Chapter 7
For some reason, Steve-the-owner looked very pleased with himself for announcing that their meeting was fate.
Peter, on the other hand, looked bizarrely pained, not quite hiding a grimace that made Steve blanch and wince and screw up his face in a silent apology that Peter seemed to accept with a sigh.
Shanti had no idea what was going on between the two men, but there certainly was a lot of it.
Steve, who was huge, backed up another couple of steps and said, "Let me show you to a booth," then led them unerringly to the same booth they'd been at the night before.
Shanti caught Peter's eye and they both smiled as Steve, still oddly apologetic, hurried off while they sat down.
"I guess this is our table now?" Shanti said as she unbundled.
"Now all we need is—"
Shanti flicked an eyebrow upward and Peter squinched his face, looking embarrassed. "I was going to say, a song. But that might be getting ahead of ourselves."
"I've always wondered how people decide on their song," Shanti admitted.
"Is it the one playing when they met? Who notices that?
Is it the one they first dance to? Do people really pay attention to that?
Is it one that's meaningful to them each separately so they choose it together?
Or is it one playing at an important moment when they're together?
Or—" She broke off and cleared her throat. "Not that I've thought about it."
Peter was smiling. "I bet it's all of those things, at different times. I can't tell you what song was playing when we met, though." He paused. "I'm pretty sure there wasn't one."
"No, the train station doesn't have background music yet and we more or less met outside, anyway. Maybe The Sound of Silence if you want to get…" Shanti waved her hand. "Metaphorical or metaphysical or something about it."
"I'd rather not," Peter said thoughtfully. "It's a great song, but not a romantic one. But now that I'm thinking about it, considering that it's after Thanksgiving, probably the first song we heard together was a Christmas carol of some kind. Do you have a favorite?"
Shanti felt her face heat and glanced down. "It's silly, but I love David Bowie and Bing Crosby's Peace on Earth and Little Drummer Boy."
"I don't know why you think that's silly. My favorite is Feliz Navidad."
Shanti jerked her eyes up and found Peter grinning but nodding. "It really is. It's so cheerful. I love it. But it's probably not an 'our song' kind of song."
"Probably not. And the obvious Christmas our-song ones are kind of…sticky sweet," Shanti said. "Maybe we'll have to wait for a different season to choose a song."
"I'm willing to wait as long as you want. Maybe it'll come to us like a bolt out of the blue." By that time, Steve-the-owner had come and gone with their menus, and Peter picked his up guiltily. "Better make a decision before somebody comes to take our order, huh?"
"Probably. I'm hungry," Shanti realized, and after a cautious look at the dessert menu to see if there was anything she absolutely had to save room for, she decided on deep-fried shrimp with fries. "I'm buying tonight," she reminded Peter, who slipped a smile at her.
"Am I allowed to say, not if I get to the bill first?"
"Not unless you order the steak and lobster, which isn't on the menu anyway."
"Well, fine. I think I'm going for the cheesesteak," he said after another moment's examination of the menu. "And a starter of potato skins?"
"You'll have to eat most of them, but that sounds delicious." Shanti put the order in when the waiter came by, and got herself another ginger ale like she'd had the night before. "Do you work through the weekend?"
"I work tomorrow but I'm off Sunday. Is anything open on Sundays here?"
"Everything is, at this time of year. Everything except the new bookstore, which isn't open yet but is apparently only going to be open on Saturdays."
"That's…weird."
"I know, right?" Shanti smiled at Peter. He looked so handsome, the light blue softness of his shirt playing up the warmth of his skin. "It's owned by some women from Virtue who live in the city now. I've heard they're going to take turns coming up here on Saturdays to open the place."
It felt like she'd heard a lot, and not experienced any of it, even right here in Virtue. Shanti sighed and shook her head, gaze dropping unintentionally, and Peter's voice softened. "You've heard? You've said that a few times about different places around here, even though you're from here."
There was a question in that, though not one with a lot of pressure behind it.
Shanti studied the table in front of her a long time before eventually saying, "My grandparents both got sick while I was in nursing school, and then very fragile and very ill.
I've spent most of my adult life taking care of them.
