Meredith was surprised that some deep blue, burgundy, and yellow primroses were beginning their second bloom of the season in the side garden. A few pink hyacinths clustered in the far corner, and a clump of white candy tuft was spilling over the rock border in the front. The little spring bulb garden had been neglected this year since Shelly was the one who liked flower gardening. Meredith was more drawn to the vegetable garden. There was something poetic about a blooming pea vine as it climbed up a trellis or the way carrot tops fanned out like green lace when they were full grown. She picked the hyacinth and promised herself she would work on the patch next week.
Overhead five or so cheeping birds swooped in unison and darted into the woods. The patient phoebe cried out again in the pleasant coolness of the evening, “Fee-bee, fee-bee.”
I could wait, God. I could wait another twenty years as long as I knew there really was someone for me. Someone who, right now, in his corner of the world is also talking to you like this about me. Someone who wants a soul mate as dearly as I want one. Someone who also thinks that two are better than one because they have a good reward for their labor. You are working on this, aren’t you? I mean, you haven’t forgotten about me, have you?
Chapter Thirteen
Meredith gathered the flowers in her apron and went back inside to finish decorating the table. It was 7:40 now, and still no sign of Helen. The error on Meredith’s part, she realized, was that she hadn’t asked specific questions. Helen had merely said “dinnertime.” That could mean a variety of things to Helen. Then there was the ferry factor. If Helen hadn’t managed to crowd onto one of the ferries during the five o’clock rush hour, she could end up waiting in line for an hour or more.
It would have been easier if Meri had gone into Seattle to meet Helen, Meri now realized. She would have been going against traffic, and she could have gone early and spent the afternoon shopping.
Too late now to change plans. She arranged her flowers and waited. There was no hurry to eat. The pasta would be delicious whenever she made it, even if it was at midnight.
Meredith washed a stalk of celery and sat down to nibble on it while she watched TV. Nothing that interested her was on. She was about to turn off the television when she surfed across a cable program that caught her eye. It was a ballroom-dance competition.
Watching and snapping her celery stalk, Meredith heard a mocking voice inside her head. Look at you. It’s your birthday, and you’re alone, eating celery and watching people with glued-on smiles do the tango.
Meredith ignored the voice. Ever since Elvis and Guard Man had come into her life, she had developed a soft spot in her heart for those who lived with pasted-on smiles. Neither the mannequin nor the fish could help it that he never changed his expression. The thought of the two of them made her decide to check on Guard Man to make sure he hadn’t sprung a leak in the pantry. Aunt Jane had sent the patch kit for a reason, Meri figured.
Guard Man was fine. He popped out appropriately when Meri opened the door. She knew he would send Helen through the roof. Whenever she arrived, that is. Until then, Meri felt a little sorry for Guard Man. The music on the TV changed to the cha-cha.
Taking Guard Man by the hand, Meri asked, “Would you like to dance?” With his hand on her shoulder and her right hand holding his right hand waist high, Meri and Guard Man trotted across the kitchen floor and into the dining room.
“No, like this,” she instructed her silent partner. “One, two, cha-cha-cha. That’s it. One, two. You’ve got it.”
She reached over and turned up the TV’s volume so they could feel the rhythm of the music. “You’re pretty good,” she shouted into her blow-up man’s ear. “Matter of fact, you’re very good. I think I have the perfect name for you: Fred. You like it? There are a lot of very cool Freds, you know. There’s Fred Astaire, the dancer. Fred Flintstone, the caveman, and Fred Mertz—you know, Ricky Ricardo’s best friend. They’re all very cool, just like you.”
Meredith attempted a spin. Facing her Fred once more, she giggled and said, “What’s that? You think I watch too much late-night television? You could be right.”
The music stopped. The TV audience applauded, and the next couple whirled out onto the floor. The commentator announced their dance style, and Meredith said, “I don’t know this one. Do you?”
She watched the TV over her shoulder and attempted to imitate their dramatic moves while keeping Fred in tow. Forward, back, side, side. It was a quick, staccato dance, and Meredith laughed at how silly it felt to move her shoulders and hips the way she did, imitating the professional woman in the twirling purple skirt.
