“It’s not like I’m in the habit of stalking women in the vegetable aisles,” Jack continued in his one-sided conversation. “But if you’d seen that mess of red curls you’d have crossed the room to talk to her, too.”
She looked to be about his age, maybe a little younger, say early to mid-thirties. Designer jeans, good-quality flat leather shoes, crisp white blouse beneath a tailored dark jacket. She could be an upmarket housewife—plentiful in Summerside. Then again, those slender fingers with their just-scrubbed look and short clean nails could belong to a pianist. Or a brain surgeon. All in all, he guessed pianist, but maybe that was simply because he had a thing for Oscar Peterson.
Oscar was on the CD player now, jazzy piano notes bouncing around the kitchen like the dust motes in the last rays of the sun spilling through the large windows overlooking the back garden. Outside, rainbow lorikeets were flitting home to roost in the gum trees, their raucous chatter nearly drowning out the music. Inside the sprawling single-story house, terra cotta tiles and walls of ocher and almond gave off a cozy warm glow. Jack poured himself a glass of red wine and began to cook.
An hour later the aroma of chili, garlic and ginger permeated the kitchen. The first of his guests, his sister Renita, banged open the front door and called through the house. “Hey, Jack. Come and give me a hand. This box weighs a ton.”
He strode out of the kitchen and into a short hallway bordering the lounge room to see his sister, her dark head and curvy round figure almost hidden behind a large cardboard box. He took it out of her arms. “This isn’t so heavy. Maybe you need to start lifting weights.”
“Ugh, I can’t think of anything I’d like less.” Renita went ahead of him to the kitchen, her ponytail swinging and her flip-flops slapping on the tiles. She’d changed out of the suit she wore as the loans manager at the local bank and into a sleeveless top and cargo pants.
“I thought you were bringing a date,” Jack said.
“He had to go away on business.” Over her shoulder she asked, “How was your trip?”
“Let me see… Three months sailing and diving on the Great Barrier Reef? Life doesn’t get much better than that.”
“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” Renita grumbled good-naturedly. “Some of us have to work for a living.”
Jack set the box on the counter. “Is there any point in me learning your new guy’s name?”
“Probably not. At least
I’m
dating.” Renita went to the cupboard for a wineglass and opened the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d brought. “Hey, have you seen Mum since you’ve been back? She’s cut all her hair off.”
“I kind of like it. I’m worried about Dad, though,” Jack said. “Ever since he retired he’s been so morose. It’s been six months and now that Mum’s got all these new interests I think he’s feeling left behind.”
“Did you invite him tonight?” she asked, pouring.
“He’d rather watch the footy.” Jack lifted the box flaps to look inside. “What have you got?”
“Ingredients for a Thai seafood appetizer. It’s best cooked at the last minute.” Renita stirred the wok on the stove and sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good. I saw Sharon at the liquor store. She and Glenn are going to be a bit late. Who else is coming?”
“Lexie, Ron and Diane.” Jack stirred the fragrant curry, then dipped a spoon into the coconut-milk broth and tasted. It needed something… Ah, how could he forget? Kaffir lime leaves. He stacked six of the deep green leaves on the chopping block and sliced them into slivers. An image rushed back to him of crouching to retrieve the fallen packet and gazing into a pair of huge gray-green eyes, clear as water. A faint pink blush had stained her pale cream cheeks as he’d shoved the packet into her hands.
Glancing over at his sister, he asked, “Do I come on too strong?”
Renita’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at him over her glass of sauvignon blanc. “Okay, spill. Who is she?”
Jack stirred the curry. He and Renita were close, but there were things he hadn’t told his sister about the crash. Didn’t she get that he’d
tried
to move on? “I asked a woman out today.”
Renita lowered her prawn cracker. “Jack, that’s wonderful! Are we going to meet her tonight?”
“Don’t get excited. She said no.” He measured rice and water into the rice cooker and sprinkled in salt. “They always discover my hidden personality defects and scram.”
