Devlin tossed a thick red-and-white paperback book on the crowded table and left, leaving behind echoes of doubt and disbelief. Lou read the title; it was a Polish-English dictionary. He had tucked one of his expensive personal note cards into it. She could see his slate-blue initials, DP, in the corner of the snow-white, thick stock.
She stared at the book, afraid of its contents. Her fingers twitched toward it. No. She shook her head to reinforce the sentiment. No.
Lou knew Al. He laughed at her silly jokes, savored good food, respected his parents, and showed kindness to Otto and Gertrude. A. W. Wodyski could not, could never be the same person she loved. They were not compatible.
With trembling hands, Lou stacked her cookbooks and the offending tome to carry into the Lair. She should know better than to let anything Devlin said distract her. She had a meal to cook, guests to entertain, and a man to love. Tomorrow, she’d finish packing up this life so she could begin her new one. Screw Devlin.
• • • • •
Al watched the delays flash across the airport monitors as he played with the square box in his pocket. It thrilled him to think about what it contained. How could a tiny thing hold so much hope and happiness? As Gertrude had said a few months ago, when you knew, you knew. Tonight, Lou would leave one path alone and start another path with him. Tomorrow, she could meet his parents, but they had to land first.
The first hard blizzard of the season charged toward them, forcing flights to delay their arrival and land in different airports. His parents’ flight was due to land any minute. It was a race to see which would arrive first, the storm or the airplane.
“Dude, if you want to play pocket pool, choose a nice quiet bathroom stall, not the middle of the airport,” John said.
“What?” Al looked down and realized what it looked like. “What do you expect? I haven’t seen Lou since yesterday morning.”
He chuckled at John’s shock that he played along with his joke rather than act embarrassed as usual. That’s what the Al of ten months ago would have done. That Al would also never be at the airport waiting for his parents. He wore jeans and a gray T-shirt under a plaid button-down. He’d thought about wearing the Brewers cap Lou had given him at his first game, but that might prove too much for his parents to take in at one time. He no longer stuck out when they went to bars. Milwaukeeans just didn’t dress up for most nights out. Sure, they had the occasional bar or restaurant where the clientele wore trousers or dresses, but most places were casual. And he liked it.
Al started pacing to calm his nerves.
“You’re starting to make me nervous. Is there something I need to know about your parents before they arrive?”
“No, sorry. I haven’t seen them in over a year. I didn’t realize how much I missed them until they bought their tickets. But a lot has changed since I left. They weren’t thrilled with me leaving the country. I want them to see I’m happy. Does that make sense?”
“Give me a squish then and tell Mum all about it,” a feminine voice said from behind him.
Al spun, grabbed his mum, and hugged her tight.
“Now that is a proper way to greet me. Step back so I can look at you.”
The tiny woman dressed in black pants and a jacket, with a splash of color from a scarf, gave Al a once-over.
“Tsk, I expected you to dress up a bit more. But I have to say, it seems to suit you.”
“Where’s Dad?” Al said, looking around.
“Oh, he told me to come ahead and find you. He’s getting the carry-ons down. He knew I couldn’t wait to see my boy. Ah, here he comes.”
A short man, looking like a slightly older version of Al, walked toward them wearing tan trousers, a white oxford shirt, and a tweed jacket complete with patches on the elbows. He pulled two small suitcases and carried another across his body. Al went to take them, but before he could grab the suitcases, his dad pulled him into a tight hug.
“It’s good to see you. Take these—I’m positively knackered.” He handed Al the bag and a suitcase. They joined his mom, who was eyeing John with curiosity.
“Mum, Dad—this is my friend John. He’s one of the finest writers I’ve ever met. John, my parents, Katherine and James.” John grasped Katherine’s hand and bowed over it.
“Pleasure to meet you. And may I add, that scarf is stunning. Vintage Hermès?”
“Yes, how did you know?” She looked pleased at the greeting, quickly forgetting his unusual appearance.
“John’s the style editor for the paper. Look closely and you’ll notice he’s wearing couture from head to toe. He works very hard to make it look like he dresses out of the laundry bin.”
“Yes, yes, we can focus on my deficiencies later. But now that they’ve landed, let’s get back downtown before the worst of the snow hits,” John said. The small group headed toward the parking garage, where John had his car.
Katherine looked around, then asked, “Al, where is your lady friend? I had hoped to meet her.”
“You’ll meet her in a day or two. She closed her restaurant yesterday and tonight is the farewell party, with only close friends.” Lou didn’t need strangers around on such an emotional evening, even if they were his parents. “That’s why you’ll be hanging out with John. I imagine you’ll want to rest. Then tomorrow we can start seeing the city. I’ve picked up some movies and takeout menus.”
“But you can’t go out in this weather. The pilot said the storm coming was quite nasty,” James said.
“Ha, welcome to Wisconsin. We don’t let the weather stop us. We just drive slower and dress warmer,” John added.
“It’s true. Her restaurant is close enough to walk and I finally have boots and a coat warm enough. I’ll be fine. And they won’t cancel—not tonight.”
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her. From what you’ve mentioned on the phone, I may have a daughter-in-law soon.”
“One can hope,” Al said with a smile. The wind whipped around them in the small parking garage, but Al could only think of the warm kitchen where the center of his universe prepared a feast. With luck, they would find plenty to celebrate tonight.
• • • • •
Cooking always cleared Lou’s mind. Planning a menu was the mentally taxing part; making food soothed her with the repetition of chopping, the simplicity of following a recipe, even if it was in her head. In her kitchen, everything was so familiar, she could almost close her eyes and prepare a full meal. Three steps to the fridge, bend down to get the limes, plates were in the warmer next to the stove, exactly as they should be.
After Devlin’s visit, she needed the calm to soothe her rattled nerves, stop her shaking hands. While chopping, sautéing, and blending, Devlin’s words replayed in her mind, pinging off her exposed heartstrings while her faith fought them off. She refused to believe what Devlin’d said was true.
She could hear the wind whoosh around the buildings, sending sheets of white snow across the front window like a thick curtain, blocking out the buildings across the street. She’d thought about postponing the dinner, but she didn’t have any options for rescheduling. She called Harley to see whether he could pick up the Meyers. They shouldn’t be coming out in this weather, but Lou knew they didn’t want to miss it. He assured her he’d already called and made plans to pick them up in his large truck.
She’d finished all the prep. The rest of the cooking would wait until right before serving. Time to get ready. As she entered the Lair, her eyes passed over the Polish-English dictionary she’d thrown at her desk—the red-and-white cover contrasting with the scattered paperwork. She picked up the dictionary and turned it over in her hands, trying to feel the truth it might contain. If she looked, then she could set the issue aside, prove Devlin wanted to cause doubt. But looking would be a testament to her doubt. If she looked, that meant she didn’t trust Al.
Lou tossed the dictionary in the garbage. Done—now she’d shower and get ready for the party. Grabbing the dress hanging on a nail in the wall, she ducked into the bathroom. By the time she dried her hair, put on a smattering of makeup, and slipped into her dress she felt better, more put together, even though her work life had completely imploded. Today she ended one life and began another, one in which Devlin held no sway.