Chapter Five
February 13th. 2009© 2009 Kimberly Fish
Chapter Five
Lacy stepped through her sister’s kitchen, braced between her hands a platter of sautéed onions and peppers curled around a lean pork loin. She was tempted to trip at the doorstep and spill the food on the porch because maybe that would make Henry go away but since this dish was the appetizer it really wasn’t going to thwart anyone, except Kali. She’d turned into Julia Childs with her pregnancy.
Twinkle lights strung between the tree branches cast light on the porch that extended into a deck built among the base of trees. The outdoor room, complete with wicker sofas and low tables, was Lacy’s favorite place on the property. Kali and Brad bought the ranch house shortly after they married, and kindly, offered Lacy the garage apartment. She’d stayed out of their way while they updated the house, but watched with some hint, okay outright bolt, of jealousy when they built the outdoor kitchen and woodsy living room, complete with fireplace and a sound system.
One day she was going to have a real home, with a garden and a porch and . . . she’d leave off the outdoor kitchen because she didn’t barbecue well and there weren’t any husbands on her horizon. So, she’d stick with . . . she sighed, her efficient, sparse apartment.
Henry stepped away from the grill, clutched in his hand a metal spatula which dripped grease onto the floor. He was torn between watching Lacy and the mess he was making. “How did my tenderloin turn out,” he asked bending down to wipe a paper towel across the floor.
“Just peachy,” she said setting it down on the candlelit table. Wouldn’t you know, he could cook. Brad had marinated the chicken breasts and pork tenderloin, but had to hurry to the farm because the goats had gotten loose from the barn. Mr. Wonderful offered to take over chef duties.
“That’s because of the peach jam I found in the pantry. It’s a great compliment to pork.”
Lacy was tempted to stab a sliver of pork because it looked and smelled heavenly, but her pride suggested she step away from the table. “And where did you learn this great secret? Are you a Cordon Bleu chef on top of art and antiques expert?”
“My dad taught me everything he knew, and he loved to barbeque.”
“Usually it’s the mom that does the cooking.”
“We’d lived with my grandfather and some aunts at in this wonderful hotel off the coast of Georgia and the chef there liked the idea of a child protégé. After my mom died, dad packed my sister and I off to Dallas where I gave up any interest in shrimp to embrace the fine art of beef.”
Lacy was so mad she wanted to spit. They both had dysfunctional childhoods, lacking a mother? Was there anything they didn’t have in common? “Just tell me now, to get it out of the way for later, did you go to the University of Texas?”
“Do I look like a Longhorn,” Henry asked turning around to flip the chicken on the grill.
“That is not an answer to my question.”
“That’s because I would think the answer is obvious. The better question would be, ‘Henry, darling, where did you get your fine education?’ And if you’d ask with that southern lilt you do so well, I’d be real grateful.”
Lacy chewed her lip. “If you’re implying I have a Southern drawl, I’ll take offense.”
“I didn’t imply anything you do is offensive, quite the opposite.”
“So if I ask the question, I’m going to come off feeling ridiculous. Like you’re setting me up for another lesson about how to be a sophisticated antiques expert.”
Henry wiped his wrist across his forehead. “You have a very suspicious mind. I would never suggest I have anything over you, except maybe about six years life experience. If you’re feeling vulnerable, that’s your issue.”
“I didn’t say, ‘vulnerable’. Good Lord, do you take me for some simpering maiden?”
Henry stepped away from the grill and took a long swig from his glass. After a lingering glance at Lacy, he finally said, “I have no idea how we got from peach jam to simpering maidens, quite frankly, you’ve confused me. And that doesn’t happen often.”
Lacy jumped and hurried to stand next to him. She stabbed her finger into his chest. “Ah, ha. So the perfect Henry Robinson has a chink in his armor.”
“I thought I was wearing Ralph Lauren?”
Lacy stopped. She’d confused herself and she didn’t even know how or why she’d pick an argument with him? Why couldn’t she compliment him on the meat and then go back inside to hide until Brad and Kali came out. What was the sick compulsion? Maybe she was ill? She did feel feverish when standing next to Henry.