There wasn't a lot of time for myself, and most of what there was, I spent sleeping, honestly.
It was just so much work. So I know things have opened up or what's going on around town but I haven't seen much of it.
They…" She swallowed and wet her lips. "They both died a few months ago and I've been sort of… numb…since."
"Oh," Peter said even more softly. "Oh, that's rough. Wow. That sucks."
To her own surprise, Shanti choked on a laugh and looked up at Peter with a wet smile. "It does. It's kind of refreshing to have somebody say that."
"Can I…if you want to talk about it, can I ask if there's any help you need? Having somebody with you to go through their things, or dealing with paperwork or anything?"
Shanti took a deep, shaking breath, trying to steady herself.
"I've kind of had to deal with the paperwork, because it really couldn't wait.
They knew they were dying and did a lot of the…
well, the necessary paperwork, themselves.
Their wills were in order and everything.
It's all in probate now. I'll eventually inherit the house, and I'm living in it in the meantime, but…
" She closed her eyes, lifted her eyebrows, and said, "It would be incredibly helpful to have someone just…
keep me company while I tried to go through their things, yes. I haven't been able to. I don't have…"
She fell silent, then rubbed her face and made herself try for a smile as she looked up at Peter again.
"Everything I say sounds pretty pathetic, sorry.
But between people leaving town, new people coming in, and me taking care of Gran and Gramp pretty much full time for the past six or seven years, I don't really have many friends, so…
yes. It'd be really helpful. But you have a job," she said through a tight throat.
"And won't be in town for very long. So don't be silly. Thanks for the thought, though."
Somehow it had taken almost everything she had to get through those polite words, and to make them sound at least a little bit light and easy. The worst part was—no, there were at least two, maybe more, worst parts.
One was just the idea that Peter Baranov wouldn't be in town very long.
Shanti was pretending she wouldn't be either, but Peter would actually leave, and even though she'd met him literally yesterday, the idea of not seeing him left her feeling bereft.
Another worst part was how mentioning aloud that Peter would leave made it so obvious to her that she wouldn't, or couldn't, herself.
Some of that was because she had responsibilities to the house and her grandparents' belongings, but an awful lot was just the finances of it.
It had cost a lot to care for her grandparents, and there just wasn't much money left.
Peter was examining her with a gentle expression and a faint, kind smile.
"I have evenings and Sundays off. I'd be happy to come keep you company, if you'd like.
It's hard work to do alone. Or," he said a bit more brightly, "if it's not an evenings and weekends kind of thing, if it's a 'you have to do it all at once or it will never get done' thing, the rail line is almost finished.
I could stay in Virtue for a while and help out after we're done? "
Shanti's heart leaped so hard it actually took her breath away.
She had no intention of saying, "That would be incredible," but the words came out anyway, and Peter smiled at her so brilliantly that she lost her breath again.
"What is it about you?" she asked, not meaning to do that either. "You're so easy to talk to."
And gorgeous, she thought, but she could hardly even imagine being the kind of person who would say that aloud.
Fortunately, their appetizer arrived as an interruption, and they spent a couple of minutes putting sour cream on the hot potato skins and hissing around the first steaming bites.
Finally Peter said, "I'm not sure most people think I'm easy to talk to, really.
I think I mostly come across as the big quiet type.
But sometimes it's just instant chemistry. Like you've known someone forever."
Shanti nodded and took a sip of her ginger ale, which had arrived with the appetizers, to cool her stinging mouth. It was still really good. "I don't feel like I've known anybody forever. Not even people I've known my whole life. Not anymore. But you're different. You're…"
Warm. Comforting. Snuggle-able. More things Shanti wouldn't say, but felt so deeply she could almost convince herself to get up, move to Peter's side of the booth, and cuddle against his side until she fell asleep.
Which was a ridiculous thing to consider during dinner, but the feeling was so strong and welcoming.
"Nice," she finished somewhat underwhelmingly, and Peter laughed.
"Nice is good, though. At least if it's real, and not that Nice Guy act a lot of guys do where they're just pretending to be a good guy to get something."
"Nice is good. It's underrated. By women as much as men.
