But Nina didn’t know or didn’t choose to know that there was another way. Greg guessed she’d dragged the heaviness around so long, the thought of being weightless terrified her. Without the history, maybe the confusion about Elise would have been less traumatic for Nina. She probably thought he’d relay their conversation verbatim and, once again, she’d be the humiliated kid in the middle of the floor. Except this time it would be a ballroom floor.
As he told her she could stop praying for him to know pain, he saw glimpses of confusion in her eyes, as she scanned his face searching for evidence of dishonesty. Greg wanted to turn the wall behind them into a scoreboard, draw a line down the center, and ask her what she could write on her side that could possibly win out over his losing a wife and his daughter, a mother. But he wasn’t going to use the memory of Lily as the highest score. Walking off when he did had spared each of them regret in the future.
The text, from one of the emergency clinics he’d recently worked in, updated him on the status of one of the sick animals he’d seen there. He went outside to call the vet tech who’d contacted him and saw Nina leave the hotel with someone driving a late model Mercedes convertible. She was going to miss the auction, which meant she wouldn’t find out that he’d placed the highest bid on the quilt she wanted.
“Look, Manny, the princess is descending from her royal tower to join us.” The dachshund yelped and trotted back and forth between Nina and Aretha, then sat to watch Nina walk down the stairs.
“Twenty years ago, I might have just stuck my tongue out at you for that,” said Nina, taking each step as if it were underwater.
Aretha grinned. “Twenty years ago, I might have followed that with running after your princess fanny.” She pointed to the kitchen. “I made breakfast, but you missed the best part. Pancakes right off the griddle with strawberries and warm syrup. I saved a few slices of bacon, and you can pop the leftover cakes in the toaster or the microwave.”
Nina sat on the bottom step and scratched Manny behind the ears as she listened to Aretha roll out the breakfast menu. “What time did you wake up to get all Barefoot Contessa on me? I couldn’t have slept that late . . . did I?” Nina felt her wrist, no watch. She checked the pockets of her sleeping scrubs, no phone. “We need a clock.”
“I’ve been saying that for months. It’s after ten o’clock, so, yes, you did sleep that late. You left your cell phone down here, and your mother’s been lighting it up like a Christmas tree with phone calls.” Aretha yawned, and stretched out her arms and legs. “I woke up at the tender hour of eight o’clock. What time did you get to sleep?”
“You woke up at eight? I didn’t go to sleep until after two, and you still weren’t home. If you hadn’t returned my text at almost one, I was about to put out a Missing Persons alert.” She turned her phone off to avoid having to talk to her mother, zapped a cup of coffee in the microwave, and picked at the sliced strawberries she found in the refrigerator.
“Who knew Mr. Beautiful and I had so much to talk about? After we left the benefit, we drove around trying to find some place for breakfast. Ended up at Katz’s Deli . . . had no idea how late it was until you sent that text.” Aretha hugged her knees to her chest and smiled. “And why were you still awake? Having a long conversation with Brady?”
She decided to hold off telling her about talking to Greg before she left the benefit. Her emotional reserves were waning, and she had yet to deal with her mother. The Greg drama could wait, except for that last statement he made to her. The one about her prayer being answered already. It unsettled her, the way it did when she remarked one day that homeless people caused their own problems, and then found out Daisy had been one of those very people when her father left them.
Nina carried her coffee, a plate of bacon, and strawberries to the den, Manny following her waiting for crumbs to fall. “Sorry, buddy, you’re out of luck today,” she told him as she set everything on the coffee table. He resigned himself to curling around her feet. “For the record, my conversation with Brady ended not long after he turned into our driveway.”
“Can’t wait to hear this one.”
Nina told Aretha the from-hotel-to-home story with Brady, hoping she sounded as lucid retelling it as she thought she was the night before. Since Aretha listened without an interruption, she must have achieved her goal.
“Have to admit, I wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to stand up for yourself like you did. I suspect somewhere in that heart of yours there’s a pitter-patter left for him.”
