Table for Seven: A Novel

by Whitney Gaskell

Why do I keep comparing the two of them? she wondered.

  “And here’s my second secret,” Coop said, reaching into the fridge again. He held up a package of bacon. “Something near and dear to Leland’s heart.”

  “Bacon burgers? That sounds—” Audrey began.

  “Amazing?” Coop interrupted.

  “I was going to say completely decadent. But, yeah, it also sounds pretty amazing.”

  “It’s going to sound even better when you see what else I’m putting on them,” Coop said, pulling out a triangular package of cheese with the air of a magician pulling off a master trick.

  “Blue cheese?”

  “And not just any blue cheese. This is Maytag blue cheese. The very best,” Coop said. “What do you think?”

  What Audrey thought was that consuming a blue-cheese bacon burger in the middle of the day was about as out of character for her as having a nooner. But as soon as the bacon started to sizzle, her mouth began to water and she realized that she was suddenly craving a hamburger.

  Coop cooked the bacon until it was crispy, then drained most of the grease from the pan, leaving behind a tablespoon. He added the meat patties to the pan, letting them sizzle in the fat, and flipped them after a few moments. Coop then added shavings of blue cheese to the patties and tented the pan with tinfoil.

  “So the cheese will melt,” he explained helpfully.

  “Is there anything I can do? I’m just standing here,” Audrey said.

  “You’re being decorative.” Coop ducked from Audrey’s swat. “No, I’ve got it under control.”

  Coop used a spatula to move two of the burgers from their pan to freshly sliced Kaiser rolls, garnished with lettuce and thick slices of tomato. He put the third burger in a plastic dog bowl, and set it on the ground for Bear, who attacked the food as though he hadn’t eaten in days.

  “Lunch is served,” he said.

  “Should I set the table?”

  “No, it’s a nice day. Let’s go outside. What would you like to drink? Iced tea? Or would you prefer a beer?”

  “Actually, a beer sounds great,” Audrey said.

  Coop handed her a bottle of Guinness, got one for himself, and then they headed outside. The patio ran the length of the condo, and had a lovely view of the Intracoastal river. Like the rest of Coop’s apartment, the patio was sparingly decorated. There was a single lounge chair, a round table covered by a striped umbrella, two bistro chairs, and several palm trees in terra-cotta pots. Audrey and Coop sat at the table.

  “Cheers,” Coop said, and they clinked their beer bottles together.

  “What a great view. I would live out here,” Audrey said.

  “I practically do,” Coop said. “I have my coffee out here every morning. Dig in and tell me what you think.”

  Audrey had to open her mouth wide to fit the burger in. It was heaven. The meat was perfectly cooked and superbly enhanced by the smoky bacon and creamy blue cheese flavors. Juice dripped down, and Audrey had to lean forward, before it covered her shirt.

  “Oh, my God,” she said, when she had swallowed and could finally speak.

  Coop grinned. “Told you. Best burger you’ve ever had, right?”

  “It seriously is. Amazing.”

  “Nothing beats a good burger. If I were on death row, awaiting my execution, a bacon cheeseburger would definitely be on my last meal list,” Coop said.

  Audrey had just bitten into her burger, which was inconvenient, as she now started to laugh.

  “You could have anything in the world, and you’d choose a burger?” she said. “Not that this isn’t fantastic. But I think if it were me, I’d go for seared foie gras.”

  “No, I’m a burger man. Although I’d want it served with deep fried onion rings and a chocolate shake.” Coop sighed with pleasure at the thought. “And a chocolate brownie for dessert. The fudgy kind. Vastly preferable to cakey brownies.”

  “Agreed. But the brownie should be à la mode with coffee ice cream.” Audrey was getting into the exercise. “And topped with hot fudge sauce and toasted pecans.”

  They grinned at each other. It was one of those practically perfect moments—good conversation, good food, a beautiful view. So, of course, it only made sense that things immediately went downhill.

  “I think I’m going to have to disagree with you on the coffee ice cream. I’m a vanilla man myself,” Coop said.

