I wrapped a forest green towel around the can to hide the paint-streaked label. I stepped back and smiled. The arrangement had morphed into an elegant cluster of red and green, brightening my kitchen.
I determined to give David the same fresh start. Maybe his habits resembled a disheveled bouquet of roses now. But a little tweaking and trimming, and he’d be in just the right shape to make an excellent lifetime companion.
I was certain of it.
“There. Are you ready? I’m starving.” I turned and beamed at him, hoping he’d catch my new appreciation.
“Ready. You look lovely, by the way.” He helped me into my jean jacket, which though not very warm, was more presentable than my ragtag ski parka. The poor thing had seen a few too many winters since college.
We stepped into the darkness. The clocks had changed from daylight savings back to regular time a week ago, but I still wasn’t used to the sight of stars before supper. Through the bare branches of the catalpa, I could see clouds moving to blot out the display.
“A bit brisk, don’t you agree?” David asked. I measured in only a few inches shy of his six foot plus, and I should have had no trouble keeping up with his long-legged stride as we hastened across Main Street. But the pull in my bad nerve seemed worse in the cold, damp air, and I lagged a step behind.
“Brrr. I’m thinking about Fiji for my next project.” I pulled my collar up around my chin. Hot sand and bright sunshine would be just the thing right now. We turned and headed down Independence Alley. Our footsteps echoed against the brick and glass of shops that had closed over an hour earlier. Now, what should have been a charming stretch of cobblestone and old-fashioned lampposts felt more like a scene from a Dracula movie.
I moved closer to David.
My arm bumped his as we approached the cheerful facade of the Rawlings Hotel. The place shone like a friendly oasis in a dark desert. Strands of clear lights and green garland spiraled around tall white pillars and spilled from window boxes. Every pane of glass glowed a warm yellow. I could almost hear, floating on the night air, the strains of an old-fashioned piano. I half expected to walk into the circa 1900 building and see ladies and gents in period-appropriate finery singing Christmas carols.
We entered the lobby, which likewise had been transformed into a winter wonderland. A Christmas tree filled one corner. Its branches sparkled with silver and gold ornaments and yards of shiny ribbon.
I stared in unease. Had I known the downtown merchants decorated for Christmas in early November, I would have insisted David take me to some franchise that waited until the last minute to deck the halls. My appetite dwindled in the face of Christmas cheer I’d managed to avoid the past ten years.
I fingered a tiny crystal angel on the tree. Her wings were delicate but strong as she blew her trumpet to the glory of the newborn King.
Pressure built in my temples.
“Mom,” I whispered as a tear let go and dripped onto the ornament.
“The table’s ready,” David said, touching my arm.
I gave a good sniffle and wiped my cheek before turning around.
“Great,” I smiled up at him. “I’m dying to find out if the beef Wellington is as yummy as everyone says.”
“You won’t be disappointed.” He led me to a table set for two. A happy little flame danced on the center candle, and I hoped its good attitude would rub off on me. I’d been looking forward to my date with David all week. I couldn’t believe I would let bad traffic and a few premature Christmas decorations mar our time together.
I sat in the soft-bottom café chair and laid my ivory cloth napkin in my lap. No need to look at the menu. Beef Wellington was mandatory after Brad, then David, had recommended it.
David settled in across from me, looking devastatingly handsome in the candlelight. I wondered briefly what Officer Brad was doing this evening. I hoped he’d found something to occupy his time after I’d squashed his big date plans with me. Not really a date, I reminded myself. It was just a “welcome to the neighborhood” kind of thing. Brad had made that very plain.
David had made it just as clear that he was taking me on a real date, from the moment he’d announced his impending divorce to the gargantuan bouquet of roses upon arrival tonight. The down-to-earth Brad probably would have brought me two dozen tomatoes.
David set his menu to one side. I took that as a cue that I could start some conversation. We had a lot of ground to cover before we could get on with our relationship.
“So where do you work, exactly?” I asked. First things first.
He hesitated. “Onyx Technologies, in Southfield.”
I knew of Onyx. A tall, black-glassed building at the intersection of Telegraph Road and Eight Mile housed the billion-dollar computer software firm.
“That’s a bit of a drive, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Around fifty minutes one way if I hit the traffic lights right.”
“You must have flexible hours.” I remembered grocery shopping with him on a weekday.
“Yes. Very,” he said.
“You must enjoy that,” I said, a touch of awe in my voice.
“Like I said, I’d dreamed of a career in computers. When Onyx came courting five years ago, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. They set me up with a U.S. work visa and got me out of paying over half my wage in taxes to the British government.”
“Do you miss England? Your family?”
He scrunched his chin. “Never had much of a family to miss. Mum died when I was young. Father did the best he could after that, I suppose, but five kids were too much for him. My oldest sister finished the job. I left for University and never went back. How about you?”
I sat silent for a moment, amazed at the similarity of our stories. “My mom died when I was seven. Dad was in and out of town most of the time, then pretty much disappeared from my life altogether around the time I lost Mom. Grandma took over and I did the university thing too.” I gave a shrug. “But that only lasted about a year and a half.”
David’s eyebrows lifted. “Didn’t care for your professors, huh?”
“I loved my classes. Just hit a string of bad luck. Gram got sick and I owed her big time for raising me. So I dropped out to care for her. I never got around to going back to school after she died.”
The waiter arrived with bottled water. He made a show of breaking the seal on the neck before pouring the contents into two glasses of ice. I breathed an inward sigh of relief for the diversion, hoping David would forget the topic of my grandmother altogether.
David put in our meal request. Then the waiter left, and David and I were alone again.
I leaned forward. “Did you know Casey?”
David stared at me. His brows pulled together. “Casey? You mean the girl from the coffee shop? I’ve gone in for a cup of tea on occasion, but I wouldn’t say I knew her. Not well, anyway.”
“Can you believe she’s dead? And supposedly from arsenic poisoning.” I took a sip from my glass. Cool, refreshing, and arsenic-free.
“It seems impossible. But they’re quite good with all that forensic stuff these days. If the coroner said arsenic poisoning, then arsenic it is,” David said.
“Personally, I think they ought to dig a little deeper. Do you suppose our neighbor is working on the case?”
David pushed back his chair and crossed his arms. “You mean Officer Walters? You’ve met him, I take it.”
“Sure I know Brad. He introduced himself my first night in town. Quite an introduction too, with the train blaring past.” I couldn’t help but smile at the memory.
David scowled. “If Officer Walters is on the case, you can be sure they’ll never solve it. He’s an idiot.”
My defenses shot up. Brad might be a blight on my life most of the time, and maybe he had blown off the body-in-the-basement and the stick-in-the-window incidents, but he had also shown thoughtfulness and caring in other matters. David stepped over the line by flinging insults at him.