Блейз Клемент - The Cat Sitter's Cradle

Ethan said, “This is my very good friend Alfred.”

“You must be Dixie,” he said, taking both of my hands in his. He spoke with a slight Spanish accent. “It is so very nice to meet you. Welcome to Yolanda. Ethan has told me all about you—I was beginning to think he had made you up, so I am very glad to finally meet you in the flesh.”

Ethan blushed and nudged Alfred. “This is Alfred’s restaurant. We were roommates at law school.”

I said, “This place is beautiful. You must be very proud.”

He nodded. “Thank you. My mama, she loved to cook. When I was a little boy, I used to sit for hours and watch her all day long. Those were the happiest times. Then one day I am a lawyer. I am at work, I have a pile of files on my desk and phone calls and pressure, and I hear my mama’s voice in my head, ‘What are you doing sitting there all day? Go out and play!’ and that’s when I knew I didn’t want to sit behind a desk anymore. Now, here we are.” He slid the wineglasses to the center of the table. “These are for you two lovebirds, and while you look at the menu I will bring you our special appetizer of the evening.”

He winked at Ethan and rushed away.

Ethan raised his glass. “Cheers.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Lovebirds?”

He blushed again. “Yeah, I have no idea where he’s getting that, I swear.”

Our glasses touched. Suddenly all my doubts about Ethan melted away. There was something about just being in his presence that made me feel completely comfortable and safe. Whether it was love or lust or loneliness or all three combined, I didn’t care. It just felt right.

Alfred returned shortly with a small silver plate and set it on the table with a flourish. There were two golf-ball-sized mounds of what looked like bright, kelly green scoops of ice cream.

Ethan said, “What is it?”

Alfred whispered conspiratorially, as though he had prepared it especially for us, “It is sorbet, but not sweet. Spicy! It is my own creation, made of peppers from my own hometown of Padrón.”

I had never in my life seen such a thing, but I had to admit it looked absolutely scrumptious.

Ethan said, “Green pepper sorbet? Really?”

“Trust me,” Albert said, giving each of us a spoon. “It is delicious!”

Ethan looked at me, a little hesitant. “Well, I’m game if you are.”

I dipped my spoon into one of the mounds and tried it. There was an immediate tangy sweetness, almost like a key lime, and then there was a good spicy kick. It literally put a smile on my face.

I nodded at Ethan as I scooped up another spoonful. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good. Alfred, you’re a genius.”

Alfred smiled at me and folded his burly arms across his chest. “I am always telling him this, but he doesn’t believe me. You Americans, you are always afraid to try new things.”

I tried to impress him with my worldliness. “It’s such a beautiful color of green, too—the same color as René the Frog.”

Ethan looked puzzled. “René the Frog?”

I glanced up at Alfred for support, but he looked just as confused as Ethan. I said, “You know, like Kermit the Frog, but in Spain you call him René.”

Alfred nodded. “Oh yes! Kermit the Frog! But in Spain, we do not call him René. We call him Gustavo.”

I was just about to take another spoonful of sorbet. “Huh?”

“Gustavo the Frog.”

“You don’t call him René?”

“No, miss, I have never heard this before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, la rana Gustavo! My daughter, she loves this frog very much. Now, I want to tell you that everything on the menu is very good, if I do say so myself, but I especially recommend the red snapper, which is served on a bed of roasted fennel, and we also have some very fine stone crab dipped in garlic butter. Have a look at the menu, and I will send Paolo over to take your order. Dixie, it was a very great pleasure to meet you.”

I nodded. “Thank you so much for the sorbet.”

I watched him as he made his way through the dining room toward the kitchen, shaking hands and saying hello to other diners as he went.

Ethan said, “Dixie? You okay?”

I realized I was watching Alfred walk away with my mouth hanging open. “Well, I’m not sure. Remember when I asked you about my friend? The one that was helping that illegal immigrant?”

“Yes?”

“Well, that was actually me.”

“You’re an illegal immigrant?”

“No, dummy! I was the one helping her.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“I figured. Thank you for playing along.”

He reached out and put his hand on top of mine. “You’re welcome.”

I told him the whole story of how we found Corina in the woods with a newborn baby and took her to Joyce’s house, and all about the exotic bird that had miraculously come back to life. He listened without interrupting me once. I love a man that knows how to listen.

“The problem is: Corina told me she was from Spain. She said in Spain, Kermit the Frog is known as René.”

“So … she lied.”

“Yep. I had a feeling at the time that she wasn’t telling the truth.”

Ethan shrugged. “Look, she probably snuck into the country from Cuba. She’s just protecting herself.”

“Well, there’s something else. Joyce found ten thousand dollars in Corina’s purse.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Ten thousand dollars—cash?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. Okay. That’s a lot of cash to be carrying around, homeless or not.”

“I know. And you know what I think? I think it was payment for whoever smuggled her here. I think somehow she snuck away without paying them and now they’re looking for her, and that’s why she didn’t check into a hotel or go to the emergency room. She knew she wouldn’t be safe.”

Ethan nodded solemnly and looked down at his menu.

I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk all night about all this.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m just … Look, it’s none of my business, but if you’re right about Corina, I’m a little worried, that’s all.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’ve worked on a couple of cases where smuggling operations were involved, and to be completely frank with you, some of the shit these guys are up to is pretty fucking scary.”

I blinked a couple of times. I realized I’d never even heard Ethan say “darn” before, and I’m embarrassed to admit that at that very moment I felt my nipples perk up. In my book, a man that doesn’t cuss is sexy, but when that man lets a couple of cuss words slip out in the heat of the moment, it’s not just sexy. It’s damn sexy.

Dinner was nothing short of exquisite. I had a filet of salmon, which had been seared to perfection on an open wood grill. When the waiter set it on the table, I gasped. Really. It came with a side of thinly sliced red cabbage sprinkled with coarse black pepper, lime juice, and olive oil. Next to that was a little bird’s nest of the thinnest, crispiest french fries I’ve ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. I actually felt like I was cheating on Tanisha as I ate them.

Ethan had the red snapper, which looked absolutely delicious, but I was so taken with my dinner that I refused to insult it by having even a tiny bite of Ethan’s.

By the time we finished dessert, which was a beautiful yellow Spanish flan with a crispy flamed crust of caramelized sugar and a dollop of freshly whipped cream on top, it was well after eleven o’clock. Also, I’d had at least four glasses of wine. Big red-wine glasses, the size of cereal bowls. I’m not much of a drinker, and red wine especially goes straight to my head, so by the time we were ready to leave, I was as relaxed as a limp cat soaking up sunshine on a redbrick porch. I was as loose as a black snake drooping out of a tree. Floppy as a worn-out pair of flip-flops. In other words, I was hammered.