Burn (25 page)

“Only if you mean it.”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

She felt his smile in his whole body. “Yeah. That was
practice, by the way.”

“For what?”

“When we get married.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Gian pulled her over his lap, cradling her in his arms.
“Are you sure?” His joyful gaze bored into hers.

“I want to get on with living my life,” she said. Gian
began layering kisses on her face. “I want to live it with
you. I don’t want to waste another second worrying
about something that might never happen.”

But if it does
, she thought before giving herself over to
Gian’s kisses,
I’ll be ready . . .

With an enigmatic grin aimed at her feet, Cinder
walked through the leaves that had been raked into the
curb along Taylor Avenue. “Don’t you just love that
sound?” she asked Zae, who kept pace with her on the
wide, tree-lined sidewalk. “It sounds like potato chips!”

“It won’t smell like potato chips if you happen to kick
up some of the dog poop mixed in with those leaves,”
Zae warned. “I smell a hot one now.”

Cinder threw up her arms and gave the leaves one last
kick, sending them on their second flight of fall before
she hopped back onto the sidewalk.

“What’s gotten into you?” Zae asked, casting Cinder
a suspicious glance. “You and Gian must have kept the party going after you left last night. Want to tell me why you were so late meeting me?”

“I had to finish up a nasty little breakfast entrée.”
Cinder hid a sly smile behind her crooked index finger.
“You went to Muttermann’s Diner again?”

“No, I had breakfast in bed this morning.”

Zae’s eyes widened in understanding. “Did you now,”
she remarked. “What was on the menu?”

“Italian sausage and a couple of boiled eggs.” Cinder
chuckled.

“Hard or soft?”

“Soft, by the time I was done with them.”

“That man is bringing out the worst in you,” Zae
teased. “And I’m so glad to see it.”

“We had a good night. And we made some plans for
later.”

“Are you going to the International Festival in Tower
Grove Park on Friday?” Zae adjusted the wicker grocery
basket hanging from her right arm so it wouldn’t snag the
sleeve of her orange cashmere cardigan. “Chip said he
and Gian wanted to catch the capoeira demonstration at the Brazilian section.”

“Our plans are for later than that,” Cinder said.

Zae stopped and drew Cinder up short at the
entrance to the Kirkwood Farmer’s market. “I haven’t
seen you this happy since we were kickin’ it back in col
lege. What exactly do you and Gian have planned?”

Fall was Cinder’s favorite season in St. Louis. The
bright heat of the sun was friendly, rather than oppressive
as it was in the summer, and the absence of humidity assured that her hair looked great every day with little effort or product. The leaves were not as bountiful in
color in a St. Louis fall as in New England, but the milder
temperatures allowed her to wear adorable khaki short
shorts instead of heavier Bermuda shorts. And Kirkwood
Market, the place where she and Zae got all their best
produce in summer, was a riot of fall festiveness.

The sweet cinnamon-laced scent of freshly pressed
apple cider flavored the air, competing with the drool-
inducing aroma of kettle corn popped as it was ordered.
Bales of fresh hay added their own distinct odor and
ambience. Cinder led Zae to one of those bales and sat
her down. “Gian asked me to marry him, and I said yes.
He didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I had to tell you.”

Cinder knew that Zae would have a strong reaction
to the news, but she was completely stunned when Zae burst into tears.

“Zae, don’t,” Cinder softly pleaded, placing her hand
on the knee of Zae’s dark brown slacks. “Gian and I aren’t
rushing into a wedding. But I love him, and I can’t
imagine not being with him. He’s not like Sumchai,
and—”

Full-out bawling, Zae threw her arms around Cinder
and wept. Loudly. Her shoulders shaking, Zae wet the
collar of Cinder’s white button-down shirt. “Baby, I’m
happy,” she exclaimed through slobbery tears. “I have
been so worried about you.” She fished a wad of crum
pled tissues from her Coach bag and mopped her face. “I
wanted you to meet a good man and settle down and
have a nice, long, boring life.”

Cinder chuckled. “I hope by ‘boring’ you mean a life
with a big home office and a big friendly dog.”

“Don’t forget about a man who loves you.”

Pensive, Cinder picked at the nail of her left thumb.
“Are you disappointed that he isn’t a black man?”

Zae took Cinder’s hand and gave it a firm squeeze.
“The only criteria your man has to meet is that he loves
you. Really, truly, all the way through with his whole
head, heart, and ass. I don’t care if he’s black, white, tall,
short, fine, ugly, rich or poor. He better love you and take
care of you the best he can. And I know Gian can.”

“So can Chip,” Cinder murmured.

Zae sat up straight. The tear tracks striping her foun
dation evaporated. “What’s Chip got to do with anything?”

“Chip is a good man, too. And I think he likes you.”

Zae dismissed her with a lazy wave of her hand and
picked up her shopping basket. “Chip is fun to mess
with, that’s all.”

“Okay.”

“We’re talking about you now, not me,” Zae said
defensively.

“Fine.” Cinder smiled.

“There’s no law that says just because we spend time
together here and there, we’re in love.”

“I know.” Cinder laughed.

