Chapter 8: Domestic Interlude

A/N: This is a long one. Mainly fluff, but a lot of little things here lay the foundation for later events. There's a bit of Adult Interaction at the end so skip that if it's not your cup of tea. Though...if it's not, why are you reading an M-rated fic? :) I apologize for taking so long to update. There's been a lot going on, and this chapter fought me the whole way. Mystery should pick up again in Ch. 9.

Nancy was just sprinkling the last of the crumb topping mixture over her cinnamon-sugar-coated apples when Mrs. Hardy let herself into her boys' apartment. She was carrying her purse and a tote bag and a large, covered casserole dish.

"Hello, everyone," she called, pushing the door closed with her elbow.

"Mom, give me that!" Joe scolded, hurrying over to relieve her of her baggage. "We didn't hear you pull up. You should have honked the horn at us or something."

"I'm not a doddering old crone just yet," Laura said, sending him off toward the kitchen with a kiss on the cheek and a swat on his rear. "Nancy, is that an apple crisp? It looks divine."

"It was all my idea," Frank joked, bending to kiss his mother.

"Oh, I'm sure," she said. "Will Callie be joining us, sweetie?"

"No, she already had plans to eat with her parents tonight."

Joe was rummaging in the tote bag, setting out a line of ingredients on the countertop. "Holy cow, Mom. You brought half your kitchen!"

"We could have come over," Frank chided his mother gently. "You didn't have to go to all this trouble."

"I thought things would be a little more relaxed over here," Laura said, moving toward the sink to wash her hands. "And it wasn't much trouble. I just tossed everything in my bag and hopped in the car."

"How can we help, Mrs. Hardy?" Nancy asked.

"Well..." The older woman looked around, considering. "Would you like to chop the vegetables for a salad? And boys, remind me again which cabinet your pans are in."

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The kitchen is the heart of the home, Hannah liked to say, and Nancy had never believed it more than at this moment. She and Frank were chopping vegetables and Mrs. Hardy was pottering about, sliding her lasagna into the oven to warm and slicing a loaf to make garlic bread, and Joe had hopped up to sit on the kitchen island and join in the flow of conversation; and through the chatter and the activity Nancy could feel joy pulsing like a steady heartbeat.

The Hardys and Nancy had just sat down to a delicious-looking meal when Chet Morton walked in.

"Hi, folks," he said cheerfully.

"Chet, you're a little early," Frank teased their friend, who was famous for his uncanny knack of showing up just when dessert was being served. "Your radar must need recalibration."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chet said with tremendous dignity, taking the empty chair next to Frank.

"Come on in. Have a seat," Joe said sarcastically.

"Don't you mind him, Chet. You're welcome to join us," Laura Hardy said, already passing him the salad.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hardy. Everything looks delicious."

"I know you didn't come out here just to eat our food. What's up?" Frank said.

Chet pointed his fork at Joe. "He stopped answering my texts."

"Oh, for crying out loud. Chet, there's only so many ways I can say 'grow a pair and ask her.' "

"It's not that simple!" And Chet was off, spouting off a complicated story involving the new salesgirl at the company where Morton & Swift Automotive bought their vintage and foreign car parts, who had been flirting with him over the phone for a few months but who may or may not have a boyfriend, and whom he had finally met in person this morning.

"She's gorgeous," Chet finished glumly. "And she's probably just a very friendly person. I don't want to come across as some perv who can't understand a girl being friendly, you know?"

"If your instincts say she was flirting, why not go for it?" Nancy said. She exchanged a quick glance with Joe. They both knew that Chet still saw himself as the overweight and bumbling boy all the girls had laughed at in high school, rather than the fit, successful business owner he had become.

"But what if I'm wrong?" Chet asked.

Joe was right. He is overthinking. "Then she says no and you both move on," Nancy told him. "She won't think you're a creep unless you act like one."

"Nancy is right, Chet," Mrs. Hardy said. "You're both adults. What's so embarrassing about asking her to have a cup of coffee with you sometime?"

"Thank you, ladies. When you put it that way, it makes sense." Chet glared at Joe again. "And that is all I needed from you, Little Hardy. Would that have been so hard?"

Joe raises his hands defensively. "I'm pretty sure I told you the same thing. You just didn't want to hear it from me."

"In his defense, Chet, I kept him pretty busy all afternoon," Nancy said, passing Chet another helping of lasagna.

"Busy?" Frank snorted. "When I got home you two were making out on the couch like teenagers."