“What’s her name?” Renita said, getting back to the point.
“I didn’t ask.” He was still kicking himself for that oversight. “She’s just a woman I met over Kaffir lime leaves in the grocery shop. She must be new around here. I’ve never seen her before.” Or she could have been passing through. An unwelcome thought.
“Did you invite her to dinner?”
“I all but issued a standing invitation for every Saturday night from now till eternity.”
“And she declined,” Renita deduced. “Any sensible woman would. You should have asked her out for coffee first.”
“Yeah, maybe, but I was getting good vibes. Then I mentioned a dinner party and her smile wilted like week-old lettuce.”
“Could be she doesn’t eat.” Renita started taking items out of the box she’d brought. “Was she superskinny?”
“No, she seemed just right,” Jack said, thinking back to her soft curves, partly hidden beneath her jacket. Then he shrugged. “Never mind. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. You know me—I’d invite the postman for breakfast.”
Six months after the crash and fresh out of the hospital, he actually
had
asked the postie in for coffee. Begged, in fact, offering to drive Irwin around on his route to make up for the lost time. It had been one of those days when the walls vibrated with silence and empty rooms echoed with the voices of the dead. Jack had gone a little crazy. He’d probably be in the loony bin right now if Irwin hadn’t obligingly drunk three cups of coffee and listened to Jack ramble on. Not that Jack had said anything of significance. He’d yakked about local politics, the weather, anything but his grief and guilt.
The crash had been a turning point for Jack. Before, he’d run a successful light-aircraft charter, rebuilt airplane engines and worked on his own invention, an improved global positioning system for small planes. After the crash he’d walked away from the business, the flying and his broken GPS, now shrouded in plastic in his work shed. He’d had no paid employment for three years. Investments and insurance payouts kept him in groceries, paid the mortgage and financed cheap extended holidays. His family sometimes got after him to go back to work, but mostly they supported whatever he chose to do. Personally, he didn’t see a single thing wrong with his lifestyle. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to have enough money and leisure to travel and pursue hobbies while they were young enough to enjoy it?
Now Jack made a career out of making sure he was always surrounded by family and friends.
Life was too short to spend it working. As subtext to that motto was another. “Never alone, never lonely.” The one thing his mother and sisters would say he lacked was intimacy, but they were women—and women were never content until a man was hooked up for life.
The doorbell rang. Before Jack could react, it rang again. And again. He caught Renita’s eye. They burst out laughing and said in unison, “Lexie.” Jack didn’t bother going down the hall. Lexie would be inside before he got there. The bell was less a request for entry than an announcement of her impending whirlwind arrival.
Sure enough, a moment later their older sister hurried into the kitchen clutching a wine bottle, her shoulder-length curly blond hair swinging behind her as if trying to catch up. Lexie was thirty-eight going on eighteen, and about as responsible as an eight-year-old, but her smile lit a room. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”
“Jack’s met someone,” Renita announced.
“I haven’t.” Jack shot her a warning frown.
“Who is she?” Lexie squealed, ignoring Jack’s denial. She reached for a wineglass, her fingers clean but permanently stained with oil paints. Tonight she’d changed out of the equally stained, loose shirt she wore while working on portraits and into a long Indian cotton skirt and a V-necked T-shirt. A fractured stripe of cobalt-blue curved around her forearm like a tattooed bracelet.
“No one,” Jack said firmly.
“A mystery woman who likes to cook,” Renita said.
“I’m not sure about that,” Jack protested.
“She was after Kaffir lime leaves,” Renita pointed out. “Not exactly a staple ingredient in most households.”
“She sounds perfect,” Lexie said. “When do we meet her?”
Thankfully Jack was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Ron and Diane. Glenn and Sharon got there a few minutes later. Soon Jack’s kitchen-cum-family-room was filled with talk and laughter. They poured wine into glasses and set dishes on the long jarrah-wood table surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs all painted a warm deep red. Work clothes had been shed for jeans; everyone had come ready to relax.
