Chapter Five: Dinner and Decisions
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Author's Note: Thank you for being patient with me. I've been fighting with this chapter for way too long. Writer's block, anxiety, houseguests, traveling, overthinking, general busy-ness...I've got a pocketful of excuses nobody really wants to hear. So- on to the story!
As always, your beautiful reviews and encouraging/nagging messages mean so much to me. Cherylann Rivers, dougjudy, newtothis, drumboy100, max2013, EvergreenDreamweaver, Caranath, sm2003495, BMSH, Cecilia Haunt, RadiantEyes, Ara, IfEverythingWent, Ritu, Highflyer, Fernweh, and various Guests- thank you all.
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Side note: This plot in general is off to a super slow start. I've just decided to go with it. There's a lot of interpersonal stuff going on and I don't want to rush through anything.
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Later that evening, in a moment of quiet after their meal, Nancy caught Callie making determined eye contact with her across the dinner table.
"What is it?" she asked, somewhat bemused by the intensity of the other woman's stare. "Do I have food on my face?"
Despite the impediment of her protruding belly, Callie attempted to lean conspiratorially closer. "Don't play dumb with me, Nancy. I can tell when you have news. Out with it, quick, before the boys come back!" she ordered.
"Speaking of the boys, what's taking them so long?" Nancy said, peering toward the kitchen. "It shouldn't take this long to start a pot of coffee and grab the cake off the counter."
Callie shrugged. "This is Frank and Joe Hardy we're talking about. For all we know they discovered a clue to an international jewel thief in the coffee beans."
"If they took off after a criminal without me..." Nancy said darkly.
"That would never happen." Callie sat back, smoothing a hand along the generous curve of her abdomen. "What's on your mind? Spill it, girl."
So much for changing the subject, Nancy thought ruefully. She sighed. "I'm really not holding out on you. It's only a new case." And Bess's situation, but that's not my news to share.
"Oh." Callie's enthusiasm visibly dimmed.
"Oh?" Nancy echoed.
"Just oh. For a minute there, I thought that maybe...well, never mind."
"Never mind what?" Joe asked, dropping a handful of forks onto the table with a clatter.
"It's what people usually say when they're not interested in explaining," Frank chided.
"There you are!" Nancy said brightly. Relief flared up in her chest, hot and bright as a lit sparkler. She curled her unadorned left hand against her flat stomach and tried not to resent Callie's all-too-obvious line of speculation.
"We were just about to send a search party after you," Callie teased.
"There was a minor incident," Joe said offhandedly.
But Callie was obviously no longer listening. "Why didn't you tell me you'd brought strawberry shortcake?" she cried, happily accepting the plate Frank had proffered.
"I asked her not to, because I knew you'd want to skip dinner and go straight for the strawberries," Frank confessed.
"Latest craving?" Nancy asked sympathetically.
"One of them." Callie's eyes were closed in pleasure. "These are so good. Where did you get them?"
"Mortons' farm stand," Joe said. "I would have picked up extra if I'd known. You've got to keep us in the loop on these things."
"You want a daily cravings bulletin?" There was a mischievous sparkle in Callie's eyes, now. "Okay. This week it's been strawberries, pepperoni pizza, and sex."
"Cal!" Frank protested in a strangled voice.
"Sex isn't a food craving. Does it count?" Joe pondered.
"Does it matter?" Frank demanded.
"I think it counts. They're not mutually exclusive," Nancy offered, carefully maintaining a thoughtful expression. She enjoyed Callie's blossoming forthrightness; and besides, watching Frank squirm now and then was entertaining.
Frank tried to cut in again, but Joe talked smoothly over him. "You're right. There's definite potential for overlap. I mean, imagine what you could be doing with this cake right now if Nan and I weren't here."
"You have a very dirty mind," Callie informed him, as though this were news to anybody.
Joe winked. "I didn't say anything. Your imagination supplied the details. Want us to leave, doll?"
"Yes, actually," Frank grumbled.
"At least let me finish my cake," Nancy said, laughing.
"We'll take some with us. Why should they get all the fun?"
