He pretended to rack his brains. "Uh… beans and franks. On Monday."
She feigned amazement. "J stand corrected. How are you at grating cheese.?"
"In that, I would consider myself an expert."
"Okay," she said. "There's a bowl in the cupboard over there, beneath the blender. And you don't need to do the whole block. Ben usually has two tacos, and I have only one. Anything more would be for you."
Thibault set his beer on the counter and retrieved the bowl from the cupboard. Then he moved to the sink to wash his hands and unwrap the block of cheese. He snuck glances at Elizabeth as he worked. Finished with the onion, she'd already moved on to the green pepper. The tomato came next. The knife danced steadily, the movements precise. "You do that so quickly."
She answered without breaking the rhythm of her movements. "There was a while there when I dreamed of opening my own restaurant."
"When was that.?"
"When I was fifteen. For my birthday, I even asked for the Ginsu knife."
"You mean the one that used to be advertised on late-night television? Where the guy on the commercial uses it to cut through a tin can?"
She nodded. "That's the one."
"Did you get it?"
"It's the knife I'm using now."
He smiled. "I've never known anyone who actually admitted to buying one."
"Now you do," she said. She stole a quick look at him. "I had this dream about opening this great place in Charleston or Savannah and having my own cookbooks and television show. Crazy, I know. But anyway, I spent the summer practicing my dicing. I'd dice everything I could, as fast as I could, until I was as fast as the guy on the commercial. There were Tupperware bowls filled with zucchini and carrots and squash that I'd picked from the garden. It drove Nana crazy, since it meant we had to have summer stew just about every single day."
"What's summer stew?"
"Anything mixed together that can be served over noodles or rice."
He smiled as he shifted a pile of grated cheese to the side. "Then what happened?"
"Summer ended, and we ran out of vegetables."
"Ah," he said, wondering how someone could look so pretty in an apron.
"Okay," she said, pulling another pot from under the stove, "let me whip up the salsa."
She poured in a large can of tomato sauce, then added the onions and peppers and a dash of Tabasco, along with salt and pepper. She stirred them together and set the heat on medium.
"Your own recipe?"
"Nana's. Ben doesn't like things too spicy, so this is what she came up with."
Finished with the cheese, Thibault rewrapped it. "What else?"
"Not much. I just have to shred some lettuce and that's it. Oh, and heat up the shells in the oven. I'll let the meat and the salsa simmer for a bit."
"How about I do the shells?"
She handed him a cookie sheet and turned on the oven. "Just spread the shells out a little. Three for us, and however many you want for you. But don't put them in yet. We still have a few minutes. Ben likes the shells fresh out of the oven."
Thibault did as she requested, and she finished with the lettuce at about the same time. She put three plates on the counter. Picking up her beer again, she motioned toward the door. "Come out back. I want to show you something."
Thibault followed her out, then stopped short as he took in the view from the covered deck. Enclosed by a hedge lay a series of cobblestone paths that wove among several circular brick planters, each with its own dogwood tree; in the center of the yard, serving as a focal point, was a three-tiered fountain that fed a large koi pond. "Wow," he murmured. "This is gorgeous."
"And you never knew it was here, right? It is pretty spectacular, but you should see it in the spring. Every year, Nana and I plant a few thousand tulips, daffodils, and lilies, and they start blooming right after the azaleas and dogwoods. From March through July, this garden is one of the most beautiful places on earth. And over there? Behind that lower hedge?" She pointed toward the right. "That's the home of our illustrious vegetable and herb garden."
"Nana never mentioned she gardened."
"She wouldn't. It was something she and Grandpa shared, kind of like their little secret. Because the kennel is right there, they wanted to make this a kind of oasis where they could escape the business, the dogs, the owners… even their employees. Of course, Drake and I, and then Ben and I, pitched in, but for the most part, it was theirs. It was the one project at which Grandpa really excelled. After he died, Nana decided to keep it up in his memory."
"It's incredible," he said.
It is, isn't it? It wasn't so great when we were kids. Unless we were planting bulbs, we weren't allowed to play back here. All our birthday parties were on the lawn out front that separates the house from the kennel. Which meant that for two days beforehand, we'd have to scoop up all the poop so no one would accidentally step in it."
"I can see how that would be a party stopper- "Hey!" a voice rang out from the kitchen. "Where are you guys?"
Elizabeth turned at the sound of Ben's voice. "Out here, sweetie. I'm showing Mr. Thibault the backyard."