Renita’s appetizer took longer to prepare than she’d anticipated, but no one minded. They ate her garlicky skewered prawns standing around the kitchen counter, jostling good-naturedly for space, three different conversations going at once.
Jack teased his sisters and joked with his friends, but his thoughts returned over and over to a certain pair of fine gray-green eyes. He was all stocked up, but he found himself thinking about his next trip to the greengrocer. What were the chances he’d run into her again? And could he wait a whole week?
Sienna tossed the onion and garlic skins into the garbage. “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”
“We’re going to get a pizza.”
Sienna sighed gustily, blowing back the same wayward lock of hair that always came loose and fell over her forehead. Pizza sounded good about now. “Be home by eleven.”
“One o’clock.” Oliver sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”
With a cry, Sienna whirled to see acrid smoke wafting up from the pan. She flipped the gas off and turned on the fan to carry away the odor of scorched garlic.
“Midnight,”
she said firmly to Oliver. “Call me if you need a ride.”
“I’ll walk. It’s only a few blocks.”
“Don’t forget your key.”
“I won’t. See you later.”
Sienna grabbed the frying pan and took it to the sink. As she scraped out the burned onion and garlic she heard Oliver’s footsteps in the tiled hall, then a moment later the front door shut with a snick.
The phone rang and she left the pan in the sink to reach for the cordless handset on the counter. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” Glyneth said, sounding harried as she spoke above the sound of traffic. “The car’s broken down on the freeway. Rex thinks it’s the fuel pump. We’ve called the auto association, but it’s going to be a couple of hours before they get here. I wanted to take a taxi, but Rex won’t leave his stupid Jag and I don’t have the heart to abandon him. We’re not going to make it, Sienna. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, hell. I was so looking forward to seeing you guys,” Sienna said. “When is Rex going to admit his vintage Jaguar is more trouble than it’s worth?”
“God, don’t I wish! I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”
Sienna gazed at the haze hanging over the ruin of a kitchen. It wasn’t the work and the mess she minded. It was another evening on her own. Glyneth couldn’t help that. She straightened her shoulders. “Oh, you know me—I open a packet and heat. I’m just sorry you’re stuck out there with car trouble. How about next weekend?”
“We can’t. It’s Rex’s niece’s wedding.” Glyneth’s phone started to crackle with static. “I’m dropping out. I’d better go. I’ll call you and we’ll catch up soon.”
Sienna hung up and rubbed her right temple where a headache was starting. She rummaged in her purse for a bottle of painkillers. Jack Thatcher’s card fell out.
She stared at the bold black letters of his name on the white card. Now that her plans had fallen through did she have the guts to take him up on his invitation? Bev had personally vouched for Jack Thatcher, so Sienna wasn’t worried that he was some random wacko. And she’d been looking for an opportunity to get out and meet people.
Sienna wasn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. She just wanted a distraction and a few friendly faces to fill an otherwise solitary evening. And for all Jack Thatcher’s banter she didn’t think he was interested, either. He seemed the type to have invited the whole grocery store to dinner.
She’d always been cautious, too controlled to do things on the spur of the moment. Plan ahead had been her motto. That was how she’d gotten through med school and how she’d coped with a demanding workload while being a wife and mother. That hadn’t worked so well, she thought wryly. So maybe this was something else in her life she should change. Maybe it was time she trusted her instinct and gave in to impulse.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she wrapped up the food she’d been cooking and put it back in the fridge. A quick shower and a change into her favorite little black dress perked up her spirits. She put her hair up, applied fresh makeup and slipped into her best pair of shoes.
Then she wrote a note for Oliver and left it on the kitchen counter where he’d see it when he came in. Leaving a light burning over the stove, she slipped out the front door into a fragrant spring evening that suddenly seemed alive with possibility.