Chapter 13 – Guess Who's Coming to Dinner

Bella

I was about halfway through my dinner when someone knocked on the front door. It was after eight o'clock, so I couldn't imagine who would be visiting at this hour. I answered it, expecting to find one of the neighborhood kids selling fundraising stuff for school. The man standing there turned around and froze in place, for the second time today, as our eyes met. He had an envelope in his hand, and his mouth was agape to see me.

"Can I help you?" I asked, not remembering what I was, or wasn't, wearing. He blinked rapidly, as if trying to wake up, and then he handed me the envelope.

"Hi, we haven't met yet…officially, anyway. I'm your new tenant, Dr. Edward Masen. It's nice to finally meet you." He reached out his hand again to shake mine, and I found myself catching my breath as our hands touched. His were so warm and soft. "I just wanted to drop off my rent for next month and introduce myself."

The same blush I had been fighting all day at the thought of him rose again in my cheeks, and my heart pounded erratically. The cool evening breeze blew in through the open door, and I shivered, finally remembering that I was standing there in just a pair of boxers and a thin tank top. I suddenly became very self-conscious and wrapped my arms over my chest to cover the obvious fact that I was cold, but not before my visitor had noticed the results of my chill through the almost sheer fabric of my top. Embarrassed, his eyes shot back up to mine, and an apologetic smile flashed across his beautiful face.

"Sorry to come around so late, but I just got home." He looked tired, and I would bet he hadn't eaten all day from the looks of him. I didn't know what possessed me, but I found myself inviting him in. I thought he was going to turn me down by the way he hesitated, but the smell of homemade soup caught his attention.

"Am I interrupting your dinner? I'm so sorry!" He looked like he was about to pass out, as he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, his stomach growling loudly. The poor guy really was starving.

"Can I offer you some homemade soup and bread? I have plenty, and it's still hot."

"Only if I'm not putting you out," he said shyly, as he followed me into the house and through to the kitchen. I could feel his intense gaze on my back, and it made the blush rise even hotter to my cheeks.

"I'm really glad for the company to help finish it. I would've probably just had to throw the rest out or freeze it, anyway. I can't seem to cook just enough for myself, especially when it comes to soup," I laughed. "Besides, according to my Grammy, it's rude not to have something on hand to offer unexpected guests."

He laughed at my last comment, seeming to remember something. "My Grandma Hettie was the same way. She always had something on hand to eat. You could always count on getting fed at her house."

I pointed him toward the glasses and told him to help himself to some lemonade. While he was doing that, I quickly grabbed my long cardigan off the back of a kitchen chair and slipped it on. It was still warm, but I wasn't exactly dressed for company.

I dipped the remaining soup into a large bowl and cut a generous piece of bread for him, inviting him back to the living room to eat with me. He sat down in my Poppa's old recliner, looking perfectly at home there. "This is a great house; it seems really big. The Realtor told me you inherited it from your grandparents. Have you lived here long?"

"My Poppa passed away three years ago, shortly after I graduated college, so I moved in to help care for my Grammy. She just passed away a few months ago. They owned the house for over fifty years before I inherited it." Felicity wandered in, eyeing him curiously, before jumping up in the recliner and lying down beside him.

"Crazy cat! I've never seen her do that before with anyone but me. She's up to no good. Watch her closely, or she'll try to spill your drink." Felicity was notorious for dumping glasses, especially when her unsuspecting victims weren't looking.

I offered him Poppa's old tin TV tray table for his dinner, and he smiled again. "Don't tell me, this belonged to your grandparents, too?"

I wasn't sure if he was pleased or making fun of me, so I held my chin up and smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact, it did. Some of the finest meals ever made were served on that tray." I looked at him challengingly, and he started laughing.

"The ones my Grandma Hettie had were avocado green with gold trim. Only the most important guests were served on them, according to grandpa. I loved those!"

I relaxed a bit and helped him set up the tray, placing his bowl in front of him. He thanked me and then ate a spoonful of the soup, growing quiet. I watched him smile, and he got a faraway look in his eyes. "Did you know my mom?" he asked suddenly, looking at me in wonder. "I'd swear this soup tastes just like the soup she used to make for us when I was a kid." He took another spoonful and closed his eyes as he ate, seeming to be recalling something pleasant, maybe even emotional, as he savored the flavors.

"Is that a good thing?" I asked, not wanting to assume it was a compliment, but hoping just the same.

"Better than good, I haven't had soup like this since my mom died." He sighed, sadness crossing his face for a moment before he smiled again. "It's really good. Thank you for feeding me tonight. I can cook a little bit myself, but I don't get much of a chance these days. I haven't even unpacked my kitchen stuff yet. My mom and Grandma Hettie would be scandalized," he chuckled before sighing and closing his eyes again.

"You miss them," I said, understanding how he felt.

"More than I realized. Your home and wonderful cooking reminds me so much of my own grandparents' house, and it only makes me realize even more how much I miss them and my mom and dad. I learned so much from all of them about what's important in life and the blessings of a close family. I used to help my mom and Grandma Hettie all the time. We'd spend hours cooking for all of us. They were excellent cooks, and some of my fondest recollections are of our times together in Grandma Hettie's kitchen."

"I totally understand. It's the same for me," I nodded.

I wanted to ask him more questions about his family, but I decided to leave it for hopefully another night. It seemed hard for him to talk about, and he already looked so tired.

As we finished eating, we talked about Stacey and her prognosis. He was as concerned about her condition as I was. He was optimistic she would be okay…physically, at least. I wanted to talk to him longer, but I watched him struggle, as he fought to stay alert, almost losing the battle a couple of times. I figured I had better let him get back before he fell asleep in the recliner, and I would have to fight myself to go up to my room and not spend the night staring at him.

"I know you've had a long day. I'll bet you're dead on your feet." I arose, taking our dishes back to the kitchen. I plugged the sink and ran water to wash up, since there was no dishwasher. He came into the kitchen and stood next to me to rinse, placing the dishes in the drainer to dry. When we were done, he was about to head for the front door, but I stopped him.

"It feels wrong making you walk all the way around this big house to get to the back when you're obviously so tired and sleepy. Why don't you just go through here?" I pointed to the door behind me that led into the apartment in the back. It had been the original backdoor to the house before the garage had been added and then converted. I had not opened the door since he had moved in, but I knew it would be quicker this way, and he looked like he was about ready to fall over.

I unlocked and opened the door, which led into a small coat closet that had been built into the apartment. Laughing, he stepped into the doorway, pushed his coats to the side, and reached past them for the knob to the door that opened into his living area. Ducking the rod, he stepped through the narrow closet and into his apartment.

He turned around and leaned in the doorway on his side of the closet, smiling a breathtaking, sleepy smile at me. "Goodnight, Miss Swan. Thank you again for dinner."

"Bella, please, and you're welcome any time," I smiled, wondering if I would be able to stay away from this door now any more than Felicity did.

"I'll hold you to that, Bella."

We said goodnight, and I closed and relocked the door, heading to bed for what I was sure would be a very sleepless night.