“Okay.” Lou stopped and Al noticed her looking at him. She blushed. He loved her blushes, how they started at her cheeks and spread outward until even her ears had turned pink.
“Good. More later. Bye.”
Al smiled, able to fill in the last part of the conversation. Lou shoved the phone back into her bra and caught up with him. He stood in front of a large white canvas with four black stenciled letters on it. F and O were on top, O and L were on the bottom.
“Sorry. Work. Never a dull moment,” Lou said.
“Everything okay?”
Lou chewed her lip. “I got an awful review, and it’s making things difficult. And the freaking copier broke at the worst possible time.” She looked up at the canvas and smiled. “There’s another painting I wouldn’t mind having. A reminder.”
“Sorry to hear that and I quite agree.” Al nodded.
Questions about Lou piled up in his head. Where did she work? Was her manager’s bad review really that bad? Why choose a barking-dog ringtone? Why did she keep her phone down her shirt and could he help answer it? For the first time in a long time, he found he wanted to know the answers to these questions and many more. He wanted to know her better, and he certainly wanted to make her laugh, or at least smile. Lou’s smile dimmed the sunlight. These questions inched toward the tip of his tongue.
“Remember when we first met?”
“Yeah?”
Lou looked curious about where his question was headed.
“Where were you taking that coconut cake?”
A frown line appeared on Lou’s forehead. Al wanted to take the question back.
“Never mind. Not my business.”
“No, it’s okay.” Lou held up a hand. “It was for my fiancé at the time. I meant to surprise him, but he surprised me by having an unexpected female guest. Ergo, no more fiancé.”
“Ouch. I’m sorry.”
She shrugged her shoulders.
“It’s for the best. In retrospect, I think I was part of a business plan rather than the love of his life.” Lou studied the map on a nearby wall. “There’s one more thing you need to see; then let’s grab a snack outside.” She walked through another room to the very end of the hall, where a huge black cube stood. A dark curtain at the top of a few steps marked the entrance. A docent pointed to a basket of blue footies to wear over their shoes. After slipping the footies on, they walked up the steps and slipped around the curtain. Lou confidently stepped into the center of the room, but Al paused. Lou appeared to float among a billion stars. He looked down as he stepped forward. Even though he knew there was a solid surface, and could even see scuff marks on the plexiglass, his body kept waiting to fall into the ether. He stood in the middle of the small, dark room, inches from Lou. They were alone in space, together.
All six sides gave the illusion of endless stars. He looked up and down, enjoying the freaky sensation of being firmly planted on the ground while floating in the universe. Amazing how the mind could play tricks. Al set his hand on Lou’s shoulder to get her attention.
“Absolutely brilliant,” he said. When his hand touched her shoulder, Lou gave a little shudder and sucked in her breath. His stomach did a little flip at feeling her react to him. Or did she? Perhaps he just surprised her? Yes, that was it—just another trick of the mind. Lou stepped toward the door and Al let his hand return to his side.
“Ready for some snacks? I brought goodies.” And she turned and left the Infinity Chamber, almost as if she was eager to return to daylight. Al followed her back out, hungry for something.
• • • • •
Lou pulled the blanket and Sendik’s plastic bag from her trunk and walked to where Al sat on the grass. Her skin still zinged from his touch in the Infinity Chamber. It was exactly a month ago that she walked in on Devlin, so it didn’t seem quite right to already have the zings with someone new, but she couldn’t deny them. Al sat with his back to her, staring out over the gray waters of Lake Michigan, squinting into the sunlight. Seagulls swooped overhead, hoping for a spare scrap of bread or discarded lunch. She tossed the blanket to Al, breaking his reverie.
“Here. Can you spread that out?”
“Putting me to work now?”
“There are no free rides here. You need to earn your goodies.”
Al stood and snapped the blanket open, letting it parachute over the grass. They both climbed on, and Al watched as Lou started pulling goodies from the basket.
“And what are the delicious morsels?”
“Nothing fancy.”
Lou unwrapped a four-year-old cheddar and set it on a small cutting board with a knife. She pulled out a blue wine bottle and handed it to Al along with two plastic cups.
