Table for Seven (7 page)

“You, too,” Coop said, grinning at his friend.

“Coop, do you remember Leland?” Fran asked, gesturing to an elderly man who was sitting in a cream jacquard arm chair. It was impossible to tell his age. He could be a hard-living seventy-five or a ninety-year-old with excellent genes. Either way, he looked fragile and shrunken, and his
face was a web of lines. Still, his eyes were a sharp, bright blue and he seemed alert.

“I would get up, but it would take so long you’d grow bored waiting for me,” Leland said, gesturing to the curved cane resting against the chair.

“Then, I’ll come to you,” Coop said. He stepped forward to shake Leland’s hand. “And please, call me Coop.”

“And this is Audrey, who you also met on New Year’s,” Fran said.

Coop turned. Audrey had glossy dark hair cut into a short angled bob that showed off a long, graceful neck. Her smile reached her brown eyes, causing faint laugh lines to appear at the corners.

Coop pointed at her. “You were on door duty and said I was lucky not to have been named Phoenix,” he said.

“Good memory,” Audrey said. She was wearing very high heels and dark red lipstick, a combination Coop was very much in favor of.

Coop covertly checked for a ring on her fourth finger. There wasn’t one. The evening was looking up, he decided. This time when he smiled, he didn’t hold back—he went for the full dazzling effect. Strangely, Audrey didn’t swoon or throw her bra at him.

“Fran told me you make nature documentaries,” Audrey said. “That sounds fascinating. How did you get started in it?”

“In the most ass backward way possible,” Coop admitted. “When I was fresh out of college, I took a job with a small company down in the Keys that ran boat tours taking tourists out for dives. One day, a production company was looking for some qualified divers to help out with a film they
were making about shipwrecks off Key Largo, and they hired me on. I liked the work and managed to talk my way into a permanent spot with the production company.”

“Coop can talk his way into just about anything,” Fran interjected.

“Is that so?” Audrey said, shooting Coop a smile that was encouragingly flirtatious. He accepted the glass of whiskey Jaime handed him.

“Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Leland, can I get you a refill?” Jaime asked.

“The answer to that question is always an emphatic yes,” Leland said, holding out his glass. Jaime laughed and took his empty tumbler from him.

“Jaime, do you need any help?” Fran asked.

“There’s a cheese tray and a plate of gougères in the kitchen. Would you mind bringing them out?” Jaime asked.

“Sure thing,” Fran said.

Once they were alone, Coop leaned toward Audrey. “What in the world are gougères?” he murmured.

She smiled. “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

“I guess we’ll have to wait and see.”

“You were saying, about your job—you worked your way up to directing?” Audrey asked.

“Basically.” Coop nodded. “Directing, and now producing, too. We just wrapped filming a piece about the effects of the coastal tide on marine life off the coast of Nova Scotia.”

“Wow. That sounds fascinating,” Audrey said.

“And what do you do?” Coop asked Audrey.

“I own a day spa.”

“Sounds very Zen,” Coop said.

“I hope it’s relaxing for my patrons. But, no, I don’t think the actual running of a business is ever very Zen,” Audrey said.

“Do you have many male clients?” Coop asked, leaning a bit closer toward Audrey so that his arm brushed against hers. She didn’t move away. Another good sign, he thought.

“Absolutely,” Audrey said, nodding enthusiastically. “It’s actually a growth area in the industry that I’m hoping to capitalize on. In fact, quite a few of my regular clients are gay guys.”

Coop blinked, confused by this non sequitur.

Audrey continued. “I’ve introduced a few men to the joys of manicures. They were resistant at first, but now they’re hooked. In fact, one of my clients keeps telling me I should advertise them as our
man
-icures. Emphasis on the man part.” Audrey tilted her head and scrutinized him. “Actually, you’d really like him. His name is Ron.” Then she smiled and shook her head. “No, never mind, forget I said anything. I’m as bad as Fran.”

“As bad as Fran?” Coop repeated, his brow wrinkling. He had a feeling he was missing something. But before he could ask Audrey what she meant, Will clapped a hand on his shoulder again.

“When are we going to go fishing?” Will asked.

“Haven’t you gotten your own boat yet?” Coop asked. Audrey had turned to talk to Jaime and Leland.

“No way. A wise man once told me that owning a boat was an expensive, time-consuming pain in the ass, and that I’d be much better off finding a friend with a boat and then bribing him to take me out on it,” Will said.