"It's all part of the process," Joe said, unabashed.

"We have a new case," Nancy explained.

"Are you free to talk about it?" Mrs. Hardy asked. Nancy wondered for a moment whether it were politeness or genuine curiousity. Surely after all these years she had to be sick of mysteries! Or maybe this is where the boys get their boundless curiousity. Courage and dogged intelligence from Fenton, people skills and desire for answers from Laura.

Joe had just begun to tell his mother about the murder when the door banged open again and Callie stormed in. Her cheeks were red with more than the cold and her eyes glittered angrily.

"Callie?" Frank said, rising to meet her. Chet stood up too and went to grab a plate for Callie and a stool for himself to sit on.

Callie tossed her coat over the back of a chair. "Hi, everybody," she said, stalking toward the kitchen.

"Callie, what's wrong?" Laura Hardy asked, setting down her fork.

"Do you want the good news or the bad news first?" Callie said, allowing Frank to seat her in Chet's vacated chair. She waved a hand at Chet. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not sure I can eat right now."

"Just in case." Frank accepted the plate and a set of utensils from Chet and sat down. "I'll take the bad news," he said. "And I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that you told your parents about the baby."

"I just wanted them to be happy for me!" Callie said. She was trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow. Frank pulled her close, trying to steady her, though his own jaw was tense with anger.

"I told you we needed to tell them together," he said.

"I know. I'm sorry. It just came out."

Nancy was feeling terribly awkward and was glad when Mrs. Hardy spoke up. "What did they say, sweetheart?"

Callie lifted her head from Frank's shoulder. "I'm a disgrace. They have no daughter anymore. I'd better not come crawling back to them for help after Frank walks out on me. Among other things."

"When I walk out on you?" Frank repeated angrily. "Why would they think I would do that?"

Joe was angry, too, his blue eyes dark and dangerous. "They disowned you for giving them a grandchild?"

"I'm not surprised. I've been on thin ice with them ever since my roommate let it slip that I spend so many nights here." Callie laughed, a short, mirthless sound. "At least our wedding guest list just got a lot shorter. We might come in under budget after all."

Mrs. Hardy was frowning. "Callie, if this isn't too big an intrusion, Fenton and I would like to meet with your parents about this."

"I don't know if they'll hear you out. But I really appreciate the offer." Callie turned back to Frank. "Ready for the good news?"

"Sure," he said.

"The realtor called me right before I went to my parents' house."

"Don't tell me," Frank started, and Callie put a finger to his lips to silence him.

"I said it was good news, hon. We got the house."

Frank sat for a moment, stunned. "We got the house? They accepted our offer?"

"Yes!" Callie said, laughing for real this time. "We have a house!"

"Congratulations, you two!" Nancy cried.

"Yes, congratulations. That's wonderful news," Mrs. Hardy said warmly.

Frank, who had been kissing Callie, broke away to look at his brother. "Joe, aren't you going to congratulate us?"

"Congratulations," Joe said quietly.

"You knew we were house-hunting," Frank said.

"Yeah, I knew, but I thought it would take a little longer. I'm gonna miss you guys. But I really am happy for you."

"I think I know how to make you feel happier," Callie told him. "Think about how much babies cry. And think about how small this apartment is."

Joe grinned. "Suddenly, a nice, quiet, empty apartment isn't sounding so bad."

"You could always move in with Chet," Frank joked.

"No way," their friend said immediately.

Joe clutched his heart as if grasping an imaginary dagger. "Chet. I'm hurt."

"I like living alone. Nobody messes with my kitchen and I have an entire extra bedroom for storage."

"Do you really need that much storage space?" Mrs. Hardy asked curiously.

"Absolutely," Chet said earnestly. "I've picked up a lot of hobbies over the years, and sometimes the equipment is pretty bulky."

"Yeah, like that propeller sled," Joe teased.

"And all the taxidermy squirrels," Frank added.

"Don't forget the video equipment," Joe said.

"There's nothing wrong with having an inquisitive mind," Mrs. Hardy said, cutting short the brothers' friendly ribbing. "Heaven knows you boys picked up your fair share of hobbies, too. I think the state of our barn can attest to that."

"Yeah, but our stuff was always useful. Chet's tried everything from hula dancing to airplane building," Joe pointed out.

"I never hula danced. And how many times did my expertise save your investigation?" Chet shot back.

"The man has a point, Joe," Frank said, shrugging.

"Anyway, the point is, I like my independence. And I bet you will too, when you get used to it."

