Carol of the Bellskis (5 page)

As he sat by himself in the kitchen, listening to Doctor Mister yap away as the other guests

watched television and shuffled off to bed, loneliness coursed through him like a virus, affecting

every nerve, every muscle. No matter how life had treated him before, he always had those secret

lunchtime trysts with Lars to look forward to or their Saturday mornings or those rare occasions

when the two of them would go out to dinner and a movie. It wasn't a regular schedule, nor was

it reliable.

But it was
potential
, and that potential had given Seth the courage to face every morning,

the anticipation he needed to get him through a monotonous job and an uninspiring social life.

Without that to look forward to, Seth felt the bleak emptiness of his life and foundered there, at

the kitchen table, in self-pity.

He might have stayed like that all night if a loud rap on the back door hadn't startled him

into an upright position.

Seth froze for a moment, shocked by the intrusion. The door off the kitchen was in the

back of the house, and it would have been hard for a guest find it in the total darkness outside.

Besides, the snow had started up again. Whoever made it here had done so in the midst of the

storm.

And then Seth realized it had to be Carl and Judi sneaking in after hours. All his self-pity

fled immediately in the absolute joy he had at their return. He unlocked the dead bolt and swung

open the door.

24

Astrid Amara

Lars Varga stood there, teeth chattering.

“Miss me, baby?”

He gave Seth a crooked smile.

Carol of the Bellskis

25

Chapter Three

Seth stood and stared in stunned silence.

Lars's grin was wide. It took over his entire face.

“Babe?” he asked after a moment.

He had a rolling suitcase gripped in one hand. His expensive charcoal wool overcoat was

draped over the other arm. It looked like he stood in an airport terminal, not in a blizzard with

snow dampening his golden blond hair and the face of his expensive Movado watch growing

steamy.

Seth finally found his voice, although it squeaked with shock. “What the fuck are you

doing here?”

Uninvited, Lars stepped inside. He slipped past Seth through the narrow doorway, his cold

chest rubbing Seth's as he passed. Seth hurriedly shut the door from the cold.

“I was hoping you'd still be awake,” Lars said in a low voice. “It's snowing like a son of a

bitch out there. This place needs a better sign, by the way. I passed it three times before—”

“Lars!” Seth ran a hand through his hair. “What the fuck are you
doing
here? What part of

'it's over' do you not understand?”

Lars rolled his suitcase into the corner. “Have you got anything to eat? I drove straight

from a meeting in Everett. All I've had since three o'clock was a strudel and two cups of coffee.”

Lars's jaw clenched and unclenched, something Seth knew happened only when Lars was very

anxious. But outwardly he showed no signs of remorse or even understanding.

Seth crossed his arms. “I'm not giving you jack shit until you explain yourself!”

Lars sighed. “What choice did you leave me? After the way you stormed out of the hotel

room yesterday, I had no option but to follow you. It's what you wanted, right?”

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Astrid Amara

“No!” Seth said, growing angrier by the second. “I want you to come out to your business

partner!”

“Look, baby, sometimes we don't get everything we want.”

“You're very right.” Seth walked over to the door and opened it again. “Get out.”

Lars stood there for a moment. A tentative smile still lingered on his lips.

When Seth didn't move, didn't change his stony glare, Lars noticeably withered. His cocky

expression crumpled, and his shoulders dropped.

“Christ, Seth. Don't throw me out.”

“We're done talking,” Seth said. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat bruising. “Get

out.”

“Just hear me out,” Lars said, reaching out as if to physically hold Seth back. Seth had seen

Lars pull that trick in court too many times to be moved.

“I have enough to worry about without you showing up here,” Seth told him. “My aunt and

uncle are missing, I have the RCMP out searching for them, I'm trying to run the place so the

guests don't leave before they return, and I can't cook worth shit. Since I have seven completely

freaky strangers to tend to, the last thing I need is my ex-boyfriend showing up without even

showing a hint of remorse.”

