Page 56 of Caper Crush
“Edmund didn’t run to tackle the guy?”
“No.”
William shakes his head. “But you’re okay?”
I nod.
“If it is Edmund, how can we prove it?” he asks. “Should we order in dinner? Then at least we can eat while we discuss the case.”
“I’ll set the table while you finish up your work.”
“My office is in the back,” he says. “In the spare bedroom.”
He calls a Thai place and places an order for delivery, then takes me to the kitchen, a separate room off a hallway leading from the living room, and shows me where the dishes are. When he disappears to the back, I slip into the bathroom across from the kitchen.
Should I set the coffee table or the dining table? The coffee table is more romantic—we would be sitting on the floor next to each other. But maybe he would think that was weird. Plus, I’d rather face the windows. I set the dining table and light the candles on the table. I then walk over to the sliding doors to check out his terrace. It’s about twenty feet by thirteen feet. He has an outdoor ping-pong table. Another side to William is revealed.
The doorbell rings, and the video intercom shows the delivery guy. I step out, leaving the door unlocked, and take the elevator down to pick up our food. I hand him my credit card, but he says it’s already been paid for.
Back in the apartment, I take off my shoes, put the food on the table, and pad over in my socks to William’s office. The door is open. I knock anyway.
He looks up. “Let me save this.”
William is sitting at a desk with two screens. Above him are shelves with books and folders. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase takes up the other side. I check out his books. Many are accounting texts, but in the bookshelf near me are thrillers and mysteries and even some manga comics. I pick one out. It’s in Japanese.
“My dad always brought those back from his trips to Japan. They helped me improve my Japanese. I learned basic written Japanese when I was in elementary school in Tokyo.” He stands next to me at the bookcase.
“What did your dad do?”
“He worked for Sony as an executive, and then he met my mom and asked to be relocated here permanently,” William says. “We still did a few rotations in Japan, which was good for me and my sister for learning Japanese and seeing family.”
“He moved here for love?” I ask. “And they’re still happy?”
“Yes. I like it when I hear them laughing together. Not that they don’t argue sometimes.”
I nod. Uncle Tony once cited William’s parents as a successful example of the opposites-attract trope. “I’ve always wanted to read a manga cartoon in English.” I put it back.
He pulls out a different book. “Here’s one.”
I take it, and we walk to the dining table, me following him. It suddenly feels less comfortable between us—if it ever felt comfortable. He stops and gestures for me to sit first. I swallow. We are about to eat dinner together, and it’s late at night.
I sit, placing my manga cartoon off to the side. He seems to note the candles; his lips curve slightly. He sits across from me. Without talking, we both busy ourselves opening the cartons and dishes. William gives me two of the fried dumplings while he takes the other two. He pours some of the soy sauce on his plate and then places the little, plastic container between us. He opens the peanut sauce for the chicken satay appetizer. I ordered sweet-and-sour chicken, so I spoon some rice in my bowl and add the mix of chicken, peppers, and pineapple on top.
“Do you want some pad Thai?” he asks. “Or is this like peanut M&Ms and you don’t share dishes?”
“I share dishes. I’d love some.” I offer him some of my dish.
“It worries me that you felt like the guy might hit you.” He frowns.
“It worries me too,” I say. “Stealing my painting feels like a pretty fundamental blow. Getting beat up isn’t going to destroy my art career, unless he hurts my hand.”
“It could destroy your livelihood—you couldn’t sing or waitress.”
“That’s true. But it’s not like I can’t defend myself,” I say. “I’ve taken self-defense classes. Because I bartend late at night, I thought I should be prepared.”
Our glances meet. He’s got his very skeptical look on his face.
“I’ll show you after dinner,” I say. “But we should put some pillows on the floor here so you don’t get hurt.”
