19

 

The aroma of seared sirloin burger I cooked for my solitary dinner that evening drifted on the air, aided by my swirling spatula. The doorbell rang. “Who could that be?” I asked Memnet. Together we answered the summons. I would have been disappointed had my visitor been anyone but Adam.

“You really prayed?” He asked as soon as I opened the door.

I nodded. “On my knees and everything. Right there.” I waved the greasy spatula toward the front window.

“Can we talk?”

I took a deep breath and couldn’t refuse his sweet plea. Besides, I still had his cat. “Sure. C’mon in.”

“I hope Isis is behaving herself,” he said, closing the door behind us. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner.”

“I’ll make more, if you’d like to stay.”

He flashed a grin. “If I say yes now, does that mean you’ll feed me no matter what happens?”

I laughed. “Got me there. Maybe I’ll wait before I ask again. Have a seat. I’ll get us some coffee.”

Isis trotted up to him from the hall, where I’d left her lazing on my bed. He bent to pick her up.

I walked slowly over to the stove to check the food.

He went into the living room and stood in the spot I had occupied last night, on my knees, praying for his safety.

I turned down the heat and covered the burgers before going after him with the promised coffee.

He turned and moved close to me. Too close. He smelled so good, the pine-scented soap I associated with him just noticeable underneath the clean hints of outside.

“Oh!” I said. He had me addled. “Yes. I wanted to tell you…I forgot to say earlier, that is, that it seems Isis and Memnet have become friends.”

Memnet crawled out from behind the sofa and gingerly approached, as if he was a nervous teenager meeting his girlfriend’s father for the first time.

Isis jumped gracefully to the floor.

We watched while our pets touched noses.

“Ivy. I don’t know where Ronald is. If I did, I would say so.”

I buried my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe what comes out of my mouth sometimes. That was unforgivable. And I believe you. I’m not even certain just who I saw.” I moved my hands and studied him. “I haven’t even asked you about your place. Can anything be saved?”

His hands wound in my hair, stroking the back of my head much like he did with Isis as he urged me close. “The worst damage was upstairs. The equipment and store inventory are smoke-damaged and have to be replaced. My apartment will have to be rebuilt.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s terrible. You lost all your personal stuff?”

“Odds and ends. I kept my place in Chicago. I’ve lived there all my life.”

I nodded, numb with suspicion and sorrow. “Right. This was just a temporary gig for you.”

“You have to understand my other businesses are still in the city. I couldn’t just jump blindly and give up everything.”

As I had. “I do understand. And I’m sorry. I accused you of some pretty terrible things. You don’t owe me anything, but I owe you an apology.”

“Ivy, look at me.”

I raised my head slowly, reluctant and shy to see his face.

“I believe you,” Adam said. “Don’t you think Donald would have trusted us if he was worried about something? He thought we’d make a good couple, and I don’t want to prove him wrong. Let’s just let things play out for now without jumping to conclusions.” He stroked the hair of my temple behind my ear. I watched his lips form the words.

“What did you mean last night, when you said, ‘don’t believe everything I see?’”

He watched my lips, as if he could see the words as I spoke them, before answering. “Just that you might wonder what Hanley and Stewart and I would do about the store.”

“Oh.” I focused on his mouth moving closer. “Um, so that’s when they said they would buy you out?”

Adam’s momentum halted. He raised his eyes to mine. “Yes.” But it was a question.

I leaned back. “You asked me what I thought of Apple Grove once. I had a hard time answering then. But now I have to tell you that, despite the weird things that are happening right now, I’m serious when I say I like living here. I have my own house for the first time in my life. The neighbors are nice. I know the mail lady, Janie, by name. Marion and I are going to play on the women’s volleyball team at the Rec Center after Christmas. I’m helping at the newspaper office. I like church. Pastor and Mrs. Gaines are nice people. They’ve invited me to Bible study, and I would like us to go. Together.”

Adam turned away from me to reach for his cooling cup of coffee I’d set on an end table.

“My business is picking up,” I continued. “I can pay my bills on my own without getting into my trust fund. I miss Donald and Tut. The next meeting is soon, and I want us to go together.”

“You may not get everything you want, Ivy.” Adam stared out the front window.

