Chapter Eighteen
Eighteen
The next evening at exactly 6:00 p.m., Grand’s doorbell rings.
“Are we expecting someone?” I call into the kitchen, where Grand seems to be cooking up a storm.
When she doesn’t respond, I pound down the stairs and pull open the front door. Luke is standing on the front step with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
“What are you doing here?”
“Your grandmother invited me for dinner.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Grand?” I yell up the stairs. “Someone’s here to see you!”
“Bring him on up!” Grand shouts down, now apparently able to hear.
I stomp up the stairs with Luke behind me. When we get to the kitchen, I look at the two of them. “What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to thank Luke for all his help,” Grand says innocently. I’ve known her since birth, but I’m still shocked by how completely innocent she can seem while she’s telling a lie.
“And yet you never mentioned it.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” she says as she fills a vase with water, arranges the flowers in it, then positions the arrangement in the middle of the dining table, which is already set for three.
“And you did,” I concede. Just not necessarily in a good way. Partly because he can be annoying. But mostly because even a five-minute warning would have allowed me to put on something more attractive than the cutoff jeans and off-the-shoulder midriff top I’m wearing.
Grand, of course, is wearing an especially attractive palazzo pants outfit with an equally beautiful apron tied at her waist. A green salad sits in front of each dinner plate. A large platter of paella and a wooden board with what appears to be a loaf of warm Cuban bread are sitting on either side of the floral arrangement, which now serves as our centerpiece. A serious-looking bread knife sits next to the crusty loaf of bread while pitchers of water and sangria have been placed within easy reach.
As she ushers us to our seats, her pleasure in feeding us is clear. Which is why I keep my complaints about her underhandedness to myself. At least for now.
Food is passed and plates are filled. Everything tastes even better than it looks, and for a few minutes I’m able to focus on enjoying every bite rather than the pull of the man beside me.
“This paella is delicious,” Luke says.
“It is,” I agree. “And the bread is perfect. Where did you get it, Grand?”
“There’s a small Cuban bakery just off 22nd Avenue that Myra turned me on to. Their breads and rolls are baked fresh daily, and their desserts are killer. You’re going to love the flan we’re having for dessert.”
For a while we simply stuff our faces and enjoy the meal. I’m in the middle of inhaling my last bite of flan when Luke looks up from his plate, sets down his knife and fork, then says to Grand, “We need to figure out who’s targeting you and why.” He takes a bite of his flan and studies her while he chews it. “If you already know who it is, you need to share that information with me right now so that we can get more proactive.”
He gives Grand a serious High Noon , “I’m the law in this town” kind of look.
Grand counters with an “I’ve been on the planet a hell of a lot longer than you have” look.
While she’s at it, Grand spears me with what I understand is a warning not to mention that she’s in possession of what the world believes to be Phillip Drake’s The Missing Madonna .
Frankly, it would be a relief to tell Luke because it’s clear that whoever’s looking for the painting isn’t planning to give up until they find it. If you’ll excuse the pun, Grand’s possession of it has painted a great big target on our backs.
After a few long moments of silence and locked gazes, Grand puts down her fork, blots her lips with her napkin, and says, “Since Luke has seen fit to offer me unsolicited advice tonight, I think it’s time to offer a bit of advice to both of you.” Her eyes narrow slightly; her head tilts as she says, “It’s more than time for you two to grow up and stop pussyfooting around.”
Luke looks understandably confused. I just put down my fork and brace myself. Not only because it’s wrong not to tell Luke what’s going on and then expect him to help protect us, but because once Grand’s decided there’s something you need to hear, you are going to hear it whether you want to or not.
Still, I’m not quite prepared when she says, “Here’s the thing. You’re young. And you think you have forever to decide whether to act on your attraction to each other. But I know from experience that life doesn’t work that way.” She pauses and lets her opening salvo sink in. “Shit happens. People die. Someone thinks they can’t have you and settles for someone else.”
She draws a long breath and squares her shoulders. “You only get one go-around, and right now I could cut the sexual tension between you two with this knife.” She picks up the serrated bread knife and holds it aloft.
“Furthermore, to my knowledge,” Grand continues, “neither of you are married or committed to someone else, so what the hell are you waiting for?”
