No Perfect Secret (16 page)

Clarence stopped her in the hall. “We rolled up the carpets, washed down the walls, made the bed with fresh linen, and mopped the floors, but those damn feathers won’t cooperate.”

“Clarence, I want to hug you.”

“No!” His strong masculine face went pink. “I mean, no, no, no.” He lowered his voice. “Besides, that guy in the kitchen would kill me.”

That guy?
Was Caburn being possessive? “Oh, I thought you were just worried about germs.”

“That, too. Okay, we’re done here. We’re going back to Miss Lila’s to start on the Christmas tree. She’s got about a zillion decorations to clean.”

“Wait. What’s your favorite dessert?”

“That’s easy. Double chocolate cake with
extra thick fudge icing.”

“I can do that.”

Clarence sashayed through the kitchen in all his hazmat glory. Half out the door he turned. “Bye, Anna
darling
. See you at dinner.”

Sitting at the table Caburn clinched his jaw. Anna didn’t dare smile. “You found Kevin’s calendars,” she said stating the obvious. Caburn had them spread over the kitchen table.

“I had to jimmy the lock on the file cabinet. I can’t make heads or tails of these things. They’re all in code.”

JoJo came through lugging a garbage bag. “Anna, do you mind if I have all the buttons on these clothes you’re throwing away? It’s bad luck to throw away a button, you know.”

“Then don’t miss a single one. I don’t need any more bad luck.”

Caburn pushed an open calendar towards JoJo as she passed him. “Uh, JoJo, did you figure any of this stuff out?” He watched her face go beet red.

“I told Miss Helen.”

“
Miss
Helen isn’t here. Tell me.”

JoJo shook her head and hauled herself and the bag out of the kitchen and through the back door.

Anna looked from the back door to Caburn. “What was that all about?”

“Beats me. Will you look at these and see if anything jumps out at you?”

“No, I won’t. Whatever Kevin did—it’s over and done with. He can’t be punished; you can’t fire him. If there’s a mystery, State will have to figure out. I have enough on my plate. And, you need to clear out of here.”

“What? Clear out to where?”

“The dining room, the sun room, take a nap, or go over to Lila’s. Just clear that stuff off the table. I have food to cook. You’re in my space.”

“Wow. Do your moods always change on a dime?”