“Will you do the honors?” she asked.
Al looked down at the bottle and raised an eyebrow when he saw it was a cider, corked like champagne.
“I haven’t seen cider in a bottle like this since I was in France. You’ve got me excited now.”
He twisted off the metal wire and popped out the cork as Lou finished cutting crisp red apples, her fingers deftly slicing the fruit into even pieces. She pulled a crusty boule of bread from the bag and a roll of something wrapped in wax paper.
“What’s that?” Al said, pointing at the unknown item.
“That’s my favorite. It’s hand-rolled butter from a local dairy. I could eat it with a spoon.” Lou unrolled the butter and tore off a hunk of bread. Rather than use a knife, she scraped the bread across the butter and handed it to Al. He set aside the cider and took a bite.
“Wow,” Al said, still chewing. “That’s bloody amazing. There is a tang that’s brilliant with the creaminess. And on the chewy bread. Fantastic.”
He scooped more butter onto the end he hadn’t bitten. Lou smiled. She hadn’t been wrong about Al’s tastes. He knew how to enjoy good food. He handed her a cup of cider and she sipped. This was her favorite cider, too. The bubbles popped with appley bursts, not too sweet, not too dry. She broke off a chunk of cheddar and let it sit on her tongue, mingling with the aftertaste. As she bit, she felt the small cheese crystals crunching as the cider mellowed its bite, a surprisingly good pairing. She might be able to use that at the restaurant. Her musings were interrupted by Al.
“Tuppence for your thoughts?”
Lou sipped her cider to ready them.
“Work.”
“Ahhh. Imagining your next diorama of taxidermied rodents?”
Lou chuckled into her red plastic cup.
“So, what about your family? Do you see them much now that you’re here?” Lou finally asked.
“Not really. My parents still live in Windsor. Dad teaches at the school there.”
“Any brothers or sisters?”
“One brother. Ridiculously successful and charming. I hate him.”
“I can tell that’s not true.”
“No, it isn’t. But I’ll always be the little brother in his shadow.” Al sipped his cider as Lou fit a family into what she knew about him. “What about your family?” he asked.
Lou sucked in her breath and studied Al to decide whether she was ready to share.
“It’s just me. My parents died in a huge car crash several years ago. No siblings.”
“I’m so sorry.” He set down his cup and touched her arm. Lou wanted to close her eyes and lean into him, but not on a pity touch.
“Thank you. It’s been a few years, and I have amazing friends who help fill the gap. I even know an elderly couple who’ve almost adopted me.”
Al squeezed her elbow and they returned to snacking in silence. They both watched the clouds skitter across the lake.
“I really know how to ruin the mood, don’t I?” Al said as he laughed at himself. Lou laughed with him and grabbed his hand. She thought his eyes widened, but the moment was gone in a blink. Was he seeing someone?
“You did no such thing.” Lou studied her hands. “So, you know about my tragic love life. Any bungled romances in your past?
”
“Bungled—good word.” Al paused. “There was just one. I thought she was my soul mate until she tried to shag my brother. Her name was Portia—that should have been a clue.”
“Harsh.” Lou scrunched her face as if she’d just sucked a lemon. “Someone really named—”
“When can I see you again?” Al interrupted, then turned his eyes toward the lake and pulled his hand back to grab an apple slice. “I mean, this is fun. It’s nice having you show me what I’m missing, talking to someone about bungled love lives.”
Lou watched him, realizing she had wasted so much time on Devlin when she could have found someone who wanted to spend time with her, enjoyed what she wanted to do. Al had it wrong—he was showing her.
• CHAPTER NINE •
The flashing green light was like a screaming toddler who lost his ice cream cone to a gutter; Lou wanted it to disappear but couldn’t ignore it. The caller ID already revealed who left the message. She chewed the inside of her lip as she tapped the countertop with her short nails. In a quick motion, much like jumping into a cold lake headfirst or tearing off a Band-Aid, Lou poked the Play button.
“Elizabeth, it’s Devlin. I hope you’re enjoying the mixer.”