Her laughter continued as the big finish arrived. Meri caught the cue of the music and leaned way back as if Fred were dipping her like the guy on TV was dipping his partner.
Meri’s beaded necklace flew up in her face as the top of her head nearly touched the top of the coffee table. She froze.
There, less than five feet away, stood Helen, who had opened the door to let herself in. Next to Helen stood her client.
Even though Meredith was upside down, she knew that face. The tanned face with the startled expression could only belong to one man: Jacob Wilde.
Meri stayed frozen. She didn’t know how to explain herself out of this one. Helen and Jake were frozen, too, their eyebrows raised in bemusement.
Slowly straightening, Meredith led Fred over to the easy chair and put the newspaper back in his hands. She calmly adjusted her dress and hair, and then, clearing her throat, she turned to face her company.
Helen’s eyes were still wide behind her round glasses. Her mouth was open. Jake’s lips were pressed tightly together. He looked as if he was about to crack up the way he had at the waterfall when she smashed the muffin in his face. To help him along, Meredith broke into a smile, then a giggle, then a laugh, then a gut-splitting roar of hilarity.
Helen and Jacob quickly followed. None of them moved from where they stood. They just looked at each other and laughed. Helen pointed to Fred, and they laughed. The TV blasted the music from the ballroom-dance competition, and Meredith laughed until the tears slid down her cheeks. She wiped away the tears, her shoulders still shaking.
When Helen finally found her voice, she wiped her own tears and said, “Meredith Graham, I’d like you to meet Jake Wilde.”
As soon as she made the introduction, Jake and Meri burst out laughing again.
“We’ve met,” Jake finally managed to say.
“Under even more embarrassing circumstances than this, if you can believe it,” Meredith said as she turned off the television.
“I believe it, girlfriend!” Helen said, slipping off her shoes and heading for the nearest chair. “Never in my life … You are the funniest.… If only I had a camera.” Helen plopped down on the chair and drew in a deep breath. Her hair was deep red this week. The same shade as her flushed face.
“I didn’t know you were Helen’s client,” Meri said to Jake, trying to salvage any shred of professionalism she might have left. “Helen never mentioned your name.”
Jacob smiled at Meredith and took a seat on the couch. “I asked her not to.”
“But I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Helen said. “I thought the incognito plan was because of all the movie-star attention you always complain about.”
This changes everything. Jacob knew he was coming to see me. Isn’t he the sly one? Did he arrange this with Helen after I told him I worked for G. H. Terrison?
“Now we know what the balloons were for,” Jake said to Helen. “A party is going on.”
“It’s my birthday,” Meredith announced. She figured she had nothing to hide and nothing to lose with these two. If Jake already thought she was “original,” she would take the opportunity to prove it to the tenth power. He must like original women. Why else would he be here? “Fred and I were just doing a little celebrating.”
“Fred!” Helen burst out in another fit of laughter. “Where did you get him?”
“My aunt Jane sent him today. He’s a Guard Man. Guaranteed to protect me out here in the boonies.”
“We thought a party was in full swing when we pulled up and the music was so loud. You couldn’t hear us knock. We could see you through the window,” Helen said. “It looked as if you were dancing with a real man.”
Meredith was still standing in the middle of the living-room floor. “Let the party continue!” she said. “I’m sure it’ll be lots more fun with guests who talk back. No offense, Fred. Why don’t you two just relax a minute, and I’ll start dinner. I bet you both would like something to drink. I have juice, diet soda, and iced tea.”
“Do you have any white wine?” Helen asked. Then she answered her own question. “No, you don’t, do you. I should have brought you a bottle. For your birthday. I should have remembered. Happy birthday, Meri. Sorry I didn’t bring you anything.”
A mischievous little voice inside Meredith’s head said, Are you kidding? You brought Jacob Wilde to my front door!
“I’ll have an iced tea as long as it’s not sweetened,” Helen said.
“May I get anything for you, Jacob?”
