Bolted (22 page)

She looked at him, her shoulders unclenching slightly for the first time since she’d come back from lunch. “You’re a very nice man. Have I mentioned that?”

“Thanks.” His eyes widened slightly, either in surprise or alarm, she wasn’t sure which.

Whoa. Too much. Over the top.

“Now you need to get out of here so that I can finish dinner.” And so that she could regroup.

He pushed himself up. “Okay. I guess a shower is in order anyway. Nadia would give me the evil eye if I showed up at the dinner table like this.”

“Good point.” She dumped the mushrooms into a bowl. “Dinner’s in thirty minutes. Drama is pretty much guaranteed. Don’t be late.”

“Wouldn’t think of it.” He headed across the kitchen toward the lobby door.

Thirty minutes later, Greta carried the last platter of food to the sideboard in the dining room. Nadia apparently had dressed for dinner. She wore a full-length black skirt of some shiny fabric, along with an embroidered peasant blouse and a paisley pashmina. She’d even put on gold hoop earrings. Apparently Ryan warranted the complete package.

He stood at the side of the room sipping something out of a small glass. Whatever it was must not have measured up to his standards, judging by his expression.

“Aperitif, dear?” Nadia handed her a small glass identical to his.

Greta glanced down at the clear liquid. It smelled a little like cough syrup. “Thanks. I’d better stay in the kitchen to make sure everything gets on the table at the proper temperature.” Even she recognized that as a lame excuse.

Nadia gave her a glittering smile. “Nonsense. These plates look scrumptious. We’ll take our seats as soon as everyone else is here. Drink up.”

Greta took a very small sip. Not only did it taste like cough syrup, she had a feeling the alcohol content in the glass was probably close to lethal. She managed not to gag.

The kitchen door swished open behind them, and Hyacinth entered, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Why are we eating in here? I like it when we eat in the kitchen.”

“We have too many people for the kitchen table tonight,” Nadia explained. “We have another guest.”

Hyacinth narrowed her eyes at Ryan. Clearly, along with the lemon verbena incident, he’d just gotten another black mark in her book.

Alice followed her through the kitchen door. If Nadia had dressed for dinner, Alice had gone in the opposite direction. She wore the same pair of jeans she’d worn all week, judging by the smudges near the knees. Her green plaid flannel was tucked in at the waist, showing off her battered leather belt. At least she had on tennis shoes rather than flip-flops.

She gave Ryan a faintly derisive smile. “Enjoying the home brew? My sister whips it up in the basement.”

Nadia arched a single eyebrow. “My sister considers herself a comedian. Would you care for some more, Mr. McBain?”

Ryan shook his head quickly. “No, no. That’s fine. I’m good.”

Hank stepped in through the lobby door, glancing quickly around the room. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Not at all.” Nadia gave him one of her glittering smiles. “Let me pour you an aperitif.”

Greta thought about warning him, but he was a big boy. Besides, he’d been in all those jungles digging out ruins. He’d probably tasted worse.

Or not. Hank’s expression after the first sip reminded her of one of the instructors at culinary school who’d accidentally sampled overfermented kimchi.

“Don’t let me hold up dinner,” he said in a strangled voice.

“Not at all. Have you met our new guest, Mr. McBain?” She turned toward Ryan, smiling politely. “Mr. McBain was married to Greta at one time, or so I understand.”

Hank took another swallow of Nadia’s elixir. “Hi,” he gasped.

Nadia turned toward Ryan. “Professor Mitchell is an archaeologist. He’s excavating one of our local sites.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, then stuck out a stiff hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Yeah, me too.” Hank shook his hand limply.

“Let’s sit down, everyone.” Nadia took her seat at one end of the table while Alice moved to the other. “Sit here by me, Mr. McBain.” She gestured toward the chair beside her while Hyacinth dropped into the chair next to Alice, leaving the far side of the table to Greta and Hank.

Greta managed not to grin. She passed the first platter to Alice. “Chicken cutlets with sherry mushroom sauce.”

Alice plopped a piece of chicken on her plate, passing the platter to Hyacinth. Greta supplied the remaining bowls of green beans and fingerling potatoes, along with a plate of crudités, then slid into her chair next to Hank in time to help herself to chicken.

“It looks sublime, dear,” Nadia purred. She turned to Ryan. “How lucky you must have felt to have someone preparing such wonderful food for you every evening.”

