Chapter Twenty-Seven: After the Wedding
Laura was the first to speak. "Well," she said briskly, turning back toward the house. "That's that, then. They're really married."
"And we're left with the dishes," Gertrude concluded pragmatically.
"I can help with those," Margaret Shaw offered hesitantly.
"I don't ordinarily like to put my guests to work," Laura said. "But since you're family now, I'll take you up on that offer."
Charles, who was following Fenton toward the living room, made a sound that may have been a snort.
Don't, Nancy pleaded silently, catching Joe's eye. Sure enough, he had opened his mouth to say something to the older man; but he closed it, now, and stalked off into the kitchen. Nancy followed. The three older women were already there.
"I suppose I might as well start scrubbing," Gertrude announced to the room at large.
"Gertrude, you've done so much already. Why don't you go lie down for a bit?" Laura suggested gently.
Gertrude was not quite ready to relinquish her role as martyr. "Oh, I'm not sure I could rest, knowing I'd left the kitchen looking like this."
"Go on, Auntie. We've got this," Joe said, tying one of his mother's floral aprons on over his tux. He had already shed the jacket somewhere, and now he began rolling his shirt sleeves up to the elbow.
"Well..." Gertrude said slowly. "My head does ache. I think I will, if you're sure you can do without me."
Laura was definitely suppressing a laugh now. "If we need you, I'll come get you," she promised.
Gertrude paused as she passed near her nephew and added a final remark in a loud stage whisper. "That Drew hussy tried to wash some things already. You'll want to re-wash those."
"I'll use extra soap," Joe whispered back, reaching for a plate and inspecting it gravely.
"You're supposed to be on my side!" Nancy protested, once Gertrude was safely out of earshot.
"Joey, put that down. I'm sure Nancy did a fine job on those," Laura scolded.
"Hannah made sure I knew my way around a kitchen. That includes clean-up," Nancy said.
"Honey, you don't need to defend yourself to me," Laura told her. "Will you help me put away these leftovers, please?"
For a few minutes they worked in harmony: Nancy and Laura packing away the food, Margaret collecting dirty dishes, glasses, and utensils, Joe washing up. But before long Joe paused, cocking his head at Margaret.
"Is there something wrong?" he asked politely.
"N-no," she faltered, jerking her curious gaze off him.
Joe persisted. "Does my apron not match my shoes? Are you wondering how I hurt my head? Every time I look up, you're staring at me."
"I'm sorry. It's...it's odd to see a man washing dishes."
"Egads!" Joe yelped, holding up his sudsy hands in horror. "Is that what I'm doing? I thought I was changing the brake pads in Dad's car!"
Margaret looked uncertain how to handle this.
"My boys have been washing dishes from the time they could reach the sink," Laura said breezily. "They helped get them dirty, so it was only fair for them to help clean up."
"I just don't think- I mean, I would never expect Charles to help out in the kitchen," Margaret said after a moment. She was still looking at Joe with mingled curiosity and puzzlement. This was clearly a new perspective for her.
Nancy, meanwhile, had been in charge of transferring the cake from its plate to an airtight container. Now she squeezed in beside Joe at the sink, wiggling icing-smeared fingers at him.
"May I wash my hands? The cake fought back."
"And waste all that icing?" Joe asked.
"You're right! What was I thinking?" Nancy said, putting her index finger playfully to his lips. He leaned forward and caught it with his teeth, nibbling a little to make her squeal before sucking the icing off.
"Am I free to wash now?" Nancy asked, her eyes sparkling.
"I don't know. Do you have icing anywhere else?" Joe murmured back.
"Joseph! Not in front of the old folks," Laura admonished.
"Yes, Mother," he said meekly, making room for Nancy to wash her hands.
Laura held up a sealed freezer bag. "I assume these are the slices you set aside for Frank and Callie?"
"Yes. I wrapped them in foil and then put them in the bag. Hopefully it'll still taste good on their anniversary," Nancy said, drying her hands on Joe's apron.