Nina shrugged. “I suppose, but I wonder if I want a victory over Janie more than a relationship with Brady. Doesn’t matter now. I don’t have either one.”
“Careful,” warned Aretha. “You’re backsliding into your comfortable victim role.” She checked her cell phone and smiled. “Mr. Beautiful just sent me a text. He wants to take Manny and me for a walk, and lunch.” She patted Manny on the head. “We have a date. Aren’t you excited?”
Manny blinked a few times, then he assumed his sleeping position.
“He’s not understanding this concept of dating, since it doesn’t happen too often around here. And, in case I’m here when he shows up, does Mr. Beautiful have a real name?”
“Luke. Luke Samuelson. And when I return, you’re going to tell me why you were on sleep deprivation. But now I’m going to look for that cinnamon V-neck sweater of yours that I love to wear.”
“It’s either in the laundry room or my closet. Better hope it’s in the closet . . .” Nina said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to tell Aretha she stayed awake researching writing positions available in New York, places to live there, and more background information for her political corruption story. Then again, watching Aretha bounce down the stairs waving the sweater like a victory flag, Nina wasn’t sure Aretha would care.
Nina mentally reviewed the excuses she could give her mother for backing out of lunch, but her mother would know that’s exactly what they were. And she’d label them all flimsy and tell Nina any daughter who invented excuses not to have lunch with her parents probably didn’t deserve them. She’d already called Nina six times in three hours, so Nina’s failure to return calls meant not only was she now up the proverbial river without a paddle, she just drilled a hole in her boat.
She counted to ten then forced herself to hit her parents’ phone number. Less than three minutes later, it was all over. After Nina stumbled through the news she wouldn’t be there, her mother responded with, “Good. I called so often this morning in an effort to inform you not to come here today because your father and I didn’t feel up to company.”
Was there any point in mentioning that someone’s own daughter shouldn’t be considered “company”? Except that in her parents’ house, that’s exactly how Nina felt. Apparently they did, too.
Nina checked the time on her phone. Unless she wanted to meet Mr. Luke the Beautiful in her wrinkled, hot pink, polka-dotted scrubs, she needed to find something more presentable to wear. A quick shower, a pair of jeans, and a black turtleneck later, Nina declared herself ready when the doorbell rang. She tapped on Aretha’s door as she opened it. “He’s here,” she announced to an obviously undressed roommate who looked uncharacteristically frantic.
“I don’t know what to wear.” She sat on her bed and held up a pair of black pants, “These make me look like I’m ready for Halloween wearing them with that sweater. And these,” she tossed a pair of jeans to the floor in disgust, “are too tight. . . .”
The doorbell rang again. Aretha hissed, “Don’t just stand there. Go let him in before he thinks no one is home.”
Nina looked in Aretha’s closet, shoved hangers back and forth, parting waves of clothes until she reached for a pair of khaki pants. “Here, wear these. They’re capri length on me, so they should be the right length for you. And let it be known that I’m nice to you even when you’re not.” She heard an “I’m sorry” as she closed the bedroom door.
She scooted Manny out of the way, and op
ened the front door, anxious to see the man who captured her friend’s attention. Instead, she saw the one who once captured her own.
Brady Lambert stood on her doorstep behind a bouquet of far too many long-stemmed white tulips.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Brady said as he handed Nina an armful of flowers. “And make sure you didn’t still have a lump on your forehead.”
Nina held on to the tulips like she was hauling delicate firewood. “Well, you’ve surprised me,” she said, still slightly stunned. “Um, thank you for these . . .”
“May I come in or were you on your way out?”
Dressed in his typical starched, button-down shirt and knife-pleated jeans, Brady always had that “on his way to somewhere” look. Unlike Nina who tended to look like she wasn’t sure where she was going. Like today.
“Of course. I wasn’t going anywhere,” she said, but then wished she hadn’t admitted it because she just lost an out for his leaving. She juggled the bouquet and tried to hold Manny back from dashing out the door as Brady entered.