“That's not true.” Lars ran his hand over his face. “I want you back. I know I've fucked

things up this time.”

Seth shook his head. “That's not good enough.”

“It's all I can offer.” Lars moved closer. He put his arms on Seth's shoulders. Against his

better judgment, Seth leaned toward him, drawn by his desires. His brain wasn't calling the shots

here; his body was, remembering how great it felt to be in Lars's embrace, how hot and strong

his touch could be.

“Let me make it up to you,” Lars whispered. His lips were just above Seth's ear.

Seth closed his eyes, fighting his emotions. “No. You can crash on the couch tonight, but

you're leaving first thing in the morning. I can't run this fucking B and B and deal with you at the

same time.” He forced himself from Lars's embrace.

“I'm an excellent cook, you know,” Lars mentioned.

Carol of the Bellskis

27

It was true. Seth knew this firsthand. A glimmer of hope rose in Seth's breast, but he beat it

down with a stick.

“I don't care. I'd rather serve these people cheese toast all week long than spend another

night with you.”

Lars's eyes widened. It was a harsh thing to say, and Seth hoped it hurt.

Lars's eyes narrowed. “Fine.”

“You got that?”

“Got it.”

“I'll show you the couch.” Seth quietly led Lars to the small television room, where there

was a foldaway bed. As he'd expected, the bed inside was already made, just awaiting a blanket.

“I'll find a quilt from upstairs,” Seth told him.

“Can't I just sleep with you?”

“No.” Seth turned to him. In the darkness, he couldn't see Lars's expression. “I meant it.

We're done. I deserve more than being your secret.”

“I know,” Lars whispered.

For a moment, Seth heard Lars's actual remorse. There was genuine conviction in his

statement. It offered the faithless whisper of hope.

Seth stepped back.

“I want you to leave in the morning,” he said, and then he left the room and returned to his

own, where he spent the entire night cursing the day he ever applied for that paralegal position at

Finch and Varga.

* * * * *

Seth rolled over in bed and groaned. It took him a moment to get his bearings. Once he did

and recognized the smell, he jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, expecting to see Judi in her

kitchen preparing breakfast.

Instead Lars was there, humming to himself as he cooked a meal to feed an army.

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Astrid Amara

There were frosting-coated cinnamon rolls, a breakfast strata, and orange juice in a glass

carafe.

In the dining room, the Siegels already awaited their meal while talking with the

Rosenbaums. They all cupped mugs of hot coffee and were helping themselves to more from a

thermos on the sideboard.

“Morning!” Lars cheered. “I guess the yellow plates are for dairy, right?”

Seth froze.

“Your aunt had some butter on a yellow plate, so I made the call,” Lars continued. “I

remember your telling me about her split kitchen, but I didn't believe it until this morning when I

saw it in the light. Christ, what a pain! And two dishwashers? Isn't that taking things a little far?”

Seth still stared, speechless.

“I made fresh coffee. It's in the dining room, and hot water for tea is nearly boiling.” Lars

didn't look at him as he plated some extravagant-looking cantaloupe salad. “I'll be ready with the

whole meal in about twenty minutes.” Lars glanced up and then back down at his skillet, his

mouth quirking up slightly. “You may want to put on a pair of pants.”

Seth glanced down and realized, in his excitement, he had run down in his boxers.

“Shit!”

He heard Lars laugh as he ran back up the stairs, thankfully avoiding any other guests.

He jumped into the shower, shaved, and then, despite himself, picked out his nicest

clothes. He pulled on a white shirt and felt weak for wearing the light brown sweater that Lars

had given him, the sweater Lars loved to see Seth in because it matched Seth's eyes. Seth looked

in the mirror and tried to make sense of his thick brown hair. He looked thinner, he thought,

thanks to the stress of the last forty-eight hours. He lastly pulled on his brown leather boots and

went back downstairs.

“Good morning!” Heidi Neidlich greeted him. He smiled.