"I hope so. It would be a shame if it didn't," Laura said, popping the bag into the freezer.
"It really was delicious," Margaret said. "Hannah always did have a knack for baking."
"I'll give her a call later and let her know how much we enjoyed it. I wish she would have joined us today," Laura said.
"You know Hannah. She didn't want to intrude," Nancy said. "But she'll be so happy to know that everyone enjoyed the cake."
"I'm so happy Callie was able to enjoy it," Laura added. "Is it my imagination or has she been feeling a little better lately, Nan?"
"She's doing much better. I think it's a combination of less stress and figuring out which foods to avoid," Nancy said.
"She was in bad shape this morning," Joe commented.
"Well, she was nervous," Nancy told him. She couldn't help but notice the pinched look on Margaret's face. She was prepared to overlook it. But to her surprise, Laura spoke up.
"Is something wrong, Margaret?"
"It's Callie," Margaret said. "It's hard seeing her struggle with the consequences of her bad decision."
Because Nancy had known Laura Hardy most of her life, she could pick up on her tells, the subtle changes in body language which indicated emotion. At this moment, it was clear to her that Laura was angry. Laura's gracious expression never flickered, though, and her voice remained as mild as ever.
"Oh, I wouldn't call it that," she said lightly.
Margaret shook her head. "What am I supposed to call it? I'm sorry, but I lack your naivete. I have no proof that your son is going to be a good father. I have no proof that he didn't pressure Callie into anything. She was a good girl until she met him."
At the sink, Joe made an odd noise, like he was choking back a laugh. "You're casting my brother as the bad boy in this little drama? Have you met Frank?"
"What am I supposed to think about a boy who runs all over the world, getting involved with the worst kinds of people, in total disregard of authority? Carrying on as though there were no adults working in law enforcement. Oh, no, the Hardy boys had to take it upon themselves to look after everyone else." Though soft, Margaret's voice was filled with contempt. "You've always acted above the law you claim to uphold. And I won't even go into the motorcycles, and the speedboat, and the flying...you run wild, that's all there is to it. My poor Callie is just one more thing Frank Hardy felt entitled to. Charles has pointed this out to Callie thousands of times over the years, but she won't listen."
"I'm sorry you feel that way, Margaret. All I can tell you is to wait and see. There's not a man on Earth more responsible and devoted than my Frank." Laura paused. "I wish you had been more forthcoming at dinner last week. I thought we had worked all of this out."
Margaret mumbled something inaudible.
"Family is family," Laura said sternly. "Maybe they got things a little out of order, but they certainly didn't do it to spite you. And you're going to miss out on a lot of precious things in life if you can't unbend a little and appreciate them."
No one had a reply to that. Margaret's face was flushed; Laura's was calm, still, but her eyes were sad. Joe finished up rinsing the last plate and shut off the water, leaving behind a silence like a vacuum. Nancy bit her tongue on the impulse to fill that vacuum, on the thousand inane sentences rushing through her mind, and waited.
"I think I'll put some coffee on," Laura said finally. "Would you like a cup, Margaret?"
It's an olive branch, Nancy realized. Laura was offering another chance to talk things out, to help Margaret ease her mind. But Margaret either did not understand the gesture, or was not ready to accept it.
"No, thank you," she said. "We won't impose on you any longer."
Laura did not argue. "Joe, will you please get our guests' coats?"
"Yes, ma'am. Gladly." Joe slipped silently from the room, tossing the apron over the back of a chair as he went.
Another stilted silence fell over the room. When Laura spoke again it was impulsively, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Whatever our differences, I hope you know that we love Callie as though she were our own. Please don't worry about her. And please, please, don't give up on her."
Before Margaret could answer, Charles was looming up in the doorway, pulling on his coat. "Ready, Meggie?"
She nodded and accepted her coat from Joe. The moment had passed. She shook Laura's hand stiffly.
"Thank you for having us."
"Yes, thanks for this. We'll be sure to have you folks over for cake and champagne when they get divorced," Charles said.
Laura closed the door on him, a bit harder than necessary.