"Enough!" Frank exclaimed. He scrubbed a hand across his pink face and then leaned back, draping an arm along the back of his wife's chair. "When do I get to hear about the new case?" he added, in a transparent bid to change the subject.
Joe was all business in an instant. "What do you want to know?" he asked coolly, as though he had not been licking whipped cream from his fork in a suggestive manner only seconds ago. Nancy swallowed a fresh bout of laughter and glanced at Frank, awaiting his response.
"Everything. Vanessa wouldn't give me any details when we spoke earlier. She just wanted your number."
"That figures. Thanks so much for giving it to her, by the way."
Frank simply shrugged, unaffected by the heavy sarcasm in Joe's voice. "It was the fastest way to get her off the phone."
"Yeah, well, you could've warned me."
A subtle movement caught Nancy's peripheral vision, dragging her attention from the brothers' continued conversation to Callie's face. Callie was surprised; that much was obvious. But there was something more, some other emotion evident in her guileless brown eyes.
That's guilt, Nancy thought, intrigued. Why should Callie feel guilty about Vanessa's call?
Beside her, Joe had begun to summarize the case. Though his tone was once again businesslike, Nancy sensed the tangle of emotions hidden behind his practiced facade: irritation at being broadsided by Vanessa's call, enthusiasm for this new mystery, hope that Frank would find the facts interesting enough to join them. Quickly and gently, so as not to interrupt, Nancy slid a hand onto his thigh and rested it there, offering her support. She was gratified when Joe dropped his own hand down a moment later and gave hers a quick squeeze.
The briefing did not take long. Joe's recitation of the facts, which started out perfunctory, became increasingly animated. Beneath Nancy's palm, the long rigid muscle of his thigh gradually relaxed. But then his summary ended and his leg tensed again; and Nancy knew exactly what he was about to ask.
"So," he said, and paused. Cleared his throat. His leg was bouncing slightly, now, in a constant repetitive motion. Nancy pressed down on it, willing him to steady himself. "What do you say? Are you in?"
Though his tone was casual, he seemed to be holding his breath. Feeling slightly breathless, herself, with the reverberations of Joe's desperate hopefulness, Nancy locked her eyes onto Frank's face and waited.
Frank, for his part, seemed completely unfazed by the three sets of eyes fixed on him. He simply nodded in a thoughtful way, as though he were absorbing and cataloguing the information Joe had provided.
Damn you and your poker face, Nancy thought, with a fierceness which surprised her. Say yes. Please say yes.
But Frank was already shaking his head. "I'm sorry. This isn't a good time for me to take off on a case."
The sentiment was exactly what the world would expect from solid, dependable Frank Hardy. If his delivery had been just a touch less automatic, Nancy would have believed him.
He's trying to convince himself that he means it, she thought, studying his face. He still wasn't giving much away. Joe, on the other hand, was a veritable billboard of emotion. Frustration and disappointment were written all over his face.
"Bullshit," he said forcefully. "That's an excuse, and a pretty flimsy one at that. I'm not asking you to turn in your badge. I'm just asking you to work one case."
"You know that's not all you're asking, just like you know I can't walk away and leave Callie right now."
"Fine!" Joe snapped. "Fine. Then we're done here. We've established that you're always going to have an excuse. This time it's your pregnant wife, next time it'll be the baby, then- "
Frank cut him off. "Joe, I am not going to apologize for having a family!"
As suddenly as it had flared, Joe's anger faded. He pushed his fingers into his hair, heedlessly tousling the short blond strands.
"You're right. I'm sorry. Hell, I'd probably make the same choice if I were in your position."
No one spoke for a long moment after that. Nancy stared at her plate, wishing herself somewhere else, wishing she had had the foresight to encourage Joe to speak to Frank privately.
Callie's voice shattered the stillness.
"Do I get a say in this?" she inquired.
"Of course you do," Frank said hastily.
"Good. Because I think you should go."
The silence, this time, felt more shocked than sullen. Joe's eyes and Frank's widened in an identical look of surprise.
"What?" Frank managed, finally.
Serenely, Callie scooped up another strawberry and ate it. "I think you should work the case," she repeated.