“The neighbors are,” Lou responded as his message played.
“I’m going to come over at two today. I’ll see you then.”
“Good luck with that.”
Lou pushed the Delete button, picked up her purse and small bag of blue and gold clothes, and left, locking the newly rekeyed door behind her.
• • • • •
Almost three weeks had passed since Al stood in the Infinity Chamber with Lou. His body warmed as he remembered her vanilla scent. He glanced out the window to see if a banged-up black Civic had arrived. But no Civic yet, so he turned away from the window toward his apartment, already envisioning Lou in each room.
He had moved into the two-story condo months ago, but it hadn’t changed much since the first day. Al quite liked the open, airy quality of the space. Light yellow Cream City brick comprised the walls. He had liked their color and minimalist style, and found out later the bricks were classic Milwaukee construction. The open, bare brick walls were softened by lightly stained wood beams and pillars. Rosewood covered the floors, ranging from golden yellow to rich, dark reds, and his windows overlooked the busy street below, which made watching for Lou’s car easy. The main floor contained an open living room, a kitchen area, a study, and a bathroom for the guests he never had. The loft upstairs was his bedroom and master bath that overlooked the lower level.
Other than one stool next to the kitchen counter and his work desk in front of the two-story windows overlooking the street, Al didn’t have much furniture on the first floor. He used the study for storage. Right now it contained his bike and a few boxes of cookbooks.
Up the open stairs to the loft, Al’s bedroom had a large king-size bed covered in a soft, gray down comforter and fluffy white pillows. He liked sinking into his bed and letting the comfort surround him. It was his one major purchase in Milwaukee. In the walk-in closet, Al’s dress pants and button-down shirts, plus the two suits he rarely wore, hung on hangers, but his socks, T-shirts, and pajamas still sat in the open suitcases, as if he were ready to flee at a moment’s notice.
Most nights he worked at his desk, an old farm table he’d found at a rummage sale. It was sturdy enough to safely hold his computer and books but cheap enough for him to leave behind when he moved. He preferred to type his columns at night after he finished a restaurant visit, while it was fresh in his mind. In the quiet after midnight, the window turned into a mirror, reflecting the sparse, bright apartment behind him and blocking out the busy traffic and lights below. Only the sound of running engines and closing doors reminded him of the life on the other side. It was peaceful—his own ivory tower of Cream City brick.
Al walked into his kitchen. He pictured Lou perched on the black granite counters as he whipped up a meal just for her. The counters formed a U shape and small appliances dotted the surface: an electric tea kettle, a KitchenAid stand mixer, and even a yogurt maker. He’d been trying to make a decent Greek yogurt for weeks. The left wall opened into the dining and living area. He usually ate his breakfast on the stool looking into the kitchen, the only room in the condo representing his interests. Hanging on every open wall space shone his beloved collection of French copper cookware—both beautiful and useful. Along one counter he had dozens of cookbooks, some open to a recipe, others battered from frequent use. Al used this space to explore and try to re-create dishes from the restaurants he visited.
Next to a wrapped present, the most colorful object in the kitchen lay on the hard black counter: a magnet of Chihuly’s glass sculpture. Al had bought the small kitschy item as a memento of the lovely day he shared with Lou at the museum. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t stick to any of his stainless steel appliances, so it lay on the counter where he could see it, never failing to bring a smile to his face when he glanced at it.
Al picked it up and pushed it against a copper pot, hoping it would stick. It plopped to the floor, landing with the black magnetic side up. Picking it up, he opened a nearby cupboard and reached into the dark corner, shifting objects with his other hand. After a few loud clunks, he pulled from the depths a large, heavy, rust-splotched cast-iron skillet that had once belonged to his maternal grandmother. He recalled her frying delicious handmade sausages, bacon, and eggs from the chickens on her farm. Her food was simple but mouthwatering. He knew with certainty that Lou would have loved her.