Zae suddenly stood. “I’m going to get my apples.”
She gave her cheeks one last swipe and resumed her usual
regal posture. “You can come, if you want to.” With a sassy sway of her hips and an exaggerated swing of her
free arm, Zae strutted toward the Summit Farms booth.

Still laughing, Cinder caught up to her, overjoyed at the big step she had taken to move on with her life.

* * *

Zae grabbed Cinder’s arm and tugged her close,
snatching her away from the tiny paper cups holding free
samples of Summit Farms freshly pressed apple cider.

“What is it?” Cinder whined low, her cider splashing
over the rim of the cup.

“
Look,” Zae whispered loudly, turning her right
shoulder into Cinder and pointing over it with her left index
finger. “Look who’s crating Jonagold apples over there.”

Cinder peeped over Zae’s shoulder to see Karl Lange
in a sweaty T-shirt. He used a stubby knife to pry open
wooden crates of apples, and then dumped them onto a
big, padded produce scale. He steadied the scale with two
fingers, his sweat-shiny arm muscles glistening. Once it
reached the desired number, he tipped the bed of the
scale into a half-bushel basket adorned with a Summit
Farms sticker.

“He looks like Tom Joad,” Cinder said.

Zae hid a laugh behind her hand.

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Cinder told her. “How
could he go from autoworker to karate teacher to apple
guy?”

“It’s his temper,” Zae said. “Karl is smart, and he’s
handsome. He has more blessings than most people, but
he throws them away with both hands. He’d better get a
hold of himself before he ends up in jail or the morgue, because one day he’s going to pick a fight with someone
bigger, meaner, and crazier than he is, at the rate he’s
going, and that person is going to whoop his ass for
him.” Zae looked at her watch. “We’d better get a move
on. I’ve got people coming for dinner tonight, and I
haven’t even started marinating my meat yet.”

“Who’s coming?” She glanced back at Karl as she and
Zae headed back the way they had come, past angled
stands of vibrant fresh produce and homemade candies
wrapped in shiny cellophane.

“
Just a prospective M.U. student who wants to know
more about the school,” Zae said matter-of-factly.
“Who?”

Zae mumbled a name but Cinder couldn’t under
stand her.

“Chiclets? Is that what you said?” Cinder laughed
lightly. “Come on, tell me who you’ve got coming over.”

“Chip Kish.” Zae stopped in front of a tiny, dark
wood booth where Thai street food was being served, and
she dug for her car keys in her purse. “Chip is coming
over tonight.”

Cinder peered at the contents of Zae’s basket. “Just a
casual business dinner to talk about school, huh?”

“Yeah, that’s about it.” Wallet in hand, Zae stepped
into a long line at the checkout, where a woman with flat
blonde hair used a stubby pencil and the back of a paper
bag to calculate totals due.

“Fresh fiddleheads,” Cinder persisted. “Asparagus, fresh feta cheese, and imported black olives . . . sounds
like the ingredients for your asparagus salad, the one you
only make at Christmas and Easter. You know, maybe I’ll stay for dinner at your house, since it’s just a casual get
togeth—”

“I’ll shoot you on sight if I see you within ten yards
of my house tonight,” Zae warned. “The kids have an
overnight with their grandparents, so Chip and I have the
house to ourselves.”

“I don’t understand why you need a whole house to yourselves for business talk about Missouri University,”
Cinder said.

Z
ae glared at her before pursing her lips and
punching Cinder in her arm.

“I guess that means you don’t want to talk about this
anymore?” Cinder chuckled.

Pointedly ignoring her, Zae stepped up to the
cashier’s table and unpacked her basket. Cinder stood
close to Zae, her mind turning toward her own plans for
that evening. Gian had invited her to dinner and planned
to take her to a Brazilian restaurant he knew in the
Central West End. He had told her twice to dress com
fortably in something sporty, so Cinder had her suspi
cions that dinner wasn’t all Gian had planned.

She watched Zae pluck a few bills from her wallet to
pay for her produce, all the while wondering why Zae
was so determined to hide her growing attraction to
Chip. Cinder wanted to climb onto a roof and shout her
engagement to Gian, perhaps even send a telegram to the
Massachusetts prison Sumchai Wyatt currently called home.

Cinder couldn’t understand why Zae would be
ashamed or self-conscious about falling in love with
Chip. They certainly made an interesting pair, one that
made sense specifically because of their differences.

Zae was a proud Republican with centrist views more
in line with older Southern Democrats than the typical
modern Republican. Chip, a registered Democrat, often
argued with Zae about his liberal beliefs.

Chip taught at Sheng Li while he figured out what
course of study he wanted to pursue at Missouri
University with his G.I. Bill. Zae, who had earned a doc
t
orate in English Literature from Princeton, was a
tenured professor at Missouri University with seven
highly-regarded publications to her credit.

Tennessee born and reared, Chip had that unas
suming charm unique to Southern gentlemen. That
charm combined with his golden good looks to make
him irresistible to most women, and Chip was something
of a libertine. Zae had married young, at twenty-two, to
the man of her dreams, but she’d lost him to illness after
fifteen years. Chip never dated a woman for more than six months. Eight years after her husband’s death, Zae
had yet to loosen her hold on his memory enough to give
another man a fair chance at winning her heart.