I squeezed him tighter. “You have no idea—this is the perfect ending to an otherwise crazy day.”
He kissed me again. “It’s okay, then?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah, it is definitely okay. This is exactly what I needed.”
“You looked a little pale there for a minute.”
“I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
He pulled a chair out for me and we sat down, and then as if on cue Paco appeared out of the shadows, carrying two plates of food with a white napkin draped over his arm. I nearly fell out of my chair laughing.
He was wearing a tight black Speedo and black leather sandals, with a black tuxedo jacket over his bare chest and a red sequined bow tie around his neck. He looked like a Chippendale dancer delivering a strip-o-gram.
His cheeks were flushed red. “Don’t laugh. The chef made me wear it.”
I said, “You look fantastic. I think you should be required to wear that for every dinner.”
Ethan patted his pockets. “Man, I’m all out of dollar bills or I’d throw you a couple.”
Paco set the plates down on the table and said, “Very funny.”
Michael was right behind him with a bottle of white wine, wearing his regular khaki shorts and white tank top.
I said, “Wait a minute, where’s your waiter uniform?”
He said with a grin, “Oh, I’m not a waiter. I’m the chef,” and Paco rolled his eyes.
I said, “You guys aren’t eating with us?”
“Nope. We don’t want to crash your date, plus we have our own plans.”
As he filled the wineglasses he described the menu—vegetable lasagna, with cremini and portobello mushrooms and a creamy bechamel sauce, served with a salad of baby greens and slices of fresh blood orange and ripe avocado. Later there’d be homemade key lime pie.
I started to get that feeling again—that everybody felt like I needed to be taken care of, that they had to pamper me and protect me and keep me happy as a baby so I’d forget about Mr. Hoskins and the accident and everything else that had happened. Sooner or later I was going to have to let everybody know that I didn’t need to be coddled and spoiled, that I wasn’t here to make them all feel like big, strong he-men taking care of a defenseless little girl.
I opted for later.
Dinner was absolutely delicious. Our grandmother always said you can improve just about any recipe by adding a pound of bacon to it, and I wondered if Michael and Paco didn’t have some similar trick up their sleeve. Everything just seemed to taste better when it came out of their kitchen. They both reappeared every once in a while to refill our wineglasses or take plates away, and when we were done they headed back up to the house, their arms around each other’s shoulders. As they disappeared into the shadows I heard Paco say, “Next time, you’re the waiter and I’m the chef.”
I turned to Ethan. “This has been about the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me.”
He smiled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
He held up his wineglass and said, “To now,” and then we clinked our glasses and each took a sip. Then he held up his glass again and said, “And to me being an awesome boyfriend.”
I grinned and said, “I’ll drink to that,” and then we clinked our glasses once more and took another sip.
Then we just sat there for a while, not talking, just enjoying the wine and the company and the moon hanging over the ocean. I thought about my plan to sneak away and call Mrs. Silverthorn, but now, sitting here with Ethan, it didn’t seem so urgent. I figured if Mr. Silverthorn had found Cosmo he would probably have called, and if he hadn’t found him there wasn’t anything I could do about it now anyway. Tomorrow I’d come up with an excuse to pay the Silverthorns a visit, which would give me an excuse to pull Janet aside and talk to her. Except …
Ethan interrupted the silence. “So, I wanted to tell you, about that letter from Guidry.”
I took a deep breath, but he stopped me.
“No, just listen. I know what was going on when you met him. That was a rough time for you, and I know he made you feel happy for the first time in a very long time. So, I mean, it’s pretty stupid of me to sit here and be all jealous just because he wrote you a letter. It’s probably because of him that you’re even here with me in the first place. So I figured I’d just go the mature route. No sweat. I don’t need to be part of it. You can open it or not open it. Either way I’m good.”
He sat back and folded his arms over his chest, then added, “Thus concludes my speech.”
I smiled. “Thanks for that.”
He winked. “Sure, babe.”
Then I slid Guidry’s letter onto the table between us. “Because I thought we should open it together.”
His jaw dropped open and he pushed his chair back, holding his hands up in the air. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I’m totally not ready to be that mature!”
I laughed. “Oh, come on! You have to help me.”
“Why do I have to help you? That letter’s for you, not me!”
I said, “Because we’re a couple and that’s what couples do. Now grow up and open it with me.”
He shook his head. “No way.”
“What about that speech you just gave me about not being jealous and taking the mature route?”
“That was all bullshit.”
I cocked one eyebrow and stared at him.
He grinned uncomfortably. “Really?”
I said, “Ethan, I don’t want to read it alone. I want to read it with you.”
He sighed. “Ugh. What if he wants you back?”
“We’ll say no.”
