They'd agreed to meet at the gallery where Luke and Leticia were starting their blind date. The sister who set Luke up also knew the featured artist. Evan refrained from asking if this micro-managing sister was the reason Luke had never learned to speak up for himself.
Natalie was there when he walked in. This time, expecting the more pulled-together person he'd met over coffee instead of the travel-ravaged one from his mom's photos, Evan contained his dropping jaw. He needed the conscious effort. She looked fucking fantastic.
He fingered the perfect van wijk he'd fashioned in his silk tie. He'd opted for a solid pale green, not wanting it to compete with the understated pattern of his shirt. Natalie was wearing, as it happened, a sheath dress in a harmonizing shade of green. It hit above her knees, giving him a hint of the full curves of her thighs. Her small metallic bag coordinated with her heels, and her chunky silver jewelry. Her hair was down, and a lot straighter than he'd ever seen it.
"Hey, did I keep you waiting?" He leaned in for a hug, wondering if she'd carried the subtle fragrance of wildflowers at Black Gold. Wondering if the heavy aroma of coffee beans still topped his heavenly scents list.
She flashed that crooked canine. "No, I walked in a minute ago. Good to see you."
He grinned back. "And now we can say that and have it mean the conventional accepted thing."
"Oh, convention. What would we do without it? I have to say, I've been thinking how handy it will be."
"Why?" Had he screwed something up? Not that there was much to screw up; they were only there to help Luke out with Leticia.
"You said your friends know this painter."
He caught the glint in her green cat eyes. "His sister does, why?"
She looked around before leaning in to murmur, "Check out the pig."
Evan arched a brow, just to be provocative. He wasn't expecting her to tease, after treating him so solemnly over coffee. Well, that wasn't strictly true. She'd been chatty until he'd opened his damn mouth about Fiona. As usual whenever he thought about his twin, Evan's left hand closed reflexively. It was a stupid habit he'd have gone his whole life without noticing, except Chloe had picked up on it when he was ten or so, and pointed it out. In front of everyone. By then, he and Danny had been the only kids still living at home, but Ben and Chloe were at colleges close enough to drop in for laundry and food. The house hadn't attained the racketing emptiness of the years after Danyal's graduation.
Middle and high school memories of home were all about hauling his backpack past four empty bedrooms to get to his room, listening to his music without the bickering over volume and taste that was the soundtrack of his elementary years, and serving as the only dinner entertainment as he and his parents ate leftovers at one corner of the long table. So many leftovers. After decades cooking for a horde, Marisa and Koray didn't adapt well to their emptier nest. Evan should have looked forward to his brothers' and sisters' visits. And he had. But for years, the rest of them made it a point to say Evan's twin's name while staring at his hand. They'd be cleaning the kitchen or lounging on the sofas, and someone would mention Fiona. Or Shrek, or Fiona Apple--three of them had given him her debut for Christmas one year. And they sniggered every time his fist clenched, and no amount of self-discipline broke him of the habit.
Stuffing the offending hand in his trouser pocket, Evan turned to the nearest canvas. It was, as Natalie had said, a pig. Skillfully painted, but grim. He was standing on his hind legs on a soap box, very Animal Farm, except the crowd he harangued was human. The paint was all blacks and browns and oranges.
He turned back to Natalie. "Not to your taste?"
"You didn't look at his clothes."
The pig's clothes? No, he hadn't. Evan looked again. The pig's charcoal-hued tweed trousers screamed post-War Britain, no surprises there, and over his light brown button-down the pig wore a burnt-orange sweater that.... Well. Evan couldn't un-see it, now he'd leaned close enough to take it in. The sweater featured a country dance of pigs: pig fiddlers and pig pipers, pig couples dancing, a pig behind a table of refreshments, serving a plate of delicacies to a line of lady pigs.
He pressed his lips together and glanced around to be sure they couldn't be overheard. "You don't suppose the tray is full of pigs in blankets, do you?"
Natalie emitted a snort worthy of the polka-ing pig and turned away.
Evan leaned over her shaking shoulders to ask, "Did you notice the accordion player has a pork-pie hat?"
She spun long enough to glare at him, then sidled past a column to an emptier space.
Evan followed. "Can I get you a glass of swine?"
As Natalie shook her head, Evan took in the high curve on her cheek. Her lips were pursed when she finally faced him. "These people are your friends, you know. I'm not the one who'll be in trouble when you make me laugh at their exhibition."
He shrugged. "Don't even know the woman, or the artist. Just Luke, and--"
"And what?" asked Luke, interrupting Evan's chance to enjoy Natalie's perfume.
"And he's a terribly friendly guy who would never stop me from the pleasure of making Natalie laugh," Evan said, moving back to include a third person in their little duo. "Natalie East, Luke Blackburn. Luke, this is Natalie."