"I won't leave you alone. Not now," Frank objected flatly.
"Your parents," Callie said, counting off the names on her fingers as she recited them. "Aunt Gertrude. Hannah. Bess. George. The Mortons. My parents. Abby. Polly. Amanda. How many am I up to, Nan?"
"Oh, no," Nancy said, alarmed. "Don't pull me into the middle of this."
"At least a dozen," Callie said, addressing Frank again. "I can list about a dozen people off the top of my head who could be here in minutes if I needed anything. There's no reason that Miles and I should hold you back from working this case."
Joe cleared his throat. "You can take some time to think about it," he said.
"By which he means that he would very much like not to sit through the rest of the argument," Callie said, glancing apologetically across the table.
"Discussion," Frank corrected.
"Semantics," Joe retorted, beginning to collect everyone's empty plates.
Nancy pushed back her own chair. "In the meantime, Cal, I'd love to take a peek at the progress in the baby's room."
As she had hoped, Callie's face lit up immediately. "Yes, come look! You won't even recognize it anymore."
..
Callie had not been exaggerating. The nursery, which had lingered for months in a state of creative chaos, had undergone a remarkable transformation. Gone were the woodworking tools and paint cans, the dusty footprints and un-hung canvases, the boxes of baby clothes and toys. Now the floorboards gleamed and the freshly-painted walls were adorned with Callie's artwork. The crib and changing table, a second-hand set once covered in multiple layers of peeling paint, had been sanded down to the natural wood and given a light coat of varnish. Toys, books, and a cozy rocking chair sat waiting.
"It's perfect," Nancy breathed, running a reverent hand along the glossy grain of the crib rail.
"I know he'll probably sleep in the cradle in our room for the first few months, but it feels good to have this room finished," Callie said.
Nancy nodded. "I can imagine. Now the only thing missing is Miles himself."
"I've told him to stay put awhile longer," Callie said quickly. "He can't come until this case is wrapped up, at least. We don't want to disappoint Uncle Joe."
"Uncle Joe would forget he even had a case the second he heard the baby was coming," Nancy said.
"I know." Callie sighed. "But they really miss working together. I am determined not to take this chance away from them."
I am determined not to take this chance away from them. Nancy frowned. Self-deprecation was nothing new for Callie; but Nancy could not shake the feeling that she was missing something.
While she had been pondering, Callie had crossed the room to settle into the rocking chair. Now, despite the warmth of the room, she pulled the folded quilt off the chair's arm and into her lap.
"What a beautiful quilt. Is it an heirloom?" Nancy asked, in an attempt to regain her focus.
"My grandmother made it," Callie said, smoothing the faded fabric fondly. "Mom stopped by yesterday to give it to me."
Raising an eyebrow, Nancy asked, "As an olive branch, or a Trojan horse?" Callie's relationship with her parents, which had been built over some deep emotional fault lines, was still recovering from the seismic activity triggered by her pregnancy and marriage; and while Nancy was confident that Callie would have confided in her if she were having any new problems with them, she still felt the need to ask.
"A little of both, I think," Callie admitted. "She was kind, though. Or at least she tried to be. She dropped a few hints about being in the delivery room when the time comes."
"She didn't," Nancy said, aghast.
"I told her we'd give her a call when the baby and I are ready for visitors," Callie said.
"I think that was a wise decision," Nancy said.
"I hope so." Callie sighed and let her gaze drop back to the quilt in her lap.
I am determined not to take this chance away from them, Nancy thought again, with a sudden flash of insight. We don't want to disappoint Uncle Joe. There's no reason that Miles and I should hold you back. I am determined not to take this chance away...there's the pattern. There it was: the new strand of insecurity laid over her old, familiar pattern of self-doubt; the fear that she was an obligation to Frank, that the companionship and family life she offered were second best to the life he could have led without her.
"You're frowning," Callie said. Though her voice was soft, Nancy jumped. "What's wrong? Is it Vanessa? I'm sorry, I should have told you I knew she was back."
"No, it's nothing to do with her," Nancy said. She hesitated a moment, turned away to straighten the large stuffed cow which sat on the dresser, and finally blurted out her thought.
