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WINSTON CALLED UP KRISTY to tell her he had some good news, but he didn’t want to spill the beans over the phone. She’d been busy at work, and he’d been sleuthing, so they hadn’t been able to connect in person as much as he’d wanted. Plus, there was the issue of his sister, an unwanted third wheel. Thankfully, Marcy had planned a breakfast with an old friend of hers for the next day, so Winston’s morning would be clear.
“How about we meet at the Jukebox Café?” he asked. The diner was a fave of theirs, even with its sticky vinyl booths.
“Or I could come over,” she said.
How cozy. “Even better.”
She hesitated. “I’ll be bringing a surprise.”
They weren’t the kind of lovey-dovey couple who’d celebrate one month, two months, three months of dating, and so on. He wondered why she’d get him a present. It wasn’t his birthday. But maybe for Pi Day, the 314th day of the year? “That’s fine by me.”
“You took a while to respond,” she said. “How about I make you a personalized breakfast burrito?”
His stomach roared in agreement. He’d never say no to a good meal. And Kristy managed to make the most scrumptious things; even a fried egg in her hands tasted like a culinary masterpiece.
* * *
ALTHOUGH SHE SHOWED up bright and early at an unusual wake time for him, Winston was ready. He’d managed to change out of his pj’s, wash his face, and even spritz on some Macho aftershave.
Kristy carried in a bag of groceries. Winston had started pulling ingredients out (eggs, tortillas, potatoes) when she held up a hand. “Wait a minute. I need to get something else.”
Winston was busy admiring the four-cheese shreds when she came back with a bag of cat food, a litter box with accoutrements, and a howling Blueberry.
“You brought your cat?”
“Surprise,” she said.
How romantic could this date be if that feisty feline was around?
As if on cue, Blueberry hissed at Winston. Then the cat started exploring the house. Winston swore the cat’s nose went up in the air while it surveyed the bachelor pad. “I don’t think he likes it here.”
“Give Blueberry some time,” Kristy said. “He’ll get used to your place.”
She started cracking some eggs into a skillet on the stove. Before he knew it, she’d cooked up a mouthwatering display of ingredients for a make-your-own breakfast burrito.
He put sausage, bell peppers, onions, cheese, and potatoes into a tortilla, with a dollop of sour cream and a splash of salsa, and rolled it up. Chewing the burrito, he felt like his taste buds had taken flight. He couldn’t—didn’t want to, really—speak as he chowed down.
“Glad you’re enjoying your food,” Kristy said with a smile. “Since your mouth is full, I’ll talk.” But first she put fixings (black beans, cheese, eggs) in her own tortilla. She rolled it up and sat staring at the burrito. “I got a letter from Abel.”
Her brother. The one who lived in Oregon. Married, without kids. A childless couple who hiked in the lush surrounding greenness whenever they could. Winston swallowed a mouthful of his breakfast goodness. “He and his wife—are they all right?”
“More than fine, they’re great.” She dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Actually, they’re expecting.”
“That’s wonderful.” Winston had never thought of himself as father material, but he liked seeing it in others. Especially Abel and his wife, who’d tried so hard for years and then had given up hope. “When’s the baby due?”
“Next week,” Kristy said.
“All this time you didn’t tell me your sister-in-law was pregnant?”
“Well, I thought you might not want to think about it.”
Winston hated talking about kids.
Kristy continued, “Abel wants me to be there since Mom and Dad aren’t around . . .”
She couldn’t finish her sentence, and he knew why. Even after all these years, Kristy could still get choked up about her parents.
He gave her a gentle squeeze on the shoulder. She had been like a mother figure to her younger brothers when their parents had died in a tragic car accident. “Go, then,” he said.
“I am,” Kristy replied. “Tomorrow. I’ve got an afternoon flight booked. Except”—she nodded her head at Blueberry—“my neighbor backed out of taking care of him at the last minute. And I can’t afford to lodge him somewhere . . .”
“You want me to watch him?” Winston frowned at Blueberry. Although they’d established an awkward truce, he thought the cat hated him at times.
“Please. For me,” Kristy said. “I wouldn’t trust him with just anybody.”
Winston knew the truth of that statement. Blueberry was her baby. There was that word again. Sure, Winston and Kristy had talked about the whole nine yards (marriage plus kids) at the beginning of their relationship, but he’d balked. He was already on the wrong side of forty and had proven a failure on several counts in his life. At this point, he couldn’t even take care of his sis, a grown adult.
Kristy continued to stare at him.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” he said. He sounded grumpy even to himself, so he added, “With pleasure. Oh, and congrats to your brother and sister-in-law.”
She beamed at him. “This means a lot to me.” She took his hand in hers. “I know it’s hectic for you right now. With that new case open and—”
“Actually, Bill turned up. Went to some inventors’ conference.”
“Wow, great sleuthing.”
He didn’t correct her that the old man had returned on his own. Before she left, Kristy gave him a long hug. He wanted to imprint the touch of her arms clasping his back, the softness of her cheek against his. But he couldn’t voice any of his feelings, so instead he said, “Have a safe flight.”
Once the door closed, he looked around for Blueberry. Where had that cat gone? He heard a purr and saw Blueberry curled up on the best spot on the futon. The cat did a little stretch and deposited gray fur all over the black fabric.