It was much later when she returned to the living room, trying to keep her demeanor as casual as possible. She made sure to keep her eyes downward so that Niles wouldn't notice that they were swollen and red-rimmed. Earlier she'd been silent but now she made an effort to be visible. She helped with dinner and then bombarded Dr. Crane with questions, barely giving him a chance to answer one before asking another. And he'd answered them all, regarding topics such as the lake, the cabin and the general geography and history of the land. By the time they'd finished dinner, Daphne knew as much about the area as he did.
When the dishes were clean and put away she wandered through the cabin, amazed at its spaciousness despite its small size. She found herself in his library, which wasn't quite as impressive as his enormous library at The Montana, but impressive nonetheless. He'd followed her here, saying nothing as he sat down on the leather sofa and picked up his latest read, slowly turning the pages. Her eyes moved about the room and she could feel him watching her studiously, almost the way his brother did when he feared that she was close to breaking one of his precious objects that filled his home.
She moved about the room, wringing her hands nervously as she had done so often since he'd unexpectedly shown up at the Elliott Bay Towers… and saw her in her worst possible state. But now all of that seemed forgotten, at least for the moment.
"May I look at your books, Dr. Crane?" The question seemed silly and she felt a bit like a child asking permission from her mother. But she knew him well enough to know that he did not like people touching his possessions any more than his older brother did. And so it was best to tread carefully when asking such a huge favor.
"Of course, Daphne. Help yourself."
She smiled at his thoughtfulness and generosity; for she knew that he would never reserve the same kind of trust to most people. It warmed her heart, knowing that she was one of the chosen few that he had come to trust, as she trusted him with everything she had; even if that trust only went as far as friendship.
He was married, after all.
As she perused the library the thought quickly left her mind and she ran her fingers over his collection of works by Middle Eastern poets. She knew nothing about them of course, but the books fascinated her just the same. His tastes were so different than hers, when it came to books and just about everything else. While he had sophisticated tastes, hers were much more laid-back. She knew that he would never find any of her romance novels interesting. And if he were ever to read one, she was certain that he would find the heroine far more desirable of a companion. Daphne and Dr. Crane were simply too different. It was evident even here in the comfort of his cabin, far away from everything. He was dressed impeccably, while she had opted for a green and yellow sweater (a purchase she'd made at a local department store-on clearance of course) and a pair of worn (but comfortable) jeans.
She continued to search through the books until she spotted something unusual on the top shelf; a flat brown box with yellow script. "What's this?" As she reached for the mysterious object, the hem of her sweater rose just a bit, and she felt a slight chill as the air hit her bare flesh, just above her waist. Her eyes darted to Dr. Crane, who quickly took a swig of his wine. She realized at once why he seemed so uneasy. Who wouldn't, if they were married to someone else and were forced to catch a glimpse of bare skin of their father's physical therapist? Well, probably no one but Dr. Crane. But one thing was for certain. She'd made him uncomfortable. What was she thinking, bringing such a revealing sweater on their trip?
"Do you need some help, Daphne?"
Her hand was still frozen on the box, her thoughts returned to the present task at hand, and she continued to reach with her fingertips. "No, thanks. I think I've got it."
"What have you found?"
She stretched even further, carefully to hold the edge of her sweater with her hand and pulled the box down, examining the cover. "It's a puzzle."
"Um… Not really. Not considering that you are so… Oh! You mean the puzzle! Yes, I'd forgotten that I have that!"
His words made her laugh, reminding her of the way he'd reacted when she'd mentioned his glockenspiel on the rainy night at his mansion… as though he'd been thinking of something else. But that was… impossible, wasn't it?
She looked down at the jigsaw puzzle she held in her hands. "His last Term as Governor. A Crime Scene Mystery." She read, sitting next to him on the leather sofa.
"How interesting. I've never seen anything like this before."
His book forgotten, he set it aside and gave her his full attention. "You get clues from the puzzle to solve the mystery." He explained. "I bought it last year for Dad so that he'd have something to do while he was here in case it got too cold to go outside."
Daphne laughed. "Too cold? Your father will complain about his daily walk with Eddie if the temperature drops below 60 or a single raindrop falls from the sky, but he'll sit on a block of ice for eight hours if you put a fishing rod in his hands!"
This made Niles laugh and she felt strangely triumphant.
"You're right about that. He was certainly enjoying himself on that ice fishing trip."
Daphne smiled at the memory of Niles dressed in his Eddie Bauer, Polo and Timberland ensemble, which made Frasier roll his eyes. But Daphne wasn't fooled. Niles clearly wanted to impress his father, having gone out and purchased every type of outdoor necessity in order to accompany Martin and Frasier on an ice fishing trip.
"It certainly was nice of you to offer to go with your father, Dr. Crane."
When she turned to Niles, his eyes held a faraway look. "We said I love you for the first time in years on that trip."
Daphne wasn't sure if he was speaking to her or just thinking out loud, but her heart warmed seeing him like this. And for the first time in days, she felt a burst of happiness for him. And that happiness was laced with selfishness. She complained about Martin… a lot. But deep down she loved the old man as much (if not more) than her own father.