“Out!”

~~~~

Caburn opted for the sun porch. There was a sofa for comfort, a fat pillow for his head, an afghan for warmth, and with the right position to favor his back—a perfect view. He watched Anna move about the kitchen. It seemed she had a ritual. She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine, took a sip, set the glass aside, and began to lay out utensils he could not have named in a hundred years. The apron she donned emphasized her slender waist; she was as graceful as a ballerina and wholly efficient. Soon the aromas wafting out to the sunroom drew him back into the kitchen. When Anna went into the pantry he began lifting lids off the pots.

“Hey! Stop that. You’re trespassing.”

“I can’t help it. I’m one-hundred-eighty pounds of starving farm boy. Breakfast was hours ago.”

“You want me to feel sorry for you?”

“No. I want you to feed me—anything out of one of those pots will do. Please?”

“Oh. The magic word
—first time I’ve heard you use it in a nice way.” She cleaned off a corner of the table and served him a bowl of Lyonnais potatoes, big slices of buttered French loaf, and a quart of sweet iced tea. He wolfed it down.

“What about some chocolate? I smell fudge.”

“That fudge went on a cake for dessert. The bowl is on the sink, if you want to lick it.”

“I’m not proud. Pass it over.” He scoured the bowl first with a spatula, then his finger. “Have mercy on a single man, Anna. Pack up your kitchen and come home with me.”

“That’s about all I’d have to pack up,” she said, the wine having loosened her tongue. “I don’t want a single piece of furniture in this house except my sofa, my mirror and my cooking utensils. Between Kevin and Clara-Alice, I feel like it all has a bad aura. Wherever I go, I don’t want it to take it with me.”

“You’re getting rid of the bad juju.”

“Yes.” She drained her wine.

“So why doesn’t the kitchen have bad juju?”

“You’re funny. You think Kevin ever sat at that table and licked a bowl? He didn’t. Never washed a dish either.”

“Gosh, let me get off my bohunkus. Not only am I the best pot licker, I’m the best dishwasher inside the Beltway.” He began stacking empty pots and dirty kitchenware on the counter.

“Is this the real you, Frank? Or the State Department Frank?”

“
One and the same. Now, how does this dishwasher work?”

Anna laughed. “You better never lie on a resume. You’d be caught out on the first day. Let’s just clear this table. After I dish up, I want to wrap a couple of presents to put under Lila’s tree.”

A few minutes later she retrieved gifts from the linen closet, a fine leather wallet, a green cashmere sweater and a Hermes tie. Anna held up the sweater. “This ought to fit Clarence.”

“As if he’d ever wear it.”

“I have to give him something for cleaning up the mess Clara-Alice—I mean, Clara—I’ll never get used to calling her plain old Clara—made. And for JoJo.” She showed Caburn a beautiful carved amber monkey hung on a fine gold chain.

“You think that goes with purple hair?”

“You are so mean.”

Anna was just as creative and efficient with wrapping paper as she was with pots and pans. “How much can you carry?” she asked of Caburn.

“I’ll carry the cake.”

“It’s a masterpiece. If you drop it, you’re dead. Oh.” She looked stricken.

“Don’t worry about it,” Caburn said. “It’s just a conversation piece. Anyway, I’m not dropping it.”

“It’s snowing again,” Anna noticed as they went from her back yard to Lila’s. Lila’s house was configured the same as Anna’s. Instead of a sunroom
Lila had a screened-in, latticed, back porch. Caburn held open the screened door with his elbow as Anna went up the two steps. “Careful with the cake,” she warned him, her own arms filled with the gifts, as he opened the big wooden door.

“Hold it!” he said before he stepped into Lila’s kitchen.

“Oh, geez. Is the cake slipping?”

“Just stand right there.”

“We’re letting heat out.”

“Look up.”

Anna did. “No, don’t even think it.”

Caburn held out the cake. “I’m getting a mistletoe kiss or this cake goes splat.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“The single thing women don’t do is dare the Caburn men.”

Anna closed her eyes and tilted her head. “On the cheek.”

The cake and armful of gifts holding them apart, Caburn bent over to press his lips first to her right eyelid, then her left. Soft, feathery kisses. He kissed the tip of Anna’s nose and finally, pressed his mouth to the side of her lips where they curved into a smile. Anna felt porous, as if every single molecule in her being was leaking away. Goosebumps erupted on her arms and legs.

Caburn pulled back, looking at her and smiling. Her head was still tilted, her eyes closed, her lips moist and parted. “We’ll let that do for now,” he said, his voice low and full of promise.

Anna’s eyes flew open
and her face flamed. “I—I—I—”

“Same here,” said Caburn, his smile suddenly wicked.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” she said, hurrying through the kitchen into the dining room. Holly and mistletoe filled bowls and vases, an array of festive candles stood ready for a match.

