It took him an hour to return her text, and she didn’t even like to think about how many times she’d checked before he wrote:
Probably not.
Maybe.
Give it up.
When he learned that he’d have to run in a pair of pumps, she felt certain he’d choose a tea with seniors. She smiled at the memory of Sean drinking from a teacup and his bewilderment at the petits fours and cucumber sandwiches. She wasn’t certain why her father and Sean had crashed the tea, but it had been interesting to watch them watch each other. It was like a battle of testosterone. A game of quien es mas macho surrounded by pink frills and delicate china. She wasn’t sure of a winner, though.
At five, she made chicken and spinach Cordon Bleu, and they sat down to dinner at six.
“I don’t drink,” Geraldine said as Lexie set two wineglasses on the table, but when Lexie popped the cork of a chardonnay perfectly paired with the meal, she changed her mind. “Well, maybe just a sip. Sean will never go hungry with you around cooking for him. I can see why he kidnapped you away from Pete.”
Lexie wasn’t sure if that was a compliment, but it did make her feel guilty. She hadn’t been kidnapped and she was only going to be “around” another month.
By the time dinner was over, Geraldine’s plate was cleaned, the bottle was empty, and the woman was feeling no pain, for a change.
“I used to dance,” she told Lexie as they did the dishes together. “My mother took me to lessons every Wednesday. I could have been really good if I’d stuck at it.”
“Why’d you quit?” Lexie asked as she loaded the plates.
“Off to other things, I suppose. I’d get bored with piano or ballet or painting and I’d take up something else.” She handed Lexie a mixing bowl. “I was the only girl and very spoiled. I loved it. I almost died when I was born, and my mother and father carried me around in a shoebox filled with satin. They were so afraid I’d break.” As Lexie hand-washed the wineglasses, she kept quiet and let Geraldine talk. Something she had no problem doing. The more Geraldine talked, the more Lexie gathered that Geraldine had been the center of her family’s universe. Which made sense, she supposed.
“My two older brothers are deceased now, but my brother Abe practically raised Sean. He was such an unusual child.”
Lexie’s ears perked up and she reached for a dish towel. Ever since he’d kissed her hand and looked into her eyes at the pink tea, she found herself thinking about him at odd and random times of the day. She knew a bit more than she had the night she’d had sex with him in the Canadian motel, which wasn’t saying much since she hadn’t even known his real name, but when she’d looked at him across their entwined hands, something happened. Something changed. Her world tipped and she’d caught her breath waiting for it to right itself again.
“I watched you at your store today. Ordering those men around and telling them what you wanted done. You’re a smart girl.”
Lexie was still, waiting. “Thank you.”
“Pretty, too.”
“Again, thank you.”
“You’re not at all dusty in the attic like Sean said.”
“Excuse me?” She guessed she didn’t have to wait any longer. Sean was still a jerk. “He said what?”
“That your attic is dusty.” Geraldine folded her arms across her skinny chest and thought she should further explain, “You know, not very bright. Special. Like special-needs special.”
“Really?”
Sean didn’t think she was smart. That just showed he didn’t know her at all. “When did he say that?”
“Sandspit.” She looked at Lexie and shrugged. “I think he just said that so I wouldn’t ask lots of questions.”
“I noticed he doesn’t like to answer.” She set the glasses on the counter, then walked down the hall to the laundry room. She guessed she did know more about him than she’d thought. He didn’t like questions and he thought she was stupid. She was going to remind herself of that the next time her world felt all tippy.
“It’s the way he was raised,” Geraldine said from the doorway. “Kids would ask him about me and he’d get embarrassed.”
Lexie turned with a clean T-shirt in one hand.
“After a while he quit bringin’ kids around.”
There had been a time in her life when her world had changed so dramatically, she hadn’t wanted to talk about it, either. When old friends and new friends asked questions that she didn’t want to answer. That hadn’t made her a secretive liar, though. Well, maybe she had gone through a fibbing period.
“He was alone most of the time and kept to himself. He wouldn’t tell me when there were other kids’ birthdays or school plays or nothing.” Geraldine shook her head. “So we went to live with my brother Abe ’cause I thought he needed a man’s influence. I meant for us to stay for one summer, but Sean didn’t leave until he was eighteen and went off to play hockey in Calgary. I missed him but was too sick to follow.”