"It's like rolling stones uphill, dealing with those people!" she exclaimed. "Oh, children, I may need something a little stronger than coffee."
"Would you like me to make margaritas? That was always Bess's prescription for dealing with stress," Nancy offered.
"No, thank you," Laura said. "At my age I shudder to imagine the hangover I'd have after mixing champagne and margaritas. And on Thanksgiving, no less. Joey, are you leaving too?"
Joe had indeed retrieved his own coat and Nancy's along with the Shaws'. Nancy could see restlessness in his eyes.
"If you're ready, Nan," he said, handing over her coat.
"Where's your dad?" Laura asked, measuring coffee into the coffee maker.
"Asleep in the recliner. So much for being a good host, right?" Joe said. He grinned, suddenly, for the first time since Margaret began her accusations. "Charlie was watching Family Feud out there."
Laura laughed outright. "Family Feud? How appropriate." She pushed the button to begin brewing her coffee. "I suppose I should let Fenton rest," she said wistfully, more to herself than to Nancy or Joe. Nancy felt a surge of guilt. Laura obviously wanted some company; and Nancy did not like the thought of leaving her alone in that house, which seemed so quiet and hollow now that the party was over.
"Joe, would you like a cup of coffee for the road?" she asked quietly, hoping he would catch her meaning.
"I guess that couldn't hurt," he said, nodding reluctantly at her behind his mother's back.
"Oh, no you don't," Laura said. "I know what you're doing. You're both very sweet, but I'll be fine. I'm planning to sit down with that coffee and call up Hannah for a nice long gab." She patted Nancy's shoulder. "Besides, I can tell you're worn out and Joe's ready to run. If you don't get him out of here soon he's going to start taking appliances apart or doing cartwheels across the dining room."
"I still say you should've joined the family business," Joe said admiringly.
"You do have good instincts," Nancy agreed.
Laura waved a hand at them. She had been busy at the counter, packing a few slices of cake into a small container. Now she handed this container to Joe. "Take your cake and go, you flatterers. I expect to see you both tomorrow afternoon."
"We wouldn't miss it," Joe said, leaning in to give his mother a kiss on the cheek. Laura grabbed him, while he was close, and pulled him in for a longer-than-usual hug. When she let go, Nancy saw tears on her face.
"My babies are all grown up," she said, patting Joe's cheek. "Nancy, come here. You get a hug too. Now run along, you two, and enjoy your evening."
-
In the driveway, Nancy wordlessly held out the keys and was relieved when Joe took them.
"You don't want to drive?" he asked.
"No, I'm not in the mood." She slid into the passenger seat, glancing at the dashboard clock. 4:30? It feels so much later than that.
"Now what?" she asked aloud, leaning her head back against the head rest. Outside her window, the sky was clouding up, the mild blue of that morning disappearing into what looked like more impending snow.
"Let's go bowling," Joe suggested.
"Bowling?" Nancy echoed unenthusiastically.
"Okay, what about ice skating?"
"We're not really dressed for it."
"So? Come on, Nan. Get out of your head and have some fun."
"If you want action, what we should really do is go take down our art exhibition," Nancy told him.
"But that's not fun."
Nancy sighed. "Okay, let's go skating. Do you think they'll even be open today?"
"Can't hurt to check," Joe said happily.
By the time they'd arrived at the skating rink and rented skates, Nancy had to admit she was feeling much livelier. The rink was surprisingly crowded for the day before Thanksgiving. Groups of teenagers flashed past, girls chatting, boys showing off. Parents inched along, holding the hands of wobbly children or calling out warnings to their more confident offspring. Nancy grabbed Joe's hand as they glided out onto the ice.
"Okay, I'll say it. You were right," she said.
"Told you so," Joe teased.
Nancy squeezed his hand. "You can go, if you'd rather go faster. I'm not feeling very ambitious right now." She was content to glide along at a moderate pace, enjoying the exertion and the crowd and the music and Joe's hand in hers. She was pleased when he squeezed back and shook his head.