“I don’t know why not,” Caburn said to her back. “It felt right to me.” Actually it felt damned good. He wanted to do it again and again, day after day, month after month, year after year. He placed the cake safely on the kitchen counter and followed Anna into the living room.
The fireplace roared, Christmas lights glittered and the tree filled the room with a wondrous fragrance. Scented candles flamed and flickered on the mantle.

Clarence looked from Anna to Caburn and giggled. “Oh, you guys found the mistletoe.” Clarence was
dressed to the nines, wearing a pink shirt tucked into a 1940s-style pair of linen slacks with his long blond extensions tied at the nape with a pink ribbon. His elegantly crossed ankles displayed the soft, black ballerina shoes.

Lila was snickering, JoJo was giggly. Anna looked from one to the other. “Are you guys soused?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” said Lila, happily. “Pour yourselves a glass of champagne and get with the program.”

“I’ll do the honors,” said JoJo, leaping up.

“Maybe just one glass,” said Anna, finding herself thirsty beyond measure. There were still covered dishes to be brought over and the chicken to be cooked in Lila’s oven. She placed the presents under the tree. She accepted the champagne from JoJo. “Those are for you and Clarence,” she told JoJo. “My thanks for all you’ve done.”

“You didn’t need to do that. We’re just thrilled to be dinner guests. That has never happened to us before.”

Anna sat on the arm of the sofa, Caburn stayed on his feet, near the fireplace. Lila lifted her glass to Caburn. “Frank, will you wind up the Victrola? I don’t have any of those fancy electronic gadgets. My Victrola has been doing duty for more than fifty years—and there are records you haven’t heard in forty years. Lots of Frank Sinatra, Bing Crosby, Gene Autry, and who’s that guy who sang
Amore
?”

“Dean Martin,” offered Clarence.

“How could I forget Dean Martin? Must be the grape juice.”

The first record to drop was Frank Sinatra’s
My Way.
Lila leaped up and grabbed Caburn’s hand. “Dance with me, Frank.”

He shook his head. “No, no, I’m not good at dancing.”

Lila pulled his head down and whispered something in his ear, and he gave in. Anna watched, smiling. Caburn was the ultimate liar. He was very good, his footwork magic and in spite of his shoulder, dipped Lila at the end of the musical score. Everyone clapped. Lila rose up on tiptoe to kiss Caburn on the cheek. “Whooo, boy! Were we good or were we good? I need more champagne. JoJo, turn your laptop on and show Anna your website.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I’m sure. It’s a riot.”

The laptop was on the coffee table. JoJo got down on her skinny knees
, flipped the laptop open and pushed the start for wireless. Anna envied the girl her lightning-fast typing. When the website came up, Anna wasn’t certain what she was seeing. There was a figure in lots of leather, metal studs, a mask, cracking a whip.”

Caburn was looking over Anna’s shoulder. “Oh, Lord have mercy!”

“Clarence is Savannah when he’s working,” Lila told them. “Savannah is a dominatrix. That’s the only thing she can do, you know, with her OCD.”

Lila laughed
—a great guffaw for such a tiny being. “Isn’t it grand? Can you think of a population that deserves to be spanked more than politicians and lobbyists?”

“I’m her assistant,” said JoJo. “You know, in case the client wants to dress as a nurse or waitress or stripper
—”

Caburn was beside himself. “You can’t be serious. You
whip
women?” He was ready to reach over and throttle Clarence. Except he didn’t want to touch him.

“No, no,” said JoJo. “All of our clients are men.”

“Frank, are you okay?” asked Lila.

“I’m just dandy. Miss Lila, you got anything stronger than champagne?”

“There’s some Kentucky bourbon—”

“Just the ticket.”

“—in the kitchen cabinet.”

Anna followed Caburn into the kitchen. “You didn’t like that.”

“I didn’t like you having to see it.”

“I spent a year in Europe. I’m more open-minded than I used to be
. Plus, I live in Washington, D.C.”

“Right.” He poured himself a stiff shot of bourbon. Took a sip. “Nectar of the gods.”

Anna turned on the oven. “I’ll be right back.”

He put his drink down. “I’m coming with you.”

Anna made it to the door first. She reached up and jerked the mistletoe down. “Just so you don’t get any more cute ideas.”

“You haven’t a clue to my ideas.”

“Yes, I do.”

“You didn’t like being kissed?”

“No comment.”

“That means you did.” He snatched up the mistletoe and hung it on the hook. “I’m right behind you.”

“I know. I can hear you breathing down my neck.”

“
And a very nice neck it is.” He was looking forward to nibbling on it.

On the return trip Anna had to balance ser
ving dishes one atop the other. Caburn had the chicken in a baking dish and a bottle of wine under his left arm.