Ryan’s face turned slightly pink. “We…ate out a great deal. Boston has some wonderful restaurants.”

“Indeed?” Nadia’s eyebrows elevated again. “And yet I’d wager Greta is the equal of many Boston chefs.”

Ryan glanced up at her and then down at his plate again as he took another bite of chicken. “This is very good.” He sounded slightly surprised.

Alice narrowed her eyes. “Haven’t you tasted her food before?”

All eyes were suddenly on Ryan, who swallowed hard. “Of course. I…must have.”

Greta considered rescuing him and then decided not to. He’d gotten himself into this. He could jolly well dig himself out.

He took another hurried bite. “Delicious,” he mumbled.

Greta started to reply, then pulled up short. “Oh gosh, Hyacinth, I forgot your sauce. I’m sorry. Be right back.”

She sprinted into the kitchen, then returned with another bowl of sherry mushroom sauce.

Hyacinth gave her a radiant smile. “Thank you.”

Ryan glanced at the sauce somewhat suspiciously.

“Hyacinth is a vegetarian,” Greta explained. “That’s her version of the sauce. It hasn’t touched the chicken.”

Alice gave her granddaughter a dry smile. “You’ll let me know when this phase ends, won’t you?”

Hyacinth ignored her, pouring a small puddle of sauce in the middle of her plate.

“Well, I think it’s admirable.” Nadia waved her fork rather like a conductor’s baton. “Hyacinth is a budding naturalist. She spends a great deal of her time looking after the local fauna. She’s rescued several birds and small rodents.”

Hyacinth’s eyes grew suddenly wide. She stared down at the puddle of sauce, her fork poised over a fingerling potato.

“Do you still have the turtle, Hyacinth?” Hank asked quietly.

After a moment, Hyacinth nodded without raising her eyes.

“Could I see it?”

Hyacinth stayed still for so long that Greta wondered if she’d answer at all. Then she nodded again, very slowly this time.

“Thank you. Maybe we could go look after dinner.”

“Maybe,” Hyacinth mumbled.

Alice watched them, frowning. “What turtle is this?”

“Just a box turtle,” Hyacinth said quickly. “One I found in the woods.”

“Oh.” Alice didn’t look convinced. “You’re not keeping it, are you?”

“Would anyone like more vegetables?” Greta asked a little desperately.

Alice spooned a few more green beans onto her plate, then passed the platter to Hyacinth. “Here. Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you.” Hyacinth emptied the platter onto her plate. She still hadn’t looked at either Hank or Greta.

Greta felt like sighing for an entirely different reason as she watched the adults finish their chicken. Looked like she was back to ground zero with Hyacinth.

Nadia scooped up her final green bean, then turned in her direction. “Wonderful, my dear. Absolutely superb.”

Ryan glanced up a little guiltily. “It was…good. Really good. Tasty.”

She wondered if she’d ever heard him use the word
tasty
before. She was pretty sure she hadn’t. “Dessert anyone?”

Hank glanced up at her, his lips spreading in a lazy grin. “Sure. Anytime.”

Across the table, she heard Ryan’s faint huff of disapproval, but she decided she didn’t care. She only had two more nights. And she wasn’t going to waste either of them on him.

Chapter Sixteen

Ryan followed her into the kitchen after most of the bombe had been enthusiastically consumed. “That was really good.”

“Thanks,” she muttered between her teeth.

“I guess I never realized you could do that.”

She wheeled around to stare at him. “I’m a culinary school grad, Ryan. Being able to cook a meal like that is pretty much a given. Let’s be frank—you never wanted to know if I could do that. You didn’t want me to cook for you at all.”

“Well, maybe that’s true. I guess I just didn’t think of it.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, could we go somewhere and talk?”

She folded her arms across her chest. She seemed to do that a lot when he was around. “Talk about what?”

He grimaced. “About, you know, us. Our situation.”

“We’ve already talked. We don’t have a situation, Ryan.” She sighed. Something else she seemed to do a lot when he was around. “We’re divorced, as I keep pointing out. I don’t see that there’s much left to talk about. And I really, really wish you’d go home.”

“Are you happy?” he blurted.

Greta sighed again. “I’m as happy as I know how to be at the moment. And I’m learning to be happier than that. So yeah, short answer? I’m happy.”

“Well.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “That’s good, I guess.”

“You guess?” She narrowed her eyes.

