Chapter Twelve #2
Daniel’s smile wavered. Wary. Concerned. That was Grace. She raised her shield. There were too many emotional land mines in this kitchen at the moment, and she was unable to sort them all out.
“So, what’s all the excitement about, then?
Are you all here to help me with—Oh, hello!
” The older woman who had been in the sunroom had come in carrying an empty tray.
She set it down when she spotted Mel. “I’m Ouida.
Ouida Russell.” The woman had a sweet round face, soft and wrinkled.
Her eyes were a honey-brown color, twinkling as they shook hands.
“This is my friend Mel, Ouida,” Daniel said. “Mel Noblett.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Ouida said, going to the refrigerator. “There are fresh biscuits in the warming drawer. Help yourself. I’ll come in to cook up eggs or whatever you want in a second.” She bustled out with a pitcher.
“Everyone pitches in around here,” Daniel came over and stood next to Mel. She looked up, and one of those bone-melting grins slid across his face. She felt her knees wobble.
Falling fast. “Oh! Let me get you that cappuccino.”
Nick held up his empty cup. “I’ll take another, since you’re making more.”
“Either of you want lots of froth or double or anything?” Mel asked. “Chocolate sprinkles?” she added with a smirk.
“Regular everything for me,” Nick said.
“Me too,” Daniel said.
“So, I understand you’re writing an article on Daniel,” Grace said.
“Yes.” She looked at Daniel. She had hoped to discuss this with him in private. She spoke in a voice only he could hear. “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come. I pulled the article.”
Daniel frowned. “What? I thought you had more questions.”
Mel focused on making the cappuccinos. “I did. But, after the fire, my editor told me the magazine was going to add some garbage that I didn’t want in there. So I pulled it.”
“Garbage?” Daniel repeated.
“Meyer insisted on a rebuttal from their experts.”
“Of course they did.”
The surge of frustration that accompanied the bland comment surprised her. Mel’s hand slipped, and she jumped away with a pained cry. A blast of steam had hit the back of her hand.
Daniel took hold of her elbow, looking to Grace for guidance.
“Run some cold water over it,” Grace said. “Nick, can you—?”
“First aid kit. On it.” He disappeared just as Ouida came back through the French doors.
“What on earth?” she said as Daniel guided Mel to the sink.
Daniel turned on the water, and Mel stuck her hand under it with a sigh of relief.
“It’s not that bad. I’ll be fine,” Mel said. “Just clumsy.”
“I’ll finish the drinks,” Daniel said. “You keep it there until the doc says otherwise.”
Ouida clucked under her breath. “That is why I stay away from that blasted machine,” she said and headed for the stove. “It’s a death trap!”
“Ouida nicknamed our machine the Dragon,” said Daniel. “She’s keeping track of how many times someone gets burned.”
Mel smiled. “My parents named theirs Smaug for the same reason, but still use it religiously, and with great caution. I’m not usually so klutzy.”
Ouida looked confused. “Smog?”
“Smaug. The dragon from The Hobbit,” Daniel explained.
Nick returned with a substantial-sized first aid kit. “He’s a tame beast. You just don’t know how to approach him correctly.”
“With a fire extinguisher,” said Ouida.
“With a party of dwarves and a magic ring,” said Daniel.
Mel laughed.
Grace leaned over to look at Mel’s hand. “Keep it under the water while I get a compress.” She disappeared through the door to the back hallway.
“Hey, tonight’s Italian night, right?” Daniel said from where he worked at the espresso machine. “What’s on the menu?”
Mel knew he was trying to keep her mind off the pain.
“Gnocchi. Old family recipe,” Nick said.
Mel almost gasped. “Oh! I love gnocchi! What’s in yours?”
“How do you feel about white beans and spinach?”
“Sounds yummy. My mom’s uses mushrooms and sage. It’s positively addictive.”
Nick gave her a look. “Addictive mushrooms, huh? I’ll need to examine that recipe, ma’am.”
“Family secret,” Mel said.
Nick returned her smile. “Did Daniel happen to tell you what I used to do for a living?” His tone held a dark edge.
Grace’s voice came from the family room. “Nick, quit intimidating our guest.”
Nick winked at Mel.
Grace returned, carrying a small package. “Let’s sit you down. Steam burns can be worse than they look.” She offered her a chair. Mel sat, holding out her hand. Daniel came up on the other side and handed Mel a cappuccino.
“Thank you,” she said, taking it in her free hand.
“You said something about pulling the article?”
Grace interrupted. “Nick, hand me the aloe vera and one of the nonstick pads. And I’ll need some tape in a minute here.”
Mel wanted to see what Grace was doing, but Daniel wasn’t having it.
“What did Meyer do to your article?” Daniel asked.
“The magazine sent someone to talk to Meyer about what you said, and they had their experts all lined up to contradict your findings, and sling mud at you for good measure.”