“You’re not Luke.” An equally surprised, but finally dressed, Aretha peered over the steps after Nina shut the door.
“Hello again, Aretha. And, no, I’m not.” Brady smiled, but not unlike someone who just told the cat where the canary was hiding. “Just checking on Nina’s injury.”
Nina set the tulips on the counter and moved her bangs aside to show Brady the swelling had gone down. “No more egg. Just a little bruise.”
She found the only vase-like accommodation for such an armful of flowers, a tall ice bucket. She filled it with water, tried to arrange the not-so-cooperative tulips, and hoped Aretha would save her from a task at which she was totally inept. Nina watched her friend descend the stairs, and she wasn’t rushing to help. In fact, she leaned against the granite bar, arms folded, and surveyed Brady and his flowers.
“Great choice, Brady,” Aretha said. “Nina, I think you may have to trim the stems.” She looked back at Brady. “Don’t worry, that won’t lessen their meaning.”
Nina rifled through rubber bands, a collection of twist ties, and pens in what was supposed to be the utensil drawer for the kitchen shears. “Meaning? What meaning?” She found the shears mixed in with ladles and spatulas. “Aha,” she said and held them up like a trophy. No one else seemed to be impressed. Not even Manny who growled as if on a timer, every few minutes, at nothing or no one in particular.
Brady cleared his throat. Without a camera slung over his shoulder, he lost his casual, cool factor. He looked so uncomfortable, Nina almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “The florist told me they mean, um, forgiveness. I guess since Aretha hinted at it, it must be true.”
She looked from Brady to Aretha. “How did you know this?”
Aretha walked over and took the shears from Nina. “Because studying design isn’t limited to furniture. I wouldn’t want to decorate a lawyer’s office with lavender, which signals distrust.” She snipped the stems of the tulips and dropped them into the ice bucket. “Not the most elegant of containers, but the rustic look offsets the tulips quite nicely.”
“She can’t help it. The decorator gene just has to flaunt itself,” Nina explained to Brady as she placed the arrangement in the center of the kitchen table.
Aretha tossed the pile of stems in the trash. “Okay, I’m done here. Going back upstairs for the finishing touches.” She patted Brady on his arm. “Best of luck in New York,” she said.
He opened his mouth as if he intended to respond, but instead he smiled and nodded. “Thanks, Aretha. I appreciate that.”
Since Brady had never arrived unannounced, Nina wasn’t sure of the next step. Or if he had one in mind. She wanted to stay and meet Luke, but the thought of four people as awkward as strangers in a crowded elevator nixed that idea. But close quarters in Brady’s little convertible, when he looked and smelled so appealing, and her defenses were weak from the same environment less than twenty-four hours before? Another idea she should nix. But she had to do or say something to counteract the weird vibes.
“Would you like something to drink . . . coffee . . .” she opened the refrigerator, “diet drink, water . . . not much else there.”
“No, thanks. I can’t stay long, but I thought, maybe, we could talk,” he said, glancing up the stairs.
Talk as in without Aretha overhearing. Okay. You’re on.
“Sure. I need to take Manny out for his post-breakfast stroll. I’ll leave a note for Aretha, and then we can go.” Nina scribbled a smirk-inducing note, “Manny and I out with Brady. Please don’t hate me for dognapping Luke’s excuse for a walk. Back soon,” and they headed out.
“There’s a dog park about a block down on the right. He likes hanging out there,” said Nina. Manny trotted ahead on the sidewalk, ears flapping. “Funny you should stop by today. Usually I have dinner with my parents on Sundays. If I hadn’t overslept, I would have really been surprised to find flowers on my doorstep.”
“More surprised than you were to find me?”
“No, I suppose not. I don’t remember you ever making unannounced visits . . .” Nina reined Manny in closer, and moved off the sidewalk when she saw a tricycle headed their way.
“Sadly, I don’t think I did.” He slowed his stride to match Nina’s as Manny intermittently sniffed bushes and gardens along the way.
