Cast a Pale Shadow(30)

"No competition, huh?"

"Outclassed completely."

"But more than matched by my date for the evening." He twirled her away from him to get a better look. "Where did you get this?"

"Augusta. Wait until you see what else. And all my shiny shoes, Nicholas. I swear it's magic, like the cobbler and the elves."

"No, not magic. Just Kiwi polish and a little spit. I do have reservations at the Chase. I know the wine steward there. He's put in a good word with the maitre'd. Where's your coat?"

"Augusta took it. I'll go find it." She took a few steps toward the kitchen then turned and tried the knob of a door under the steps. "The guest closet. I knew there had to be one here somewhere. I threw Dr. Edmonds' coat down the cellar stairs when I couldn't find the closet."

"Next time, do me a favor and do that while he's still in it."



*****



Trissa could not decide what to order from the overwhelming menu. She had peeked over the top as waiters brought steaming orders to nearby tables and tried to match what she saw with what she was reading on the menu. Finally, she gave up and left the decision to Nicholas. He deferred to Maurice, who told them he knew the menu like the back of his hand. As sommelier, it was his job to know all the varied elements of the entrees so that he might suggest the exact wine that would bring the dining experience to the pinnacle of excellence. He said all this with a tone of hauteur that made Trissa giggle when she remembered his antics with the milk the night before. When, at his suggestion, Nicholas ordered the Coquilles Saint Jacques, stuffed artichokes, and braised celery, Trissa did not miss the saucy wink Maurice cast her way and suddenly wished she could have a plate of Ruth's pork chops and applesauce.

The meal looked formidable when it lay before her. The artichoke reminded her of a cactus garden she had attempted once with its stuffing looking like desert sand and gravel. Tiny scallops and mushrooms in a pearly sauce were served up in cute little shell dishes that spun around on the plate when she attempted to tackle them with a fork. Glancing enviously at Nicholas' wine that she was not of legal age to order, she sighed and broke a piece off her hard roll and buttered it. At least she knew how to do that. When she reconciled herself to the meager consolation of her water goblet, Nicholas caught her eye and they both started giggling.

"Wait 'till I get Maurice alone in some dark hallway," Nicholas said.

"No, not alone. Let's both gang up on him."

"I've got a better idea. We'll lock him in the attic with Hattie and have her read Chaucer to him. In Middle English."

"On bread and water only," Trissa agreed.

"Uh uh. That's more than he deserves. We'll make it artichokes and ABC fish."

"ABC fish?"

"Already Been Chewed."

They had just managed to quell their giggles when Maurice sidled over to ask how they enjoyed their food. That set Trissa off again and she had to dab the tears away from her eyes with the corner of her napkin.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, Maurice, just send the waiter with our check," Nicholas choked out.

"But you've hardly touched your..." He looked over at Trissa whose face was bright red with her effort to suppress her laughter. Shielding his face from her with the wine list, he whispered to Nicholas, "Oh, dear, maybe I was wrong to suggest so potent an aphrodisiac for one as young and newly wed."

"Aphrodisiac? Scallops and artichokes and celery?"

"Well, I was only trying to help. You can't get decent fresh oysters around here anymore."

Nicholas put his hand to his brow and said, "The check, Maurice, the check."

They wound up at Steak 'n Shake where they ordered fat, juicy patty melts and fries and Dutch chocolate malts.

"Oooff, I'm more stuffed than an artichoke," Trissa confessed when she drained the thick malt with a loud slurp.

"Oh, dear, and look what I saved you." Nicholas reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a clean scallop shell. "A souvenir fish dish. I thought we'd sip champagne from it later in our bridal suite."

"Do you think we dare? There might be some secret, potent powers still clinging to it."

"Secret, potent...? You heard Maurice?"

She nodded and took the scallop shell and put it in her purse. "Maybe you'd better tell me what happened at school. How did you manage with Miss Royal?"

They spent the rest of the evening and their ride home on safe subjects. He told her all about her missed assignments and the arrangements for making up her exams and how he had Miss Royal wound around his little finger. She described her day with Augusta and Beverly and Ruth. He laughed when she recounted her tantrum with Edmonds, admitting she had had more luck landing blows with him than he had.

They did not discuss the sleeping arrangements until they were confronted with the big empty bed and the extra pillows and blankets at the foot of it. Trissa avoided the issue by sneaking into the bathroom first while Nicholas set up his coffee pot. He took his turn when she emerged wrapped like a mummy in those god awful brown and yellow flannel pajamas.

When he came out in his own pajamas and a blue terry bathrobe, she was already asleep, curled under the blanket she had drug to the sofa. He picked her up, carried her to the bed, turned out the lights, and then went back to the sofa himself. He wrestled with the pillow and blanket until he found a niche where no springs poked his backside and the sags matched the contour of his shoulder and hip. He heard the rustling of the bed in the darkness and Trissa's bare feet as she padded across the floor.

"I will not put you out of your bed, Nicholas Brewer. And if you care to dispute that, I will kick you in the shin, too."

Nicholas sat up and saw her determined stance silhouetted in the dim glow of the bathroom night-light. Her hands were on her hips and she tapped her foot impatiently. "I'm fine," he said. "I just got comfortable."

"Come here and bring your stuff."

He put on his robe and gathered up his blanket and pillow and followed her. She fussed with the bed covers, turning down each side but struggling to keep the center of the bed untouched. She attacked the project with the precision of a practiced paper airplane folder, smoothing the sheets to knife-edged angles. "Now give me your blanket." She shook out the blanket and let it settle to the floor. Kneeling beside it, she carefully rolled it into a woolen sausage which she carried to the bed and positioned down the middle. "There," she said, blowing an errant curl out of her eyes with a little puff from her lips . "My side. Your side." She climbed into her side and pulled the covers up to her chin. "Come on. Come to bed."

"It's not exactly the Great Wall of China."

"That didn't keep out invaders either. It's honor that will keep us to our own sides. The divider is just there to mark the border."

"No man's land," he muttered. He untied his robe but decided to keep it on. Climbing in, he turned away from her to face the wall.

"Good night, husband."

"I think it best you don't call me that when we're sleeping in the same bed," he said, his voice oddly muffled. By the sleeve of his robe, she guessed.

"Sorry. Good night, Nicholas."

"Good night."

Silence sifted down on them. It was so still that he thought he could hear their hearts beating.

"Nicholas?"

"Yes."

"About my apprenticeship. Don't you think I'm due for another lesson?"

"Your apprenticeship?"

"You know. The kissing."

"Go to sleep, Trissa."





Chapter Eleven





Nicholas measured the corner for the second time and came up with different figures. Gritting his pencil so tightly between his teeth the paint flecked off onto his tongue, he frowned and measured again. The new numbers matched the first set, so he jotted them down on a scrap of paper. Tomorrow while Trissa took her makeup exams, he would meet Jack Sanders down at a Wharf Street warehouse and find a chest of drawers to fit this corner among Jack's cache of secondhand treasures.

Trissa would be surprised with the new chest. It and her record player, secretly rehabilitated by Roger, would be her reward for all her long hours of study to prepare for her exams. They needed the space, too. Augusta seemed to sense the moment when Nicholas emptied another drawer of his belongings to make more space for Trissa's rapidly expanding trousseau and she redoubled her efforts to fill that one as well.

"It's like playing paper dolls," Trissa had said. "'Here, try this one on,' she says. 'Now this would go with that.' And 'won't this be perfect with your eyes and hair?'." Nicholas took the hangers with the altered garments from her one by one as she told him this. "And if I say 'no, I can't possibly take more from you, Augusta' she gets this wounded look in her eyes and I have to give in."