Al ran his hand over the rust spots, then held the heavy pan to his nose. He could almost smell the sausages. He set it upside down on the counter, hiding most of the rust, and held the magnet an inch above the deep black. He could feel the magnetic pull and knew he had found the perfect spot to display it. Al removed his copper paella pan and hung the skillet in its place. The reds, yellows, and blues of the Chihuly sculpture stood out in stark contrast with the inky-black pan. The melding of these two fond memories brought more homeyness into his apartment than the treasured copper collection surrounding it. Contentedness warmed him like hot tea on a brisk day. But the one magnet looked lonely—he wanted more.
Buzzzzz! Al grabbed the present and bounded from the kitchen to the intercom. He pushed the Talk button, stuffing his keys into his jean’s pocket. “I’m on my way down.” Al glanced back at the kitchen, where he could see the flash of color on darkness, then walked out the door and locked it before Lou had a chance to respond. When he walked out the front door, Lou smiled.
“Afraid I’ll find the severed heads?” she said.
“Something like that.” He held out the wrapped gift, about the size of a shirt box.
“What’s this?” Lou’s crinkled forehead contrasted adorably with her dazzling smile as she took the present.
“A thank-you.”
With the unabashed glee of a child on Christmas morning, Lou shredded the wrapping paper to reveal a colorful canvas painting of a calla lily.
“Wow! Is this a real painting?” She ran her hand over the swirls of oil paint, feeling the peaks and valleys under her fingertips.
“I couldn’t find a print of the painting you liked at the museum. I saw this one at an art fair, and it reminded me of you.”
Al held his breath as he waited for her response. He wanted her to love it, to see it and think of him. Lou wasn’t saying anything; she wasn’t even moving—just staring at the painting. He had to break the silence.
“I was going to send you flowers, but I couldn’t find your address.”
Lou looked up, her eyes sparkling with tears—the good kind if her smile was any indicator. She sniffed.
“It’s unlisted.” She wiped her eyes. “This is the most amazing gift anyone has ever given me.”
She hugged the painting to her chest and kissed Al on the cheek. While he barely felt her lips, the effects of them ravaged his senses. She pulled away and used her thu
mb to wipe away her lip gloss.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Al swallowed and tried to keep his reaction to himself.
“No, thank you.”
Lou opened her trunk and pulled out a blue-and-gold fleece blanket. She wrapped the painting and set it in her backseat. Touching it one last time, she turned to Al.
“Before I start crying again, are you ready for some baseball?”
• • • • •
Lou drove her Civic through the teeming parking lot, following the confident arm signals from yellow-vested old men. All around them people fell out of cars, set up grills, tossed baseballs and beanbags. A group of twenty unloaded a small cargo truck containing a full-size gas grill, three large folding tables, and five large coolers. Excitement hung in the air with the smoky fog rising from thousands of hot grills. The Brewers’ record had improved steadily since their opening slump, and they’d put together an impressive ten-game winning streak. A few more wins and George Webb’s would start handing out free burgers. The local diner chain hadn’t done that since 1987, when the Brewers won twelve straight games.
Lou pulled into the parking spot, turned off the car, and looked upward. Warm sunlight hit her face. Today, the sky matched the exact color of Al’s eyes, pristine blue. The wind blew softly, the sun warmed without being too hot. Miller Park was the epitome of summer in Milwaukee. The smell of grilled meat over screaming-hot coals, car exhaust, and fresh-cut grass relaxed every muscle in Lou’s body. Car doors slammed, gloves snapped shut around flying baseballs, and countless radios blared Bon Jovi, the BoDeans, and Bob Uecker. Lou breathed deeply as she stepped out and popped open the trunk. Al appeared around the rising metal.
“So, why are we here two hours before the game starts?”
“Tailgating.” Lou’s lips twitched upward.
“Tail-whating?”
“Tailgating. A time-honored pregame tradition involving food, drink, and maybe games. Think of it as a picnic in a parking lot. It can be very elaborate and gourmet, like that group with the cargo truck, but we’re going old school. Grilled brats and beer, followed by a game of catch. You can’t say you know Milwaukee until you’ve tailgated at Miller Park. But first we need to do something about your clothes.”
The Coincidence of Coconut Cake Page 8