Marion Ekholm - Forget Me Not

Trish paused by the open door, rolling her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. I never even thought about that. Thank you.” She walked past him, motioning Dave to follow. “I’m making lunch—warm soup so Dave and I can defrost. Have the men come back from the fire?” When Craig shook his head, she added, “Would you like some soup or are you going back on the roof?”

His crew would probably stop for food after returning from the fire, and he didn’t want to miss out on lunch. “Warm soup sounds fine.” Once in the kitchen, Craig leaned against the counter, his arms folded across his chest, while Trish pulled out packages from the refrigerator. All the ingredients looked like his favorites, and he wondered if she had bought them for him. “You making grilled cheese?”

She grinned. “Of course. Can’t have tomato soup without grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“With ham?” He moved closer and opened one of the wrapped packages from Drexel’s Deli. “You remembered?” That had always been their preferred treat. “The grill still in the same old place?” When she nodded, he headed for the pantry.

Sure enough, the grill was right where he remembered. A little dusty. Probably hadn’t been used in years. He placed it on the counter and opened a drawer filled with dish towels. After a wipe-down, he plugged it in.

“You’re sure familiar with everything,” Dave said, coming over to stand by the counter. His gray winter parka was zipped to his neck even though the room had to be close to sixty degrees, despite no additional heat.

When the doorbell rang, Trish glanced at Craig. “You think that could be the oil delivery?”

“Doubt it. Marty said he’d do it on his last run. Why don’t you answer the door, and I’ll get started on the soup.” He headed back to the pantry, where he’d seen several cans. After checking the dates, he realized all the cans were new. He smiled and started to whistle, right up until he heard her gasp of delight.

CHAPTER FIVE

“HARRISON! WHAT ARE you doing here? Come in and relax.” She pulled at his red tie so it wasn’t so tight around his neck, something he’d never allow on the job. “Here in my house, the casual look fits perfectly. You fit perfectly.” She couldn’t stop smiling. He was handsome in his dark gray suit. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“I missed you.” He grabbed her hands then looked down at them. “Your hands are freezing.” He pulled her into a loving embrace and kissed her with a fervor she appreciated and rarely experienced from him.

Since they worked together and their company frowned on any fraternization between employees, they always maintained a proper working relationship. Even when they had total privacy, he never showed the same tendency to hug and give affection the way Trish did. Maybe their short separation had ignited some romantic flames. “Even your lips are cold. You been working outside?”

“No. It’s just that we don’t have heat.”

When he gave her his “I told you so” look, she slipped outside, still holding his hand. “Come on.” She hopped down the porch stairs and looked at the house. “What do you think?”

“So this is the relic?” Harrison stood, hands on hips, and looked at the house her great-grandfather had designed and built around the turn of the twentieth century. His son, her grandfather, had added his own imprint, making it a showpiece. “Wow. Is that what they call gingerbread?”

“I suppose some of it is. My grandfather liked to work with wood and—”

“It’s coming off, right? No one needs all that fancy trim nowadays, and a lot of it is just hanging there.”

“No, it’s not coming off.” Sure, some of the pieces had broken away, but Craig had assured her he could replace them.

Harrison raised his eyebrows. “You mean you won’t change any of this...” He swished his hand in an arc toward the house. “...this...”

Trish ground her teeth a moment before deciding to add her own comment. “Don’t say it. I mean it, Harrison. I love this place, and it’s important for me, so keep any negative opinions to yourself.”

Clamping his lips together, he nodded and placed an arm around her shoulders, pointing to the flag flipping around in the breeze. “Is that for something special?”

“Check out the neighborhood, Harrison.” Trish swung her arm around to take in all the houses on the street. “Everyone’s flying them because it’s Veterans Day.”

He shrugged but didn’t offer any other comment.

When she escorted him back inside, past the wide circular staircase and into the living room, she hoped to spark some enthusiasm for the old place. He remained unimpressed, but at least he didn’t offer more criticism. She warmed only slightly to another of his embraces. “What?” he asked. “I’m in the doghouse now for not jumping on your bandwagon?”

Trish sighed. How could she expect him to love this Victorian house when he had none of her memories? She cuddled against him and smiled when he pulled her back into his arms.

“You’re planning to spend a month here? I don’t see how it’s possible to fix all that needs to be done in that time.”

“I’ve hired a handyman. He’ll do most of the work.”

“How do you know he’s any good?” Harrison nuzzled her cheek. “I don’t want you to end up with more of a mess and possibly get cheated.”

Trish appreciated his concern. “It’s okay. I grew up with him, and he’s the best.”

“Good,” Harrison said, moving slightly away and brushing his hand through her hair. “Then you won’t have to stay here. My main concern has been you being so far away from—”

“Anyone hungry?”

Harrison and Trish jumped apart. Harrison was the first to recover. He strode toward the intruder, his fist clenched as though he planned to strike. “Who are you?”

“Right now I’m the cook. Lunch is served in the kitchen.” Craig made a quick pivot and disappeared into the hallway.

Trish grasped Harrison’s arm and felt the tension there. “That’s my handyman, Craig Cadman.”

“And he cooks?”

Trish patted his arm, hoping to relieve the unexpected hostility. “Not usually. Let’s go eat.”

* * *

SO THIS IS the fiancé, Craig thought as he returned to the kitchen.

Dave looked up from stirring the soup on the stove. “What was that? Is she okay?”

“Yeah.” He stopped speaking when Harrison and Trish walked in.

“I’d like you both to meet my fiancé, Harrison Morris.”

Craig offered his hand. “I’m Craig, the handyman.”

Dave came around, also extending his hand. “And I’m Dave, the antiques man.” He gave Craig a wink and went back to stirring the soup. “Do we have bowls for this?”

Trish picked up four of the china bowls she’d washed. “Do we have to use those?” Dave asked. “I thought I was buying them.”

Trish laughed and brought the bowls to the table. “They’ve gone through hundreds of meals over the past seventy-five years. I’ll wash them when we’re through, and as long as no one starts to juggle them, they should make it without any problem.” After opening several drawers, she placed napkins and spoons by the bowls.

Dave sighed, then went back for the pot of soup.

“What’s this?” Harrison thrust his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I planned on taking you out for lunch. And instead we’re settling for soup in a freezing kitchen.” He managed a convincing shiver and paused before adding, “With the help.” A moment later Harrison started laughing. “Oh, this is getting ridiculous. I’m sorry, guys. I just never expected...” He offered Trish a chair before taking one himself. “Let’s just do it. I took an extended lunch hour, and I need to get back to the city.”