He grinned at me, with Dude purring beside his strong jaw line. “We hae both been taken in by the bonny Mistress Lexi, we are verra fortunate, arna we, Dude?”
Dude meowed.
18
LEXI
2004 - LAUREL RIDGE HOUSE
Ihad allowed the afternoon to slip away. I checked my watch. I needed to get the meatballs finished so that when Cooper got in we could open some champagne, have a glass, and hear his stories without having to work so hard.
I rolled meatballs with the new meat and chopped the tomato, glancing through the window at the lawn, watching the back-shack, wondering if Torin was figuring everything out. It was impossible to tell because the house remained dark as the shadows of the woods around my yard grew long.
The door was open though, he was in there. He hadn’t tried to leave again.
I chopped the tomatoes and started the sauce in a large skillet, then I slid the meatballs into the oven. It wasn’t time to put the water on to boil, I was just getting this step started.
But then I heard the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway. I checked the clock — Cooper!
I rushed out to the porch.
“Cooper! You’re home!”
He was sitting in the driver’s seat, hands on the wheel, the truck turned off.
“Cooper, you okay?”
He opened the door and slowly climbed out. His face was drawn down. He exhaled and said, “No, I’m not.”
“Oh, oh no!” I threw my arms around his neck. He dropped his head to my shoulder and breathed against my neck. He seemed so sad, accentuated by the fact that his hands remained down by his side. “Oh, I am so sorry, Cooper. This is… did you not get it?”
He shook his head, just a shift against my shoulder.
I didn’t know what to say, so I just held on.
And we stood quietly, until finally his arms went around my back, seeking comfort from the despair.
I said, “I don’t know what happened, can you talk about it?”
A long silence was followed by, “There’s nothing to say, they told me this morning that they decided to pass. John, my ‘handler’, told me that it wasn’t my…” He exhaled. “Can we go inside?”
I nodded and pulled from his embrace.
He went around the truck to get his suitcase from the back and trudged behind me up the steps to the house.
We went to the kitchen table, the best place to talk. He had left the wheeled suitcase in the hall and now slumped down in a chair.
I sat down across from him. “What did he say?”
“Who?” He ran a hand through his hair despondently.
“Your handler, John? You didn’t finish your thought.”
“He told me it wasn’t my fault. He said they liked my project, they just don’t think the market is right for it, not right now. They think there’s a bubble in the real estate market and that it’s not a good time for eco-tourism. ‘Too risky,’ they said. But to me they just said, ‘thank you for coming to speak to us, we’ve decided we’re going to pass.’ It was… the most demoralizing thing I ever heard.”
“Damn it, thatreallysucks.”
He nodded.
