Warming Trend (22 page)

She made herself look again. Her knife clattered to the cutting board.

She felt struck by lightning, twice over. Once with the recognition that it was Ani, alive and well, and again with the unanticipated, but unmistakable reaction from the depth of her being:
I can live again
.

“Are you okay?” Bennie was adding an olive oil and lemon-lime vinaigrette to the shredded carrots before stirring in chopped dried golden raisins.

She nodded and picked up her knife. It was hard to focus and part of her was gibbering away that she ought not be handling a sharp instrument, but it was autopilot to dice the softened potatoes, lift the result into the cook pot and repeat again with the next potato. If she cooked she wouldn’t have to think about Ani sitting a few feet away, or the feelings that were roiling inside her.

Impossible feelings, that no time had passed, that if only she’d gotten back sooner with the peace offering of the phone they might have talked, they might have solved things, and why couldn’t they try again? Why couldn’t she walk out to the front and slide into the booth across from Ani and say she was sorry? Surely, that was the quickest way to talking and healing. Why couldn’t the next hour be the hour they should have had? Couldn’t they go back in time and do it right? She’d been holding her breath. It was time to exhale.

The door chimed again and Eve automatically glanced. She did a double take—definitely a tourist. North Pole did not see many bronzed golden-haired beauties. Her confusion doubled when the blonde strolled to Ani’s table, collected what looked to be Ani’s car keys, then walked back out the door. Who was she to Ani?

Another peek confirmed that Ani looked pale, but it was under a tan that was every bit as golden as the blonde’s. She and the blonde had definitely been sharing the same sunshine for a while.

She thought she might hyperventilate. Then she was very angry with Ani for upsetting her peace. She’d successfully lied to herself that her only feelings for Ani were regrets and some bitterness. Well, the bitterness was real, and saying sorry wouldn’t fix that. She could own her part, not just say it was okay for Ani to disappear for three years, leaving her alone to cry from Lammas to Christmas, unable to sleep for more than a few hours during the longest, darkest nights of the year. She’d worked hard to construct a barrier between her life and her grief. Okay, so much for the sorry and new chances—
she was pissed
. She had a right to be upset, even if it was old news and an old flame.

An old flame who didn’t matter, she told herself. She was chopping potatoes and planning her business future and considering getting a real life again, finally. No amount of yearning to find out if Ani’s skin still felt the same changed anything. She was not washed over with memories of those kisses that were never ordinary, and not tingling at the echoes of laughter in the night.

Absolutely not, she wasn’t craving intimacy, for their eyes to talk over coffee and for the warmth of Ani at her back as she drifted to sleep. She wasn’t living in a heartbeat all that she’d known in Ani’s arms. She certainly wasn’t thinking that she still knew it, and felt it.

She felt nothing at all for Ani, and wasn’t this a great time to find out Ani had a
girlfriend
. And not just any girlfriend. She had a tall, voluptuous, supermodel girlfriend who didn’t smell of cooking spatter and this morning’s shrimp delivery. Wherever she had been living, Ani had moved on to the big leagues.

Saffron dinged the service bell as she said, “One special.”

Eve saw Ani look in the direction of the bell and she ducked back out of sight. You’re a fool, Eve Cambra, and an idiot and a moron and a dolt and…every one of those things twice again. How could she possibly feel that the last three years had never happened? Where was her pride?

She dished up chowder from the simmering pot she’d made earlier, sprinkled it with fresh basil and kernels of corn, then split a piece of baguette and smeared salmon artichoke spread on it. A couple of minutes under the broiler crisped the bread, bubbled the spread and lightly browned the corn. While she waited for it to finish, she got the last of the potatoes into the fresh pot of chowder, stirred and left it to simmer.

When the broiler timer beeped, she let the plate cool just a little as she changed her apron. A quick glance at the small mirror tacked next to the kitchen door said her hair was still neatly in its tie and the blue blouse she wore under the apron was free of stains. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said over her shoulder. Bennie grunted and went to tend chicken on the grill.

Don’t look at her eyes, and remember the way it really was, she warned herself. Stay angry. Ani had been in love with someone else and risked everything for the other woman. She never really loved you at all. She tried to lie to you. Forgive her if that’s what she wants. But don’t forget how it really was just because she’s still the woman you fell for, and may still love, now that you can feel your heart again.

