In half an hour, Jeff was back. It was growing late, his supply of flyers was gone, the number of shoppers was dwindling, and he was ready to call it a day. “What do I need to bring tonight? Have you got salad fixings? Potatoes? Milk? Flour? Paprika? Butter or margarine?”
“I have everything you need for the scalloped potatoes, and I have oil and vinegar, but no veggies for the salad.”
“I’ll meet you at your place in half an hour, give or take...or do you need more time, like to shower or something?”
“Is that a hint?”
Jeff laughed. “No, you don’t need a bath. I was being polite.”
“C’mon over anytime you’re ready.”
“Great. I’ll run back into headquarters, stop at a supermarket, and come right over. I don’t need to go home for anything.”
“See you in a little while, then.
“That computer key isn’t sticking any more, is it? I don’t need to bring any tools?”
“Nope. It’s fine. See you shortly.”
Chapter 13
With the heat on and the windows closed, the house smelled stuffy. The stale smell assailed Kari’s nostrils as she bustled in the kitchen door, and she resolved to do something about it at once. Before she’d even taken off her coat, she had a pot of water heating up on the stove and had dropped some simmering potpourri into it. Before long, the house would smell of pork and potatoes, but that didn’t help
now
. Kari went about removing her coat and settling in, and soon the scent of blossoms filled the house.
She set the table, pleased to be having a dinner guest, and then hurried to the computer to log on. She’d left the Mac up and running, so it took no time at all to go online...and discover she had no email at all waiting for her. Not from Max and not from anyone else. Not even spam! Well, Max had said “this evening.” It was only 5:30, not really evening yet. She quickly browsed the recipe exchange and found an interesting recipe, downloaded it, then logged off. As she did, she heard Jeff’s car pull into her driveway.
“Honey, I’m home,” he teased when he saw her standing at the open door. A pang went through her at the thought it might be Max saying those words to her for real some day... Max, who was supposed to be here this weekend, but wasn’t. But Kari was pretty good at living in the here and now, and
here
and
now
her friend Jeff was spending the evening with her...which wasn’t such a bad plan either.
Jeff was funny, Jeff was fun, and Jeff had her laughing so hard she kept losing her place with the recipe. He had the advantage. Not that the pork roast recipe was complicated, but she’d never made it before. He could do scalloped potatoes with a blindfold on and one hand tied behind his back. And salad certainly didn’t require much concentration. So he kidded around as he cooked while she continually lost her place with her recipe. And as they cooked and kidded around, the scent of potpourri filled the rooms and lent a sweet, friendly air to the house.
At length, everything was in the oven that was supposed to be, and the salad was complete, minus the dressing, which Jeff wouldn’t add till it was time to eat. He’d made a salad that seemed too good for everyday consumption with both Boston lettuce and spinach leaves, sliced mushrooms, sliced black olives, scallions, water chestnuts, green peppers, cucumbers, radishes, bacon bits, and crumbled bleu cheese. Oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, herbs, and crushed garlic would go in right before serving. “I could feast on this alone!” Kari rhapsodized, looking it over eagerly.
“Well, then, another night I’ll have to come over and make you one of my
really
special salads, and we’ll make a dinner out of it.”
“This
isn’t
a special salad?”
“Where’s the avocado? Where’s the zucchini? Where’s the tomato? Where are the croutons? Where’s...?”
“All right! I believe you.”
She felt comfortable in the kitchen with him. Normally wary of weight cracks from people she didn’t know—and the experience with Steve had proved they could come from people she
did
know, too—she had let her guard down with Jeff.
He had earned her trust in that regard. He had said nothing about the fattening potatoes. With flour, butter, and whole milk, they were certainly not a slimming dish. He hadn’t even discreetly and helpfully suggested a more sensible dish. The cranberry sauce on the pork roast wasn’t exactly slimming either, but not a word had Jeff said. No, he was all right!
Of course, she was in his corner, too. There was the problem at campaign headquarters. Or rather, the series of problems. It was clear that
somebody
was sabotaging the campaign. But it was just as clear to Kari that, whoever was behind it, it couldn’t be Jeff.
They were finished in the kitchen, ready to go sit in the living room and talk while dinner cooked. “Want a drink?” she offered.
“You could twist my arm,” Jeff replied.
So she did—literally, though not hard enough to really hurt.
“Ow! You’re a literal one, aren’t you?” Jeff said.
The perpetual grin was broader than ever, and Kari hated to say anything that might make that grin do a disappearing act, but she just had to talk about the problems at headquarters. Maybe together they could get to the bottom of it. First, though, she asked him, “What are you drinking?”
“Nothing. Do you see a glass in my hand?”
“Now who’s the literal one? What do you want to drink, wiseass?” She gave a playful swat at his behind.
“What does this establishment offer?”
“All the standard stuff.”
“Then you’ve got scotch?”
“How do you want it?”
“Just on the rocks. Thanks.”
She made two drinks, and they sat to sip them and talk. “Who do you think is really at the bottom of all this trouble?” she asked.
She didn’t have to explain what she meant by “this trouble.” The election hanky-panky wasn’t far out of his consciousness either, and he sighed a long sigh. “I don’t know.” He looked at her. “Any ideas? You’ve been around the place a little while now.”
“I turned in my junior detective’s badge in sixth grade. But who works there who stands to benefit from Larrimore losing? That’s one tack to take. Who’s registered to the other party? He or she might be a mole placed in our campaign by the Badley campaign. Or maybe it’s someone who’s out to make you look bad. The campaign might not be the real target at all. You might be. Got any enemies?”
“You’ve been watching too much TV.”
“Well,
somebody’s
doing it, for
some
reason. I’m serious, now. Think.”