"I like this," he said simply.
They skated along in happy silence for a few minutes. Then Nancy remembered something that had slipped to the back of her mind.
"Hey, Joe? I almost forgot. What did you give Frank, before they left?"
Joe's face lit up. He was clearly very pleased with himself. "Just a little something to make their night more interesting," he said.
Nancy groaned. "Please tell me you didn't get them a sex toy." Her voice was pitched low, but a passing teen still gave her a wide-eyed look of surprise.
Joe looked indignant. "Give me a little credit, Nan. I'm not vulgar."
"What was it, then?"
"A pocket edition of the Kama Sutra."
"Are you serious? How is that any less vulgar than- "
"It's a classic!" Joe said, his face completely serious.
"Well, that certainly explains the blush!" Nancy said. "And now I'm even happier that they're not staying at the apartment tonight."
"You and me both," Joe said fervently.
"Can you believe they're really married?"
"I think it's finally starting to hit me," Joe admitted.
"I hadn't expected it to feel so...so important," Nancy said slowly. "I thought it would just be a legal thing, and their June wedding would feel like the real thing. But that was the nicest wedding I've ever been to."
"I won't tell Bess or Helen you said that," Joe said.
Nancy didn't rise to his teasing. "You know what I mean! I'm not saying what Bess and Helen have with their husbands isn't the real thing. It's just, the way Frank and Callie look at each other..." Nancy let her words trail off. "They make me want to believe in soulmates," she said finally.
Joe had turned around to skate backwards, a few minutes into their conversation. Now he did another neat turn and resumed his place beside her, reaching for her hand. "I do," he said casually.
"You do what?"
"Believe in soulmates."
Nancy glanced over at him, wondering if he was laying the groundwork for some kind of joke about his brother; but his face was serious.
"You probably remember how jealous I was when Frank and Callie first got together," he said.
"Yeah, I seem to recall a little more acting out than usual around that time."
"He's my brother," Joe said, shrugging. "More than that. He's my best friend. He's the guy I've literally trusted with my life a thousand times. And you know how high school relationships are. Half the time those girls drag the boy around like some kind of accessory."
Nancy nodded. "I know what you mean. They're always so possessive."
"It was never like that with them. They just..." he looked frustrated, trying to put the thought into words. "I know Frank," he said finally. "Something changed in him when they started dating. Maybe it's just Frank, maybe he's just a one-woman kind of guy, but I've always believed they were soulmates."
"So you believe it for them, not in general," Nancy said, not sure why she was pushing the point. She tried to sound careless, though she knew Joe could take one look at her face and read the depth of her investment there.
"Do we need to live up to them?" Joe said quietly.
"That isn't what I meant."
"Frank is deeper than I am, Nan. He doesn't run his mouth over every stray thought in his mind. He thinks and weighs every nuance before he acts."
"So you're saying Frank is more capable of that kind of connection?"
Joe shrugged. Nancy shook her head at him.
"So you wear your heart on your sleeve. That doesn't make you shallow. Your feelings are every bit as meaningful even if you do express them freely."
"Thanks, Nan."
They were quiet for a moment. Joe broke away to do some swooping figure-eights across the ice by way of venting his feelings. When he returned to her side, Nancy looked up into his face.
"I needed someone like you. Frank may keep his heart guarded, but I had mine locked up in a tower. I was cold and jaded and lonely. It took someone like you, someone impetuous and willing to take risks, to show me how rich life can be. I don't care if soulmates exist or not. All I care about is that we have something real, here, and that I love you."
Joe stopped skating. He reached for her, wrapping his arms loosely around her waist, and looked at her without saying a word. It was not quite the same look Frank had given Callie, earlier, but it was close enough. Nancy could feel it like a magnetic pull, aching and breathless and pure. She was only marginally aware of traffic flowing around them, of the music continuing to play. Joe touched her cheek, light as a sunbeam. He seemed about to say something in reply. And then, suddenly, an over-ambitious small child came spinning across the ice and crashed into Joe's legs, jostling them apart; and in the midst of regaining their balance and helping the boy to his feet and fending off his mother's apologies, the mood was broken.
