11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter 11
Mason glanced around the kitchen. Slightly messy, but not destroyed. A plus. Linda would be over any minute now. He glanced at his smartwatch and saw the seconds tick toward six thirty. He started a silent countdown as he motioned his finger at the door on the beat. Four, three, two….
As his watch ticked on the half hour, there was a knock on the door. He’d suspected she’d be that punctual.
Throwing the door open, he grinned at her and swept his arm back. “Welcome! Come in!”
Lindy had on a pink Minnie Mouse T-shirt, black yoga pants, and socks. No shoes. It looked like she’d recently showered, as her hair was damp.
Like taking someone’s pulse, he was hyperaware of each second ticking by. Her casual appearance was comforting, made him think about that magical place called “home”. There wouldn’t need to be countless dates getting to know her. He knew her. Knew her choice in movies, knew the foods she liked to eat, knew she rooted for the underdog, knew she was fiercely independent.
But though he knew all those things about her, his knowledge was old. How had the last six years changed her? There was a lot to catch up on. He hoped, before they each left here, they’d have made progress in rekindling their friendship.
Even thinking this, he knew he’d have to work hard to make her see that he had grown, knew he’d hurt her when he’d left, and would prove himself worthy of her time, attention, and perhaps affection.
Jolting him out of his romantic thoughts, she breezed by him with a large tray filled with little mounds of food, tightly wrapped with clear plastic wrap.
“Wow,” he said. “You know I made dinner, right?”
Linda laughed as she set the tray on the counter in the kitchen. He’d followed closely behind her and leaned over her shoulder to look at the assortment of goodies. There were pretzels, crackers, three kinds of olives, several varieties of nuts, neatly arranged rows of cheeses, something that looked like jam, and bunches of green and red grapes.
“That is a work of art,” he said, with a low whistle.
“Thank you. I ran to the store to pick up some extra munchies.” Linda turned and smiled at him. He could smell the lilac fragrance of her soap or light perfume. He pictured her sitting on a blanket in a field of flowers and smiled.
She was so close; he could lean down and kiss her. Whoa! He was trying to cheer her up, not cause her to run out of the condo like it was on fire.
“Hungry?” He moved around her to the stove and stirred the pasta sauce.
“Smells wonderful in here. Have to say I was worried. I remember your frequent ramen noodle dinners in college.”
“Dinner, lunch, and breakfast. I’ve learned a few things since then. Here, plate up. I have everything else we need on the coffee table. The movie will commence in five minutes.”
“And? What movie are we starting with?”
“Luckily for you, Dad doesn’t believe in getting rid of anything, and I found boxes of DVDs in the closet. I found Guys and Dolls , The Sound of Music , and My Fair Lady . You get to pick. They’re all in the living room.”
“ Guys and Dolls, please!”
“You’re on.”
They fixed their plates and took them to the living area. Mason suggested eating on the coffee table to prevent spaghetti sauce stains on the couch.
“Not a problem.” Linda put down her plate and glanced around. “I’m still surprised that this place has stayed the same all these years. I adore the sea turtles in that painting. It makes me happy.”
“Remember what I said about dad not throwing anything out?” Mason asked, his eyes scanning the room. “Case in point. He says there is no need to change anything when it still looks great.”
They sat on the floor at the coffee table, like they had as kids. Mason had a basket of garlic bread and a bottle of red wine on the coffee table. He poured each of them a glass and offered the bread to Linda. She took a piece, was quiet for a minute, then said, “You think he keeps it the same to remember your mom?”
“Wow. I thought he was just a tightwad. Maybe you’re right.”
Mason pondered the idea. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was a way for his dad to keep the memory of his mom alive. Subtle. He thought back to last Christmas when his stepmom Terry was pleading for the chance to make over the condo, but Christopher held his ground and refused. Mason had thought his dad was being an ogre, but maybe there’d been something more to it. He’d have to give that some more consideration.
“So, any update on the work snafu?”
Linda swirled noodles on her fork. “No, we might not hear anything for a day or two. I hope the seller considers Grady’s offer.”
“What’s your boss like? A tyrant?”
Mason loved asking the questions. He got more time to eat while she considered and answered.
“No,” Linda protested. “Grady’s wonderful.” She took a sip of wine, and Mason’s muscles went rigid. He told himself to chill. Linda hadn’t acted like she liked her boss, but the sound of his name caused heartburn, anyway. Or maybe that was the garlic in the spaghetti sauce.
