Honeymoon

Chapter 77

GO HOME, O’HARA. Run away, you idiot.

But I didn’t run.

After the picnic, we caught a movie at the art-house cinema in Pleasantville. That was Nora’s idea as well. Rear Window was playing at the Jacob Burns, and she told me it was one of her all-time favorites. “I love Hitchcock. Do you know why, Craig? He’s funny, and he also gets the dark side of life. It’s like two great flicks for the price of one.”

By the time the movie was over, we’d filled up so much on popcorn that we decided to pass on the dinner Nora had planned at the nearby Iron Horse Grill. I stood in the town parking lot with her as if the two of us were in high school again, unsure of how our date should end.

Not Nora. “Let’s go to your place,” she said.

I regarded her for a moment, fixing on her expression. She’d already seen “my place,” run-down shoebox that it was. Was she playing me, wondering how I’d react? Or did she really not care how I lived?

“My place, huh?”

“Is that all right?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve got to warn you, though, it may not be what you’re expecting.”

“What would that be? What am I expecting?”

“Let’s just say it’s a far cry from what you’re used to.”

Nora looked me in the eye then. “Craig, I like you. That’s what this is about. Just you and me. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Can I trust you? I want to.”

“Yeah, of course you can trust me. I’m your insurance guy.”

With that, we drove to my place. Nora didn’t bat a pretty eyelash when she saw it—for the second time. Ashford Court Gardens, my home sweet home.

Hand in hand, we ventured inside.

“I should point out, the maid is on strike,” I said with a grin. “Unbearable work conditions, she claims.”

Nora looked around at my less-than-tidy surroundings. “That’s okay,” she said. “It tells me you’re not seeing anybody else. I kind of like it, actually.”

I offered her a beer and she accepted. Handing it to her in the kitchen, I was sure to make fun of the yellow Formica countertops before she did.

She took a swig and put down her red leather purse. “Well, aren’t you going to show me around?”

“You’re pretty much looking at it,” I said.

“You do have a bedroom, don’t you?”

I’d told myself this had to stop right here, right now. Of course, if I’d really meant it, we never would’ve been standing in my kitchen. I would’ve said something back at the movie theater, a pretense of wanting to “slow things down.”

Instead, we were already starting to kiss as we headed to my bedroom. I was about to get between the sheets with Nora again. Talk about giving new meaning to undercover agent.

But I was actually planning to turn it to my advantage. And I thought I knew right where to start.