-
Snow flurries had begun to fall by the time they walked out of the indoor rink, still hand-in-hand and very content. The exercise had leveled out both of their moods, lifting Nancy's spirits and calming Joe's.
"Dinner?" Nancy suggested, picking up her pace as an icy wind whipped her skirt around her legs.
"I hate to bring it up," Joe said, "but you were probably right about the gallery. If you're not starving, maybe we can get a little work done there first."
"Oh, now he wants to be responsible," Nancy teased.
"We can get dinner first," Joe said.
Nancy shook her head. "Let's get it over with."
"Who's driving?"
Nancy's phone began ringing. "That answers that," she said, tossing him the keys again. "Nancy Drew speaking."
"Nancy, hi. It's Nova."
"Hi! What's up?" she asked, mouthing Nova to Joe. "Joe says hi."
"I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"
"I wouldn't have answered the phone if I were busy," Nancy assured her. "So what's going on? Is something wrong?"
"Do people only call you when things are falling apart?"
"Mostly, yeah," Nancy admitted.
Nova's smile radiated through the connection, somehow. "I probably shoulda just shot you a text. This isn't, like, super-urgent, but I was wondering what happened after y'all left the Moonlight the other night."
"That's a long story," Nancy said. "Are you free right now?"
"Sure. Why?"
"Because we're on our way to the art gallery on Creek Street in River Heights. I'll tell you the whole thing in person if you meet us over there."
"Ooh. A mysterious summons!"
"Accept it...if you dare!" Nancy said dramatically.
Nova laughed. "Girl, you know I can't pass that up. I'll be there."
Somehow, Nova was already at the gallery when they arrived. She was waiting by the front door, bouncing in place a little to keep warm.
"How did she get here so fast?" Nancy exclaimed.
"Let's go find out. Maybe she knows a secret shortcut." Despite his suggestion, Joe hesitated. "Are you okay?"
"Yes," she said, looking at him curiously.
"Just checking. Last time we were here, things didn't go so well."
Nancy shook her head. "Unless I've drastically misjudged Nova, nothing bad is going to happen this time. What about you? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine." He leaned in and kissed her, lightly; and then he was out of the car and jogging across the lot to unlock the gallery door.
"We're not worth getting frostbite for!" he yelled to Nova. "You should have stayed in your car."
"I got bored," Nova said, following him into the building. Her cheeks were pink with the cold and there was a halo of snowflakes in her curly hair, but she seemed to be in good spirits. She rubbed her hands together briskly to warm them before reaching out to give Nancy a hug.
"Hi, Nancy. Thanks for letting me interrupt your day."
"Oh, you're not interrupting. I have every intention of putting you to work," Nancy said cheerfully.
Nova lapsed into one of her impersonations. "As long as you spill the beans while we're at it, gumshoe. I want the inside scoop."
"Every juicy detail," Nancy promised, allowing Joe to help her out of her coat. She was a little taken aback when Nova's eyebrows shot up. The waitress looked from Nancy to Joe and back again, shaking her head.
"Fred, Ginger, I'm sorry I missed the show. Golly gee, do you look swell!"
Nancy had forgotten, for a moment, how they were dressed. Now she curtsied, and Joe improvised a few steps of a tap-dance routine on his way to the storage room.
"Ginger, darling, give the lady an autographed picture," he called over his shoulder.
"Is this a disguise? Were you undercover?" Nova asked eagerly, resuming her own persona.
"No, nothing that exciting. We were at a wedding earlier, and haven't had a chance to change," Nancy explained.
"You really do look great. I hope you didn't think I was making fun of your dress. It's really cool."
"It was my grandmother's," Nancy said. "She was a big fan of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. She would have been flattered."
Nova grinned. "Glad to hear it." She stepped closer, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "And I never thought I'd say this about Joe Hardy, but yum!"
Nancy giggled. "Get in line, sister."