  “You wouldn’t feel that way if you’d tasted the coffee ice cream I had when I was in Cape Cod. It was at this place called Four Seas Ice Cream and was seriously the best I’ve ever had,” Audrey said.

  “That seems like a long way to go for a cone,” Coop said.

  “I don’t know, it was really good. But we went there for—” Audrey began and then stopped abruptly.

  Coop looked at her questioningly. “For?”

  Audrey swallowed and looked at her half-eaten burger, her appetite suddenly gone.

  “Ryan and I spent two weeks on the Cape for our honeymoon,” she said.

  “What part of the Cape? I’ve been to Martha’s Vineyard a few times,” Coop said conversationally, clearly oblivious to Audrey’s uneasiness.

  “Let’s talk about something else,” Audrey said.

  “What did your husband do?” Coop asked.

  “I meant, let’s talk about something other than Ryan,” Audrey said.

  Coop took a swig of his beer. “Why?”

  “Because it makes me uncomfortable,” Audrey said.

  “Why?” Coop asked again.

  Audrey’s discomfort quickly morphed into irritation. “Because I don’t want to talk about him, that’s why.”

  “Don’t you think he’s something we should be able to talk about?” Coop asked.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Why are you getting so upset?”

  “I’m not upset,” Audrey lied. “I just … look, it just feels weird enough to be here with you. Talking about him with you makes it worse.”

  Coop studied her. “You think it’s disloyal to discuss your late husband with me?”

  Audrey could feel her shoulders tensing up.

  “Maybe. Are you trying to say that I should be over it by now?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to. People always assume that grief should have a time limit. Like it’s some sort of equation. X amount of time equals no more grief. But it doesn’t work that way.”

  “How does it work?” Coop asked.

  “It’s a process,” Audrey said.

  “A process. Okay.” Coop regarded her. “Is part of that process that you’re going to feel like you’re cheating on him every time you’re with me?”

  Audrey opened her mouth, ready to deny this. But instead, she found herself saying, “I don’t know. Maybe. Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Coop nodded, taking this in. He took a sip of his beer. “What if I want to talk about it?”

  “It’s not up to you.”

  “That’s not actually how a relationship works. Even I know that,” Coop said. “We both get a say in what we talk about.”

  “This isn’t a relationship. At least, it’s not that sort of a relationship. And my late husband has nothing to do with you,” Audrey said.

  “It’s my business that every time we’re together, we seem to be having a great time, and then suddenly a shadow will cross over your face. And I can tell you’re feeling guilty for being happy,” Coop said.

  Audrey shook her head.

  “That’s not true,” she lied. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Anyway, look … I like spending time with you. But this”—she waved a hand between Coop and herself—“this isn’t serious. It’s just a fling.”

  Coop sat back in his chair and picked up his beer. “A fling,” he repeated and shook his head.

  Audrey hesitated. “Isn’t that what you thought it was?”

  “As a matter of fact, no, I didn’t.”

  Audrey felt her cheeks flu
sh. I’m being such a jerk, she thought. Further evidence that I’m terrible at this. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” she said awkwardly.

  “I’ve been asked to go on a shoot that leaves out of the Bahamas,” Coop said.

  “Oh.” Audrey blinked. “When?”

  “I’d have to leave early next week and then I’d be gone for two months.”

  Coop looked at her, clearly waiting to see how she’d react to this news. Strangely enough, considering her insistence a moment earlier that their relationship was nothing more than a fling, Audrey’s temper flared. He was giving her crap about not opening up and sharing with him, and all along, he’d been planning to skip town for two months and was just now telling her about it?

  Audrey stared at Coop for a long, level moment. “How long has this plan been in the works?”

  “I got the call this morning. The director they had slated to handle the shoot broke his ankle. I told them I’d think about it because I wanted to talk to you about it first.” Coop shot an unfriendly look at Audrey. “But in light of today’s discussion, I guess I’ll just go ahead and take it.”

  Does he want me to beg him to stay? Audrey wondered, her own anger swelling. Well, that’s not about to happen.

