Part 13 (2/2)
That was an understatement. Zack had floated back to the party with me, said his good-byes in a kind of oblivious daze, and only looked a little crestfallen when I packed him off to Seattle with Valerie Duncan instead of taking him myself. He'd ridden to the Salish with Aaron-a favor that would probably not be offered in the future.
”I heard Valerie offering you your job back,” I said, setting my coffee safely out of his...o...b..t. ”Did you take it?”
”Yeah.” Zack's all-too-easy blush surged up from his throat to wash across his fair-skinned cheeks. ”She said I was doing totally great stuff for them. I want to keep going with the Made in Heaven web site, too. I couldn't really, like, concentrate, before.”
”I understand. Here, have one of these rolls. They look... large. And delicious, I'm sure. What are the rest of these drinks?”
”There's an Americano, and a cappuccino, and I think this one is just plain.”
”Which one's yours?”
”Oh, I don't drink coffee.”
”Really? I can't even imagine-”
There was another knock on the door. Zack, eager to please, jumped up and pulled it open, giving Aaron a full view of me, still not dressed, having breakfast with Robin Hood, still wearing his same clothes from the night before. Wonderful.
Zack stood there tongue-tied while Aaron and I had a stilted conversation, with a silent but thoroughly understood subtext conveyed by our eyes and, in his case, one eyebrow.
”Aaron,” I said. This isn't what it looks like.
”Carnegie?” The eyebrow went up. Looks pretty clear to me.
”Aaron, would you like some coffee?” Be reasonable, please.
”Well...” That's asking a lot.
”Come on, sit down.” Please?
”I just got here!” Zack blurted. ”Honest!”
Aaron couldn't help it. He laughed, though it was an edgy laugh, one that ended abruptly. He shook his head and pulled a small paper sack from the canvas carry-on bag over his shoulder. I hadn't noticed the bag at first, or the jacket and tie Aaron was wearing-not his usual working clothes.
”Whatever,” he said. ”I was going to drop off some bagels, but you seem to be well supplied.”
”I'd love a bagel,” I told him. ”Have a seat.”
”Can't. Got a plane to catch, to Portland.”
”Portland! For how long?”
”Couple days, maybe. It's hard to say. See you.” Without another look at me, Aaron turned away to leave. At least he tried to. The door behind him, still ajar, swung open yet again, propelled by the volume of a familiar voice.
”Carnegie! We brought you breakfast! You see, Mother? I said it wasn't too early. She's got company!”
I sank my head in my hands, rearranged my face in a courteous smile, and looked up. The kitchen was teeming with Buckmeisters. This time the sweats.h.i.+rts said ”I Love Was.h.i.+ngton.”
”Good morning, Buck. Hi, Betty. Where's Bonnie?” The three of them usually came as a set.
”She's doing an all-day beauty spa kinda thing,” Buck told me. ”Isn't that something? We just dropped her off and picked up some Egg Mcm.u.f.fins, and I said, Mother, let's bring a couple over to Carnegie. She's so darn skinny, I bet she just drinks black coffee for breakfast! That's not enough for a working girl like her, I said, and Mother agreed with me, didn't you, Mother?”
”I surely did, Father, but now look at all this nice food that's here already. My goodness, a pineapple! Is that what they eat in Seattle, pineapple for breakfast? Good morning, dear,” said Betty, addressing herself to a baffled Zack. ”Are you getting married?”
Zack's reply, if any, was lost as her husband seized Aaron's hand and shook it. ”No, I bet this is the groom over here, Mother! Am I right? Bruce Buckmeister-call me Buck-and that's my wife Betty. Our little girl Bonnie is the bride in the family! Pleased to meet you!”
”Likewise, Buck,” said Aaron, amused in spite of himself. I could tell he was taking notes in his head. Aaron loved a colorful character, and Buck was Technicolor, even without his red-checked bandanna. ”I'm Aaron Gold, and that's Zack Hartmann. But neither of us is walking down the aisle just yet. Unless there's something you and Zack haven't told us, Stretch?”
”Don't start,” I warned him. ”Just wait while I get some clothes on and I'll walk you to your car, OK? Folks, Aaron has to leave, but take a seat there with Zack. He's a web-site designer, isn't that interesting? Have him tell you all about it.”
I dressed fast, afraid that Aaron would miss his flight. Not that I wanted him on it, if he was heading for an interview at The Oregonian. I wanted Aaron Gold right here in Seattle, where I could feel ambivalent about him. It wasn't raining, for a wonder, so I skipped my jacket and hurried back to the kitchen. Buck and Betty had settled cozily at the table while Zack, Egg Mcm.u.f.fin in hand, was solemnly explaining JPEG files and animated GIFs and why frames, like, totally suck. I still didn't understand it, but the Buckmeisters were charmed.
”Imagine,” Betty kept saying. ”Just imagine, someone as young as you knowing all that.”
Aaron was at the door checking his watch, so I just waved at the Killer B's and followed him outside, wrapping my arms around myself against the chilly salt air.
”You're going to freeze out here,” he said, striding down the dock to the parking lot. His footsteps rapped hollowly on the fog-dampened planks. The low gray sky was getting lighter, paling the porch lights of the other houseboats. One of my neighbors, stepping out to pick up her newspaper, called out a cheery good morning. I smiled mechanically and kept going, trying to keep up with Aaron.
”I can't let you leave without explaining.”
”So explain.” He shot me a sidelong glance, but he didn't slow down. ”Start with the pineapple. The pineapple fascinates me.”
”Aaron, be serious! I mean, not too serious.” I was beginning to sound like Zack. ”It's not a serious situation, is it?”
”You tell me.” He unlocked his yellow Bug and threw his carry-on into the miniscule trunk.
”Back in the kitchen you were joking about it.”
”What was I supposed to do, play the jealous lover in front of the Buckmasters?”
”Buckmeisters. Look, Aaron, last night I was helping Zack sort out a... a personal problem. He was happy about solving it, and grateful, and so he hugged me. And this morning he just showed up. That's all.”
”That's all? I'm supposed to feel better because you're not sleeping with him just like you're not sleeping with me?” He slammed the trunk lid with a violence that made me jump. ”You tell me you need some s.p.a.ce, then you fill the s.p.a.ce up with Zack Hartmann. Who's next, your Russian guy? What kind of high-school bulls.h.i.+t is this?”
”Don't talk to me that way!”
”Well, don't treat me this way.” Aaron's deep brown eyes looked suddenly vulnerable, and I might have apologized if he hadn't pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. The morning air was dead still, and as he exhaled, the smoke made a little cloud between us. ”Carnegie, I can't talk about this now. I've got a plane to catch.”
”Why Portland, anyway? Is it a job offer?”
He frowned. ”Maybe. Mostly I'm going down to do some research for a series on ma.s.s transit. I better go.”
”Well, could you call me later?” I'll miss you. I want you here. I didn't say it, though. Too high-schoolish. ”We were going to sort out that list of people in black costumes-”
”Sure, I'll call you,” he said from behind the smoke, ”but let's forget all this amateur detective c.r.a.p. Stay out of it. Leave it to the cops.”
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