"In line for what?" Joe asked, returning with the boxes Chet and Callie had used to transport the artwork.
"Just girl talk," Nova said easily. "What can I help y'all with?"
"It's not hard. All of these paintings," Nancy said, gesturing to the walls of the gallery, "need to go into these boxes."
"That's it?"
"That's it."
"That's easy enough." Nova walked over to the first wall and reached for a watercolor. "Now, tell me all about it!"
Nancy filled her in as they took down pictures and Joe packed away the electronics. Nova was a good audience, responsive and intelligent and appreciative. She had overheard enough of their conversation with Jenny to make her curious, but not enough to put together any significant pieces of the puzzle.
"It was worse than buying a mystery novel at a yard sale and finding out that the last chapter is missing," she told Nancy. "Thanks so much. Now I can stop obsessing over whodunnit and start obsessing over something else."
"Glad I could help," Nancy said merrily.
The taking down process took only a fraction of the time setting up had. Before long they were loading the paintings and camera equipment into the back of Nancy's roadster and saying goodbye to Nova.
"Give me a call sometime and we'll hang out," Nancy said, really meaning it. She had enjoyed getting to know Nova so far.
"I'll do that," Nova said. "And I already promised George I'd take one of her classes, so I'll be in the neighborhood."
"Let me know which one you pick. I might join you."
"That would be great!" Nova said. "All right. Y'all have a great Thanksgiving!"
"You, too!" Joe said, opening Nancy's car door for her.
The snow was coming down in earnest, now. After they had stopped for a quick bite to eat at a fast food place, Nancy drove them home. She drove slowly, partly due to the low visibility and the growing slickness of the roads, but also because it suited her mood. She felt pleasantly tired, with a sort of drowsy, animal sense of well-being. They met very few other cars along the way. This solitude, added to the way the headlights bounced off a wall of snowflakes just a few yards ahead of the car, imparted a pleasant feeling of isolation to the drive.
"I hope Frank and Callie didn't get caught in this weather," Nancy said idly.
"They didn't have far to go. I'm sure they were cuddling by a fireplace long before the snow started," Joe replied.
"Jealous?"
"It would be nice to have a fireplace."
Nancy nodded. "Especially the way this winter is going. I can't remember the last time we got so much snow before Thanksgiving."
As she eased the roadster into the Hardys' driveway, its headlights picked out a bulky shape on the apartment's front steps.
"What's that?" Nancy said, instantly alert.
"Did you and Callie drop something on your way out this afternoon?"
"No."
"Wait here." Like Nancy, Joe was in full-on detective mode, now. All traces of lazy contentment were gone. He switched on his keychain penlight and exited the car, sweeping the beam across the small yard and the garage.
"Joe, wait," Nancy said, jumping out after him. "What if it's an ambush? Or a bomb?"
Joe paused. "No tracks in the snow," he said.
"Maybe they've been here long enough for the snow to cover their tracks."
Joe backtracked and handed Nancy his pocketknife. "Stay here and cover me. If you see anything, scream."
"What if it's-"
"Nan. I'm not getting blown up. I promise."
Nancy's pulse jumped erratically as she watched him approach the steps. Joe knelt and examined the object. A long, tense moment later, he straightened and beckoned Nancy forward.
"It's from Kate," he said, pointing to an envelope taped to the top of the package. "I'll bring it inside so you can take a look. No use freezing out here any longer."
Inside, on the kitchen table, the box looked much less threatening. Nancy pulled the envelope off the top and opened it up to read Kate's note.
"What does she say?" Joe asked, slipping her coat off her shoulders.
"Thanks," she murmured, eyes still fixed on the card. "She says this is for solving her holes-in-the-yard mystery. Isn't that nice of her? Look, there's even a little drawing from her son."
"But what's in the box?" Joe asked.
"Hold on, my x-ray vision is a little blurry today," Nancy said sarcastically. She used her car key to slit the tape holding the box shut and peered inside, feeling Joe looking over her shoulder.
"Chocolates," he said.
