Chapter 21
Cate
Cate Conway stood in front of the banana display, the bright yellow curves stacked in neat arcs under the cool lights.
She held one in her hand, tilted it, frowned, then put it back.
Too green. Another one was too soft. Too many black spots.
She wanted something in between, which seemed to be her challenge in life lately. She couldn’t make up her mind.
Her cart waited beside her, holding a bag of arugula salad from the deli, a long loaf of sourdough, a few avocadoes, a wedge of brie and a bottle of Louis Jadot chardonnay.
They were having enchiladas that night with guacamole.
The Louis Jadot was one of their favorite wines and it would do just fine.
Cate blushed, remembering how Seth had offered her Cate’s favorite wine when she stopped to fix him up with Sam.
That didn’t work out well. She was reading the tiny sticker on a banana when a familiar voice interrupted her concentration.
“Having trouble deciding? I don’t believe it.”
She turned. “Seth Barrett,” she said, quickly covering her surprise. Cate felt as if she’d conjured him up. “Buying food for the family isn’t as easy as renovating a home.”
“Really?” He grinned. She’d often seen his hazel eyes light up like that when they were working on Sunnycrest. “Didn’t mean to startle you, not when you’re trying to close a deal with a banana.”
Cate laughed despite herself. “I’m trying to find one that’s just ripe enough. They’re either hard as rocks or mushy.”
Seth leaned on his cart, stacked full of frozen meals. Orange chicken, lasagna, enchiladas and burritos filled his cart. “I always avoid the green ones,” he said. “If you buy them green, suddenly you wind up with banana pudding on your counter. I like to buy them ready to eat.”
“But how do you know?” Cate picked up another bunch. “You know, how long these have been sitting here.”
Seth stepped closer, took a banana from her hand, turned it over. “See, you want a few spots. That’s when it’s perfect.”
“Are you an expert?”
“No, so maybe you should forget my advice.”
She looked up at him. “Now, I’d never do that, not after all the good decisions you helped us make on the house.”
Cate put the banana back. “I think I like them without the spots.” And she grabbed a bunch that was ripe but not too soft. “Nice seeing you. And now for the tomatoes.” Pushing her small cart, Cate wandered into the next aisle, thinking Seth would move on with his own shopping. But he followed her.
“Mm-hmm.” She was already lifting a tomato, testing its weight. “What do you think?”
He followed, steering his cart alongside hers. “You know, you never told me you shop at Oleson’s.”
“I never thought it was important.” She turned a tomato over in her hand, holding it but not squeezing too hard. “Half of these are mealy. I can tell just by looking.”
Seth picked one up himself, squeezed gently. “Feels fine to me.”
“That’s because you buy frozen food by the box. You wouldn’t know a good tomato if it hit you.” Now, that wasn’t very nice and she felt bad.
But he didn’t look offended. “Fair enough. Cooking’s not my specialty.”
“You barbecued just fine last summer.” She eyed his cart again. He’d had a wonderful Fourth of July party. Marlowe and Izzy had gone water skiing on Seth’s boat. “You do know how to use a stove, don’t you?”
“I’ll have you know that I make a mean scrambled egg.” He puffed up his chest, and Seth had a very broad chest. “And pancakes. When the mood strikes.”
Cate smiled despite herself. “Breakfast for dinner. That’s a single man’s meal.”
“Guilty as charged. And what about you, counselor? What’s in your gourmet repertoire these days?”
“Salads,” she said. “And… wine.”
“Balanced diet.”
“I’m efficient,” Cate wasn’t about to admit that she was always trying to lose weight.
“Yes, you certainly are. Don’t know how we would have managed that project without you holding it all together. You pretend you don’t have time to cook, but I bet you do. You just don’t do it for yourself.”
She tilted her head. “What makes you think that?”
“Because you’re the kind who takes care of everyone else,” he said softly.
Cate set the tomato carefully into a plastic bag and gently laid it on top of her container of lettuce. “You think so?”
He shrugged. “I’ve had a chance to observe. Comes with the job.”
“Oh, now you’re a psychologist?”
“Maybe.” He ducked his head. Seth was much too humble to claim he was something he was not. “Contractors are part psychologist. Half our work is convincing people to trust us with their homes.”
“And their plumbing,” she added dryly. They’d had quite a time adding bathrooms to all of the bedrooms upstairs. The girls had insisted.
