Why don't you come home to Boston, and I will hire some people to go down to Chatham and—”
“No, Dad. Don't make me annoyed please. I can handle this! I am not in over my head.”
Anthony backed off. “Okay, if you're sure. Just remember always to be cautious. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” When she hung up the phone, Cameron was looking at her. “What is it with the men in my life? They're always trying to protect me from the world.”
“Somebody's got to,” Cameron said. She smirked at him and left to answer the door. Michael was on the other side of it, holding a white paper bag. “For you,” he said.
“Me?” Smiling, she took it. “You don't have to bring offerings every time you come.” He reached to take it back, but she snatched it away before he could. “What is it?”
“Dessert. I got it to-go. Some kind of chocolate chip caramel crunch cake, I think.”
“Oh my God.” She clutched it. “I might even lick the bag.”
“Nice...” he said with a vaguely suggestive smile.
Automatically, she stepped back and Michael came forward, bringing his body up very close to hers. She breathed in the faint trace of his aftershave or whatever that masculine seductive scent was that she'd come to associate with Michael. Her pulse quickened as arousal pooled in her lower body. She wasn't quite sure how this would all go or if this attraction was mutual. What if her sister had been right? What if Michael already had a girlfriend?
“We’re watching a movie, come on.” She started to lead him toward the living room when Michael said, “You know what, I’ll meet you in there. I’m going to get a drink.”
“Okay,” Nicole said. “Put this in the fridge for me, will you,” she added, handing him the bag with the cake. And then left him alone in her kitchen.
Chapter Twenty-three
Like most goodbyes, the next morning's version was harder than it should have been. Trevor leaned down to give her a hug. “Take care, Nic. We'll call you later.”
“Are you sure you have to go already?” she asked plaintively, then hugged Cameron. “This was the best,” she murmured into his shoulder, “and thanks for my dog.”
Suddenly her throat got tight; tears crept with sharp little legs from behind her eyes. “Don't get upset,” Cameron said, squeezing her lightly, “we'll see you again soon.”
Once Cameron stepped back, Trevor handed Puddle back to Nicole. Automatically, the dog curled into her arms. “Shouldn’t she have more energy?” Nicole wondered aloud. “She seems so...lackadaisical.”
“She's fine,” Trevor assured her.
Nicole wasn't completely convinced. “Maybe it's the stress of the new environment,” she theorized. “Maybe she sleeps to escape?”
Cameron wrinkled up his face. “Doubtful. People sleep to escape. The rest of the animal kingdom runs to escape.”
Trevor tugged lightly on Nicole's ponytail, bringing her gaze away from Puddle's snout, which was buried in the crook of her elbow. “She's fine, no worries.” Trevor was so laid back about it, it was hard not to believe him.
“Before we go though...” Cameron said, picking up his duffel bag and slinging it into the backseat. “There's something we have to talk to you about.”
“What?”
Once Cameron slammed the car door shut, his face darkened—and all of a sudden even Trevor looked serious. “What's wrong?” Nicole said.
“It's about your friend.” Cameron jerked his head toward the backyard.
“Yeah,” Trevor spoke up. “Don't get too close to him, Nic.”
Her stomach sank. This could not be less what she wanted to hear. Immediately she feared that perhaps her friends knew something she didn't know—didn't want to know. “Why? You guys didn't like him?”
“It's not that,” Trevor said.
“We just don't trust him,” Cameron explained.
“So
mething about his whole story just doesn't map.”
“But—”
“C'mon, he spends his vacation on a boat, alone?” Cameron scoffed. “Who does he think he is, Hemingway?”
“Well, he was on his way somewhere,” Nicole argued, trying not to sound defensive. “It's not like he went out on the water to fish and ruminate over his lost youth.”
Even the most rudimentary references to Hemingway were sure to leave Trevor disengaged. But Cameron plowed on. “On his way to Nantucket. Right, sure. But who does that?”
Trevor cut in then, taking a gentler approach, sounding more diplomatic than confrontational. “Think about it, Nic. What regular, decent-looking guy in his twenties goes on a vacation alone? No way. He'd go away with a girl or maybe with his buddies. And he'd go in the summer when there's some action around here. Not in the middle of October when the Cape's a wasteland.”
