I turned to Mindy and asked, “Did that just happen?”
Mindy turned to me and replied, “I told you.”
I looked back out the windows and murmured, “How can she be related to Max?”
“Max’s Mom isn’t much better, then again she’s mellowed with age.”
This wasn’t good news.
“You’re good,” she said, the huge smile spreading on her face was also brightening her pretty blue eyes.
“Sorry?” I asked.
“You went all Ice Queen on her, gave her no opening, it was awesome,” Mindy complimented.
“Um…” I didn’t know what to say but was strangely pleased with the praise then I finished, “thanks.”
“Anyway,” Mindy said, clearly over it and on to better things, she turned to the fridge, opened it and asked its shelves, “What’s for lunch?”
“I thought I’d make toasted sandwiches with shaved chicken, Monterey Jack cheese and avocado,” I suggested, a suggestion that was met with silence.
I turned to see Mindy staring at me then she said, “Really?”
“Really,” I answered then asked, “Why?”
“’Cause that sounds freaking great.”
I smiled and said, “It is.” Then reached passed her into the fridge to get the cheese and chicken. “Fire up the stove, darling, let’s make lunch.”
“Cool!” she cried and skip-danced to the stove.
I looked from Mindy to the ceiling and silently said, Thank you.
Then I got out the cheese and chicken.
*
I was standing at the stove, stirring the chopped veggies in olive oil in the skillet when the lights of a vehicle flashed on the walls. I turned from the range and looked to the drive.
The Cherokee. Max was home.
I felt a pleasant shiver slide up my spine and looked to the waning light of a setting sun.
An hour ago, Becca had shown up with my shopping and the news that Max had given the green light for Mindy to go back down the mountain. We talked for awhile, me ascertaining two things. One, Becca was still angry at Damon for “being such a dick” and two, she was “next in line” to get a facial.
They left and I checked my e-mail. No e-mail from Niles so I sent him one asking if he was all right.
Then I sorted my shopping, clipping off the tags, putting things away then I grabbed the cream and sugar bowl I’d found in town. They were handmade, fantastic pottery by a local artisan, larger than normal creamers and sugar bowls, unusual squat shapes with equally unusual twisting handles and they were glazed cream at the top and inside, terra cotta at the bottom. Perfect. I bought them for Max’s kitchen. A gift, a stupid one but my small way of saying “thanks for taking care of me when I was sick”. He didn’t need a creamer and sugar bowl, probably would never use them, but they sure would look good in his kitchen.
Therefore I took them to his kitchen, cleaned them, dried them and filled them, leaving the small milk jug in the fridge and putting the sugar bowl by the coffeepot.
Then I sat at the dining room table and wrote a couple of postcards to friends that I’d also bought the day before.
Then I started dinner.
What I did not do, but should have done, was sort out my messed up head.
The casserole dish had the cubed salmon, king prawns and quartered hardboiled eggs in the bottom, the mashed potatoes (flavored with a hint of English mustard), sitting in a bowl with a dish towel over it, were ready to go on top. The ingredients for the cheesy, mustardy, creamy sauce were by the range, ready to go in when the veggies finished cooking.
I heard the door open and I pulled in a silent breath. Then I looked over my shoulder.
“Hey babe,” Max called, shrugging off his canvas jacket and heading my way.
“Hi,” I replied and turned back to the veggies, stirring unnecessarily.
I heard the whispering sound of his jacket being hooked on a chair, I felt him get close, my hair was swept off my shoulder then I felt his lips at my neck.
This time that shiver went from my neck back down spine.
“Smells good,” he murmured when his head came up.
“Fish pie.”
“Mm.”
God, he could “mm” great in that gravelly way of his.
“Sorry I been gone so long,” he went on.
I picked up the cream and poured it into the veggies while asking, “Mindy’s apartment sorted?”
“Couldn’t find Damon. Did find out that the landlord has storage units at the complex, I got his shit out, put it in a unit and the landlord changed the locks on Mindy’s place.”
I didn’t like the idea of Mindy staying by herself, even with changed locks, so I turned to him and noted, “That doesn’t sound exactly sorted.”