"I wish you didn't still believe that your baby is an inconvenience."
Callie made no reply. Nancy did not turn to look at her. Instead, she scowled at the cow, which had tilted to one side again, and gave it a half-hearted poke.
"I didn't say he is an inconvenience. I said you're afraid that he is," she clarified.
"Aren't babies the definition of inconvenience? Between the erratic sleep cycles and the constant hunger..." Callie's voice trailed off. Clearly, her heart was not in her attempt at humor. "Josephine never sits up straight. Don't waste your time," she said instead.
Nancy prodded the cow upright again anyway. "Am I wrong?"
"No, damn you," Callie huffed. "You're right."
"I'm sorry," Nancy said, turning her back on the recalcitrant cow.
"Look at me," Callie went on. She moved her feet off the ottoman and gestured for Nancy to sit before pointing at her stomach. "There's no hiding this. My body is the one growing him. My body is the one demanding food and rest and extra medical attention. It's easy for me to feel like a burden."
"So you told Frank to go." Nancy settled herself and pulled Callie's feet into her lap.
Callie nodded. "So I told him to go."
"And if you were to be honest?" Nancy inquired, dragging her thumb slowly and firmly along Callie's instep. The flesh covering the delicate bones of her foot was soft and slightly swollen. "Do you want him to stay home?"
"Yes and no," Callie said thoughtfully. "Mmm. That feels good."
She was quiet for a moment.
"Yes and no?" Nancy prompted.
"Oh. Well, having a few days all to myself before the baby comes sounds amazing. But on the other hand..." She blushed. "I wasn't joking, earlier. I really can't keep my hands off him lately. Don't laugh!"
"The camp isn't that far away. If the case drags on too long you can always give him a call," Nancy said mischievously.
"You want me to booty call my own husband?" Callie's voice rose indignantly.
"I didn't phrase it that way!" Nancy protested through her laughter.
"Hmph," Callie said in mock indignation. She poked Nancy's thigh with her other foot. "Hey. We have to talk about Vanessa. I should have told you she had moved back. I feel guilty."
"Don't be ridiculous," Nancy said lightly. "Your friendship with her is none of my business."
"It's not not your business. And anyway- " Callie winced and shifted in her chair, pressing a hand to her side.
"Callie?"
"Braxton Hicks."
Nancy let out a relieved breath. "Don't scare me like that. You were saying?"
"Oh...oh, right. I was saying that I'm not sure I'd call it a friendship these days. She friended me on Facebook when she first moved back, and we talked a little, but that petered out as soon as she found a boyfriend."
"Were you surprised that she reached out to Frank about this case?"
"Yes, at first. But the more I think about it, the less surprised I get. It's a classic Vanessa move."
"A power play?" Nancy guessed.
"Maybe, a little bit." Callie looked uncertain. "She's hard to explain. She's...well, she likes attention. She likes to organize things, announce big news, know things before other people find out...does that make sense?"
Nancy nodded. "I know the type."
"What bothers me is that she went out of her way to get Joe to work on this case. He's not the only private detective in the world, you know?" Callie said.
"Maybe the boyfriend didn't work out," Nancy said dryly.
Callie snorted. "He told her about you, right?"
"He told her I'm his partner. She can interpret that however she chooses."
"She'll figure it out the first time she sees you together."
"So I don't need to pack my 'Back off, bitch, he's mine' t-shirt?" Nancy quipped.
"You can borrow my label maker if you'd like to make up a batch of 'Property of Nancy Drew' stickers," Frank's deep voice, full of amusement, chimed in from the doorway. Both women looked up, startled.
"Or I could take the easy route and write it across his forehead in permanent marker," Nancy retorted.
"You could, but I think that might compromise our undercover identities," Frank replied.
"Our identities?" Nancy repeated, raising an eyebrow at him.
"You're going!" Callie exclaimed.
Frank nodded. "It was three against one. How could I withstand that amount of pressure?"
"I'm so glad!" Nancy told him. Despite his flippant words, she read satisfaction and eagerness in his eyes.