When neither of us responds, she tsks, which isn’t something you hear every day. “And in conclusion, even though you spoiled my night with Brian, I sincerely hope you two will make the most of the rest of tonight.”
With that, Grand stands, pushes in her chair, then puts her empty plate and glass on the counter. Since the meal is now officially over, Luke and I stand, too. Then Luke thanks her profusely for dinner and insists that we’ll do the dishes.
“Thank you,” Grand says quite grandly. “I think I’ll head upstairs for the night.” She moves toward the stairs but turns at the last moment. “And just so you know, I’m a very heavy sleeper. It would take a lot to wake me once I close my door and go to sleep.” With that, Grand marches up the stairs. Her bedroom door clicks shut behind her.
Luke and I stare at each other.
“Am I imagining it, or did your grandmother just tell us to go upstairs and have sex?” he asks quietly.
“Oh, there’s no question that’s what she just did,” I reply as we continue to stare into each other’s eyes. After we load the dishwasher and wipe down the countertops, we stare into each other’s eyes some more.
“You know I don’t like being told what to do or when to do it,” I whisper. “But it’s not necessarily the worst idea she’s ever had.”
When Luke doesn’t respond, it occurs to me that Grand could be wrong about his level of interest in me. Or maybe she’s just trying to punish us for ruining her sleepover with Brian.
Just when I’m about to step back and make a joke about Grand’s suggestion, Luke leans over and kisses me. Then he wraps his arms around me and pulls me even closer.
“We really shouldn’t let her manipulate us,” I murmur as I loop my arms around his neck and nibble on his earlobe.
“It is kind of late, though,” he whispers as he puts both hands on my ass and pulls me even tighter against him. “No real point in going home and coming back in the morning to check on things.”
“No point at all,” I agree.
He groans against my lips and lifts me off the floor. On instinct, I wrap my legs around his waist and hold on tight as he carries me upstairs, closes my bedroom door with one foot, then lays me on my bed.
I groan with pleasure as he undresses me then trails his fingers and lips over my bare skin. I return the favor and receive groans in return. We kiss for what feels like forever then he gently settles on top of me, and we begin to move together. Just when I start to want more, he rolls onto his back, taking me with him, so that I end up on top, which is my all-time favorite place to be.
Our joining grows more heated, and the delicious pressure builds until I shoot over the edge. His cry joins mine as I convulse around him.
· · ·
The next morning when I awaken, Luke and his clothes are gone, and I’m irritated that he didn’t even wake me up to say goodbye. But when I go downstairs in my robe, I find Luke sipping coffee while Grand makes a massive omelet. A bowl of fresh fruit sits on the table. A pan of hashbrowns is being kept warm in the oven.
I blush when Luke smiles and says, “Sleeping Beauty awakes at last. I was starting to get worried.”
“There’s way too much smiling going on for me to believe that much sleeping took place last night,” Grand says archly. “I could barely sleep for all the ‘joyful noise.’?”
Luke and I exchange glances. So much for her claiming not to hear anything once her door is closed.
Luke says, “Last night was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages. That’s some guest bed you have up there.”
We tease and joke over breakfast and when Luke “kisses the cook,” Grand blushes and smiles. Apparently, that’s what his kisses do to the women in my family.
When breakfast is over, he walks Grand and me down to the garage and into her bonus room studio. Then he checks that the sliders are closed and locked, and the alarm system sensors are intact.
“It’s odd,” he says. “These people are getting bolder. And they seemed to have believed that they could find whatever they were looking for and make their getaway between the time the alarm went off and the police arrived.
“The only reason we almost caught them in the act is because I was nearby and got here quicker than that.
“Do you know what they’re looking for, Lillian?” he asks my grandmother directly.
I hold my breath while I wait for her to confess that she knows what the thieves are after, but she just shakes her head and says, “No, Luke. I’m sorry. But I don’t.”
“Do you have anything especially valuable here?”
Grand shakes her head and lies again.
“So, you would have no idea whether they found what they were looking for?”
“Sorry, no.” She shakes her head again and sounds so sincere that even I wouldn’t know she was lying if I didn’t already know she was lying.
“All right, then,” Luke says, and I honestly can’t tell whether he believes her.
Up until now, I assumed that I was the best actress in my family.