“You said you wanted to talk. About . . . ?”
“I heard you’re going after that political corruption story. Impressive,” he said, and he actually sounded as if he meant it. “You seemed out of your element at that society benefit.”
Nina blinked a few times. She saw Brady, but her mother’s voice just popped out of his mouth. “And that means, what exactly?”
“I meant that as a compliment. I think you have more to offer as a journalist than writing about the Houston movers and shakers and their charity galas. Daisy told Janie you drew the short straw on covering it because she wasn’t there.”
Apparently, he was researching last night as well, but his information source had to have been Janie, not Google. They reached the park, and Nina hooked Manny’s leash to one of the stakes and let him roll and flop in the grass. She and Brady sat on a wrought iron bench facing a fountain that, depending on the breed, served as a watering hole, a swimming pool, or both.
“Was this what you wanted to discuss? My choice of assignments?” Nina brushed off her black sweater, which had become a haven for pollen, falling pine needles, and whatever other smut was in the air. Smoke drifted from across a wooden fence that bordered the park, and the unmistakable scent of barbeque must have reached her and Manny at the same time. They both turned toward the aroma, though Nina hoped she didn’t sniff quite as noticeably as her dog did.
Brady crossed his leg over, resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other. He tugged a bit at the hem of his jeans. “I called Janie this morning, and I suggested she postpone the party she’s been planning to celebrate the New York move.”
“Postpone it until when?”
“Until I decide if that’s really what I want to do.”
17
Nina unhooked Manny’s leash, freshened his water bowl, and read the note Aretha had left in place of hers. “Mr. B and I going out to eat . . .”
She and Brady hadn’t been gone that long, so Luke must have arrived right after they left. Nina wished she could text Aretha to relate yet another bizarre Brady-encounter. He’d left as soon as they returned, walked straight to his car, and said he’d be in touch. All Nina could think was, “Why?” Calling off Janie’s party? The man must have a death wish. Or at least no fear of finding himself a mangled mess in an ER. But the man who recently growled at her after she saturated his expensive sweater with coffee was now purring?
If today and yesterday were math problems, the addition was definitely off. She wasn’t sure what was missing from the equation, but her gut suspected an unknown variable. Her gut also rumbled its need for food, but nothing in the refrigerator
looked as appealing as the barbecue over the park fence had smelled. She found the menu for Happy All Cafe and decided a delivery order of Beef with Orange Peel and Chili Peppers would silence her stomach.
While she waited, Nina opened her laptop to check the news. Brady’s obvious admiration for her story flattered her, but his comments about her being at the benefit were flashbacks to his tendency toward elitism in journalism. For Brady, what you wrote reflected who you were and where you were on the magazine staff food chain. By trashing the fund-raiser, he unwittingly threw down the gauntlet. Proving Brady wrong might be worth investing herself in a feature story that didn’t have the power to expose the corruption of local governments. After she finished her news story, she could elevate a feel-good feature into something that garnered attention.
She jotted some notes to check on Monday, then looked up The AIDS Memorial Quilt site. Aretha and her overnight infatuation arrived at the same time as her food. Manny almost collapsed from his barking frenzy after the delivery man and another strange male invaded his territory. Nina could hardly hear Aretha introduce this tall, ebony version of Patrick Stewart. He exuded charm, but not the kind that made Nina feel like she’d just been dipped in a vat of oil. He stood in the kitchen as if he’d been there all his life and watched Manny with calm amusement.
After several minutes of Manny’s performance for Luke, which included a snarling rendition, Aretha grabbed his leash. “Come on, mister, we’re going to take this Oscar-winning mad dog routine to the street,” she said. He stopped barking, but locked his eyes on Luke while she attached the leash to his harness. Aretha handed Luke a dog biscuit, “Here, put this in your pocket. And if you value that strong hand of yours, don’t put it anywhere near his mouth for now.”
Threads of Hope: Quilts of Love Series Page 9