Page 6 of I Dream of Danger
“Coffee. Right.” There was coffee. Enough for one cup at least.
She turned and tried to keep her hands steady as she opened the cupboard to get the coffee. To her horror, except for the glass canister with an inch of grounds, the cupboard was bare.
Exactly like in some horrible fable.
She closed the cupboard, making a louder noise than she wanted, and set about making coffee with trembling hands for Nick.
Nick.
Who was here.
Preparing the coffee, setting out the pretty Limoges cup and saucer, part of a set that she hadn’t sold because there were only four pieces, setting out a silver spoon and the Wedgewood sugar canister calmed her down a little.
He was still standing and that was another blow to the heart.
This had been his kitchen once, too. He had once been completely at home here. She remembered the thousands of evenings Nick had teased her and made her father laugh in here while Mrs. Gooding prepared dinner.
Now he was standing, needing her permission to sit. Tears blurred her eyes, but she willed them back. She’d had a lot of experience at that. She could do this.
“Please sit.” She pulled out a chair.
He took off his jacket, hung it on the back of the chair, and sat. Underneath the jacket he had on a heavy flannel shirt.
Oh God. She should do the same, of course. Except she was still cold and underneath the jacket she had on a thin sweater. She still had a few thick sweaters. Except her mind had been so befogged by the exhaustion of the last days of her father’s life and the funeral arrangements that she’d simply grabbed the first thing that came to hand. As luck would have it, it was a thin cotton sweater.
But she could pretend with the best of them. She hung her own jacket over the chair and sat down across from him.
They looked at each other mutely.
The coffee machine percolated. Elle sprang up and poured him a cup.
Nick hesitated. “What about you? Still don’t like coffee? You always liked tea. Can I make you some?”
“No!” Elle cleared her throat. “No, thanks.” She’d kill for a cup of tea, but it was in the cupboard above the stove and that was bare too. Two bare cupboards—it was too much for Nick to see.
Nick blew on the cup and sipped. As always, the delicate china looked out of place in his large hand but she knew from experience that it was safe. His hands were huge, had always been huge, but he was far from clumsy.
They sat in silence until he finished half the cup, then looked up at her. “How long had he been ill?”
Elle didn’t sigh, but she wanted to. “Several years. But his doctor thinks, with hindsight, that the illness started five years ago, only he managed to hide it.”
Something—some faint expression crossed his face.
Oh God. He’d left them five years ago. It sounded like she was accusing him of precipitating her father’s decline.
“Must have been hard. For you.”
Elle simply dipped her head. Yes, hard. Very hard.
“So—what will you do now? Go back to college?”
“I wasn’t enrolled in college.”
That surprised him. It took a lot to surprise Nick but she’d done it. “What do you mean you’re not in college? You were a straight-A student, always had been. Or have you already finished college?”
She had to smile at that. She’d had anything but straight As while she struggled to deal with her father’s eccentricities. It would be another year before she understood he was ill. She’d missed almost every other day her sophomore year.
“No, I, ah—it’s complicated.”