“My mother said that every day for a year after my father died. I realize that. But the things I mentioned are in reach. I’m not hurting anyone. I’m happy.” I bounced a little in irritation, crossing my legs. “Or at least I was.” I heard Mem and Isis batting some object around the kitchen floor. “Even Mem and Isis decided to get along.”

Adam turned to me. A frown line appeared between his brows. “Getting along isn’t the issue, Ivy! You see life through your little rosy glasses. You think it’s enough to be happy and not hurt anyone.”

“So, what do you want, Adam? What makes you happy?”

He glared at me, his mouth set in a straight line. “My stores, and my customers. And when someone threatens my business, I’m not happy.” He paced around my little living room, three steps one way, four another. “What if we’d been there when the fire started? If you’d been…” His voice choked.

I waited, trembling and upset.

Adam said in a stronger, decision-made voice. “I talked to my sister this morning. Marie oversees my other stores. I told her I was coming back for a couple of weeks. The condo complex I live in is undergoing some remodeling. She invited me—us—to stay with her. They have a big house, lots of guest rooms.” He continued his restless journey. “I want you to come. Meet her. Our folks are…well, Dad’s been gone for ten years. Mom’s not in too good of shape. She has Alzheimer’s, lives in a nursing home. I need to be there for her in case anything happens. Will you? Come?”

“I can’t leave my work that long. Most of what I do is time sensitive. You know that.”

He stopped before me and leaned close, hands resting on either side of me, not touching me. His whole expression pleaded. From his gentle, smoky gray eyes to the cleft of his chin, he begged me. “You can work from practically anywhere. Please. I don’t have anywhere else to go and I couldn’t stand it if you…” He couldn’t finish.

I felt the single tear spill over and run down my cheek. “I can’t. I’m not ready to give up.”

He bent his head, exposing the back of his neck to me with a vulnerability that nearly made me change my mind.

A yowl from the kitchen broke the spell.

He righted himself, stretching his back.

I sidled away from him and went to turn off the stove.

Mem stood at the back door, hair raised along his spine, tail twitching.

“What’s wrong, my friend? If you want to go out, you know how to ask politely.” I opened the door for him. Glittery paper caught my eye. Another package. “Ah. You saw the delivery!” I said. “If only you could tell me who it was.” I opened the door and looked both ways along the street, seeing no one. I brought the box inside.

“What’s that?” Adam stood in the opening between the kitchen and living room.

I held the box from Featherlight up for him to see. “Remember when I thought you had dropped off some candy here? Someone’s been making regular deliveries. Would you like some?”

“No.” He came into the room. “You’ve eaten some before? Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Yes. The police have been informed. In fact, the last package—no, the one before that—had my coin purse with it. The one that was stolen.”

Adam watched me through narrowed eyes.

Good. Let him think about this. Maybe even be jealous.

“You have no idea who’s behind this?”

“None. Now, do you want a burger with me, or not? I’m hungry.” I didn’t wait for him to answer, but bustled around, getting dishes and silverware out.

Adam helped finish the place settings and, at my direction, rummaged in the fridge for salad fixings. After we ate, he sat at the table watching me, Isis on his lap. Our meal had been silent.

Even though I was angry, I feared losing him. I didn’t know what to do.

We cleared away the remnants of the meal with the minimum of talk.

I was not ready to let him leave. “More coffee?” I asked.

He inclined his head.

A few more minutes of polite small talk had me ready to scream.

“Ivy, I need to take a break from all of this—mayhem,” he said quietly, clinking his coffee cup back into its saucer. “I want you with me, but I accept that you aren’t ready to leave. I’m worried about you, but you have friends who will look out for you.”

I stared at him, absorbing his features, trying not to cry.

“My niece is allergic to cats. Can I ask you to keep Isis while I’m gone?”

“Of course.”

When he was set to go, we stood arm in arm at the door. His leaving was a physical rip in the fabric of my being that not even having Isis could bandage.

“I’ll call you,” he whispered against my lips, the brevity of the kiss making me quake.

I quickly closed and locked the door behind him, then leaned against it. Two weeks, two weeks, two weeks, he’d said, the words echoing in my mind. Two weeks to breathe and sleep and pretend to live with my heart in shreds.