Quilt As Desired (15 page)

"Fred,” she said. “This could be a big mistake. He's too young, and even if he were old enough, I'm not ready to consider getting involved with anyone. And frankly, Fred, I don't think I ever will be. Your daddy was it for me."

She had filled two bowls with rice and was arranging the beef and broccoli on top when she heard a soft tap on the kitchen door. She opened it, and Randy bounded inside, followed by Aiden.

Randy was similar in size to a beagle, but shaped more like a shoebox. Her head was round and her ears small triangles that looked like they had been glued on as an afterthought. Her color was a tan-and-grey mix that was highlighted with bluish freckles. She jumped up in front of Harriet, and for the first time she noticed the dog's eyes.

They were the same yellow-blue as Aiden's.

She looked at Aiden and then back at Randy.

"That's weird,” she said.

"Not for her. It's not unusual for dogs to have white eyes."

"So, you're the weird one?"

"Didn't your mother teach you to be nice to guests? Especially when they bring you dinner?"

"Aunt Beth may have mentioned something about that, eons ago when I was young."

"Not the age hang-up again. Do you realize that if I were ten years older than you instead of the opposite we wouldn't be having this discussion?"

"Yes, we would. Ten years is ten years no matter which way it goes. Besides, no matter what our age difference, we shouldn't be having this kind of discussion."

"You're not a lesbian, are you? I mean it's okay if you like girls, I just didn't pick up that vibe from you, and usually I have pretty good gaydar."

"I am not a lesbian. I'm not an anything. I'm not on the dating market."

"Oh, God, you're not married, are you? Do you have an estranged husband stashed away somewhere?"

"No, nothing like that. If you must know, I'm a widow."

His face lost its smile. “I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"It's okay, there's no reason you would have known. My husband died five years ago."

"I'm sorry,” he said again.

Randy sensed the change in mood and instantly went to her master's side. He reached down and scratched her ear.

"How about we just eat and watch the movies and not worry about anything else,” Harriet suggested. “Here.” She handed him the two bowls and picked up the bag of movies. “What do you want to drink? The options are pretty much water or tea."

"Water is fine."

She grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator and led him through the kitchen and dining room and up the stairs to the second floor, with Randy bringing up the rear. Aunt Beth had set one of the upstairs bedrooms up as a TV room—a burgundy leather sleeper sofa was oriented opposite a large television with a small side chair next to the window.

Aiden set the food on the large ottoman situated between the sofa and TV.

"This looks cozy,” he said. He pushed a fluffy pink afghan out of the way and sat down.

"It is. It's where Aunt Beth comes to unwind."

Fred had apparently been sleeping upstairs and chose that moment to join the party. He didn't have much experience with dogs.

What happened next would have made a good highlight reel for one of those funniest home videos shows, Harriet thought later.

Fred came in the door and in one leap landed on Randy's back. Randy yelped and jumped onto the ottoman. Chinese food flew everywhere. Fred hissed, Randy cried, and Aiden and Harriet each tried to grab their respective pets. The cat jumped up onto a bookshelf, a clump of broccoli dangling from his head. The dog ran down the stairs, trailing rice as she went. The two adults collided and then rolled off the ottoman onto the floor in front of the TV.

Harriet found herself on top of Aiden. She looked down at the surprised expression on his face and burst out laughing. He smiled. She picked a clump of sticky rice off his eyebrow. He grabbed her hand and licked the rice off her fingers. Her fingers twined in his.

Aiden took her other hand and pulled both over his head. “Okay, you have me where you want me. What are you going to do now?"

Harriet's heart hammered in her chest. A shiver rippled through her. With a sudden movement, Aiden flipped them both over. He lowered his head and brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. She closed her eyes, and he kissed her again, questioning this time. She was shocked at her own eager response.

The kiss deepened, and Harriet lost all sense of time and place as his body melted onto hers. She felt abandoned when he finally pulled away.

"If we don't stop now, we won't be stopping at all,” he said and looked hopefully at her.