Okay, as a pep talk that sucked.

She really didn’t have to admit to herself that maybe she still had feelings because it was absurd, not to mention masochistic. She might as well hang a doormat on her heart. Inwardly muttering about her lack of common sense, she used a towel to protect her hand from the hot plate bearing the soup crock and baguette and pushed through the door into the dining room.

As the door swung closed behind her, Ani looked up.

Don’t look at her eyes…oh hell. Oh hell, Eve thought, what am I doing? Who am I kidding?

Ani got up, not even looking at the plate Eve set on the table. Eve thought they moved at the same time, and the hug held nothing back. And clearly, neither of them tried to end it. Eve was holding Ani as tightly as she was being held and dozens of things ran through her mind as she inhaled the never forgotten scent of Ani’s hair and soaked up the warmth that she had always felt in her bones.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. It was the truth, and she couldn’t help but say it because anger and bitterness were not what she felt at that moment, there was just regret. Regret and that other feeling she wasn’t going to name.

As the words passed her own lips she heard in her ear, “I’m sorry.”

Something that was coiled deep, below the years, relaxed. What idiots they were not to have said it before. But that was Ani’s choice, not yours, she thought. You didn’t know where she was, but she obviously knew where you were. The silence was her choice.

She relaxed her arms and Ani let go. She lost the heat of Ani and only then realized that she’d been cold, day in, day out, for the last three years.

They looked anywhere but at each other. Finally, Eve gestured at the table and they both sat.

She was learning that it was possible to feel fifty different things in the space of a few minutes. Her body felt the warmth, her soul the regret, but now her heart had something to say. Seeing Ani had indeed stripped away all the insulation she had piled on her love, but it had also freed her still real disappointment, hurt and anger. “What brought you back?”

“A broken freezer.” Looking as if she needed something to do with her hands, Ani crumbled off some of the baguette and nibbled at it. “I had an unexpected furlough at work.”

She wanted to ask so many questions. “What are you doing?”

“Bartending.”

“Oh, like before you went to GlacierPort?”

Ani nodded. “In an ice bar. Ice sculptures and glasses made of ice, that sort of thing—isn’t that funny? Funny strange, not funny ha-ha.”

Eve nodded. She tried not to smile at those deep, black eyes. Ani had no right to look so…Ani. “I thought about having a place that was super warm inside, everyone would wear swimsuits, including the waitresses. But that was getting a little too Hooters for me.”

Ani broke the bread in her hand into smaller and smaller pieces. “I came back because I suddenly realized how long it had been, and I thought you’d been saddled long enough with my stuff.”

“It wasn’t that much.”

“I know—I already got all the boxes. I hope you don’t mind. My old key worked.”

Mind? She was a little stunned at the presumption, then hurt Ani hadn’t come to see her first. Getting her things had been more important than any conversation delayed for three years. “You saw Tonk.”

“Yes, and he’s doing great. Thank you—I owe you for a lot of Newfie food.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine.” She had a sudden fear and it must have shown in her face.

“He’s yours now. I wouldn’t take him away.”

“There are pups,” Eve said, relieved. “You might be able to get one from the breeder.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She finally gave Eve a fleeting look. “Is this okay? I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me at all.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you stopped in.”
Glad
was such an understatement, though she was also, well, annoyed.

“Monica didn’t seem to think it was a good idea.”

“You’ve already seen Monica?” What more proof do you need, the angriest inner voice demanded. You are low woman on her totem pole.

“Yeah.” Ani’s eyebrows went up. “She didn’t mention it?”

“No. I just talked to her a bit ago.”

“Well, I’m sure she has your best interests at heart. And, I don’t know…it’s all kind of weird now that you’re partners.”

The front door chimed and a group of six or seven soldiers in fatigues came in. Eve jumped up. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk more now.”

“I understand.”

Confused and torn, Eve started to walk away, but Ani’s voice stopped her. “Would you like to talk some later?”

She turned long enough to say, “Yes, I would. I guess I have a few things I need to say. Hang around. We close in a bit over an hour.”

She went back to the kitchen, and just in time. It was shift change at the base, and it was her good fortune so far to be counted as a quick, reliable and affordable source of a meal. She’d set her closing time just late enough to allow those so-minded to get in without feeling rushed.

