Free The Unfinished Work of Elizabeth D by Nichole Bernier Page A

darkness downstairs, and Kate forced herself to close the book. Don’t, Kate felt herself urging. Don’t trust him. Though of course whatever was done, was done.

SEVEN
    A BREEZE LIFTED THE edge of the tablecloth as the sommelier opened the wine and poured an inch for Kate. She gave the glass a small swirl, small because she disliked wine showmanship, and nodded at the taste. He poured two glasses, and left quietly.
    The outdoor patio was new, an enhancement like the lounge that had been added after positive reviews in national food publications. Around the flagstone deck, conical topiaries corralled the guests so they did not push back chairs into the organic gardens. Kate and Chris had been seated by the maître d’ near the koi pond, too close. If she were to drop her knife it would enter the water like a harpoon.
    Last summer, in the area where they now sat, there had been only four outdoor tables on a balcony overlooking raised flower beds and rows of mesclun. The tables had been positioned so privately that during dessert Chris had slid a hand under her dress, fingers cool from his wineglass trailing condensation on her thigh.
    Chris leaned back in his chair, one steel leg inches from the pond’s edge, and smiled. He enjoyed it when she ordered the wine, spoke confidently of menu items and pairings. Kate could feel his pleasure in the way he watched her hand on the glass and her lips on the rim, felt his eyes on her throat as she tipped the glass upward.He pinched his fingernail in the cork and looked at her across the table. “I like that dress. You look nice tonight.”
    “So do you.” She meant it. Summer agreed with him. In spite of his coppery coloring, the sun browned his face rather than ruddied it, and brought out the gold in hair threaded with gray. His neck was strong against the collar and his chin hadn’t gone soft. Any weight he’d gained when he gave up smoking had been beaten back with diet and exercise.
    She glanced down at his shoes, tan loafers. “Decided to leave the eco-sandals at home tonight?”
    “You don’t like them? I thought they’d be your thing.” He flexed a foot alongside the table. “I picked them up on the Seattle trip last month. The hotel was threatening one of those team-building ropes courses.”
    “You love those.”
    “Right up there with trust falls and meditations around a campfire.” They shared a knowing smile about forced group intimacy.
    Noise from the lounge came through the doorway, the sociable sound of a party where everyone knows one another. At the back of the patio it was quieter. Fireflies blinked beyond the topiaries, and a light wind rustled the square of linen in Kate’s lap. Koi rested, darted, and went still.
    Chris folded his hands across his stomach and looked at her in a way that she read as expectant. She smiled in the absence of anything to say. She continued to think and smile as the seconds passed, and her mouth felt carved of wood.
    “What’s wrong?” he asked.
    “Wrong? Nothing. Why?”
    “You just seem a little quiet.” He looked off across the patio, and there was another pause. It was her turn. A flush heated the side of her neck, and she rested cool fingertips against it.
    “So what’s going on with that Seattle project?” she tried. “Is it going to happen?”
    “Probably. It’s a great location. It’s going to take some renovations and a lot of marketing, but it could work.”
    Across the patio a tray clattered, a glass broke, and a woman recoiled from the splash. There were exclamations about a dress, apologies given, soda water rushed in. Grumblings continued for several moments. Kate looked back to Chris and worked to recall the topic.
    “So are you going to have to go out there much?”
    “Probably a few more times. They’ll be quickies.” He smiled, amused; he knew she wasn’t that interested in the Seattle project. “I was thinking we might be able to turn one into a vacation. We could take the kids hiking