She blushed. “We aren't that kind of friends...” She paused.

"Go ahead and say it,” he said. “We aren't that kind of friends
yet
. That means there's hope eventually we will be."

"I wouldn't hold my breath. You caught me in a weak moment, that's all."

"Yeah, right. Don't kid yourself. You wanted it as much as I did."

Harriet pulled her hands from his grasp and pushed him off and onto the floor. Standing, she retrieved the two bowls and started picking up bits of broccoli and beef. Aiden rose and brushed smashed rice off his jeans.

"Go downstairs and bring the yellow sponge from beside the sink and paper towels from the rack under the cabinet,” she ordered and continued collecting the bigger pieces of remains and putting them into the bowls.

Aiden returned and began wiping up what was left of the mess.

"Did you see Randy while you were down there?"

"No, but I can guess where she is. She always goes low. She'll be under a bed or sofa somewhere."

"I'm sorry Fred attacked her. I've never seen him do that before."

"That's okay. I'm sure Randy will be fine after a few years of therapy."

"The bad news is that dinner is ruined, and all I have here are salad makings."

"Don't worry. I'll call Jorge and see if he can whip up a batch of nachos for us, if that's okay with you."

"That sounds great."

Aiden made the call, and they both went down to Tico's Tacos to pick the order up.

"The white cup in the bag is guacamole for the señorita,” Jorge said, and looked hard at Aiden. “The boy doesn't share too well,” he explained to Harriet.

When they returned, she held the kitchen door open for Aiden, who carried their bag of food and the two bottles of Dos Equis Jorge had thrown in. Randy sat on the floor below Fred, who was studying her from the kitchen table.

"Looks like they've patched things up since we left."

"I'm sure Fred remembered his manners and apologized."

"Naw, Randy made the first move. She's like that."

Thankfully, their second stab at ethnic dining went better than the first. The nachos were crisp and cheesy. They were smothered in beans and shredded chicken, and topped with onions, jalapenos and chopped tomatoes.

"I may never eat again,” Harriet said, and threw her crumpled napkin onto the ottoman near the nearly empty nacho platter.

"Jorge is definitely a good cook,” Aiden said in a lazy voice. He set the plate on the floor, where Randy cleaned up the remains.

"So, you went to school with my brother. Now you've met my sister and me. And your aunt and my mom were best friends. What about you?"

"What do you mean, what about me?” She felt her full stomach tightening.

"I'm just getting to know you. If we're going to be that kind of friends we need to get better acquainted. You know a lot about me, and the only thing I know about you is that you have a mean cat, broke my brother's young heart and you've been widowed."

"You have some nerve,” she said with a smile. “Fred will probably need years of therapy to recover from his visit to Foggy Point. Your brother was a stalker who needed to be reined in. We are not going to be ‘that kind of friends,’ and my marriage is none of your business."

"Okay, we'll start with the basics. What about your family. Where do your parents live? And how did you come to be living with your aunt?"

"I'm not certain where my parents live,” she said, and realized that fact no longer bothered her. “I heard my father took a job in Singapore."

"You don't know?” Aiden said, his shock apparent in his voice.

"Well, I read a
Time
magazine article that said he'd taken a job in Singapore, so I suppose that means they moved there. I'm sure
Time
checked their sources before they printed the article."

"Wow,” he said and leaned back against the cushion of the sofa. “Are you not speaking to them? Did you have a fight or something?"

"Nothing so dramatic. They have their lives, I have mine."

"That's pretty harsh. How can you not talk to your parents?"

Harriet stiffened. “How can you pass judgment when you know nothing about the situation?"

He reached for her hand. “You're right. I'm sorry,” he said. “I've just never known anyone who didn't talk to their parents."

She pulled her hand free. “You keep saying that like I have a disease.” Her voice was hard. “It's not that I refuse to speak to them, or that they refuse to speak to me. It just never comes up. I talk to them whenever they bother to make contact, which is admittedly not often. They relocated several times when I was in college, and once I was twenty-one their secretary quit updating Aunt Beth as to their ever-changing contact information. When they call, I talk to them."