At that point Callie, who had tried a bite of Frank's lasagna, suddenly bolted from the table. Without a word Frank went to the kitchen and returned with a glass of ginger ale and a sleeve of crackers.
"She's been having trouble keeping food down," he said unnecessarily.

"Oh, the poor girl," Mrs. Hardy said. "I remember that stage. I lived on plain pasta and peppermint tea for about four months when I was pregnant with Joe."

"That sounds horrible," Nancy said. "I remember how sick Bess was with her first pregnancy. It seems so unfair not to be able to eat at a time when you need good nutrition more than ever."

Frank looked startled. "I hadn't thought of it that way. I wish I could help more."

Laura Hardy reached out to pat her son's hand. "You're doing all the right things, sweetie."

"I'm so sorry," Callie said, returning to the table. "Mrs. Hardy, you know I love your cooking, but-"

"Trust me, sweetheart, I understand," Laura Hardy said kindly. "Don't feel obliged to sit the meal out with us. We won't be the least bit offended if you want to leave the table."

Callie took a cautious sip of her ginger ale, squeezing Frank's hand in thanks. "It's not the sight or the smell that bother me. I just can't put it in my mouth," she said unhappily.

"The torment of Tantalus!" Chet said, shuddering.

"Those seasickness wristbands are supposed to help," Joe said offhandedly, reaching for another slice of garlic bread. Every head at the table swiveled toward him as one.

"That is an odd piece of information for you to have," Frank said.

Joe just grinned. "It's my business to know odd bits of information," he said cheerfully.

From that point on the meal proceeded exactly the way Sunday's dinner should have, with good food and pleasant conversation and warm companionship: in short, everything needed to nourish the soul as well as the body. Even Nancy, whose restless mind was always running through the facts of her current mystery, felt at peace.

After the meal, Nancy waved Mrs. Hardy and her sons out of the kitchen. "I'll take care of the dishes," she said firmly. "Go spend a little time together."

"I won't argue with that," Mrs. Hardy said with a smile. "Come on, boys."

"I'll help," Chet offered, lingering behind. "It's the least I can do after crashing the party."

Nancy closed the oven door on her apple crisp and set a timer. "Thanks, Chet. I'll wash, you dry. Cal, are you all right?"

Callie, who was still seated at the table, nodded and lifted her glass in a sort of vague salute. "I'm all right. Just taking it slow," she said. She looked very tired. Nancy, who suspected that the brave face her friend had put on after telling her news was only a front, was tempted to pry. But with Chet in the room, she held her tongue. Knowing Callie, the girl would open up to her later that evening.

"Okay. Please let me know if you need anything," Nancy said, pulling on a large pair of pink rubber gloves. Chet snickered.

"Not a word, Chet. They keep my stitches dry."

"Oh, I wasn't going to make fun of you," Chet said. "I was going to say, shouldn't you ask before borrowing Frank's gloves?"

"Ha ha," Frank called acerbically from the living room.

Between the two of them, Nancy and Chet had the dishes washed and the kitchen tidied up by the time the oven timer beeped. Together they made up a tray with the coffee pot and dishes of hot apple crisp topped with large scoops of vanilla ice cream, and carried it out to the living room.

"Dessert is ready!" Nancy announced. "Callie, would you like any?"

Callie cast a longing look at the confection. "No, thanks. I'm going to go change into something comfy."

By the time she reappeared, clad in yoga pants and an oversized hoodie belonging to Frank, only Nancy and Laura remained in the apartment.

"Where did everybody go?" she asked, curling up in the armchair Joe had vacated.

"They've all gone outside," Mrs. Hardy told her, "to poke their heads under the hood of every vehicle in the driveway and to take a look at Joe's new toy."

"Oh, the rusty motorcycle parts," Callie said.

"Don't let him hear you call it that. It's a 1943 Indian Scout," Nancy said lightly. "Or it will be, when he's finished with it."

"Joey's wanted one of those for ages," Mrs. Hardy said, sipping her coffee. "I'm glad he finally tracked one down."

Callie was shaking her head. "I love Joe dearly, but I'm so glad it's not my job to keep up with his projects. But I guess it's easier for you, Nan, since you understand that stuff."

"Motorcycles are not my area of expertise," Nancy said. "But Dad made sure I was familiar enough with engines to take care of maintenance and minor repairs. He told me that if I was determined to go driving all around the country on my own I should not be dependent on anyone else to fix my car for me."