“What’s with the ‘Jacob’?” Helen asked. “I thought you said you knew him. Call him Jake.”
“Would you like anything to drink—” she paused—“Jake?”
He looked a little embarrassed. “Iced tea is fine.”
Meredith filled two tall glasses with tea from the pitcher in the refrigerator and reached for some ice cubes in the tray in the freezer. Helen and Jake couldn’t see her. Something inside her wanted to kiss the ice cube she was about to drop into the glass for Jake. She didn’t. It was a silly, girlish thing she would have done when she was twelve. Ah, to kiss the ice cube that would touch the lips of her favorite star.
But Jake wasn’t really a star anymore in her mind. He was … well, a lot of things. A movie star was the least of his qualifications. Tonight he was her guest, and she was a champ when it came to hospitality. He was also Helen’s client, and Meredith could be sure Helen had an agenda. Most important, he was a man who intrigued her despite all the awkward circumstances. Hadn’t Meredith just been praying about and pondering God’s choice for her future husband? And here was Jake, sitting in her living room. He was smiling. He wanted to be here. This was too good to be true.
“Here you go,” Meredith said, serving the iced tea.
“Can we send your Fred to another room?” Helen said, rubbing her stocking feet on the rug. “He’s looking at me funny.”
“I was going to stuff him in the pantry,” Meredith said. “It was Shelly’s idea, actually. Then I planned to send you to the pantry, Helen, and see what happened when you opened the door and he lurched at you.”
“I would have jumped out of my skin! Good thing we crashed your party before you had a chance to play your wicked prank on poor, unsuspecting me.” Helen pushed up her glasses. “Where did you get the clothes for him?”
“From the lost and found over at camp.” Meredith picked Fred up by the arms and carried him into the guest room. Since Shelly had moved out a year ago, all Meri had in the room was a bookshelf and a chair. She kept an inflatable mattress in the closet for guests who stayed over. Now her inflatable man could join her inflatable guest bed in the closet. She didn’t have the heart to let out Fred’s air, so he went into hiding full figured.
“Great tea,” Helen said when Meredith stepped back into the living room. “You want some help with dinner?”
“It’s no trouble. I have pasta, so it won’t take long to fix.”
“Of course you have pasta,” Helen said. “You live on pasta. I don’t know how you do it.” She got up from the chair and followed Meri into the kitchen. “Come on, let us help. It’s your birthday. The least we can do is assist the chef.”
Suddenly Jake was standing in her kitchen, smiling down at her. “What kind of pasta?” he asked.
“Fettuccine and linguine.” She told him about the place down by the ferry landing. “I haven’t made the sauce yet; I could do that while you guys do the broccoli and pasta. I have some appetizers, too.”
“How about your letting me make the Alfredo sauce? I picked up a few tips at Chez Monique’s,” Jake said.
“Monique who?” Helen asked, finishing off the last sip of iced tea.
“Chez Monique’s,” Meri answered for Jake. “It’s a restaurant in Santa Monica where Jake used to work.”
“Oh yes. I remember,” Helen said. “Now tell me again how you two know each other. Here I thought I was going to have the surprise of a lifetime for you, Meri. Is there more tea in the fridge?”
“Sure. Help yourself.” Meredith waited to see if Jake would explain how they met.
Neither of them had to because Helen let out a squeal and extracted something from the refrigerator. It was a small maraschino-cherry jar. “What in the world is this, girl? Looks like my husband’s appendix. He demanded that the surgeon keep all the parts, just like the mechanic when he fixes the car.”
Meredith felt her cheeks turning red. “It’s nothing,” she said quickly, helping Helen return it to the back of the shelf. “Here’s the tea.”
“I’m telling you,” Helen said, pouring her tea, “I won’t let Herb keep stuff like that around anymore. No more pickled polyps! That’s what I told him.”
Meredith was relieved to see that Jake hadn’t noticed the discovery of the sentimental grape. He was busy making himself at home with the pots and pans.
“You plan to use this one for the pasta?” he asked, pointing to the largest pot, which was filled with water and waiting on the back burner.