“It smells wonderful in there,” Sharon Neidlich said, nodding toward the kitchen.

“I got some culinary help,” Seth admitted, and the guests' instant smiles felt traitorous. So

did his stomach, which growled at the delectable scents of cinnamon and freshly squeezed

orange juice.

Carol of the Bellskis

29

Lars emerged from the kitchen a few minutes later. Despite having slept on the foldaway—

which Seth knew from personal experience was similar to sleeping on volcanic rock—he looked

as cheerful and professional as always. His blond hair was neatly in place, he'd shaved, and

somehow, without the benefit of closet or iron, his dress shirt and casual dark green cargo pants

looked wrinkle free and smelled like dryer sheets.

In contrast, Seth himself felt wrinkled. He scowled as he joined the end of the buffet line.

“Good morning, folks!” Lars called cheerfully. “My name is Lars, and I'm assistant chef of

the Bellski B and B! Until Mrs. Bellski can grace us all with her incredible cooking, I hope you

will enjoy what I've provided.” Always the showman, he gestured and bowed to the array of

items on the sideboard.

Seth saw he had even handwritten a menu: potato, tomato, and gruyère breakfast strata,

cinnamon rolls, cantaloupe salad with honey and mint, coffee, tea, and orange juice.

There was also a heaping plate of small rolled pastries.

“Are those blintzes?” Seth asked incredulously.

Lars grinned. “But of course!”

“Oh, I love blintzes!” Mendel Rosenbaum cried, piling several on his plate.

Seth raised an eyebrow at Lars. He knew damn well that they were Seth's favorite. He

made them every Saturday they spent together. Seth scanned the plates, fearful of some sort of

kashruth offense, but everything looked in order.

“Are you sure there's no meat in that strata?” Seth whispered.

“I listened to
The Art of Kosher Cooking
on CD on the drive up here,” Lars whispered

back. The feel of Lars's breath against his skin sent a shiver down Seth's spine. Lars squeezed his

arm furtively and then smoothly moved into the kitchen.

Seth begrudgingly grabbed a plate.

He sat down with the guests and ate angrily. It was all so goddamn delicious.

The guests were vocal with their praise, and their relief, and discussed their plans for the

day. The Rosenbaums were going to Whistler Village to shop, as were the Siegels. The Neidlich

sisters planned on getting some skiing in, and Mr. Berkowitz claimed the lounge chair in front of

the fireplace, where he was going to read for the next eight days.

30

Astrid Amara

The only guests who didn't ardently dig into their breakfast were the Siegels, who scowled

at the offerings. Chana settled down with a small bowl of cut fruit, frowning and making eye

contact with every spoonful. Chaim ate nothing.

Their suspicious glances made Seth uncomfortable, and he finished his breakfast quickly

and then took his plates into the kitchen.

“What's up, baby?” Lars asked, scrubbing at the dishes in the sink.

“You're going home now, right?” Seth asked.

“You want me to?”

No.

Yes. Yes, please. For fuck's sake, go home.

“Excuse me?”

Seth and Lars both turned. Chana Siegel stuck her head through the door.

Seth rushed over to her.

“Yes, Mrs. Siegel?”

“I just wanted to double-check that you got the phone message we left last week. The

answering machine sounded fuzzy.”

“It's pretty old,” Seth said. “What—”

“And since the B and B doesn't have e-mail, I couldn't do an e-mail message.”

“Internet service can be sketchy here,” Seth explained. “But why—”

“It's inconvenient,” Chana complained. “Especially since I couldn't reach you about our

restricted diet. I notice that we aren't getting what we asked for.”

“Restricted diet? You mean kosher?” Seth asked. “Everything is kosher in this house,

ma'am.”

“Yes, but Chaim is also lactose intolerant, you see,” Chana said. “He is too polite to

mention it, but I thought you may not have gotten the notice.”

“Oh.” Seth looked to Lars for help. “Lactose intolerant?”