"I embarrassed him."
"That's what mothers do."
"Thanks," she said, not hiding the sarcasm. "Now what's this about Zeus and hide-and-go-seek?"
"Oh, I told him about it when we were down at the creek. He was asking what Zeus could do and I mentioned it. But we don't have to do it tonight."
"No, that's fine," she said, reaching for her glass of lemonade. She rattled the ice cubes, debating, before finally turning toward him. "Would you like to stay for dinner?"
He met her eyes. "Yeah," he said, "I'd like that very much."
"It's only tacos," she qualified.
"J heard. And thank you. Tacos sound like a treat." He smiled and stood. "But for now, let me get this guy some water. And he's probably hungry, too. Would you mind if" I got him some food from the kennel.?"
"Of course not. There's plenty. Someone just unloaded a bunch of bags yesterday."
"Who could that have been?"
"I don't know. Some long-haired drifter, I think."
"I thought he was a college-educated veteran."
"Same thing." Picking up the glasses, she rose as well. "I'm going to make sure Ben washed up. He tends to forget to do that. See you in a few minutes."
At the kennel, Thibault filled Zeus's bowls with water and food, then took a seat on one of the empty cages, waiting. Zeus took his time, drinking a bit, then nibbling at a few bites of his food, peering occasionally over at Thibault as if to ask, Why are you watching me? Thibault said nothing; he knew that any comment would slow Zeus down even more.
Instead, he checked the other kennels even though Elizabeth had said she'd already done so, making sure none of the other dogs were low on water. They weren't. Nor did they stir much. Good. He turned out the lights in the office and locked the door before returning to the house. Zeus trailed behind him, his nose to the ground.
At the door, he motioned for Zeus to lie down and stay, then pulled open the screen door. "Hello?"
"Come on in. I'm in the kitchen."
Thibault stepped inside and made his way to the kitchen. Elizabeth had put on an apron and was standing at the stove, browning ground beef. On the counter beside her was an open bottle of Michelob Light.
"Where's Ben?" Thibault asked.
"He's in the shower. He should be down in a couple of minutes." She added some packaged taco seasoning and water to the beef, then rinsed her hands. After drying them on the front of her apron, she reached for her beer. "Would you like one? I always have a beer on taco night."
I'd love one."
She pulled a beer from the refrigerator and handed it to him. "It's light. It's all I have."
"Thank you."
He leaned against the counter and took in the kitchen. In some ways, it reminded him of the one in the house he'd rented. Cabinets original with the house, stainless-steel sink, older appliances, and a small dining room set pushed beneath a window, but all in slightly better condition, with women's touches here and there. Flowers in a vase, a bowl of fruit, window treatments. Homey.
From the refrigerator, Elizabeth pulled out some lettuce and tomatoes, along with a block of cheddar cheese, and put them on the counter. She followed that with green peppers and onions, moved the whole lot to the butcher block, then pulled out a knife and cheese grater from a counter drawer. She started slicing and dicing the onion, her movements quick and fluid.
"Need a hand?"
She shot him a skeptical look. "Don't tell me that in addition to training dogs, fixing cars, and being a musician, you're an expert chef"
"I wouldn't go that far. But I know my way around the kitchen. I make dinner every night."
"Oh yeah? What did you have last night?"
"Turkey sandwich on wheat. With a pickle."
"And the night before?"
"Turkey sandwich on wheat. No pickle."
She giggled. "What was the last hot meal you cooked?"
He pretended to rack his brains. "Uh… beans and franks. On Monday."
She feigned amazement. "J stand corrected. How are you at grating cheese.?"
"In that, I would consider myself an expert."
"Okay," she said. "There's a bowl in the cupboard over there, beneath the blender. And you don't need to do the whole block. Ben usually has two tacos, and I have only one. Anything more would be for you."
Thibault set his beer on the counter and retrieved the bowl from the cupboard. Then he moved to the sink to wash his hands and unwrap the block of cheese. He snuck glances at Elizabeth as he worked. Finished with the onion, she'd already moved on to the green pepper. The tomato came next. The knife danced steadily, the movements precise. "You do that so quickly."
She answered without breaking the rhythm of her movements. "There was a while there when I dreamed of opening my own restaurant."
"When was that.?"
"When I was fifteen. For my birthday, I even asked for the Ginsu knife."
"You mean the one that used to be advertised on late-night television? Where the guy on the commercial uses it to cut through a tin can?"
She nodded. "That's the one."
"Did you get it?"
"It's the knife I'm using now."
He smiled. "I've never known anyone who actually admitted to buying one."
"Now you do," she said. She stole a quick look at him. "I had this dream about opening this great place in Charleston or Savannah and having my own cookbooks and television show. Crazy, I know. But anyway, I spent the summer practicing my dicing. I'd dice everything I could, as fast as I could, until I was as fast as the guy on the commercial. There were Tupperware bowls filled with zucchini and carrots and squash that I'd picked from the garden. It drove Nana crazy, since it meant we had to have summer stew just about every single day."
"What's summer stew?"
"Anything mixed together that can be served over noodles or rice."
He smiled as he shifted a pile of grated cheese to the side. "Then what happened?"
"Summer ended, and we ran out of vegetables."
"Ah," he said, wondering how someone could look so pretty in an apron.
"Okay," she said, pulling another pot from under the stove, "let me whip up the salsa."
She poured in a large can of tomato sauce, then added the onions and peppers and a dash of Tabasco, along with salt and pepper. She stirred them together and set the heat on medium.
"Your own recipe?"
"Nana's. Ben doesn't like things too spicy, so this is what she came up with."
Finished with the cheese, Thibault rewrapped it. "What else?"
"Not much. I just have to shred some lettuce and that's it. Oh, and heat up the shells in the oven. I'll let the meat and the salsa simmer for a bit."
"How about I do the shells?"
She handed him a cookie sheet and turned on the oven. "Just spread the shells out a little. Three for us, and however many you want for you. But don't put them in yet. We still have a few minutes. Ben likes the shells fresh out of the oven."
Thibault did as she requested, and she finished with the lettuce at about the same time. She put three plates on the counter. Picking up her beer again, she motioned toward the door. "Come out back. I want to show you something."
Thibault followed her out, then stopped short as he took in the view from the covered deck. Enclosed by a hedge lay a series of cobblestone paths that wove among several circular brick planters, each with its own dogwood tree; in the center of the yard, serving as a focal point, was a three-tiered fountain that fed a large koi pond. "Wow," he murmured. "This is gorgeous."
"And you never knew it was here, right? It is pretty spectacular, but you should see it in the spring. Every year, Nana and I plant a few thousand tulips, daffodils, and lilies, and they start blooming right after the azaleas and dogwoods. From March through July, this garden is one of the most beautiful places on earth. And over there? Behind that lower hedge?" She pointed toward the right. "That's the home of our illustrious vegetable and herb garden."