" Shanti ate another potato skin and closed her eyes contentedly.
"These are really good, too. Everything here has been good.
Are we really going to have dinner every night you're in town?
Because I think we could work our way through a lot of the menu, if we do… "
"I'm up for it if you are," Peter said with a smile. "Although you did mention other restaurants in town. Should we give them a fair shake?"
"Well, I've eaten at them, if not for a long time, so it's less of an experiment, maybe."
"You said you know how to cook, but I'm getting the idea you must cook a lot?"
"I had to. My grandparents ended up with a lot of special dietary needs, and then my Nepali grandma had taught me to cook Nepalese food, so if I had something different it was usually one of those dishes. Cheaper than eating out." She hadn't meant to say that last part, but Peter nodded.
"Elder care can be expensive, I know."
"You have older family?"
Peter nodded again. "My parents are only in their sixties, but my grandparents are getting up there.
And Shkalnik is remote, so there are those added expenses.
But we've just opened a new clinic," he added, sounding proud.
"I know that doesn't sound like much for somebody from Outside, but it's a big deal in Shkalnik.
We've still got the hard part of finding more staff ahead of us, but the town's been fighting for it for most of my life, so it's all been a hard part. "
"A new clinic almost always sounds like a lot," Shanti disagreed. "You don't even have to be as remote as Alaska for it to really make a difference to a community, and for it to be really hard to get into place. Congratulations. Is it a general practice?"
"Yeah. We're hoping to get some elder care specialists and some people with emergency experience, but we've got one doctor there now and that already expands the current medical practitioners in Shkalnik by half." Peter looked sheepish. "Sorry. This can't be as interesting to you as it is to me."
"Oh, I don't know, it's in my field and a handsome man is talking to me about it. It's pretty interesting. Shkalnik sounds like a good town."
Peter preened. There was no other word for it, the way he wiggled his shoulders and buffed his knuckles against his soft shirt, smiling. "Handsome?"
"Very," Shanti murmured, embarrassed.
"Well, yesterday's waitress must have been right, then, we do make an attractive couple, because you're beautiful," Peter said with simple sincerity.
Warmth rushed through Shanti. She wasn't entirely sure anybody but her grandparents had ever said such a thing to her, and the flustered heat that it produced was both welcome and disconcerting.
She mumbled, "Thank you," and Peter, who seemed to have a sixth sense about how not to embarrass or push her beyond her comfort levels, smiled.
"You're welcome. Now I have to ask, because I saw people in the square when I was coming into town: what's going on there? Something for Christmas?"
Shanti, relieved, nodded. "We have a big holiday market that usually goes from the second weekend of December. They'll be starting to set it up this weekend and then there's a big tree-lighting ceremony. I loved it when I was a kid, but I haven't been in years."
"Well, if you don't have any other plans, maybe you can take me this year. Oh, man, that looks good!" Peter added as their waiter brought them plates heaped with dinner.
"It's amazing," Shanti murmured, and wasn't sure if she was talking about the plate set in front of her, or about Peter himself.
He grinned at her like he understood she might have meant him, and they fell to eating, exchanging tastes of their meals as if they were a long-time couple instead of strangers on their second date.
Although truthfully, Shanti had never felt like anyone was less of a stranger than Peter, and she was oddly crushed as the evening came to an end.
"Dinner tomorrow?" Peter asked almost wistfully, as they headed out of the restaurant. "I'd take the day off, but I can't. Sunday, though, if you wanted to…hang out?"
Shanti turned her face up into a light snowfall, smiling. "Dinner is good, and hanging out on Sunday sounds great. We can meet for breakfast at Imelda's and watch the market go up."
Peter, at her side, hesitated as he looked down at her, and Shanti had the bright, sharp hopeful feeling that he wanted to kiss her. She wanted to be kissed, though that led to obvious thoughts of where kissing could lead, and she flushed and tilted her face downward again.
There was no disappointment in Peter's voice, only a smile. "I'd love that. See you tomorrow, Shanti."
Shanti whispered, "See you tomorrow," and all but floated home, imagining kisses from Peter Baranov.