"So am I," Callie added. "Joe must be ecstatic."
"I think he's helping himself to a celebratory second round of cake," Frank said with a grin.
"He's eating cake without me?" Callie yelped, scrambling out of her chair.
"We'd better hurry, too, before they eat it all," Frank commented.
"It might already be too late," Nancy joked. She had no desire for a second slice of cake so soon, but she gave the nursery a last admiring glance and followed Frank anyway.
In the kitchen, Callie was eating cake while Joe stirred cream into a mug of coffee. He held it out when he spotted Nancy.
"Mmm. Thanks," she murmured, taking a sip and offering the mug back.
"No, that's for you. If I'd made that for myself there would be a lot more sugar in it."
"Thank you!" Nancy took another sip and stretched up for what was meant to be a quick kiss. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close.
"Not so fast," Joe said, brushing his fingertips along her cheekbone and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before kissing her again. "I'll never understand how something that tastes so bitter in a cup tastes so sweet on your lips."
A groan from Callie dissolved the tenderness of the moment. "Nancy, honey, please tell me you don't fall for cheesy lines like that."
"Hey. You're in no position to judge, Ms. Overshares-at-the-dinner-table," Joe shot back.
"Play nice, children," Nancy remonstrated, moving toward the sink.
"They're not listening," Frank commented. He had been leaning against the counter with his hands in his pockets. Now he straightened up and took a decisive step her way.
"Don't touch those dishes, Drew."
"As if anyone raised by Hannah Gruen could ignore unwashed dishes," she scoffed.
"Yeah, it sounds about as unlikely as anyone raised by Laura Hardy standing around while a guest does all the work," Frank retorted. He bumped her lightly with his shoulder, crowding her playfully but firmly away from the sink.
"I hardly count as a guest," she protested.
"Too bad. Get out of here."
"Fine!" Nancy said with mock peevishness. "Let the record show that I made an effort. I'm going to drink my coffee on the deck with a clear conscience." And lifting her chin in a parody of stately vexation, she collected her mug and sailed gracefully out of the room- past Frank and the dishes, past the still-bickering Joe and Callie, through the sliding glass doors and onto the deck.
.
Outside, orange-hued sunset rays draped the world in soft and unoppressive warmth. The scents of lilac and fresh-cut grass drifted up from the yard below, mingling with the clean, herbal perfumes of the rosemary, mint, basil, and lavender growing in pots nearby. Nancy set her coffee on the broad railing, closed her eyes, and inhaled slowly, gratefully absorbing the peace of her surroundings.
"Penny for your thoughts."
The voice was not overly loud, but Nancy jumped, sending a miniature tidal wave of coffee sloshing over the rim of her mug.
"Frank!" she said reproachfully. "Weren't you doing the dishes?"
"They're done," he said. "It only takes a minute to load the dishwasher."
Shaking a few stray drops of coffee off her fingers, Nancy glanced sideways, trying to get a read on Frank's intentions. His posture was relaxed, his dark eyes as inscrutable as ever.
"You seemed pretty far away. Everything all right?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm just thinking."
"About?"
"Two women who deserved better," Nancy said simply. It was the truth. Though the day had brought almost too many things to ponder- Ned's confession, Camille's hints about grandchildren, Vanessa's dubious motives- in the end it was Elizabeth Langley's bones and Elizabeth Marvin-Kim's grief which lay heaviest on her mind.
As she had expected, Frank did not press her for any further explanation. He simply nodded, acknowledging that she was processing her thoughts, and joined her in looking out across his sun-warmed lawn.
He is not as relaxed as he's pretending to be, Nancy thought, sneaking another glance at the man lounging beside her. She catalogued the details with the ease of long practice: elbows planted on the railing, mug cupped between his hands, face turned toward the sunset, bare feet making him look younger and carefree. It was almost convincing.
Nancy sighed. "What's up?" she asked abruptly.
"Nothing." Frank looked startled by her tone.
