I could try to tell myself that it really didn’t matter, but it did. It mattered to me…a great deal.
“You’re sure it was Halloween?” I asked.
A little frown puckered her plucked brows. “Yes. There were people going up and down the streets wearing funny costumes and laughing. You know” —her voice lowered— “like they’d been drinking too much.”
I almost wanted to laugh at her reticence, but then I realized she must have passed away when Prohibition was still in effect. Public intoxication must have been a very big deal back in her day.
“Thank you, Mary,” I said sincerely. “That’s really good to know.”
“I’m glad. It had been bothering me. I can stop worrying about it now.”
And before I could tell her it wasn’t something she needed to have been fretting about, she disappeared. I supposed it could be disconcerting, if you’d never seen it before, but by then I’d been talking to ghosts for twelve years. It took a good deal to faze me.
Well, when I was dealing with ghosts, at least.
* * *
Connor came back around six-thirty, later than I’d expected. In a way it was good, because by then the tamales were already more than halfway through the steaming process, and I’d set the table and even put out some candles I’d found tucked away in one of the cupboards. The aged-bronze pillar holders were still in a gift bag, as if they’d never been touched. A gift from one of those girlfriends? Maybe. If they were, they didn’t appear to have ever been used, so apparently he wasn’t entertaining those girls here.
No, he was probably taking them out on the town and showing them a good time since they didn’t have to be locked up in this damn apartment.
I squelched that thought. What he’d done in the past was none of my business. While the idea of being free to go out and have Connor show me around Flagstaff was definitely appealing, as places to be stuck in durance vile went, his apartment wasn’t half bad.
Then I had to shake my head at myself. So now I wanted to stay here, get to know the city? This was getting nuts.
Luckily, I was able to abandon that line of thought because Connor came in then, carrying a brown bag with a bottle of wine.
“Tempranillo,” he offered. “I thought it would go well with the tamales.”
“Where is all this wine coming from, anyway?”
A gleam came and went in his green eyes. “Don’t you know that Flagstaff is a very cosmopolitan city? There are several wine shops within walking distance.”
“Ah, now I know why you chose this apartment.”
When he’d first come into the kitchen, he’d looked tense and preoccupied, and again I wondered what kind of exchange he’d had with Damon. Now, though, he smiled, the shadows momentarily leaving his eyes.
“Can I help with anything?”
I shook my head. “No, I think I’ve got it. I’ll just get some of this dished up and will be out there in a minute.”
He surveyed the kitchen for a second or two, saw how the pots I’d used previously were already scrubbed and put away, how I had a serving bowl and plate ready to go for the beans and tamales. A smaller bowl held some crumbled white Mexican cheese for the beans.
“Obviously, I’m in the presence of an expert,” he said with a little bow, then got a couple of wine glasses out of the cupboard before beating a retreat to the dining room.
I allowed myself a smile before picking up the tongs and beginning to transfer a stack of tamales to the plate. Even allowing for us to eat more than was probably good for us, there were still going to be a lot of leftovers. That was okay, though; I’d leave them in the steamer until it was time to package them up. Connor could decide if he wanted to freeze them or contribute them to the Wilcox Christmas potluck.
Wow, there were three words I never thought I’d be stringing together.
After I’d ladled a good portion of the beans into the bowl I had waiting, I picked it up and the smaller one holding the cheese and took them out to the dining room. Connor had the wine open, and a good measure poured into each of the glasses. The candles flickered in the center of the table, and I noticed that he’d used the dimmer to turn down the lights overhead.
Are you trying to seduce me, Mr. Wilcox? I thought, and then realized I wasn’t as put off by the notion as I probably should be. Uh-oh.
Giving myself a mental shake, I went back to the kitchen and got the plate of tamales, and turned off the lights before returning to the dining room. I noticed he’d been busy, too; more of that instrumental guitar music played in the background.
“Who are these guys?” I asked as I sat down. “I could have sworn I’ve heard them before, but….”