  “Good. I think you should,” Audrey said coolly.

  “Okay, then,” Coop said, his tone equally chilly.

  “I should get back to work.” Audrey raised her head, squared her shoulders, and turned, preparing to leave with as much of her dignity intact as possible. “And if I don’t see you before you leave, have a nice trip.”

  “I’ll see you Saturday,” Coop said.

  Audrey turned back. “Saturday?”

  “The dinner party club.”

  “Right. See you Saturday,” Audrey said. “Thanks for the burger.”

  And with that, she turned and strode out of Coop’s apartment, wishing she’d managed to make her exit without tripping over the door jamb and also that she’d been clever enough to come up with a better exit line. The sort of zinger that Katharine Hepburn—wearing a fabulous trouser suit with padded shoulders—would say to Cary Grant, just before sweeping out of a room.

  Somehow thanks for the burger didn’t quite cut it, Audrey thought, clutching her car keys so tightly her nails dug into her hand. She’d have to have a better exit line than that ready for Saturday night.

  “SHOULD WE BE AFRAID?” Will asked when Coop opened the door to Will, Fran, and Leland.

  “Of eating the best meal of your life?” Coop retorted.

  “Just so you know, if you give me food poisoning, I will sue,” Will said, swatting Coop on the shoulder in greeting and handing him a bottle of wine. “I have no idea if this is any good, but it cost thirty bucks.”

  “Will!” Fran said. “You’re not supposed to tell him how much you paid for the wine!”

  “Why? I want to get credit for it,” Will said.

  “Hey, Leland,” Coop said, shaking the older man’s hand.

  Leland handed him a bottle, too.

  “Bourbon,” Leland said succinctly. “The good stuff, to have after dinner. Will and Fran drove me over, so I can indulge.”

  “I like the way you think,” Coop said.

  He began dispensing drinks—champagne for Fran and Leland, a beer for Will—and just as soon as he was done, the doorbell rang again. This time it was Jaime and Mark.

  “Sorry we’re late,” Jaime said.

  “It was my fault. I had to try on five outfits before we could leave,” Mark said. “Oh, wait, no—that was Jaime.”

  Jaime rolled her eyes. “As if. I was ready ages ago. You were the one who insisted on showering at the last minute.”

  “I didn’t want to offend our friends with my post-tennis stinkiness,” Mark said.

  “A fact that we are all grateful for,” Coop said. “Come in and get a drink.”

  “Is everyone else here?” Jaime asked.

  “Everyone but Audrey,” Coop said, hoping he sounded more casual than he felt.

  He hated to admit it—even to himself—but he was nervous about seeing Audrey again. Their last meeting had not gone at all as planned. He’d meant to tell her that he was going to turn down the directing job, that he was enjoying their time together too much to leave. But then she’d become defensive and prickly, and suddenly he heard himself announce out of nowhere that he had decided to take the job. It had all gone pear-shaped, he thought, remembering this favorite line of his mother to describe any situation that got mixed up.

  Jaime handed over a bottle of Oregon Pinot Noir. “I didn’t know what you’re serving, but the wine store guy said this is versatile and goes with just about everything.”

  “Thank you,” Coop said. “What can I get you to drink?”

  He went to get wine for the Wexlers while they joined the rest of the small group in Coop’s living room, munching on the cheese and crackers, watched intently by Bear.

  “Come here, Bear,” Fran said, and the dog sidled over to her, his whole body wagging. Bear hooked his nose over her knee while she stroked his ears.

  “Where are we eating?” Mark asked after Coop had returned with his wine. The small dining table wasn’t set.

  “Out on the patio,” Coop said.

  He’d moved the patio furniture into his bedroom for the evening and rented a long table and chairs from a party supply company. They’d also supplied linens and dishware, which meant that he wouldn’t have to deal with dirty dishes. He’d actually planned on having the dinner catered, too—that was the reason he hadn’t sent the menu out ahead of time, as he and the caterer had been trading phone calls—but at the last minute, he changed his mind and decided to cook. Having it catered would have been cheating. Why it mattered, he wasn’t sure, but for some reason it did.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “That must be Audrey,” Fran said.