“That too.” He smiled and shook his head. Darn, he looked good in that brown bomber jacket. “You’re a tough one, Cate Conway.”
She didn’t look up right away. “I’ve had to be.”
“Because of the job?”
“Because of life.”
He nodded, quiet for a moment. Around them, the hum of the store filled the space. A squeaky cart rolled past, someone laughed near the bakery and the mister turned on over the greens. She’d said too much and pressed her lips tight. Avocadoes were next and she heaped three into her basket.
Then he said, “You mentioned guacamole once, when I was fixing your kitchen wall. You still making it?”
She brightened a little. “For my nieces. They love it. I have to hide the chips or there’s nothing left for guests.”
“You ever make guacamole just for you?”
She hesitated, caught off guard. “I suppose not. Why would I?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
Cate gave him a sidelong glance. “What are you getting at?”
“Just wondering if you ever do something for yourself. Not for your nieces or your firm—just you.”
What was he getting at? She drew in a breath. “That’s a rather personal question.”
“Yeah.” He looked a bit embarrassed. “Sorry, I guess it is.”
She looked at the dark green avocados, pebbled and heavy. Cate felt the weight of the question more than she wanted to admit. “Of course I do things for myself,” she said, a little too defensively. “I travel. Not recently but I have. I read. I… buy ripe bananas.”
He smiled faintly. “Fair enough.”
She could feel the warmth in her cheeks. How annoying that he could see through her so easily. “You always this forward?”
“Only when I’m with someone who values the truth.”
“Well,” she said, forcing a smile, “good thing I’m not easily rattled.”
“Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Seth said, leaning slightly on his cart. “But I do have a question.”
Cate braced herself. “Oh?”
“Would you have dinner with me?”
She blinked. “Dinner?”
“Don’t look so surprised. I think I mentioned this when you stopped at my house. How did it go with Winston Price?”
“Not well.” A blush burned her cheeks.
“So what have we got to lose?” His grin was so sweet and boyish. “Dinner. You know, plates, food, conversation.”
“I see.” Panic rose in her chest. “When?”
“Tomorrow, maybe. Or whenever you’re free.”
“I don’t think we need to talk about more work done on the house just yet,” she said lightly.
Seth’s dark brows drew together. “Cate, this isn’t a business dinner. I’m not talking about the house.”
Why was she being so foolish? “I know you’re not.”
“Save me from one more meal out of a frozen box.”
“Well, when you put it that way…” She laughed, flustered, which was rare for her. “Would this be like a date?”
Seth’s smile deepened. “That’s usually what dinner means.”
She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling suddenly warm under the fluorescent lights. “Well, I suppose that will be fine.” Certainly it would be easier than her evening with Winston.
He waited. Seth had always been very patient. She was the one who got antsy when the molding hadn’t come in on time. “It’s just dinner, Cate. Not a court case.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Then say yes now. Save me from my microwave.”
She hesitated, looked down at her basket, at the bread and lettuce and her carefully chosen tomatoes. The ordinary things of her ordinary life. Then back up at Seth Barrett, with his frozen dinners and his casual confidence.
“Yes,” she heard herself say. “All right. Dinner it is.”
His grin returned, slow and satisfied. “Good. Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow’s fine.” She raised a hand to her chest, pressing against the panic rising in her chest. Well, she’d warned him. He knew she was older than water and he was…quite a bit younger.
“Great. I’ll pick you up?”
“Or I could meet you there.” What was she saying?
He chuckled. “Now Cate, control issues?”
She was being stupid. She could almost hear her nieces telling her that.
There was a pause—one of those long, almost cinematic moments when the air shifts slightly and both people realize something has changed.
“Well, you know where I live.” They both laughed.
He’d spent last summer at Sunnycrest almost every day.
Cate cleared her throat. “Guess I should finish shopping.”
“Sure,” he said easily. “See you tomorrow.”
She smiled, half-exasperated, half-charmed, and began to wheel her cart away. But halfway down the aisle she stopped. She felt almost weightless, and a little dizzy.
When she turned around, Seth was still there, comparing apples, like he had all the time in the world.
“Cate?” he called. “You all right?”
She nodded vaguely. And without thinking, she kept walking toward the automatic doors.
“Hey, your cart!” he called after her.
Cate didn’t answer. She just kept walking, her heels clicking lightly against the tile, her heart fluttering in her chest. By the time she reached the door, her chest was heaving. She shot through and didn’t stop until she was close to her Mercedes. Cool air had never felt so good.