Page 87 of Caper Crush
He steps back outside the bathroom but seems to be watching intently. I gingerly step on my foot and maneuver inside, closing the door firmly behind me and collapsing onto the toilet. I hope he’s not right outside the door.
I yell out, “Please go cook—or just go away from the door.” Footsteps retreat, but I still turn on the faucet.
I finish and step back outside.
He comes over immediately, and I lean on him to get back to the couch.
I relax against the propped-up pillows. “Maybe you should meet Miju and Lena. Miju thought you were cute. You might get more out of them than I could.”
William shakes his head. “I’m not interested in her, so that would just be leading her on. I’m not going to do that.” He looks at my foot resting gingerly on top of three pillows. “I should cook dinner.”
“Is there anything I can do from here?” I ask.
“Do you want to peel the sweet potatoes?”
“Sure. I really hoped we would find the paintings in Vinnie’s storage room. And I’d have my painting back, and Uncle Tony and Takashi could buy their cottage.”
“I’ve found it always seems like a lot of dead ends in the beginning, but once you get a clue, it comes together quickly.” He gives me sweet potatoes to peel with a huge bag underneath me to catch the peels.
As William bustles around in the kitchen, I’m tempted to tell him I’ve been warned to stay away from him. I shake my head. Because I’m interested, I’m not ready to laugh at my uncle’s concerns yet. Or to have William laugh and say, “As if we’d actually get together.”
I finish peeling the potatoes, and William takes them back into the kitchen.
“I feel bad I’m not helping more,” I say.
“Don’t worry about it. I find it soothing to cook by myself.”
Only a good cook says that. I find cooking to be a lot of work that usually turns out disappointing because my dishes do not live up to my expectations.
William has more books in the open sideboard near the couch. He’s got some Upstate New York hiking guides, some novels by Japanese authors, and more mysteries. Other than the blue paintings, the artwork on his walls has very subtle colors—grays and blacks—especially the illustration of the leaping carp, but they’re all emotionally fulfilling.
I sketch Pochi. The smell of onions sautéing with cinnamon and cumin is making me hungry. Pochi looks torn, like he can’t decide if he can stop watching this strange being on the couch, but he’d really like to go check out the food situation in the kitchen.
I email my doctor to confirm I’m up to date on my tetanus shot and sketch out some ideas for another painting.
“Dinner’s ready.” William serves it at the coffee table. He helps me down to the floor, and I elevate my foot on a pillow.
Yummy.I take my first bite of the fish with rice and the cinnamon, coriander, and cumin spices all blended together. The fish is tender and easily shreds under my fork and knife.
“So you thought I had a fiancée?” His gaze meets mine. “Don’t you think I would have mentioned if I was engaged to someone?”
My foot is throbbing again from the effort to move from the couch to the floor. “I was surprised she was letting you spend so much time with me.” I adjust the ice pack, even though it’s no longer cold.
He stills. “Would I have to ask her permission?”
“No. Of course not. But I think she would’ve become involved as well. I would’ve met her, given how much I’ve seen you.”
“That’s true.”
I say, “And you barely hung out together at the party.”
“Were you keeping tabs?”
“I should have been investigating,” I say grumpily. “Especially now that I can’t meet Miju.”
“We still have your sister leaving with painting-size objects. And the paintings that Edmund gave her are either our paintings or paintings that Vinnie or the catering people brought in.”
“It’s not my sister.” I sigh. “And I liked both Miju and Lena.”