"And wine," Nancy added, lifting the items out. The third item in the package made her stop, surprised.
"No way!" she exclaimed.
"What is it?" Joe asked, crowding her for a better look. When he saw the label on the small box, he burst out laughing. "Cherry Bakewells? That's awesome."
"Let's set those aside for tomorrow," Nancy said, joining in his laughter. "I can't wait to tell Hannah."
"What's the word for that? Like a coincidence, but more so," Joe said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. "It's on the tip of my tongue."
"Synchronicity?" Nancy suggested.
"Yes! Synchronicity."
"Very delicious synchronicity, in this case," Nancy said, smiling again. But she forgot her mirth when she looked at Joe. With his tie undone, his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, and the ghosts of his tattoos showing through his white t-shirt and the sleeve of his tuxedo shirt, he looked deliciously disheveled in a way that seemed to beg Nancy to muss him up even more. As if of its own volition, her hand moved to rest on the wine bottle.
"I'd say today was a day worth celebrating," she said slowly.
"And we have the place to ourselves." Joe's gaze was growing more intense, now, mirroring hers. "We should take advantage of that."
"It would be a shame not to."
"I have an idea. Grab some glasses and meet me in the living room." He took the wine and the chocolates and disappeared into the living room.
Nancy took the time to kick off her shoes, which were beginning to hurt her, before grabbing a pair of wine glasses and following him. Somehow, in that little window of time, he had managed to spread a blanket on the floor, add a few pillows, and light the candles Callie kept on the coffee table.
"This looks cozy," Nancy said, dropping gracefully onto the blanket.
"Get comfortable, Nan. I need to grab the corkscrew."
He was only gone a moment. He flicked off the kitchen light and returned in the candlelight, holding the corkscrew and Nancy's phone.
"Background music?" he suggested, holding the phone out to her. "You put something on while I pour."
Nancy accepted the phone and shifted, leaning back against the pillows, as she scrolled through her playlists. Her left leg was beginning to fall asleep. Beside her, Joe frowned and fidgeted.
"Want to move to the couch?" he asked.
"Yes!" Nancy confessed.
"So much for that idea." Joe scrambled up, offering Nancy a hand, and they both settled gratefully on the couch. Joe sighed. "Damn. It always looks so romantic in movies. I wonder if our floor is just especially hard."
"You get points for effort," Nancy said consolingly. She leaned back against the arm of the couch and sipped her wine, letting that feeling of contentment wash over her once more.
"The candlelight is nice," she said.
"If you squint you can pretend it's a fire in a fireplace," Joe said, pulling her legs into his lap. The hand that was not holding his wine glass rubbed her feet and calves gently, almost absent-mindedly. Up and down, no pressure, no hurry, just warmth and affection.
"I don't need it to be anything more than candles. This is perfect," Nancy told him. And it was. The romantic lighting, the wine, the comfortable familiarity of his touch, the falling snow outside the window- it all added up to a beautiful evening.
This feels right, Nancy thought. This feels like home. She had not been sure of her answer, up to this point; but she knew now that if Joe asked again, she would agree to move in with him.
Joe set his wine glass aside, suddenly, and looked at her.
"I couldn't take my eyes off you today," he said, his hand coming to rest lightly on her knee. "Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?"
Nancy shook her head. "You're the gorgeous one. That tux makes me want to do very dirty things to you."
"You think you can lower 007's guard with flattery?"
"Joe, I don't want to play. I want to be us tonight. Is that okay?"
"That's more than okay," Joe said.