“What wise man?” Coop said.

“Some drunk guy I met in a bar down in the Keys. I think he was about twelve hours into a bender.” Will shrugged. “But the advice was still solid.”

“Would either of you care for a blue cheese gougère?” Fran asked, appearing beside them with a silver tray piled with what looked like cream puffs.

“At long last, a solution to the gougère mystery,” Coop said, helping himself to one. It was a bit like a cream puff in texture, although it was savory, not sweet, and didn’t have a cream-filled middle. “Mmm.”

“I’ll set them down right here next to you,” Fran said.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Coop teased her. Fran grinned at him, and then turned to join the conversation Audrey and Jaime were having about the best place in town to buy seafood.

Coop observed the women for a few moments. Audrey was calm and still, especially standing next to Fran, whose hands moved frenetically while she talked, constantly threatening to spill the contents of her wineglass. Jaime seemed tense. Her fingers played nervously at the diamond charm she wore around her neck on a gold chain, and she kept glancing back over her shoulder, as though looking for someone. The mystery of just who she was looking for was solved when a tall, lean man wearing a Lacoste polo shirt, khaki shorts, and sneakers strode in and said, “Hello, everyone, sorry I’m late.”

“Hi, Mark,” Fran said, as Mark leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“Emily won the tournament,” Mark announced proudly.

“Good for her!” Fran said.

“Way to go, Emily,” Will said, shaking Mark’s hand. “Where is she?”

“I dropped her off at her mom’s house. She wanted to show Libby her trophy. It’s nearly as tall as she is,” Mark said.

Coop noticed that as everyone greeted Mark and repeated words of congratulations about Emily’s big win, Jaime remained silent. And when Mark reached her and tried to slip a hand around her waist, she stepped away, out of his reach. Unfazed, Mark turned to Coop.

“Mark Wexler,” he said, holding out his hand for Coop to shake. “You look familiar.”

“We met at Fran and Will’s house,” Coop said, remembering that Mark had been pretty drunk that night.

“That’s right. Sorry I’m late. My daughter was in a tennis tournament today. I couldn’t bring myself to leave while she was winning,” Mark said.

“I just got here myself,” Coop said.

“And you’ve already got a drink, I see. Good. I could use one of those.” Mark glanced around. “Although I’d better not ask Jaime to get me one. She’d probably dump it over my head. I’m in the doghouse for being late.”

Coop merely raised his eyebrows. Listening to spouses complain about each other had to rate near the top on his list of least favorite conversations. But he was saved from having to hear any further details by Jaime saying, “Now that we’re all here, let’s move into the dining room. The first course is ready.”

There was a stir of activity. Will leaned down to help Leland out of his chair. Those who had empty glasses set them on the bar. Fran continued to talk to Audrey and Jaime, her hands moving constantly, as they turned to head into the dining room, just off the living room. Coop followed closely behind them, still holding his whiskey. He wanted to make
sure that he got to the table in time to claim a seat next to Audrey.

AUDREY WAS ENJOYING HERSELF more than she thought she would. She ate the excellent warm goat cheese salad Jaime had made, sipped a very good glass of red wine, and for once she didn’t mind being seated between the only two single men present at dinner. Coop was flirtatious and attentive, obviously the sort of gay man who truly liked women. And Leland was a hoot.

“Everything tastes better when you add bacon,” Leland announced.

“Everything?” Will asked. “That can’t be true. There must be some foods that clash with it.”

“No such thing,” Leland said. “I’ll go so far as to say that you can’t name a food that isn’t improved by bacon.”

Will smiled mischievously. “Care to make a small wager on that?”

“Look out,” Mark said. “Dinner party smack talk.”

“You’re on,” Leland said, pointing a finger at Will. “How much are we betting?”

Will considered this. “I’m in for five dollars,” he said.

“High stakes gambling,” Mark said.

“It’s a deal,” Leland said. “Go ahead. Name something that is not improved by the addition of bacon.” He sat back and waited, while Will thought.

“Beets?” Fran suggested.

“No helping him,” Leland admonished her. “And besides, a roasted beet salad would be delicious with bacon bits.”

“How about cauliflower?” Will said.

“Steamed cauliflower topped with cheese sauce and sprinkled with bacon,” Leland said.