"Good to meet you." Luke offered a hand.
"Likewise. Have you found your other friend yet?"
The tips of Luke's ears went pink as he shook his head. "Krista, that's my sister, texted me a photo." He showed them.
"Over there," Evan pointed, and Luke went still, his only sign of life the flush spreading across his neck and cheeks.
Natalie smiled up at the lump of concrete that used to be Evan's coworker. "She looks friendly. Come on, let's go say hello."
And there went Evan's wildflowers, linked arm and arm with the blushing concrete.
Leticia was indeed friendly, which was a good thing. Poor Luke, who had been all shades of pale when Nat met him--light blonde hair, milky skin, ivory shirt--had gone so red even his hair seemed to darken. Or it might be the gallery lighting. Though Evan's appearance hadn't changed as he moved through the space. He was still one well-sprinkled cupcake. Bright and pretty and scrumptious.
Natalie steered Leticia and Luke away from Evan. She didn't need to be thinking about his frosting. Cupcakes were empty calories, and Natalie wanted a hearty meal. "Introduce me to the artist. This is a large show, isn't it?"
Leticia, who was catering manager for a local chain of restaurants and knew a bit about city events, latched onto the topic as the three of them wove in and out of the crowd. She was more than a head shorter than Luke, which meant plenty of his stooping down to hear her, and her looking up into his face, and it was adorable. He was smiling, and his blush had relaxed. When he glanced Natalie's way and she winked at him, Luke ducked his head, but didn't go red again. She let her conversation with a couple of painters serve as a detachment point, and caught sight of Leticia and Luke drifting away together, body language still engaged.
"Job well done," the cupcake said a few minutes later, handing her a glass of white wine.
"I do my best."
He took a sip of his own wine, made a face. "What is this swill?"
Natalie let herself laugh. "Throw it in the slop bucket."
"You are just bacon to get us kicked out of here."
She shook her head slowly. "I can't believe you. What happened to Mr. Smart and Thoughtful your parents told me about?"
"I thought hard about those puns."
"It shows," she deadpanned.
"Oh, a direct hit." He pressed an elegant hand to his heart. "You're harsher than the wine. I'm up for retreating, if you're ready. Do you want to come in my car?"
Natalie eyed him a moment. Something about him was too easy for her. Maybe because she knew Marisa and Koray, and there were touches of each of them in their son. Marisa's tendency towards self-deprecation, plus her tendency to tighten her cheeks for a second before giving in to a smile. Koray's eyebrows. Evan's weren't as bushy as Koray's, but she could imagine them growing shaggier with age, and his sleek dark hair going the same silver-white as his father's. It all added up to a sense of familiarity that was unfamiliar, this early in a relationship with someone.
Not that they were in a relationship. Only insofar as a friendship was a kind of relationship.
"Why don't I drive? You can't know your way around these streets very well yet."
Evan admitted he'd had trouble locating the warehouse-turned-gallery, which wasn't a surprise. The whole area was in the process of converting from industrial to mixed-use artsiness, a transformation which began back when a spur line for the Southern Railroad was torn out, leaving odd-shaped lots and warehouses which no longer housed any wares across several acres near downtown. Over the years, luxury apartments and condos grew up where rice silos once stood, grocery stores and bagel shops sprouted, and the trickier-to-access spots took on a less temporary feel.
They gathered up the other couple. Luke's countenance was calm again, and he appeared relaxed as he held the door for Leticia. By the time they'd been seated at one of Natalie's favorite Indian restaurants, the other couple was darting quick glances at each other no matter who they were speaking to.
"What do you like here?" Evan asked, scanning the choices.
Nat leaned over to tap on Evan's menu. "The dosas are addictive. And I'm getting the paneer masala."
"It all looks delicious, but….”
She tried to gauge his expression. Luke and Leticia were busy conspiring over appetizers; they were no help. "But what?"
"I guess I'm just not hungry yet. I wish this place had a dance floor. A rousing polka would really help me work up an appetite."
"Just for that," Natalie said, folding closed her menu, "I'm making you pig up the check."
The next morning, Evan was barely out of his car when the first text came in, and by the time he was sitting at his desk, his siblings had gone and blown up again. Not, alas, literally. It was Danyal, the gossip king, who started it all. As a kid, Danny tended to meet their parents at the door with a list of sibling transgressions, like the babysitter was incapable of ratting them out. At thirty-seven, he was still up to his old tricks.
Danyal: Evan's been stepping out on Mom's arranged marriage woman.
Chloe: Leave poor Evan alone. He can date who he wants.
Ben: Not according to Mom.
Chloe: Did you not see Mom's choice for him? Let the boy date!
Alice: Where are you getting your info from, D?
Danyal: Facebook, of course.
Ben: Hang on. That's Natalie.
Danyal: What? No it's not.
Ben: Look at her.