“And what's up with the shaved head?” Cameron blurted. Trevor slanted him a questioning look; obviously the shaved head had not been on their list of talking points. “I'm just saying,” Cameron protested mildly. “It's like, you're a bad-ass, buddy, we get it.”
Frustrated and upset, Nicole swallowed down a sharp lump in her throat. She was hardly in a position to argue with them since she didn't know all that much about Michael herself. Only what he'd told her. And before her friends had come, that had been enough.
Finally she said, “You guys always do this!”
“Huh?”
“You never like anyone I like. I mean—not that I like him romantically or anything—but just in general.”
“That's not true,” Trevor said.
“Yes it is. I can't win with you two. You always make fun of me because I have no dating life and you say how maybe I like a guy a year. You tell me I'm a 'buttoned up librarian.' But then when I do like someone, you find a bunch of flaws.”
“I never called you a 'buttoned up librarian,'” Cameron said. “Maybe I've called you a hermit.”
“Maybe?”
“I'm the one who calls you a buttoned up librarian,” Trevor pointed out. “But that's because buttoned up librarians are hot.”
“The point is: this is not the first time this has happened.”
“So you do like him then?” Cameron pressed.
“What other time have we found flaws, Nic?” Trevor asked, a curious kind of half grin playing on his lips. “Wait—you mean—Dilbert?”
“Yes,” she said, “that's exactly what I mean. Good example.” 'Dilbert' had been the moniker Trevor and Cameron had assigned to a guy named Dylan, whom Nicole had dated briefly last year. Of course they were decent to his face, but in reality, they hadn't liked his jokes, his look or the fact that, according to them, 'Dilbert' could never be good enough for her.
Holding back a laugh now, Trevor rolled his eyes. “C'mon, Nic, that guy was a tool.”
“Again—not the point.”
“Wait—have you hooked up with Michael?” Cameron said then. When Nicole's eyes met his, she felt his gaze burn into hers. “I don't see why you're getting so upset unless—”
“No, no, nothing like that! I'm just saying...” She sighed, collected her emotion. “I know you guys try to protect me, but you don't always give people a chance. That's all.”
“Okay, okay,” Trevor said, raising his hands, palms out in surrender. “Just be careful. That's all we're saying.”
It was all, Nicole knew. But it was a lot.
***
On the road, Cameron drummed his fingers on his door handle, staring out the window. He hadn't said more than a word here, a word there since they'd left Nicole's place and Trevor knew the scenery just wasn't that interesting. As it was, Cameron had agreed to let Trevor drive, which was already out of character.
“Dude, I'd say you're being quiet—but actually you're being noisy as hell—would you stop that?”
“Huh?” Cameron looked blankly at him. Then he glanced down at his own hand, realizing, and stopped tapping. “Oh. Sorry.” He went back to looking out the window.
“What's your problem?” Trevor said after a few moments passed.
“Nothing, what do you mean?”
“You seem pissed or something.”
“I'm not pissed. Why would I be pissed?” he scoffed, and then started drumming again.
“Okay...”
“I'm just kind of worried about Nicole,” Cameron said finally. “It's unbelievable how naive she can be.”
“Oh. Yeah, I know what you mean, but she'll be fine.”
“She's too trusting. I don't think she should be out there all alone.”
“She's twenty-seven,” Trevor said with a short laugh. “That may be younger than our asses, but it's not ward-of-the-state material.”
“But she's clueless!” Clearly exasperated, Cameron shook his head.
“You're exaggerating. Nic's smart; she can take care of herself.” With a swift tug of the wheel, Trevor slid into the next lane and passed a crawling car to their right. What the hell, he would say his piece, that was all he could do. “Listen—you're not thinking of trying to get back together with her, are you?”
“What! No way. That’s not it at all.”
“Okay, good. Because, no offense, but that would be a total disaster.”
“Right...I know…” But he didn’t sound that certain.
“I know you and she are tight—and I love her to death—but the two of you together? That's a train wreck right there.”
“Come on, I wouldn't go that far.”