“Yes. But if you need it, go ahead.”
“No, this pot will be fine.” He turned toward Meredith. They were only inches away from each other in the tight-squeeze kitchen. It was the closest she had ever been to him. A subtle, cocoa-butter smell seemed to float from his skin. “Do you have an apron to spare?” he asked, warming her with his deep brown eyes.
Meredith forced herself to look away. “Right behind you on the hook. Sorry, but I don’t have any particularly manly ones.”
She had two aprons hanging on the peg on the wall. One of them she had worn earlier when gathering the flowers. It was white with thin yellow ribbons woven through the eyelet along the top, across the bottom, and through the straps that tied around the neck. The other apron didn’t have any lace. It was a smattering of bright yellow lemons on a royal blue background. Jake chose that one.
“I have a feeling I’m going to be in the way here,” Helen said, wedging out of the kitchen. She made herself comfortable at the elegantly set table and faced the two cooks, both of whom had donned aprons. Helen smiled her blessing on them. “This could be interesting,” she said. “Two of my favorite people creating dinner together.” Lifting her glass, she added, “Go ahead. Amaze me.”
Chapter Fourteen
When they sat down together at the table half an hour later, Meri lit the candle and turned off the lights in the kitchen.
“Smells marvelous,” Helen said, tucking the last bite of her appetizer into her cheek.
“Are we ready?” Jake asked.
“Looks like it,” Meri said, quickly scanning the table. She had tossed the dressing in the salad. The Parmesan cheese was in a glass dish with a spoon, and all the glasses were filled with water and a lemon wedge. The table looked perfect.
Jake cleared his throat and said, “I’d like to give thanks before we eat.”
Meri’s heart melted just a little. She knew Jake was a Christian; Shelly had made that clear in one of her many pitches to get Meri interested in him. But Meri had known many Christian men who didn’t initiate prayer at meals, especially at a business meal with an agent who wasn’t particularly open to spiritual things.
“Do you hold hands when you pray?” Helen asked. “Herb has a born-again client who insists we hold hands and pray before we eat. Even in restaurants. I’ve gotten used to it. You want to hold hands?”
&
nbsp; Without a word, Meri offered her open hand to Helen on her right and Jake on her left. Helen placed her cool hand in Meri’s, but Jake hesitated.
Meredith peeked at Jake from her bowed-head position.
“I don’t hold hands when I pray,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” Helen said, letting go of Meri’s hand. “Just get the prayer over. It’s a sin to keep this hot food waiting.”
Jake prayed, “Father, thanks for this food that you have provided. Thanks for the opportunity we have to meet together and discuss potential business arrangements. Please direct our conversation and our time together. We pray this in the name of Christ, amen.”
“Amen,” Helen said, reaching for the bowl of fettuccine. “This smells heavenly.”
Why didn’t he want to hold hands? Was it me? Is this all business to him so he doesn’t want to act too friendly? He offered me his hand at the waterfall. Was that different because I was trying to get out of the rowboat?
“Before we start talking business,” Helen said, “I have to ask you, Jake, only because you got my curiosity going: is holding hands with women when you pray un-Christian?”
“Possibly,” he said with a straight face.
“Possibly?” Helen repeated. “What? You shouldn’t mix spiritual with physical?”
“They’re already mixed,” Jake said, offering to pour the sauce over the fettuccine on Helen’s plate. “We’re whole people. The physical and spiritual are already mixed. I just don’t like to confuse the two parts.”
“You lost me there,” Helen said. She twirled the pasta on her fork and eagerly took a bite. Then, closing her eyes and letting out a low, happy hum, she said, “I am amazed. This is bliss!”
Meri eagerly tried her first bite. Helen was right. It was wonderful. “This is delicious, Jake. I hate to admit it, but your sauce is better than mine. My compliments to Monique and to you.”
He followed their example and took a bite. “Now that’s fresh pasta,” he said. “Does this place accept mail orders? How’s the linguine?” He helped himself to a scoop of the steaming noodles.
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