Chapter Forty-Three
Sentiment
Nora didn't get shot, so that was a plus. As Jones cuffed Aimes' bodyguard, she couldn't help but glare at Lauren. When the agent noticed, she just smiled sweetly and shrugged her shoulders. Peter joined them a few minutes later, having caught Aimes.
"What's with the sour face?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Apparently Lauren doesn't care if I get shot, as long as it means bringing the bodyguard up on a murder charge." Peter turned to look at Lauren, confused.
"Oh my God," she huffed, rolling her eyes, "he wasn't going to shoot you. Stop being so overdramatic."
"Overdramatic? You told him to shoot me." Peter was barely managing to contain his laughter. "How would you have felt if he actually did?"
"I would have enjoyed the peace and quiet, for one."
Nora was about to shoot back some retort, but Peter stepped between them, still smirking. "Okay, you two, that's enough. Nora, Lauren would have felt really bad if you were shot. Lauren, we generally don't encourage criminals to shoot the people on our side. Are we happy now?" They both grumbled something to the effect of 'not really,' but Peter just clapped them both on the shoulder as if they had agreed.
Back at the office, after the pile of paperwork was finished, John was set free. There was an emotional, tearful reunion of Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell, and Nora couldn't help but feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach about how the case had played out. Maybe solving crimes can be as rewarding as committing them, she mused. Or maybe that was just her sentimental side talking.
Peter was beaming as they wrapped up for the day. "Excited to get your house back?" Nora guessed, plopping down in the chair across from him. The sun was setting, painting the city in shades of orange.
"You have no idea," he admitted. He glanced up at her. Maybe there was something about her expression, but he looked at her, bemused. "You look awfully cheerful."
"Do I?" He raised an eyebrow. She shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a sucker for a happy ending." He smirked. "What?"
"It's a good feeling, isn't it?" he prodded. "Using the law to make sure everyone gets the ending they deserve."
"Justice." Peter nodded, staring at her expectantly. "It has it's perks, I suppose."
He rolled his eyes, but didn't press it. Maybe he realized that was the best he was going to get, and even admitting that was a step in what he believed was the right direction. Or maybe he just didn't feel like arguing with her over law vs. crime for the millionth time.
"How about you come over for dinner tomorrow," he offered, "celebrate the happy ending."
"Tomorrow?"
"Well, I was kind of looking forward to spending some alone time with El-"
"Yup, don't need to know," she said quickly, cutting him off. Peter was, at times, too much of an open book, and Nora tried to avoid those moments when she could. She stood, heading for the door. "Tomorrow it is."
Elizabeth opened the door when Nora rang the bell the next evening. She welcomed her warmly, as always. And, as always, Satchmo came running over, expecting scratches behind the ears that Nora was all too happy to provide.
The women moved toward the kitchen. "Wow, it smells delicious," Nora told her, entirely earnestly.
"Thanks, it's a recipe I picked up from a new caterer I've been using."
They each poured a glass of wine, sipping while they chatted and cooked. Cooking was one thing – of a great many – Nora had sorely missed in prison. There was little point in cooking much at June's, when she was going to be the only one eating it.
After a few minutes, Nora noticed something missing. "Where's Peter?"
"Oh, he ran out to get beer," she explained, rolling her eyes. "You would think drinking wine for the evening would kill him." They shared a laugh and returned to their idle chatting.
They ended up on the topic of art galleries. "I've been planning to go some time," she said when El mentioned a gallery that happened to be within Nora's radius. "It's just been hard to find the time lately."
"Oh, I've been wanting to go, too," El said. "It's just not as much fun to go alone, and it's a miracle if I ever manage to drag Peter to an art gallery."
Nora laughed. "He certainly picked the correct career for someone with no interest in art." Then Nora had the idea. "Why don't you and I go some time?"
El paused, considering this. "Are you legally allowed within a hundred feet of an art gallery without an FBI agent to babysit you?"
Nora thought back to the contracts and legal papers she had read when she agreed to the deal. "No one ever said I'm not," she said slowly. "Besides, why would I steal from an art gallery when I have incriminating evidence strapped to my leg?"
"Alright," El decided. "Sure, let's go." They hammered out the details as they finished their wine. Peter returned a short while later, and dinner was served. It was only after Nora had made it home later that evening that she noticed El had never mentioned their plans to Peter.
The gallery had been just as wonderful as Nora had hoped it would be. It was yet another thing that she had missed in prison. Just being able to go and see beautiful works of art, discussing them with someone who was as knowledgeable and interested in them as she was.
Elizabeth was great company, and the two of them got along great, even without Peter. El was very different than her husband, as Nora had noticed almost immediately upon meeting her. She got the distinct impression that, if she had been in the gallery with Peter, he would have been watching her, not the art, scrutinizing everything she said and every move she made. Elizabeth didn't seem even the least bit suspicious of Nora. It was somewhat refreshing.
After spending the day looking at the art, the two of them stopped at a little bistro for lunch. The conversation continued to flow beyond art. As they were finishing up their meal, Nora's cellphone rang.
"Oh, lookie," she sighed. "It's your husband." She answered.
"Hey, are you busy?" he asked without greeting her as soon as she answered.
"Kind of, actually," she answered. "I was just-" Wait, he doesn't know I'm with El, she realized. She never told him after all. "I was just out to lunch."
She could practically hear Peter roll his eyes. "Oh, yeah, you sound really busy." She didn't respond, just waited for him to get to the point. "Something came up in the Welch case," he explained. "Do you think you can pry yourself away from your oh-so-important lunch?"
"Yeah, sure," she said dryly. "I'll be there in twenty." She hung up. "You never told Peter that we made plans." It wasn't a question, or an accusation, just an observation.
Elizabeth sighed, fidgeting a little with her fork. "No," she admitted sheepishly. "I was going to... It's just… Well, you know how Peter gets. I wasn't sure he would be comfortable with us just spending time together, so..."
"So you never told him we made plans."
"Yeah." Nora couldn't help but laugh. "I will," she added quickly.
"No worries." Nora laid some cash on the table and stood. "I gotta go."