Ben stepped outside, dressed in a black T-shirt and camouflage pants. "Where's Zeus? I'm ready for him to find me."
"Let's eat first. We'll do that after dinner."
"Mom…"
"It'll be better when it's dark anyway," Thibault interjected. "That way you can really hide. It'll be more fun for Zeus, too."
"What do you want to do until then?"
"Your Nana said you played chess."
Ben looked skeptical. "You know how to play chess?"
"Maybe not as good as you, but I know how to play."
"Okay." He scratched at his arm. "Hey, where did you say Zeus was?"
"On the porch out front."
"Can I go play with him?"
"You'll have to set the table first," Elizabeth instructed him. "And you'll only have a couple of minutes. Dinner's almost ready."
"Okay," he said, turning around. "Thanks."
As he raced off, she leaned around Thibault and cupped her mouth with her hands. "Don't forget the table!"
Ben skidded to a halt. He opened a drawer and grabbed three forks, then threw them onto the table like a dealer in Vegas, followed by the plates Elizabeth had set aside earlier. In all, it took him less than ten seconds-and the table showed it-before he vanished from view. When he was gone, Elizabeth shook her head. "Until Zeus got here, Ben used to be a quiet, easygoing child after school. He used to read and study, and now all he wants to do is chase your dog."
Thibault made a guilty face. "Sorry."
"Don't be. Believe me, I like a little… calmness as much as the next mother, but it's nice to see him so excited."
"Why don't you get him his own dog?"
"I will. In time. Once I see how things go with Nana." She took a sip of beer and nodded toward the house. "Let's go check on dinner. I think the oven's probably ready."
Back inside, Elizabeth slipped the cookie sheet into the oven and stirred the meat and salsa before ladling both into bowls. As she brought them to the table along with a stack of paper napkins, Thibault straightened the silverware and plates and grabbed the cheese, lettuce, and tomatoes. When Elizabeth set her beer on the table, Thibault was struck again by her natural beauty.
"Do you want to call Ben, or should I?"
He forced himself to turn away. "I'll call Ben," he said.
Ben was sitting on the front porch, stroking a panting Zeus from his forehead to his tail in one long stroke.
"You tired him out," Thibault observed.
"I run pretty fast," Ben agreed.
"You ready to eat? Dinner's on the table."
Ben got up, and Zeus raised his head. "Stay here," Thibault said. Zeus's ears flattened as if he were being punished. But he laid his head back down as Ben and Thibault entered the house.
Elizabeth was already seated at the table. As soon as Ben and Thibault sat down, Ben immediately started loading his taco with the seasoned ground beef.
"I want to hear more about your walk across the country," Elizabeth said.
"Yeah, me too," Ben said, spooning on salsa.
Thibault reached for his napkin and spread it on his lap. "What would you like to know?"
She nourished her napkin. "Why don't you start at the beginning?"
For a moment, Thibault considered the truth: that it began with a photograph in the Kuwaiti desert. But he couldn't tell them about that. Instead, he started by describing a cold Match morning, when he'd slung his backpack over his arm and started down the shoulder of the road. He told them about the things he saw-for Ben's sake, he made sure to describe all the wildlife he'd encountered-and talked about some of the more colorful people he'd encountered. Elizabeth seemed to realize that he wasn't accustomed to talking so much about himself, so she prompted him by asking him questions whenever he seemed to be running out of things to say. From there, she asked him a bit more about college and was amused when Ben learned that the man sitting at the table actually dug up real life skeletons. Ben asked a few questions of his own: Do you have any brothers or sisters? No. Did you play sports? Yeah, but I was average, not great. What's your favorite football team? The Denver Broncos, of course. As Ben and Thibault chatted, Elizabeth followed their exchange with amusement and interest.
As the evening wore on, the sunlight slanting through the window shifted and waned, dimming the kitchen. They finished eating, and after excusing himself, Ben rejoined Zeus on the porch. Thibault helped Elizabeth clean up the table, wrapping the leftovers and stacking plates and silverware in the dishwasher. Breaking her own rule, Elizabeth opened a second beer and offered another to Thibault before they escaped the heat of the kitchen and went outside.
On the porch, the air felt noticeably cooler, and a breeze made the leaves on the trees dance. Ben and Zeus were playing again, and Ben's laughter hung suspended in the air. Elizabeth leaned on the railing, watching her son, and Thibault had to force himself not to stare in her direction. Neither of them felt the need to speak, and Thibault took a long, slow pull of his beer, wondering where on earth all of this was going.