Part 15 (1/2)
”About John,” he said, changing the subject.
”I don't want to hear about John right now.”
”Maybe you should. It'll adjust your focus.”
”No, thanks. I'll be meeting him soon, won't I?”
”I can arrange the meeting for Monday afternoon if you like. When I last spoke to him about scheduling a face-to-face, John was ecstatic. He's very eager to make your acquaintance.”
”Oh.”
”He called it an early Christmas gift.”
”Oh, yes, Christmas.”
Silence stretched between them.
”I'll get to your condo a few minutes early,” Simon said, filling the empty s.p.a.ce. ”I have your address. From your application-and the check.”
The thirty-thousand-dollar check...
”See you then,” he added.
”Yes, for dinner.” Not until she'd hung up her phone, did she wonder why he wanted to come early.
Chapter 13.
C a.s.sie was up half the night baking pies and getting everything ready for her final task. Her alarm went off at six on Sunday morning. She staggered from her bed, got the turkey out of the refrigerator and nearly dropped it on the kitchen floor. Who knew twenty pounds would be so heavy?
Because she'd methodically planned every detail of the dinner preparations, she was right on schedule. She stuffed the turkey and it was in the oven and roasting nicely an hour later. She started on the salads next. The dining room table was set with a crisp white linen cloth. There were sprigs of holly beside each place card for a festive accent. She'd arranged every detail with the hope of impressing Simon. She'd dressed in a red and black velvet pantsuit and taken care with her makeup. For a final holiday touch she wore a ring with a large red stone.
He arrived a full hour before her guests were due, carrying a huge, perfect poinsettia for the centerpiece.
He handed it to her almost as if he was grateful to be rid of it.
”How lovely,” she said delightedly. ”Thank you.”
She put the poinsettia on the table and stepped back to examine it.
”I love it, Simon.” Rising onto the tips of her toes, she kissed his cheek.
He was frowning when she stepped back. ”That was inappropriate,” he said disapprovingly.
She didn't point out that he'd kissed her a few weeks ago. But to prove how wrong he was, she kissed his cheek a second time.
However, when she started to move away, Simon clasped her by the shoulders and pulled her into his embrace. Then he lowered his mouth to hers. Before she could account for her response, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.
They both seemed to realize at precisely the same moment what they'd done. They leaped apart; Simon shoved his hands in his pockets, while Ca.s.sie turned around in an effort to regain her composure.
As they faced each other again, Ca.s.sie made a sweeping gesture toward the table, hoping to bring some levity to the situation. ”Well, what do you think?” she asked.
He nodded. ”You've done a wonderful job.”
”Would you like to see the turkey?” she asked.
”If you wish.”
”I do. You're the one who told me I had to do this...and in retrospect I'm glad you did.” She led him into the kitchen, grabbed one of her oven mitts and opened the door. She basted the turkey and noted with pride how crisp and brown it looked. According to her calculations, it would be finished in forty minutes. Simon could remove it from the oven and it would sit for an additional fifteen minutes before being carved.
”Very nice,” he said, when she closed the oven door. ”Smells delicious, too.”
”Have I surprised you?” she asked and knew she had, which was what she'd hoped.
He smiled. ”I admit that you're one surprise after another.” Which was exactly the thought she'd so recently had about him....
She managed to restrain herself from dancing a small, gleeful jig.
She poured Simon a gla.s.s of eggnog while they waited for the rest of her company. ”Store-bought,” she confessed as she joined him in the living room. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa.
That wasn't the only similarity to the way Shawn and Angie had behaved the previous day. Like her brother and her friend, Simon and Ca.s.sie hardly looked at each other. Neither seemed inclined toward conversation, either.
”I was thinking...” Ca.s.sie began.
”It seems to me...” Simon said.
They both stopped, then Simon gestured toward her to speak.
”No, you first,” she insisted.
”Please,” he said.
Ca.s.sie didn't get a chance because the doorbell rang just then. Eager to break the unexplained tension between them, she hurried to answer. As she might have guessed, Mrs. Mullinex arrived first. She stood in the hallway dressed in her finest. For the first time in Ca.s.sie's memory, her hair wasn't in curlers. In fact, this was the first time she'd seen her neighbor's hair, period. It was...curly.
”This is so nice of you,” the older woman chirped. Her eyes flew instantly to Simon and widened with womanly appreciation.
”This is...” Ca.s.sie wasn't sure how to introduce him. ”Simon. My friend. Simon Dodson, Mrs. Mullinex.”
”How do you do?” her neighbor cooed sweetly. ”Please call me Phyllis.”
”Phyllis,” Ca.s.sie repeated. She'd lived in the building for three years and hadn't been aware of Mrs. Mullinex's first name, which didn't appear on the mailbox, not even as an initial. Her neighbor had never seen fit to share it with Ca.s.sie.
”I didn't realize Ca.s.sie had a male friend,” Mrs. Mullinex said ever so coyly. ”She is a sly one.”
Ca.s.sie excused herself and disappeared inside the kitchen while she prepared the hors d'oeuvres. She'd leave Simon to fend for himself. When she heard the two of them chatting amicably, Ca.s.sie sighed. Simon possessed a few social graces, after all-but none that he was willing to display for her benefit.
Mr. Oliver showed up next. ”The Seahawks game starts at four. This isn't going to take longer than that, is it?” he asked as he barreled past her and into the condo. He looked around and when he saw Phyllis Mullinex, a frown darkened his face.