“Neither am I,” she said, and then thought better of it. “Well, maybe I am hiding. Or I was. I’m not hiding now. And life has a way of finding you wherever you are anyway. I’m stunned that my sister found my daughter. I had no idea she was doing that. She got lucky, and so did I.”
“Some things are just meant to be. You can’t stop them, both good and bad.” She knew it was true. Hattie had just demonstrated that.
“I’m glad my sister and I are close again. I missed her. I just couldn’t understand why she’d want to be a nun, and not an actress. But it seems to suit her.” He smiled at that.
“Maybe for the same reason you’d rather be a carpenter or a ‘farmer’ instead of a writer, and I’d rather build houses than be a politician. We’ve made choices, and those choices have made us who we are. I’d rather go to prison than be in politics,” he said, and Melissa laughed.
“Some people do both.” He laughed too. He had always liked their exchanges, even when she was tart or sharp with him. There was usually a reason for it, and if angry, she expressed it well. But she could be kind at times too. And he loved talking to her now that they were both revealing more of themselves. She was everything he had guessed, and more. He was a good judge of people, and tolerant of their quirks and flaws. More than she was.
She often said that she was allergic to stupidity, and hated people who didn’t keep their word, or lied. She held herself to a high standard and expected that of others. He knew she was a hard worker, they had that in common too, and the no-frills life they had both adopted, although her home was supremely comfortable, in part thanks to him, and the improvements he had added, like the air-conditioning he had forced on her, and she loved now in the blazing summers. She hadn’t thought it necessary, and too expensive, and he had insisted. And now she thanked him.
They cleared away the dishes, and left them on the counter. And he brought out a plum tart he had made himself from the fruit on his property.
“It’s a German recipe I found,” he explained, and when she tried it, it was delicate and delicious.
“You should be a chef,” she complimented him.
“I’m better with houses.” He smiled at her.
“Me too. Better than with people, in my case,” she said. “I used to envy my sister for how extroverted she was, and at ease with people. She could talk to a stone before she went into the convent. She’s more subdued now. But she still has a gregarious nature. I was always the shy, serious one, which is probably why I became a writer. It’s an easy way to communicate, instead of talking.”
“Not for me,” he said with a smile. “It still kills me to write a letter. I’d rather talk to people than send emails, which I hate. They’re so dehumanizing.”
“I suppose so, but it’s easier.” They finished the tart and he poured them each a small glass of Sauterne that he had brought with him. It had been an exquisite dinner. “It was fantastic,” she complimented him. She felt relaxed and sated and had stopped worrying about meeting Michaela while she talked to him. He had a way of making everything seem peaceful. “I’m nervous about meeting my daughter,” she confessed to him over the Sauterne, when they went to sit in the living room. The evening was chilly and he lit a fire in the fireplace he had built for her that was even prettier than the original. He had found an antique marble mantelpiece at an auction in Newport, Rhode Island, from one of the Vanderbilt estates.
“She’s going to love you,” he said confidently.
“How can I compete with Marla Moore, she’s a brilliant actress, and very glamorous.”
“That doesn’t make her a great mother. And there’s room for both of you in her life. You have a lot to offer her. And you’re younger and have a different point of view.” She hadn’t thought of that before. “Most actresses are narcissists, that’s not easy either.” What he said reassured her a little, and she thought of the things he had told her about himself at dinner, about his marriage, his career, and his family. He was an interesting person, and deeper than she had realized. She was touched that he had read her books, and was very perceptive about them. She wasn’t sure that even Carson had understood them as well as Norm had, and seen the suffering in them. Carson focused on the violence and plot twists that made them sell, so he could hit her publishers for more money. Norm had seen beyond that, he had seen her.
They were both looking into the fire, as Norm turned and put a gentle arm around her. He was a big man, and she felt small next to him. Everything about him promised safety and protection. She hadn’t felt that way in a long time, if ever. She and Carson had a very different relationship, based on business, which was appropriate at the time. But she was in a different place in her life now. And Carson was six years older, always with an eye on the future, and a bigger deal. She was fine with it then, but wouldn’t have been now. He had tried to do the same with Jane, his new wife, but her work had never taken off the way Melissa’s had. She had a small following of faithful readers, but he had never been able to make a big deal of her. Melissa had been his star, and the star had closed up shop and gone out of business.
Norm didn’t say anything, and then he kissed her. Their silences were comfortable. She felt no need to fill them with empty words or clever repartee, nor did he. He kissed her for a long time, and she was breathless when they stopped. She liked the feel of his soft beard on her face. He kept it neatly trimmed, and never looked unkempt, just manly and rugged. There was something irresistibly masculine about him, as though it was the way men were supposed to look, and she was surprised by how attracted she was to him. She had thought of him as a friend before, but doors were opening and revealing vistas she hadn’t let herself consider until now.
“Do we know what we’re doing?” she asked in a whisper, as she searched his eyes and he nodded with a smile.
“I think so. I do,” he whispered back. “I’ve been waiting four years for this. This isn’t a new idea to me. It just feels like the right time.” She nodded, not wanting to disagree, and they kissed again.
“What happens after this?” she asked innocently, and he laughed at the question.
“Let’s see where it goes. There’s no rush to figure it out. Why don’t we just enjoy it?” She nodded. It sounded right to her too.
He tore himself away finally at midnight. He would have liked to stay and spend the night with her, but he didn’t want to rush it, and he didn’t want her to feel that he had cooked her dinner to seduce her. He had made the meal for her, for them both, for the sheer pleasure of it.
They kissed again as he stood in the doorway, and she thanked him for the delicious dinner. He had taken the garbage out for her, so the kitchen didn’t smell of lobster the next day, and she didn’t have to do it after he left. He thought of everything.