  Coop went to answer the door, trying to ignore the fact that his palms were suddenly sweaty. It didn’t help that Audrey was looking especially lovely. She had on her usual red lipstick and ridiculously high heels, which Coop found both silly and endearing.

  “Hi,” Coop said.

  “Hi,” Audrey said. She, too, held out a bottle in greeting.

  “Thank you,” Coop said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Would you like to come in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Can I get you a glass of wine?”

  “Yes, thank you. Red, if you have it.”

  They both sounded so stiff, and so formal, Coop almost laughed. This was the woman he had been tangled up in bed with a few days earlier, licking the saltiness of the sweat off her neck. She smelled amazing he noticed, as she passed by him into the apartment. He considered kissing her cheek in greeting, as he had with Fran and Jaime, but there was something in the set of her shoulders and the tightness of her mouth that kept him from leaning in.

  “Audrey!” Fran called out.

  Coop escaped for a moment to get Audrey’s wine, while she headed into the living room to greet everyone. He poured himself a glass of wine, too, reminding himself that he had to keep his head clear if he was actually going to cook dinner.

  “Thank you,” Audrey said when he handed her the glass.

  “Don’t mention it. Cheers,” Coop said, clinking his glass against hers. “Here’s mud in your eye.”

  For a moment, Audrey looked as though she might laugh. But then Will came up—Audrey readily accepted his cheek kiss, Coop noticed resentfully—and said, “Couldn’t you find higher shoes? Those are only, what? Four or five inches tall?”

  “Five,” Audrey said.

  Will made a face. “That’s no fun. You need to branch out. Go for a pair of those enormous platforms that drag queens wear.”

  “How do you know what kind of shoes drag queens wear?” Audrey asked.

  “I’m a fountain of knowledge,” Will said.

  Coop laughed. “Make that a fountain of bullshit.”

&nbs
p; “That, too,” Will said. “Or, better yet, Aud, you could start walking around on stilts.”

  “That would be an interesting fashion choice,” Audrey said, turning away to greet Leland, who was sitting on the sofa next to Jaime.

  “Why do women wear those things?” Will asked. “They look like torture devices.”

  “I don’t know,” Coop said, although as he admired Audrey’s legs, he thought that might be the answer. He glanced at Fran, who was chatting with Mark. She looked over at Coop and gave him a surreptitious wink. Coop smiled back at her.

  “Franny looks great,” Coop said.

  “Does she?” Will asked, glancing at his wife.

  “You hadn’t noticed? Jesus.” Coop laughed. “And that right there is the reason I’m not married. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make some magic in the kitchen.”

  “Are you seriously going to cook?” Will asked. “I was hoping you were going to order in and try to pass it off as though you’d cooked it yourself.”

  “Like I would do something so devious and underhanded. I’m shocked you’d even think it,” Coop said, shaking his head.

  “Do you need any help, Coop?” Fran asked. “I did promise to be your sous chef.”

  “No, I’ve got it under control,” Coop said.

  He headed back to the kitchen, where he had a huge stockpot full of water already running on a gentle boil. He turned up the heat a bit, and then turned to the Styrofoam cooler that contained seven squirming lobsters. He had never cooked lobster before—much less a live lobster—and had to steel himself.

  “Time to cowboy up,” he told himself, picking up the first lobster. It waved its bound claws at him. “This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. Actually, that’s not true. But know that you’re dying for a good cause.”

  “Are you talking to our dinner?” a voice said behind him.

  Coop turned and saw Audrey at the door. She again looked like she was suppressing a smile.

  “That depends on what you heard me say,” he said.

  “Something about dying for a good cause. And cowboying up,” Audrey added.

  “You may not want to be present for what I’m about to do,” Coop said. “I don’t want to offend your delicate lady sensibilities.”

  She took a sip of wine, studying him over the brim of her glass. “I think I can handle it.”