"Your father is a very wise man," Mrs. Hardy said. She rose reluctantly, gathering her own and Nancy's empty coffee cups. "I suppose I'd better start getting my things together."

Nancy waited until the older woman had busied herself in the kitchen before scooting down to the corner of the couch closest to Callie's chair. She leaned forward, looking her friend in the face. "Callie, are you really okay?"

"I'm...I don't know, Nancy." Callie sighed. "I'm overwhelmed. I have the wedding to plan, I've just been disowned, and I've been living on saltines and toast for three days. I feel...oh, Nan, I'm sick and exhausted and angry and sad and it's just too much."

"You can talk to us about all of that. You don't need to put on your brave face," Nancy said softly, wedging herself into the chair to wrap Callie in a hug.

"I know," Callie said, wiping her eyes. "I'm sorry. All I've done since Sunday night is cry."

"Don't you worry about that. We're all here for you," Nancy said.

Mrs. Hardy had returned to the living room. She set her tote bag on the coffee table next to her purse and sat down again on the couch. "You're the same age as Frank, aren't you?"

Callie nodded. "Yes. I'm 25."

"I was 25 when I found out I was expecting Frank," Mrs. Hardy said. "Fenton and I had been married for six years by then, and we really thought we just weren't going to have any children. And I remember just sitting there on the exam table after the doctor had given us the news, too stunned to move."

"You...you weren't happy?" Callie asked cautiously.

"Sweetie, I was terrified. We had come to terms with our life together, and I just couldn't see how would a baby fit in. Fenton was gone more than he was home back then. I was teaching elementary school, and I didn't want to give that up to stay home. Especially since in Fenton's line of work it was always possible that I'd be left to support myself one day. Thank God, that possibility never became a reality." She was a little teary-eyed at this point, but she smiled. "And then Frank was born, and oh, Callie, he was just perfect. I couldn't imagine life without him, or without Joe. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that life is infinitely adaptable. Everything seems to be upside down right now, but I promise it will all fall into place."

"I want to believe that," Callie said, reaching for another tissue. "Thank you. Both of you."

The earnest sweetness of the moment was broken by the sudden noisy return of Frank and Joe and Chet, carrying an assortment of tools. Frank came in to give Callie a kiss; Chet and Joe went to grab some beers from the refrigerator.

Mrs. Hardy stood up. "I'd better be going, boys and girls. My bedtime comes around much sooner than yours. Thank you for a very enjoyable evening."

"Thank you for a delicious dinner!" Frank said, and Joe set down his beer to engulf her in an exuberant hug.

"Yes, thanks," he echoed. "Next time we'll cook for you."

"It's a deal," Laura Hardy said, smiling.

Her boys walked her out to her car. Chet had vanished into Joe's room with what looked like a soldering gun. Nancy disregarded this as nothing out of the ordinary and slid back onto the couch, facing Callie.

"So, Cal. Out of all the things you listed earlier, there is one thing you have some control over."

"Wedding planning?" Callie said. She was looking a little less strained.

"Yup. So, what can I help you with?"

Callie hesitated. "Well," she said finally, "I need to go dress shopping all over again. By June I'm going to be as big as the chapel and there's no way my dress is going to fit."

"Oh, no," Nancy said. "You love that dress. It's perfect."

"I know," Callie groaned. "But you've seen it. There's no way I'm going to be able to squeeze myself and a passenger into that thing."

"All right," Nancy said, grabbing Joe's laptop off the side table and talking while she typed in a search. "Maternity wedding gowns."

"I looked at some yesterday. They look like nightgowns," Callie said miserably.

"Okay. What if you postpone the wedding until the fall? You should be due in..." Nancy did some quick calculations. "August, right?"

Callie looked at her wearily. "I'm still not going to be the right size for my dress. There's no way. And I'm not walking down the aisle holding a baby instead of a bouquet. Plus, we put a deposit on the reception venue, and we both already got our vacation time approved for the honeymoon, and- "

"Okay," Nancy interrupted. "Okay. June it is. And we're going to find you a dress, and you're going to be radiant."

Callie reluctantly cracked a smile. "I'm sorry. I'm being such a brat about this. It's just, I'm trying to imagine Frank's face. You know that look the groom always gets, when the bride steps into view?"

Nancy nodded. "Yes! They light up." She looked at her friend. "You're afraid Frank isn't going to look at you like that."

"I'm not going to look pretty," Callie said. "I'm going to be bloated and wearing a chiffon tent."