“Remember how you guys used to bicker about everything? It was so different when you dated than how it is now.”
“We were young.”
“She was.” That got him a glare. “Seriously, though…not you and Nic...”
“All right already,” Cameron barked. “Jeez. I wasn't even thinking along those lines.”
Chapter Twenty-four
After her friends left, Nicole took Puddle inside and went to the kitchen to pour some coffee. She was one of those unchangeable people who loved Christmas mugs all year around. In cataloging, she’d found a collection of holiday plates and cups, and developed an instant affinity for a chunky ceramic mug that had hand-painted snow and evergreens covered in colored bulbs.
Each morning, Nicole gave it a cursory rinse before she filled it. Today she barely had time to rinse it, much less savor its cutesiness, because she had to meet Abel Kelling at the Squire at noon.
Still toting her dog around, she drank her coffee on the way to the bathroom upstairs. She set the mug on the vanity and Puddle down on the soft rug that stripped across the tile floor. Once Puddle was curled into a sleepy ball, Nicole stepped into a hot shower. The dog shouldn't be that tired, she thought as she washed her hair with a rough kind of vigor. Could something be wrong? But Puddle's nose had been cold, which meant no fever—didn't it? She didn't know much about dogs yet, but she was pretty sure that a cold wet nose was a good thing.
Maybe—prior to being rescued—Puddle had been abused or traumatized in some way. Could that be what was making her withdrawn? I'll spend time with her when I get back, Nicole reasoned. I'll make her comfortable, make her feel loved..
Twenty minutes later, she was blow-drying her hair and slipping on thick wool socks. It was only October but the biting chill outside felt more like a prelude to winter than a tribute to autumn. Once she transported Puddle to her dog bed in the kitchen, Nicole filled a bowl of fresh water and set it down in the corner.
There was a knock at the back door.
When Michael greeted her so naturally, so easily, the warnings of Cameron and Trevor drifted away.
“I came by to hit you up for some coffee,” he said. “Your coffee is better than mine. In that it exists.”
She laughed. “So you didn't make any, in other words?” When she handed him a mug, Michael smirked at the artwork. “A pink bunny in a Santa suit. Not the most masculine thing I've ever used—but thanks. Got any milk?”
“Yes, of course...” As soon as she opened the refrigerator door, she discovered that something was amiss. No cold air puffed out. She reached in and felt the milk. “Hey, wait...this is warm...why is this warm?” Confused, she pulled out the jug, which was really more room temperature than warm.
Michael set his coffee down on the island and came closer. “Let me see...excuse me,” he said, his voice dropping just a bit as he came closer, right next to her, and then reached beyond her—to reach inside. Nicole edged back an inch or two, pressing her back into the open refrigerator door. She was acutely aware of how close Michael was to her right now. He leaned in deeper, his chest almost touching hers, reaching toward the very back of the refrigerator. “Oh—you've got a problem here,” he said.
“I do? What?”
“Your cooling system is busted,” he said.
“Well...can it be fixed?”
“Yes, of course.” Michael straightened and turned so he was facing her. Now he was almost flush up against her. As Nicole looked up at him and he looked down, their eyes met and locked for a moment. He hesitated, as though he were considering something, as his eyes traveled over her face. From her eyes to her mouth.
After a momentary pause, he stepped back.
“Um...” Nicole said, finding her voice. “Let me rephrase that: can it be fixed by you?”
Unabashedly, he smiled. “Not to sound arrogant,” he began, “but if it's mechanical at all, I can probably fix it.”
Just then, the clock on the wall gonged. “Shoot, it's twelve o'clock! I'm late! I have to go meet Abel for lunch. Listen, can you come by later, I mean when I get back? Do you mind?”
“I don't mind. However I should warn you, all your food will probably be spoiled by then. Just so you're aware.”
“Really? I should only be a couple hours, at most...”
“True, but it's already warm,” he explained, motioning to the refrigerator with his head.
“Right...good point...” Biting her lip, she checked the clock again. If she took Nina's bicycle, she could make it to the Squire by 12:15. She didn't have time to deliberate much longer on this whole refrigerator snag.