Two more parties of six promptly arrived. They drained the existing pot of chowder, but fortunately the seafood blend was all that was left to go in the fresh one. In a matter of minutes she was ladling from that one while supervising the prep of another base favorite, fried egg sandwiches on a locally made stone wheat bread, with the lemon-lime carrot salad Bennie had been making.

When she could, she peeked out into the dining room to see that Ani was eating her meal. She had always eaten with gusto, and today was no different. She drained the crock to the bottom and, Tonk-like, seemed to be looking around for more. How could she be so familiar and so dear? It really wasn’t fair that all the things Eve had been initially smitten by were still there, still charming, still attractive. Unfair, unfair, unfair.

She had not envisioned a time when Ani would see the restaurant, be sitting in it. It was the one thing she’d done that didn’t remind her of Ani, and now it would. Another reason to be upset, she told herself. Another reason to make sure she doesn’t stay.

The other good reason not to repeat that long, heartfelt hug walked in the door. Predictably, the tables of soldiers thought Ani’s girlfriend was great eye candy. A lot of good-natured slugging went on between the male and female soldiers. Eve got a clear look at Ani’s girlfriend’s face as one of the female soldiers said loudly, “For crissakes, get your tongue out of my food!”

The retort in reply was, “Only if you get yours out of mine!”

The woman smiled, but ignored the banter. She said something to Ani as she sat down across from her. Whatever it was, it made Ani laugh, and that laugh took Eve right back to a hundred nights. They’d been so right for each other that she’d stopped foreseeing any future without Ani. She’d really thought Ani wanted the same thing. Well, Ani had moved on, obviously, and now Eve could, too. Okay, she was upset and annoyed and relieved that Ani wasn’t dead in a ditch. Relief wasn’t the same as love.

Ani laughed again and it became clear to Eve that she’d been in denial that sex had ever been important to her. The constant refrain from “I Will Survive” that ran through the heads of jilted women had been instantly drowned out by Ani’s laugh. She hadn’t changed the locks, and what had walked out the door had come back and no sex for three years was making Ani look far too good. She should have slept around, found someone else with great kisses.

Eve made herself concentrate on her food prep. The orders took on variety, which helped. She was pretty sure the seared pineapple and chicken on field greens was for Ani’s girlfriend. She made it the best damned salad to ever come out of her kitchen.

The soldiers gradually left and the restaurant entered its winding down phase. Saffron stacked a last set of dishes in the overflowing utility area. “So who’s the cute girl you were hugging?”

“Old girlfriend,” Eve answered. She began the wearying job of scraping down the grills.

“She was really sweet. Gave me a nice tip, even though I didn’t bring her the food. Outie—see you tomorrow!”

Bennie tossed his apron into the hamper, grabbed his keys and headed for his night at his usual restaurant job. “It’s been grand. Always nice to leave before the big dishes.”

To Eve’s great relief, the dishwasher arrived within minutes, apologizing for having had to cancel most of his shift, but not wanting to leave her completely in the lurch. “I’ll have this all finished up in about an hour. Kid’s okay, just real shook up. Got clotheslined in P.E.”

“It’s okay,” Eve assured him. She was lucky that so far her staff had proven well-intentioned and mostly reliable. She might have had to have spent the next two hours on the dishes herself, and her legs were weary enough with the constant rocking back and forth that cooking required.

The door chimed and Eve peered out—they were officially closed. Saffron had forgotten to lock it, obviously. She was surprised to see Tan, and even more surprised at the buff jeans and rugby shirt, a far cry from her usual rotation of tailored suits behind the desk at GlacierPort.

Tan joined the only customers left, Ani and her girlfriend, with an ease that meant that she, too, had already known Ani was back in town. Great—another pang of hurt, another wave of wondering why she let herself care. What truly annoyed her was that she didn’t know how she really felt—she felt so many things and so far waiting for one feeling to emerge the winner wasn’t working. An hour ago her life had been clear and the path to the future planned. Now she was fighting back what-ifs and maybes and if-onlies, and that didn’t make any sense. The sweaty palms and dry mouth didn’t make any sense either. What could Ani possibly mean to her after three years without a word?