"Then don't wear a tent," Nancy said suddenly, clicking on a different category of wedding gown.

"What? No, Nan, I told you, I'll be huge by then."

"Everyone is going to know you're pregnant. There's no point trying to hide it. So why not wear something beautiful?"

Callie gasped. "That is stunning. But-"

"Cal. No buts. All you need is a good seamstress and a healthy dose of confidence."

They both gazed for a moment at the gown on the screen, a beautiful vintage-looking lace sheath. Then Callie sighed.

"You're right."

"When Bess gets back I'm sure she'll have more insights. But we've made some progress, right?"

"We absolutely have. Thanks, Nan."

"You're welcome. I don't want to cut this short, but you look like you're ready to call it a night."

"I'm tired," Callie agreed. She rose to go, but hesitated. "Thanks for everything. Everyone has been so supportive and I don't know what I would do without you."

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Frank and Chet were still in Joe's room. The brothers and their friend were both leaning over Joe's desk, tinkering with something involving a lot of wires and dials, talking and gesturing and arguing in a friendly way about the best way to do the job. Nancy paused in the doorway and smiled.

"Hi," Frank said after a moment, glancing back at her. "Want us to get out?"

"No, no. You guys go ahead. I'm just going to grab my book and go read in the living room for a bit."

The Hardys' couch was very comfortable, and Nancy was more tired than she had realized. She read only a page or two before the temptation to rest her eyes became irresistible. When she opened them again the house was quiet and dark and someone was kneeling by the side of the couch. Nancy half-sat, her book sliding off her stomach and landing with a muffled thump on the rug.

"Joe?"

"Shh. It's me." His arms slid under her, strong and warm, and he lifted her as though she were a child. "I didn't mean to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"A little after twelve."

Nancy snuggled against his bare chest. "Did Chet just leave?"

"About 15 minutes ago." He set her down in the bed, helping her pull up the blankets.

"Thanks," she murmured, twining her arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. "Did you guys finish what you were working on?"

"We were just tinkering." He slid in beside her and lay back, pulling her close to his side. Nancy lay her head down over his heart and listened to it thump away for a few minutes. She had been terribly drowsy earlier, but now she was wide awake.

"Joe," she said finally.

"Nan?" He sounded awake, too.

"I love this. Being with you. I'm really happy."

Joe smiled in the dark. She could feel it. "I'm happy too," he said, pulling her fully on top of him so he could look into her face in the faint glow from the streetlight outside his window. And Nancy melted into him, her lips seeking his and her arms wrapping tight around his lean body and her pelvis cradling his. She could feel the heat flaring there, pulsing like his heartbeat; she pressed into him, shifting, fitting herself against him like a puzzle piece slipping into place. There. Oh, right there.

Joe ran strong hands through her hair, along the curve of her hip and thigh, pulling her snug against him. His hand wove through her hair again, cupping the back of her skull, pulling her down for a kiss.
"Not too tired to play?" he whispered.

Nancy bit his lower lip, knowing what it did to him. "Who's tired?" she murmured back.

"Where were we, earlier?" Joe said, reaching for her bra. Nancy twisted away.

"Not so fast, Hardy." One more soft kiss and she broke away to slide down his body, kissing his chest, nipping at his taut belly, licking her way delicately lower. Joe's delighted gasp filled the warm darkness.

"Nancy. Fuck, yes."

He looked so beautiful given over to pleasure, all his guards lowered, that she was tempted to stay where she was all night. But a growing spark of mischief within her drove her to crawl back up to kneel on the bed beside him and begin undressing with deliberate, maddening slowness.

Joe reached for her, and Nancy gently swatted his hand away. "Patience, Joseph."

"Not my strong point." She was shimmying out of her bra, slowly, one strap at a time. He reached for her again, and she swatted him a little less gently.

"That's your second warning. Do that again and I'm going to get the handcuffs," she said sternly.

"That's a shame," Joe said, "because I do not feel inclined to behave tonight." And suddenly he dove for her, wrapping her in his arms and tackling her playfully onto the bed. He was more than a match for her in both weight and strength; but after a brief wrestling match he allowed himself to be overpowered.

"You have the right to remain silent," Nancy said, leaning in to kiss him and to cuff his right hand to the bed.

"Just the one?"

"For now. We'll see how you behave."

"No promises," Joe said rakishly, and Nancy promptly used her knee to pin down his left hand.

"That's better," she said, kissing him again. "Now. Where were we?"