“What if he wants you to come visit him?”
“We’ll say no.”
He picked up the wine bottle and split the last remaining drops equally between our glasses. “Okay, let’s open the damn thing already.”
I picked up the letter, hoping Ethan wouldn’t notice the slight tremble in my hands, and slid a fingernail along the edge of the envelope. I lifted the flap and looked inside. There was a single piece of paper, handwritten and folded into thirds.
I spread it open on the table, took a deep breath, and read it out loud:
Dixie,
I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I know you might find that surprising, but I do think about you a lot and hope you and Ethan are good (yes, the guys down at the station keep me up to date on all the gossip). I’m writing because I have something to tell you. I’ve picked up the phone a hundred times to call, but every time I do, I can’t quite figure out how to say it. So I thought I’d just do the old-fashioned thing and write you a letter (or is it the cowardly thing?) Well, anyway …
I’m engaged.
I can tell you all about it later, if you want to hear it, but I didn’t want to take the next step without letting you know first. Probably dumb, huh?
Guidry
I looked up to find Ethan staring at me, his eyes as big as an owl’s. He said, “Whoa. Did not see that coming.”
I had to admit, I hadn’t seen it coming either, and to be honest I didn’t know how I felt about it. Part of me was grateful Guidry had told me first—it would definitely have been strange to find out any other way—and part of me was just plain shocked. How was it possible he could so quickly have met someone, fallen in love, and decided to get married? It seemed like only yesterday that he’d left for New Orleans. Had I opened that letter alone, I would probably have sat down and cried for myself for a couple of hours, but with Ethan there with me, my ultimate reaction was entirely different, not to mention a little surprising.
Ethan downed the rest of his wine in one gulp and sighed. “So … what are you thinking?”
I picked up my glass, “I’m thinking … One, good for him. Two, I’m glad that’s over with, and three, let’s go inside, it’s getting a little chilly out here.”
He grinned. “That’s it?”
I didn’t think it would be quite so simple, but it was. I nodded. “Yep. That’s it.”
Looking a little relieved, Ethan stood up slowly and came around to my side of the table and pulled my chair out for me. Then we took our time and walked hand in hand back up to the house. When we got to the courtyard, Michael and Paco were in one of the chaise lounges my grandfather built, wrapped in each other’s arms and sound asleep. We tiptoed up the stairs and closed the French doors behind us.
I wasn’t sure what was coming next, but I didn’t get a chance to find out. We hadn’t been inside ten seconds when my cell phone rang.
I said, “You’ve got to be kidding me. Who in the world would be calling me at this hour?”
Ethan glanced at his watch. “Uh, it’s nine o’clock, Gramma.”
With the day I’d had, not to mention the miles of territory covered in Guidry’s short letter—he was never a man of many words—I’d just assumed it was around three in the morning. My cell phone was on the coffee table in front of the couch, and when I read the caller ID, I turned to Ethan and frowned.
“It’s Village Meats.”
“Who?”
“The butcher up the street from the bookstore.”
As I flipped my phone open, Ethan whispered, “How the hell does he have your number?”
I held up one finger and said, “Hello?”
“Dixie, this is Butch from the butcher shop. I’m really sorry to call you, but this old guy just knocked on my window. He doesn’t have a cell phone—that’s how old we’re talkin’ about. He says he got that cat cornered out back in the alley. I said I’d give you a call.”
I said, “Mr. Silverthorn?”
“Yeah, that’s him. Old guy with gray hair. He said you’re good at catching cats.”
“Huh. Okay, thanks, Butch. Tell him I’ll be right there.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. I flipped the phone closed and said, “This will take twenty minutes tops.”
“Who is Butch? And where are you going?”
“He’s the butcher. He said Mr. Silverthorn is there and he’s got Cosmo cornered in the alley.”
“He’s Butch the Butcher?”
I picked up my backpack. “Would I make that up?”
“So what does Mr. Silverthorn need you for?”
“Ethan, he’s an old man and that cat is fast. There’s no way he could catch him.”
He sighed. “But what about dessert?”
I laughed as I kicked off my sandals and pushed my feet into a pair of Keds. “Oh, so that’s what you’re worried about!”
“Babe. It’s Michael’s key lime pie.”
“I know, I know. We’ll have it when I get back.”
He followed me out to the balcony. Michael and Paco were still sound asleep on the deck. He said, “Well, I guess I better bring in that table anyway. If the tide comes in we’ll never see it again.”
“Okay. I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”
He gave me a quick kiss at the top of the stairs and then watched me bound down the steps. As I hopped across the driveway I shouted, “If you eat all that pie I’ll kill you!”
He grinned. “You better hurry, then.”