Danyal: Duh, I am. I'm the one who told YOU to look.
Ben: Get new glasses then. That's Natalie.
Alice: He's right.
Danyal: So Evan's dating Natalie? Does Mom know?
Chloe: Whoa. She had a serious makeover.
Alice: C, I wish you'd learn to stop judging women on their appearances.
Chloe: Bite me.
Danyal: Seriously, does Mom know about this? I'm forwarding her the link.
Alice: Bite ME. And watch how you talk around Lizzy and Jane. They don't need their aunt's help to be self-conscious about their looks.
Chloe: Your girls are beautiful.
Alice: My girls are smart and funny and kind and strong. Quit valuing people on their appearances.
Ben: She doesn't mean it, A.
Chloe: I can stick up for myself, B.
Alice: She can fight her own fights, Ben, you don't have to be such a stereotype.
Ben: Jesus, fine, you two deal with each other.
Danyal: Straying from the point, guys. Point being, I caught Evan going out with Natalie and he didn't tell Mom about it.
Ben: You thought you caught him going out with someone else.
Chloe: What did Mom say?
Danyal: I don't know. She hasn't replied.
Chloe: Copy us when she does.
Evan stopped reading and spent thirty minutes resisting the impulse to go online to see how he'd been busted. He finally broke, and scrolled through his personal email for the Facebook notifications. Yep, he'd been tagged. There had been an event photographer at the gallery. Turned out Leticia had gone in and tagged several photos, including one of him talking to Luke and Leticia, and another of Leticia and Natalie posing with the painter. They might have missed the connection, but Leticia had also tagged him in a picture she'd taken at dinner.
He'd been right about looking good beside Natalie. Stylish and coordinated. The shot was of Luke and him, but the glossy fall of Natalie's hair and the edge of her face were visible at the side of the frame. Evan smiled. No wonder Chloe didn't recognize her. This was a very different Natalie from the one his parents had shown them while they were in Turkey. At least in appearance. The generous spirit they'd adored in her was evident in the way she'd soothed Luke's nerves. And her presence still filled the screen, drawing his eye even when she was surrounded by visual clutter. He clicked back to the gallery shot of Natalie standing, of all things, in front of the pig painting. Impossible to resist giving it a thumbs-up.
He also needed to give Natalie a heads-up, since his rat-fink brother had gone and alerted their parents. Elaine would be hearing about their night out. As he tapped out a quick message to Natalie, his cell rang. "Dad, hi."
"It's your father."
Evan ran an hand over his hair. "Yeah, caller ID, remember?"
"Sure, sure. I know you use your work phone during the day, though."
"You called my private line."
"Did I?"
"Yep."
"So you're not at work?"
"No, I'm sitting at my desk. On my personal cell." Evan resisted adding, "Answering your personal call."
"I thought I'd be leaving a message."
"Hey, Dad? Is something wrong?"
"Nah, everything's perfect. Your mom made beautiful poached eggs this morning, and we had them with some of my tomatoes. My vines are producing like crazy this month."
"Wonderful."
"Are you and Natalie dating now?"
Smooth segue. Good thing Evan had known the question was coming. "Nope."
"Your mom says you are."
"I'm not. We're not. We happened to meet in a social setting."
"Looked like a date."
Everyone in his family needed their eyes examined. "It was a group of friends visiting an art opening. I'm trying to get to know Houston, like I do every time I move to a new city."
"It still looked like a date," Dad repeated.
"I can't help that. It wasn't."
"She's a sweet girl."
Evan wondered if his dad could sense his rolling eyes. Probably. Hard to raise five kids without developing a radar for their snark. "I never said she wasn't. It was pleasant to meet her. She told me about a great coffee shop near my building, too. If you come down here I'll be sure to take you."
"Now you know how sweet she is, you can start to date her."
"Dad."
And now Evan could sense his dad's pursed mouth, the usual pre-grumpy expression when his kids or grandkids weren't jumping to obey his dictates. It was about as forceful as Dad tended to get with anyone. "Evan, we want you to be happy, settled. It's a good life, you know. Your brothers and sister all have that, and you never hear them regretting it."
"I don't regret my life the way it is. Chloe doesn't either, for the record. We can love the spouses and the kids without wanting the same things for ourselves." This was old ground, and Evan wished it could lie fallow. "Dad. I'm glad you introduced me to Natalie, but just as a friend. I'm not interested in dating her, and she's not interested in dating me, and I need you to hear me, and also to tell Mom the same thing."
He traced the simple half-Windsor knot of his tie. He'd gone with a medium blue silk with the subtlest weave, the shade a perfect match to his linen suit.
His dad finally replied. "I can tell you're busy. Talk to you soon, Oğlum."
"Bye, Dad."
He scrolled through the photos of Natalie one last time before stowing his personal cell and getting down to work.