Lacy felt a bump against her hip. She turned seeing Kali staggering with a tray of bruschetta. “Here, daydreamer, take these off my hands. I’ve got to go back for the beverages.”
Lacy stared at the crumbled goat cheese, wondering if it was too early for flu season. “Do I look pale to you,” she asked her sister.
“You look a little flushed, but I thought that was because Henry was flirting with you.”
“Henry is not flirting with me. Far from it.”
Henry stepped away from the grill. “She was lecturing me about my attire.”
Kali surveyed Henry’s linen slacks, cotton shirt and huaraches. She looked back to Henry’s clean-shaven face. “You look perfect, what could she find wrong with what you’re wearing?”
Henry gestured toward Lacy with his tongs. “Ask her, she’s the one with twenty questions.”
With four eyes leveled on her, Lacy really felt sick. “It’s no surprise Henry and I don’t get along. We have nothing in common.”
Kali choked on her laughter. “Are you kidding me? You two are like Ken and Barbie of the antiquing set.”
Henry turned his tongs toward Kali. “I resent that. Ken was plastic.”
“I can see Lacy’s about to sear me with her wit, so I surrender,” Kali said holding both hands in the air. She turned to her sister, saying, “But I stand by my theory. A genie in a bottle couldn’t have conjured up two people better suited for each other. I just can’t believe you don’t see it.”
Henry faced the grill and flipped the chicken.
Lacy’s legs felt filled with lead even though she wanted to run. “This man has patronized me from the moment we met. Besides that, he’s trying to undercut my business. Do not fall for his good looks, Kali.”
Henry looked over his shoulder at Lacy. “So you think I’m good-looking?”
Lacy groaned. With anger and a fair dose of humiliation, she marched across the deck, into the kitchen and out through the front door. She’d go to her apartment, but it was at the back of the house and those on the deck would have a clear view of her escape. She was left with no choice except to pound out her frustration by walking the half mile driveway. Maybe several times.
Though her sandals were expensive and trendy, they were hardly cut out for the tar and pebble roadway. Within a few minutes, she felt a blister rubbing on her heel. Brad’s approaching truck forced her into the weeds. He slowed down and pulled up next to her.
“Is the party over already,” he asked. “Wait, better question. Did Kali leave any chicken for me?”
She didn’t warm up to the smile on her brother-in-law’s face. “There’s plenty for you. Be sure to enjoy the peach jam someone added to your tenderloin. He thought your marinade needed a little help.”
“It did. I was lucky to get terryaki sauce on everything this afternoon. And I assume you’re talking about Mr. Smooth.”
“So you don’t like him either.”
“I like him just fine. But, there’s no mistaking Henry for a rancher.”
“I know. It’s so obvious.”
“But I didn’t think that was a problem for you because you’ve never even liked dating ranchers. Said they smelled like cows.”
“Maybe I was too hasty.”
“Maybe you’re running from something that scares you.”
“Yes,” she said with relief. “I’m afraid Henry’s going to ruin my business.”
“Your antiques business? The one where he just paid an ungodly amount of money for a junky old dining room table?”
She had over-priced the furniture but that’s because she wanted to make sure something so preserved ended up in hands that would appreciate the details. That Henry was one to make that purchase confirmed she was way too sentimental. He didn’t even know about the edelweiss flowers carved into corners. “I wish people would quit bringing that up. A large checkbook does not mean he’s a nice person.”
“No, it means he’s someone willing to shell out big bucks to spend more time with you.”
Lacy put her hands on her hips exasperated with the way gossip spread in this family. “I suppose that mean you’ve heard about Henry’s ridiculous game for us to go on a great ‘Where’s Waldo’ hunt for Inga Steinmeyer’s antiques boon.”
Brad leaned back against his seat, rubbed his thumb across his chin. “Now that’s clever.”
“Do not admire the man,” Lacy said. “He’s out to steal my business.”
Brad grinned. “I think he’s out to steal the business owner’s heart. And I, for one, wish him well. He’s got his work cut out for him.”
To be continued.