“No, I mean, that’s great. See, I was worried about you. Your mom called and said you were gone, and I thought…”

The kitchen door swished open behind them. “Want to see Carolina?” Hank leaned into the room. “Hyacinth’s going to take me to visit her.”

Greta turned. “Sure.” Seeing a turtle seemed like a much better use of her time than any further dead-end dialogue with Ryan.

She followed Hank out the door, then glanced back over her shoulder to see Ryan walking along behind them.
Well, crap.
She really hoped he didn’t plan on following her around all night. There were definitely places where his presence wasn’t desirable.

The crickets were back, augmented now by some frogs down near the creek. Hyacinth’s back looked very straight as she tramped toward the shed. Something about her posture made Greta think of Joan of Arc marching to the stake.

“Nice night.” Hank grinned at her, reaching for her hand.

Oh yeah.
She slipped her hand into his, ignoring the grumbling presence clumping along behind her.

Hyacinth propped the door open in front of them, moving purposefully forward. Hank paused, fumbling for the light switch at the side, but she turned, shaking her head. “Leave the light off. It upsets Carolina.”

Hank shrugged, moving closer.

Carolina’s shell still sat in the middle of the aquarium, presumably containing Carolina herself. Hank bent down for a better look. “Box turtle.”

“Eastern box turtle.
Terrepene carolina
,” Hyacinth corrected.

Hank studied the turtle for a moment longer, for what purpose Greta wasn’t sure. Then he shrugged. “It’s a nice turtle, but you probably need to let it go now. They don’t do well in captivity. It’s not happy, and it could get sick and die.”

Hyacinth’s chin went up. For a moment, she looked remarkably like her grandmother. “It’s endangered. I’m keeping it safe. And it’s not a captive, it’s a guest.”

Hank shook his head. “That’s not the way a turtle would see it. Plus I really doubt it’s endangered, Hyacinth. Box turtles are plentiful. There’s one type or another in every state in the country.”

Hyacinth’s lower lip began to tremble.
Uh-oh.
“It
is
endangered. It’s on the list from the Massachusetts Division of Wildlife. I looked it up on Grandma’s computer.”

“Let’s check again.” Hank pulled out his phone, clicking away on the Web browser, narrowing his eyes in the dim light. After a few moments, he smiled. “Oh, okay, I see what’s going on. It’s not endangered.”

Hyacinth glowered. “It’s threatened then.”

Hank shook his head. “Not that either. It’s what they call a ‘species of special concern’. They want people to look out for them, but they’re not in danger of going extinct.”

Hyacinth didn’t smile. “So I’m looking out for Carolina. I’m keeping her safe. If I let her go, somebody could run her over. Or an animal could eat her. A bear or something.”

Hank shook his head again. “I don’t think bears are interested in turtles. It would take too much work to get them out of their shells.”

“Alligators.” Ryan’s voice sounded from the other side of the shed. “They eat turtles.”

Hyacinth’s eyes widened again.

“There are no alligators in Massachusetts,” Greta said quickly. “Except in zoos. They’re tropical. It’s too cold for them up here.”

“Coyotes maybe,” Ryan mused. “They eat lots of things.”

Greta turned, giving him the kind of look she hoped would turn his blood to ice, but he wasn’t watching her.

He stared off into space. “And people do too, of course.”

“People?” Hyacinth stared at him in horror. “No! They couldn’t.”

Hank narrowed his eyes at Ryan. “Nobody here is going to eat your turtle, Hyacinth.”

“People don’t eat box turtles anyway,” Greta said firmly. “I’m a cook, and I know. Nobody is going to eat Carolina. Don’t worry, Hyacinth.”

“And the thing is, turtles are really well protected.” Hank stood up again, tucking his phone back in his pocket. “They’ve got their own armor, which is perfectly designed to keep predators from eating them. Carolina can take care of herself in the wild, honest.”

“She could still be run over.” Hyacinth stared down at the turtle, her lower lip jutting out.

“She could.” Hank nodded. “You’ll have to trust that she won’t be. You can’t keep her safe from everything, and she’d be a lot happier back in the wild with other turtles. The aquarium just isn’t her environment. It’s not healthy for her.”

“I don’t want to let her go,” Hyacinth whispered. “She’s my friend.”

“I know,” Hank said softly, nodding again. “But sometimes you have to think about what’s best for the animal, not what’s best for us.”