“This isn’t fair,” Will complained. “Whatever food I name, you’ll just announce that it’s improved by bacon. We need an impartial judge.”

“I am a judge,” Leland said. “Or at least, I was a judge.”

“For all we know, you spent your entire tenure on the bench on the take,” Will teased.

A grin split across Leland’s wizened face. “I’ll never tell,” he said.

“I’ll be the judge,” Fran said. “Or am I disqualified because I’m married to one of the players?”

“You are,” Will said. “But only because you’d be biased in Leland’s favor.”

“Have Coop do it, then,” Fran suggested.

Will gave his oldest friend a sideways look. “Coop will probably favor Leland, too.”

Coop held up his hands. “I’m as impartial as they come. Should I take an oath on a package of bacon?”

“That won’t be necessary. You look trustworthy,” Leland said. “Are you stumped, Will?”

“Not a chance. How about chocolate?” Will said.

“I think they actually make chocolate and bacon candy bars. One of Emily’s friends at the tennis club had one. She said it was pretty good,” Mark said.

“Peanut butter,” Will said.

“Mmm, I used to love peanut butter and bacon sandwiches when I was a kid,” Fran said. “I’d have one for breakfast every Saturday morning.”

“If you can’t help me, you can’t help Leland,” Will said.

“Sorry, honey,” Fran said. “But I’m starting to think Leland is right.”

“Spinach,” Will said, sounding less certain.

“That’s easy. I make a wonderful spinach salad with golden raisins and hot bacon dressing. It’s delicious. Although not as delicious as this,” Leland said, raising a courtly fork to Jaime in appreciation for her starter. Jaime smiled her thanks back at him.

“Pizza,” Will said uncertainly. “No forget that. I’ve had bacon on pizza. Crap. I can’t think of anything.”

“Are you admitting defeat?” Leland asked.

“Not a chance, old man,” Will said. “Just give me a minute to think.”

“Should I help him out?” Coop murmured in Audrey’s ear.

She turned to him, smiling broadly. “You’d better not. You may be impeached and stripped of your judgeship.”

“You’re right. I can’t risk losing my power,” Coop said. He leaned closer to Audrey and inhaled.

She leaned back and laughed. “Are you sniffing me?”

“You smell good,” Coop said. “What is that?”

“I don’t know. What are you smelling? My perfume?”

“No, although I like that, too. This is something else. Rosemary?” Coop asked.

“My shampoo has rosemary in it,” Audrey said. “You have a good nose.”

“One of my many talents,” Coop said, touching her arm lightly.

He really is a flirt
, Audrey thought. She’d known other gay men who liked to flirt with women. It was funny, though—if Fran hadn’t told her that Coop was gay, Audrey would have assumed he was straight. She could have sworn she was getting an interested vibe off him.

Good God. How pathetic am I?
Audrey thought.
I’m actually starting to imagine that openly gay men are attracted me. Maybe Fran’s right, maybe it is time I started dating
.

“Isn’t that what they call the people who develop perfumes? Aren’t they called
noses
?” Audrey said.

“Is that right? Maybe I should change careers. It’s probably easier than traveling for two thirds of the year,” Coop said. When he smiled, his gray-blue eyes crinkled up at the corners.

He’s really quite sexy in a rugged sort of way
, Audrey thought. His face was interesting, if not handsome, and he was in terrific shape. It was annoying—and so clichéd—that he should be gay. He was easily the most interesting man she’d met in ages.

“But probably not as glamorous,” she said.

“That’s true. Then again, who needs glamour when you have my natural charm and good looks,” Coop said, grinning devilishly.

Audrey laughed. “And so modest, too.”

“I think modesty is overrated,” Coop said.

“And do your boyfriends agree?”

“Milk!” Will said triumphantly. “Bacon-flavored milk would be disgusting. Am I right?”

“You’re right. That is disgusting,” Jaime said. “In fact, it’s something I’d rather not think about when I’m eating my dinner.”

“I would drink bacon-flavored milk,” Leland said stubbornly.

“I don’t know, Leland, I think he might have pulled it off,” Fran said. “Coop? What’s your verdict?”

But Coop was no longer paying attention to the bacon conversation. Instead, he was staring at Audrey. “Boyfriends? Wait. Do you think I’m gay?”

Audrey looked at Fran in alarm. “Wasn’t I supposed to say anything?” She looked back at Coop and laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry. I assumed you were … out.”