Key of Light
Page 81

“Malory—”
“Really, you don’t need to say anything. It’d be enough, more than enough for now, if you just accepted it, maybe enjoyed it a little. It seems to me love shouldn’t be a weapon or a device or a weight. Its beauty is that it be a gift, with no strings attached to it. Just like this meal.”
She smiled, though the steady way he watched her was unnerving. “So, why don’t you pour the wine, then wash up? And we’ll both just enjoy it.”
“Okay.”
It could wait, Flynn thought. Maybe it was meant to wait. In any case, the words in his head sounded off-key when compared with the simplicity of hers.
So they would enjoy each other, and the meal she’d prepared in the awkward, homely kitchen with fresh flowers arranged in a plastic pitcher.
As beginnings went, this one had elements of both of them. Wasn’t it interesting how one managed to complement the other?
“You know, if you made me a list of stuff I should have in here, I could pick it up.”
She arched her brows, took the wine he offered, then pulled a little notepad out of her apron pocket. “This is already half full. I was planning to wait until you were lulled into complacency by meat and potatoes.”
He flipped through the notebook and noted that items were listed under specific headings. Foodstuffs, Cleaning Supplies—with subheadings Kitchen, Bathroom, Laundry—Household Necessities.
Jesus, the woman was irresistible.
“Am I going to need to take out a loan?”
“Think of it as an investment.” Taking the notebook from him, she tucked it into his shirt pocket, then concentrated on the potatoes. “Oh, by the way, I really like the art in your office upstairs.”
“Art?” It took him a minute. “Oh, my girls. Really?”
“Clever, nostalgic, sexy, stylish. It’s a great room altogether, which I admit was something of a relief to me, considering the rest of the house. Enough that I wasn’t flattened by disappointment when my brainstorm about the key didn’t pan out.” She drained the beans that she’d dashed with basil into one of her serving bowls, handed it to him. “Monroe, Grable, Hayworth, and so on. Screen goddesses. Goddess, key.”
“Good segue.”
“Yeah, it seemed so, but no luck.” She passed him the bowl of potatoes, then using the potholders she’d bought, took the meat loaf out of the oven. “Still, I think I’m on the right track, and it gave me the chance to see your thinking space.”
She sat, scanned the table. “Hope you’re hungry.”
They dished up the meal. At the first bite of meat loaf, Flynn sighed. “Good thing you put Moe out. I’d hate to torment him with this, since he won’t be getting much of it. My compliments to the artist.”
There was pleasure, Malory discovered, in watching someone you loved eat what you’d prepared. Pleasure in sharing a simple meal at the kitchen table at the end of the day.
She’d never felt deprived eating dinner alone, or in the company of a friend. But now it was easy to see herself sharing this hour with him, night after night, year after year.
“Flynn, you said that when you accepted that you were meant to stay in the Valley, you bought this house. Did you—do you—have a vision for it? How you want it to look and feel?”
“I don’t know if you’d call it a vision. I liked the look of it, the lines of it, and the big yard. Something about a big yard makes me feel prosperous and safe.”
He went back for seconds. “I figure I’ll have to gut this room sooner or later, rip it into the new millennium. Buy stuff for the rest of the place, eventually. But I never seem to get around to it. I guess because it’s just me and Moe.”
He poured more wine for both of them. “If you’ve got some ideas, I’m open to suggestions.”
“I’ve always got ideas, and you should be careful before you get me started. But that wasn’t why I asked. I had a vision for the property we bought—Dana and Zoe and I. As soon as I walked into that house I could see how it would work, what it needed from me, what I could bring to it. And I haven’t been back since.”
“You’ve been pretty busy.”
“That’s not it. I deliberately haven’t been back. That’s not like me. Usually when I have a project, I can’t wait to get started, to start fiddling with things, lining them up, making lists. I took the step. I signed on the dotted line, but I haven’t taken the next step.”
“It’s a big commitment, Mal.”
“I’m not afraid of commitment. Hell, I thrive on it. But I’ve been a little afraid of this. I’m going to go over tomorrow, take a look at the place. Apparently the previous owners left a lot of stuff they didn’t want in the attic. Zoe asked me to go through it before she started hauling things out.”
“What kind of attic? A dark, spooky attic or a big, fun, Grandma’s attic?”
“I have no idea. I haven’t been up there.” It shamed her to admit that. “I haven’t been off the ground floor, which is ridiculous, as I own a third of the property. Or will. I’m going to change that. Change isn’t my best thing.”
“Want me to go with you? I’d like to see the place anyway.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” She reached over to give his hand a squeeze. “Thanks. Now, since you asked about ideas on this house, I’d suggest you start in the living room, which by my definition is an area where you’re supposed to live.”
“You’re going to insult my sofa again, aren’t you?”
“I don’t believe I have the skills to form the insult that sofa merits. But you might want to think about actual tables, lamps, area rugs, curtains.”
“I was thinking I could just order a bunch of stuff out of a catalogue.”
She sent him a very long, very dry stare. “You’re trying to scare me, but it won’t work. And since you’ve generously offered to help me out tomorrow, I’ll return the favor. I’d be glad to give you a hand with turning that space into a room.”
Since he’d all but licked his plate clean a second time, he resisted going for thirds. “Was that a trick, some clever ploy to drag me off to a furniture store?”
“It wasn’t, but it sure circled around to it well, didn’t it? I can give you some of my thoughts while we do the dishes.”