"Liar," Nancy said, without heat. She looked pointedly at his hands. Despite having invested an admirable amount of energy over the years in ridding himself of tells, there was one he had yet to shake: the tapping. Pre-marriage, he had clicked a pen or drummed his fingers when deep in thought. These days he tended to tap his wedding ring against whatever hard surface was at hand. The movement was subtle, controlled, like the twitching of a cat's tail before it pounced- but tonight, the repeated metallic clink of gold against ceramic was rapidly setting fire to Nancy's frayed nerves.
"What's on your mind?" she asked again.
Setting his mug aside, Frank spread his hands out palm-down on the railing, pressing his fingers lightly against the wood as though to hold them still. Characteristically, he came right to the point. "How do you feel about working for Vanessa?"
"We're all adults, Frank. I don't think it will be an issue. Do you disagree?"
Frank shrugged.
What is he not saying? Nancy wondered. Does he not trust me to be professional? Does he not trust Vanessa?
Aloud, she said "If you don't want to do this, you really shouldn't have told Joe- "
"No, no. I'm all in," he assured her hastily.
Have I ever actually heard him voice an opinion of Vanessa Bender?
"We don't usually spend much time with the client," she said neutrally, probing for a reaction.
"As Aunt Gertrude would say, thank heaven for small mercies," Frank said. He took a sip of his coffee. "I never liked her," he said bluntly. "That's what you're fishing for, right?"
"Forewarned is forearmed," Nancy said. "I never knew her well, and I'd like to know what I'm getting into."
Out on the quiet, dew-dampening lawn, the first few fireflies blinked.
"She was bad for him," Frank said finally. "To be fair, I think he was bad for her, too. But he had a lot of shit to work through back then. He was in no shape to be in a relationship, especially with someone like her. She..." He hesitated, obviously attempting to shape his feelings into words. "She pulled him away from his family and his friends at a time when he needed us. She encouraged all his most self-destructive impulses. She's self-centered and a little vain, and she can be manipulative. But she's also intelligent, funny, and very talented at reading people."
"Hence the manipulation," Nancy said softly.
Frank nodded. "Yeah." When he glanced at her, his brown eyes were steady and serious. "I do like you, Nan."
"I'm glad to hear it, considering we've been friends for most of our lives," Nancy teased.
"You know what I mean. He's better, with you. Not that he wasn't fine without you, but...oh, hell, you know what I mean."
Nancy laughed. "I get it, Frank."
Behind them, the sliding door whooshed open suddenly. Callie and Joe spilled out onto the deck in a swirl of cooler air from inside the house.
"Hey, stranger," Joe said, hopping up to sit on the railing beside Nancy.
"Hey, yourself," she retorted. "Don't tell me you two finished that whole cake already."
"No, but we did some damage to it," Joe said, looking satisfied.
"Yeah, we did," Callie said, leaning over to high-five her brother-in-law. "Thanks for not leaving me to eat cake straight off the platter like an animal all by myself."
"What are brothers for? I'll eat cake with you anytime," Joe promised.
"So, boss, when do I report for duty?" Frank asked, wrapping an arm around Callie's shoulders.
"How does Sunday morning sound?" Joe suggested. "That gives us all day tomorrow to get packed and prepped."
"Sure. It's short notice, but I think I can swing it," Frank said. "You'll work out the details with Vanessa?" He raised an eyebrow, waiting for his brother's nod.
"Yeah, I'll handle it. In the meantime, you should give Collig a call about taking some leave."
"Should you be using up leave time now?" Nancy asked Frank. That had not occurred to her earlier.
"It's fine. I have a lot saved up," he assured her.
"More than he can realistically use," Callie seconded.
Nancy swallowed the last of her coffee and leaned lightly against Joe. It was fully dusk, now, and firefly constellations spangled the treeline. When he rested a hand on her shoulder, she shivered.
"Cold?" he murmured.
Nancy shook her head. The shiver which had passed through her had nothing to do with temperature, and everything to do with his touch. Light and brief as it had been, it had nevertheless stirred up a faint, delicious ripple of awareness and need, an echo of the desire they had felt that afternoon. The look in Joe's eyes, a fire banked but still burning, told her that he had felt it too.
"Ready to head home?" she asked softly.
He nodded and hopped down from his perch on the railing. "Ready."