Nancy set her glass down and scooted closer to him, her thighs across his lap now, her hands reaching to tug his undone tie from his collar and then to cup his face. Words failed her, so she settled for brushing a light kiss to his lips. The contact made her flush more than the wine had. She did it again and this time he responded, opening to her, moving his tongue against hers with an unhurried thoroughness that only made her ache for more. Joe's hand was on her thigh, now, tracing the lacy top of her stocking, releasing the garter clips with slow and deliberate movements. Between languorous kisses they began stripping away both the day's finery and its baggage: discarding the heaviness of the marriage ceremony along with Nancy's silk stockings, the burden of familial expectations along with Joe's cuff links, the echoes of their anger at Callie's parents along with Joe's tuxedo shirt, the spectre of time's inevitable progression along with Nancy's jewelry- paring away layers of fabric and emotion, offering to one another their truest and most vulnerable selves. When Joe slid the pins out of Nancy's hair, she could feel his hands shaking; and suddenly she was closing her eyes against the look on his face, willing herself not to cry from the sheer tenderness of it all.
This is too much. This is going to kill me, she thought with sudden anguished bewilderment.
Joe's fingers were still unsteady as he traced her eyebrows, her jawline, her lips. He leaned in and kissed her again, warm and slow, unhurried, with exquisite control, as though he knew that if he sped up he would lose himself.
"I have something for you," he whispered, pressing a kiss below her ear.
Nancy's eyes fluttered open. For one terrifying, hopeful moment she thought he might be about to propose. But instead he sat back and looked at her with a gleam of playfulness returning to those blue eyes.
"Remember that sonnet I promised you?"
Nancy nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment. It was just more sonnet teasing, then. Nothing important. She curled back into him to hide the disappointment he would be sure to read in her eyes.
"Did you memorize some more Shakespeare for me? I'm not that gullible." Her words came out a little harsher than intended. She pressed her lips to his jaw, his neck, in a series of atoning kisses, and she could feel the vibrations there when he protested.
"Have a little faith in me, Nan!" There was a note of genuine hurt in his voice.
Nancy pulled back. "I'm sorry."
He shifted his weight, maneuvering a hand into his pants pocket to pull out a folded piece of paper, and pressed this paper into her hand without further explanation. She unfolded it carefully.
"An invoice for your motorcycle parts?"
"No, not that side. Turn it over," Joe said. She turned it over. And there, on the blank side, in the steady, old-fashioned handwriting which was a product of Gertrude having taught him to write, was a sonnet.
Moving-In Sonnet for Nancy
Most men would promise you the moon above,
Contort their speech with flow'ring "thou" and "thee,"
And swear to you there's been no truer love
Than that they'll bear for all eternity.
A wiser man than I would decorate
With costly gems the shrines that are your breast,
Your ears, your wrists; with gifts he'd venerate
The beauty of each place that he'd caress'd.
But this is you and me. Our hearts have met.
Transparent, then, I make to you my plea.
I know I have domestic flaws, and yet
You could do worse than make your home with me.
And now it's up to you. But I confess
My happiness depends upon your "yes."
A tear dropped onto the page just below the final line before Nancy could arrest its progress.
"I'm sorry," Joe said immediately, trying to tug the paper from her hands. "It's stupid. It's too much."
"Joe, no! It's perfect!" Nancy cried hastily. Somewhere in the back of her mind Callie was whispering He isn't as tough as he acts, Nan, but Nancy didn't need the reminder. She could see it in his eyes. It hurt her heart to think of him doubting himself, doubting her feelings, for even a minute.
"It's perfect," she said again, wiping her eyes. "I don't even know what to say right now. You're killing me, and I'm going to die happy, you beautiful, ridiculous, wonderful man." She was aware that she was babbling stupidly. So she stopped talking and reached for him instead, tangling her legs in her hurry to get properly into his lap, trying to kiss him and pull his t-shirt up over his head at the same time. It was clumsy and awkward and beautiful. All the control, all the patience, of earlier was gone.
Before Joe, Nancy had never let herself surrender so completely. Now she gave herself with joyful, eager transparency, secure in the knowledge that he was every bit as abandoned as she was.
Afterward, Joe snagged the blanket off the floor and pulled it over them. There was no need to keep one eye on the door or to retreat to the privacy of his bedroom, so they stayed right where they were, feeding each other chocolates and drinking the wine straight from the bottle and watching a movie long into the night. And somehow, in their happiness, they forgot that Nancy had never outright answered his question.