“I am thinking. But I’m not keying into anything.”
“Think harder.”
Jeff sighed wearily. “Don’t you think I have been? For days?”
Instantly contrite, Kari apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only trying to help.”
“You didn’t upset me...the whole situation upsets me, but I know you’re trying to help. Go on. Keep thinking. Maybe you’ll puzzle it out.”
“Well, either someone’s trying to help Badley—with or without his knowledge—or they’re trying to make you look bad. You know all the volunteers better than I do. Who stands to benefit from Badley winning? Or to be happy if he does? Or would benefit from you looking bad? Is there another guy there who’s competing with you for the attentions of one of the women? Are you dating any of them?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Paying some business attention to one of them that might have been misconstrued by a jealous co-worker boyfriend? Or would-be boyfriend?”
“I don’t know that any of our workers are a couple. I don’t know that any of the men has a thing for any of the women...which isn’t to say that no one does. I don’t know what goes on in everyone’s mind. I haven’t pursued any of the women...which isn’t to say that some jealous co-worker hasn’t mistaken my professional attentions for something else.” He paused in thought, then shrugged his shoulders. “I just don’t know.”
All the talk of male-female relationships reminded Kari that she’d meant to try to fix Jeff up with Marcy. “I have a friend, by the way, who’s lots of fun to be with, and if you’re not involved with anyone right now, I’d love for you to meet her. I ran into her today at Southdale. I hadn’t seen her in a year. She’s recently broken up with someone.”
“Rebound romances are dicey.”
“Ah, but she doesn’t have a jealous suitor working for the campaign.”
“How do you know?”
“That’s true...how do we know who’s really interested in anyone?”
“How
do
you really know who’s interested in anyone?” Jeff echoed.
Kari got up and went over to her pocketbook, pulling out Marcy’s picture. “This is her. Marcy. I was thinking I could have her over here one day soon, and you, too. If it works, great, you’ll go out together. If not, well, three people will have had a nice dinner together, and an enjoyable evening, and no harm done.”
“If you’re cooking it, I’m sure it’ll be delicious if the smell of that pork is any indication.” Jeff inhaled deeply, savoring the scent that was filling the whole downstairs. “But I’ll pass on that offer, thank you anyhow.”
“Too proud to accept a blind date?” Kari teased. But deep down she was disappointed. If Jeff was refusing without even meeting Marcy, it had to be her looks that had turned him off. And since her face was really strikingly pretty, the only negative aspect of her looks was her girth. Marcy was fat, and apparently, Jeff was turned off by that, or else why wouldn’t he be willing to date her?
“I—I’m so busy with the campaign,” Jeff said. “I don’t really want to get involved right now.”
“I could fix you up after the election’s over.”
“We’ll see.”
Kari knew what “we’ll see” meant. It meant, “No.” It meant Jeff, despite his pretty speech at lunch, really was put off by weight. She was disappointed, even hurt. It didn’t compute, didn’t figure. He seemed to accept
her
weight okay. But maybe not in women he dated? Maybe it was only all right for friends to be fat, but not girlfriends?
“Well, let’s get back to the problem at headquarters.” Kari’s voice, as she swiftly changed the subject, was businesslike and brisk.
“I don’t know what else to tell you. I’ll check the election board’s rosters to see if any of the volunteers is registered to the other party, and I’ll keep my eyes and ears open...but I’ve been doing that already. I keep coming up blank. If you can figure it out, you’re a better Sherlock than I.”
The rest of the evening went fine. The dinner was delicious and was eaten amid much bantering and teasing. But over it all, for Kari, hung a pall from Jeff’s refusal to date her fat friend. When she gave him a good night kiss on the cheek, it was with a heavy heart. He had let her down.
Max was something of a disappointment that evening, too. His letter, though certainly not cold, was briefer than usual, and...was it really less warm, or was Kari imagining it? “I’m very tired,” he’d said. That was probably all there was to it. Why was she looking for trouble, concerned his interest was waning? Why didn’t she accept his statement at face value?
He had said he was tired. Believe it. Let it go at that.
Why couldn’t she accept Jeff’s lack of interest in Marcy at face value, too? Maybe he really couldn’t deal with dating anyone now. His time was certainly short. And he certainly had other problems to deal with at the moment. Maybe his “we’ll see” really meant, “We’ll see when the election is over,” and not the “no” she took it for. Or maybe he had some other reason for not wanting to date Marcy, some reason Kari couldn’t begin to guess at. But what it was, she had no idea.
Then again, maybe she had been right in the first place. Maybe Jeff was simply unwilling to date a fat woman.
Kari took a quick shower, got in bed, and turned on the bedroom TV to watch
Saturday Night Live.
Only, tonight, nothing seemed very funny.
Chapter 14
Sunday morning’s note from Max was pretty typical of the letters she’d been getting from him in the mornings—not hot, but warm and friendly, caring and affectionate, saying that he missed her and was counting the days—five, as of this morning—till he would see her. He also asked if she had tried the pork recipe.
She wrote, deleted, and rewrote the beginning of her reply to him three times. The trouble was her figure.
She found it difficult to discuss the pork roast without discussing Jeff. And she found it difficult to discuss Jeff without discussing her disappointment that he wouldn’t date Marcy. She found it difficult to explain why that bothered her without discussing her own hefty figure. And she had never discussed her weight with Max.
Surely, he guessed that a woman who liked to eat as much as she admitted to was not thin. Surely, the rounded lines of her face, though it was not a fat face, gave a clue that the rest of her body was also built along rubenesque lines. And surely, Max wouldn’t mind her girth. But they had never actually discussed it, and she found herself unwilling to now.