"Are they some kind of spies or something?"

Harriet looked at him. “You've got quite the imagination. No, it's nothing that interesting. My mother is a physicist who invented something that has to do with particle acceleration years ago. I think she might do something with nuclear fission, too—I've never really known, to tell the truth.

"My father works in genetics. He was on the team that cloned Dolly the sheep, and now is doing stem cell research. At least, that's what the article said. It's hard to pursue their kind of research in the United States, so they have almost always worked abroad."

"Wow, that's kind of cool,” Aiden said. “Your parents are famous."

She looked at him without smiling.

"Your childhood must have been exciting. Where did you live when you were a kid? Before you came here, I mean."

"Do we have to talk about this?"

"I'm just trying to understand who you are,” he said and smiled.

"You're just trying to get in my pants, and I can save you some trouble. It's not going to happen."

He looked hurt. “I want to get to know you. I'm evolved—really."

"Yeah, right. If you must know, I didn't grow up anywhere. I was born in London. My parents were living there while one of them was doing a fellowship."

"You have dual citizenship? Cool!"

"After London my parents moved to Switzerland then Japan, I think, then Scotland. It's hard to remember. In any case, I was sent to New York with a nanny. If they wanted to be parents, they sent for me. When they got tired, I went back to New York. When I was school age, New York and the nanny were replaced by boarding school, sometimes where they were working, sometimes not. Aunt Beth intervened when I was eleven and she and Foggy Point replaced boarding school."

"That must have been better,” Aiden said.

"It was great. Do you have any idea how odd you seem to the rest of the school children in Foggy Point, Washington, when you're fluent in four languages and passable in three more? How do you relate when the other kids are trying to learn the capitols of Europe and you've ordered room service in most of them? I was a freak. Plus, I came and went a few times on top of everything else."

"You speak seven languages?"

She gave him an exasperated look.

"So, what movies do we have?” he asked, finally letting her off the hook.

It turned out that it didn't matter—he fell asleep before the opening credits. She covered him with the fluffy afghan. At the end of the first movie, she took Randy downstairs and let her out into the yard. She did her business and came right back.

"Good girl,” Harriet said. The little dog waggled her body.

She made it to the first break-up between the hero and heroine in the second movie before she, too, fell asleep.

Grey light was streaming in the window when she woke.

"Aiden, wake up,” she said and shook his shoulder.

Randy jumped onto the sofa and started licking his face. He awoke, spluttering and spitting, and pushed her down.

"What time is it?” he asked. “Did I miss the movie?"

"It's ten after seven, and, yes, you did miss the movie,” Harriet told him and laughed.

"Did you take advantage of me while I was asleep?"

"You wish. But I did take your dog out."

"You're still wearing last night's clothes, so I guess we did sleep together, huh? Was it good for you?"

"You've got a one-track mind, buddy boy. I need to get dressed to go back to your mother's house."

"Do I at least get a cup of coffee before you throw us out?"

"Yes, you can have a cup of coffee, but then you have to go so I can get ready."

He was still sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper when she came down from her shower. She was dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt. Randy was licking the floor around the empty bowl Harriet had filled with cereal for her before she went upstairs. She looked hopefully at Harriet.

"I thought you were leaving,” she said.

"I am. I'm just not anxious to go to my mom's house. My brother's arriving today."

"Don't you get along with your brother?"

"We don't
not
get along. Since he's the oldest he expects everything to be his way. He thinks he knows what's best for all of us no matter what the subject. And he hates Foggy Point. He couldn't wait to leave when he got out of high school, and he'll blame Mom's death on the fact that she lived here. He wanted her to relocate to Seattle when he got out of college, but she wouldn't consider it. He's sure she stayed here because of me. He might be right. Maybe if we'd moved to Seattle all those years ago she'd be with us today."

"You can't know that. She might have died in a car accident or been hit by a meteor."