“Ah,” Daniel said.
“I wanted to offer you a chance to refute them, but…” She hesitated and looked around.
“But?” Daniel said.
“They made some threats. That’s why I wanted to talk to you in person.
” Mel felt the aloe cool as it was spread across her hand, but it didn’t stop there.
Something else washed through her, like a wave of relief.
The burn must’ve been hurting more than she thought.
The feeling of relief and comfort kept on going before she realized what had happened.
The strained look on Daniel’s face eased, and Grace let out a sigh. Even Ouida looked more relaxed.
Mel slammed up her shield, but she felt Grace’s hand go still. Her eyes met Grace’s.
“Is something wrong?” Mel asked.
Grace sagged. “I’m just desperate for a biscuit. I swear this child is going to weigh twenty pounds when she’s born.”
Daniel touched Mel’s shoulder to bring her attention back to him. “Threats?”
“Hmmm?” Mel looked down at her hand, now covered by a pad held in place by tape.
“Threats?”
“I thought I was the persistent one,” she said, then lowered her voice. “I’d rather talk about this privately.”
“It’s okay. I don’t have any secrets from these guys,” Daniel said.
Mel looked around. “If you’re sure.”
“What brand of intimidation are they using this time?” Daniel said with a tone of resignation.
Mel sighed. “Reconsidering any future grants to any institution where you might be teaching, for starters.”
Daniel stiffened. Grace gasped and stopped wrapping Mel’s hand in gauze.
“That’s illegal. They can’t do that,” Grace said.
“It’s all insinuation at this point,” Mel said. “Vague threats. Whispers that I’m sure they intend to have reach the right ears.”
Daniel shrugged. “It’s okay, Mel. I already told the university that I wasn’t coming back.”
It wasn’t a lie, but she still read confusion and a tinge of embarrassment. “Really? You… You’re not going to teach anymore?”
“Not at a university-level.”
Mel frowned. “But why?”
“It’s personal. Has nothing to do with any of this. Meyer is the still the real villain here.”
Mel set the cup down, the frothy brew sloshing.
“I’m so tired of them getting away with this BS over and over again.
And I feel like I’m stuck in a no-win scenario.
The magazine will cave to their demands under the pretext of presenting a balanced viewpoint.
So either I get rebuttal quotes from you or I refuse and pull the article.
And even then, the magazine will just throw together another article with more of Meyer’s garbage in it.
” She grimaced. “I’m sorry. But that’s what I came up here to tell you. ”
“After all the work you did,” said Daniel. “You must have spent a lot of money on that trip. The magazine didn’t—?”
“No. It was on spec, but I have tons of reward miles. I was already in Europe to get a completely different story from a rather uncooperative source.” She shook her head. “It happens sometimes. You strike out.”
“What kind of quotes do you need?” Daniel asked. “Other than for me to admit that I’m a bee-whispering nutcase who—”
Mel reached up to cover his lips with her fingers—panic—and just as quickly pulled her hand away. She felt her face warm and heat tingle all the way to her toes. Attraction. Frustration.
Grace made a noise. She didn’t seem to approve of Daniel’s train of thought either.
“I’m sorry.” For a moment she didn’t know whether she was sorry for nearly touching him or for Meyer’s implied threats or for the emotional turmoil rolling off him—off all of them now.
“Why should you be sorry?” Daniel said.
She couldn’t be anything less than truthful with him after all this, so she answered quietly. “Because for a little while, I thought you were.”
“A nutcase?” He smiled at her admission, but it was a bit forced. “For a little while?”
Mel returned the smile. “If it helps any, you were the most reasonable nutcase I’d ever met. Actually, while I was sitting in Milano waiting for my plane, I decided that I needed to apologize to you for thinking that, even for a little while. Then there was the earthquake.”
“There,” Grace said, finishing with the compress. “That should take care of things. Hold that on there for as long as you can. We’ll check it tonight and see if it did anything beyond redden the skin, but I don’t think it’ll blister.”
Mel tested the compress. “Thanks.” She was surprised. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”
“Good. Now where’s my bis—”
Nick presented Grace with a freshly buttered biscuit on a saucer.
Grace leaned in to kiss him. “My hero.”
Daniel shook his head at this sloppy display of affection, then turned back to Mel.
“Okay, maybe this isn’t the best idea, but I read the article you emailed me, and I’d like to see it published.
I bet we can counter anything Meyer’s experts said with my experts.
At the same time, maybe you can take a humorous poke at my bee-whispering reputation. Take the wind out of their sails.”
Mel shrugged. “Okay, I’m game.” She pulled her digital recorder out of her pocket and turned it on, holding it out. “Dr. Woodruff, do you actually talk to the bees? And more important, do they talk back?”
“I’ll never tell,” he said, smiling. “But you might ask the next bee you see.”
“If you’ll introduce me, I will.”