“He’s smart, clear with direction, open.” Her eyes lit up. “I love working for him. I have a great setup, working from home; he allows me to have a flexible schedule. I don’t have to get dressed…”
She paused at the worst possible time. Now Mason was thinking about her “not dressed”. He groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Her head twisted quickly, glancing down. “Did you spill something?”
“Uh, no. I remembered I was going to bake a cake. Forgot.”
She gave him the funniest, sweetest, quizzical look. She didn’t buy it, and she seemed to consider calling him out on it. He could tell. He’d seen that look many times.
“You were saying about Grady…” Mason didn’t like the taste of the guy’s name on his tongue.
“Right.” She looked back at her plate and picked up a piece of garlic bread. He knew she preferred the garlic bread to the spaghetti; she always had. “Grady. He’s great. I love working for him.”
“Have you ever dated him?”
“What? No. Why would you ask that?”
He studied his fork carefully. “Don’t know. You seemed gushy about him.”
“Gushy? Is that a legit word? You’re hilarious. No, never had feelings for him. And he’s in a great relationship with an amazing lady. I love her.”
“That’s good.” He paused and looked at her. “I apologize for making you late. I shouldn’t have suggested we stop for lunch.”
“Mason, it’s not your fault. It’s all mine. I should have paid closer attention to the time.”
“Well, I hope, whatever happens, that it works out in the end. Please don’t beat yourself up over it. Life’s too short. Ready to start the movie? Marlon’s waiting.”
He needed to stop grilling her about her boss. His heart was racing, like he was walking through a haunted house, wanting to know what was around the next corner, but not wanting to know.
She said she didn’t have feelings for her boss. Good. There must not be a significant other in her life, as the dating list on her refrigerator that she wouldn’t let him see suggested. Sorcha wouldn’t have made her write out a list of things to look for in a guy if there was someone. That’s even better.
Maybe he should ask to be her date for Laurel’s wedding. There was no question he was going; it was a given. And if Linda needed a date…but would she think it was a good idea?
He’d give it a few more days before broaching the subject. He needed more time to smooth the rough edges and broken pieces of their friendship. Then he could get a read on whether there could be more.
Thirty minutes into the movie, Linda hit the pause button on the remote. “Quick break? Gotta pee.”
“Sure. I’ll pick up dinner plates and bring the charter board over.”
“Charcuterie board.”
“Bless you.”
She stood and arched her back. “Ha. Ha. I’m moving to the couch. Can’t sit on the floor for hours like I did when I was eight.”
“Same.”
When the movie ended, Linda said she needed to go to bed, and Mason wanted to pull her back onto the couch when she stood. He’d hoped she would stay for a second movie. As the evening went on, he saw the stress lift from her shoulders. She even got up and danced during the “Luck Be a Lady” number.
After she left, he sat on the couch facing the place where she’d been. The throw pillow she’d hugged most of the night was lying down and he reached for it to stand it up in its proper position. Instead, he pulled it to his chest and bent his head over it. It held her sweet floral scent. He inhaled deeply and took the pillow to bed with him.
Closing the door behind her, Linda leaned against it and took a deep breath. She hadn’t been sure what to expect tonight, but it still surprised her. Spending time with Mason reminded her of everything she’d ever loved about him. This time with him was overriding the painful memories of their breakup.
Pushing off the door and entering the clean kitchen, she set the nearly empty charcuterie board on the counter. She put the few remaining items away and rinsed off the board. Pouring a glass of water from the filter dispenser, she grabbed her phone to text Sorcha.
Linda : You still up?
Sorcha : Yes, but I’m out. Met up with coworkers for drinks.
Linda : Oh. Nice. Can we talk tomorrow?
It was probably best that Sorcha couldn’t talk tonight. Linda needed to reassess her feelings about Mason before laying out her thoughts to her roommate.
Sorcha : What’s wrong?
How did she know? Linda smiled. This is what best friends were for.
Linda : Not important. Enjoy your evening. Call me tomorrow afternoon.
Looking at her laptop, she groaned. Spending the evening with Mason, she had forgotten about her work screw-up. She wished she’d put the laptop and all work-related items away before she’d gone to Mason’s condo. Then maybe she could have come back and gone to bed without the worry and stress that now threatened to keep her awake all night.
She hurried past the table. She’d wash her face, crawl into bed, and read until she fell asleep. Maybe then her work error wouldn’t cause bad dreams.