The Cat Sitter's Cradle

17

It was exactly two minutes after eight. I was wearing my purple dress and standing next to Ethan, or to be exact, I was wearing my purple dress and teetering next to Ethan on my three-inch high-heel shoes.

We were watching the waiters set our table. It was next to the window, but with a perfect view of the entire candlelit dining room. There were sparkling wineglasses and silverware on all the tables, which were covered in crisp white linen. As we followed the hostess in, I noticed more than a few people watching us with knowing looks. I wasn’t sure exactly what it was they were all knowing, but I felt happy and proud to be seen in public with a man as stunning as Ethan.

His fingertips were on the small of my back, and I suddenly had the strongest feeling of déjà vu I’ve ever had in my life.

When we sat down, a young man handed us menus, telling us his name was Paolo and that he would be our waiter for the evening. I ran my eyes up and down the menu a couple of times before I realized it was all in Spanish and I wasn’t comprehending a single word of it. I peeked over my menu to see if Ethan was doing any better.

As usual, just looking at him made me a little short of breath. He was wearing a dark fitted jacket over a crisp white shirt and a narrow lavender tie. With his thick locks of curly black hair and high cheekbones, he looked like a silent-film star. There were tiny beads of sweat on his forehead, and I realized with a twinge in my heart that he was just as nervous as I was.

He looked up and caught me spying on him. “You look amazing, by the way.”

I rolled my eyes and retreated back behind my menu. I felt like a complete and utter idiot, but in a good way.

A stocky man with a handlebar mustache and a white dinner jacket set two glasses of red wine on the table. Ethan immediately jumped out of his seat, and the two men bear-hugged and slapped each other’s backs.

Ethan said, “This is my very good friend Alfred.”

“You must be Dixie,” he said, taking both of my hands in his. He spoke with a slight Spanish accent. “It is so very nice to meet you. Welcome to Yolanda. Ethan has told me all about you—I was beginning to think he had made you up, so I am very glad to finally meet you in the flesh.”

Ethan blushed and nudged Alfred. “This is Alfred’s restaurant. We were roommates at law school.”

I said, “This place is beautiful. You must be very proud.”

He nodded. “Thank you. My mama, she loved to cook. When I was a little boy, I used to sit for hours and watch her all day long. Those were the happiest times. Then one day I am a lawyer. I am at work, I have a pile of files on my desk and phone calls and pressure, and I hear my mama’s voice in my head, ‘What are you doing sitting there all day? Go out and play!’ and that’s when I knew I didn’t want to sit behind a desk anymore. Now, here we are.” He slid the wineglasses to the center of the table. “These are for you two lovebirds, and while you look at the menu I will bring you our special appetizer of the evening.”

He winked at Ethan and rushed away.

Ethan raised his glass. “Cheers.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Lovebirds?”

He blushed again. “Yeah, I have no idea where he’s getting that, I swear.”

Our glasses touched. Suddenly all my doubts about Ethan melted away. There was something about just being in his presence that made me feel completely comfortable and safe. Whether it was love or lust or loneliness or all three combined, I didn’t care. It just felt right.

Alfred returned shortly with a small silver plate and set it on the table with a flourish. There were two golf-ball-sized mounds of what looked like bright, kelly green scoops of ice cream.

Ethan said, “What is it?”

Alfred whispered conspiratorially, as though he had prepared it especially for us, “It is sorbet, but not sweet. Spicy! It is my own creation, made of peppers from my own hometown of Padrón.”

I had never in my life seen such a thing, but I had to admit it looked absolutely scrumptious.

Ethan said, “Green pepper sorbet? Really?”

“Trust me,” Albert said, giving each of us a spoon. “It is delicious!”

Ethan looked at me, a little hesitant. “Well, I’m game if you are.”

I dipped my spoon into one of the mounds and tried it. There was an immediate tangy sweetness, almost like a key lime, and then there was a good spicy kick. It literally put a smile on my face.

I nodded at Ethan as I scooped up another spoonful. “Oh my gosh, it’s so good. Alfred, you’re a genius.”

Alfred smiled at me and folded his burly arms across his chest. “I am always telling him this, but he doesn’t believe me. You Americans, you are always afraid to try new things.”

I tried to impress him with my worldliness. “It’s such a beautiful color of green, too—the same color as René the Frog.”

Ethan looked puzzled. “René the Frog?”

I glanced up at Alfred for support, but he looked just as confused as Ethan. I said, “You know, like Kermit the Frog, but in Spain you call him René.”

Alfred nodded. “Oh yes! Kermit the Frog! But in Spain, we do not call him René. We call him Gustavo.”

I was just about to take another spoonful of sorbet. “Huh?”

“Gustavo the Frog.”

“You don’t call him René?”

“No, miss, I have never heard this before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, la rana Gustavo! My daughter, she loves this frog very much. Now, I want to tell you that everything on the menu is very good, if I do say so myself, but I especially recommend the red snapper, which is served on a bed of roasted fennel, and we also have some very fine stone crab dipped in garlic butter. Have a look at the menu, and I will send Paolo over to take your order. Dixie, it was a very great pleasure to meet you.”

I nodded. “Thank you so much for the sorbet.”

I watched him as he made his way through the dining room toward the kitchen, shaking hands and saying hello to other diners as he went.

Ethan said, “Dixie? You okay?”

I realized I was watching Alfred walk away with my mouth hanging open. “Well, I’m not sure. Remember when I asked you about my friend? The one that was helping that illegal immigrant?”

“Yes?”

“Well, that was actually me.”

“You’re an illegal immigrant?”

“No, dummy! I was the one helping her.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I knew that.”

“I figured. Thank you for playing along.”

He reached out and put his hand on top of mine. “You’re welcome.”

I told him the whole story of how we found Corina in the woods with a newborn baby and took her to Joyce’s house, and all about the exotic bird that had miraculously come back to life. He listened without interrupting me once. I love a man that knows how to listen.

“The problem is: Corina told me she was from Spain. She said in Spain, Kermit the Frog is known as René.”

“So … she lied.”

“Yep. I had a feeling at the time that she wasn’t telling the truth.”

Ethan shrugged. “Look, she probably snuck into the country from Cuba. She’s just protecting herself.”

“Well, there’s something else. Joyce found ten thousand dollars in Corina’s purse.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Ten thousand dollars—cash?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow. Okay. That’s a lot of cash to be carrying around, homeless or not.”

“I know. And you know what I think? I think it was payment for whoever smuggled her here. I think somehow she snuck away without paying them and now they’re looking for her, and that’s why she didn’t check into a hotel or go to the emergency room. She knew she wouldn’t be safe.”

Ethan nodded solemnly and looked down at his menu.

I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to talk all night about all this.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m just … Look, it’s none of my business, but if you’re right about Corina, I’m a little worried, that’s all.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’ve worked on a couple of cases where smuggling operations were involved, and to be completely frank with you, some of the shit these guys are up to is pretty fucking scary.”

I blinked a couple of times. I realized I’d never even heard Ethan say “darn” before, and I’m embarrassed to admit that at that very moment I felt my nipples perk up. In my book, a man that doesn’t cuss is sexy, but when that man lets a couple of cuss words slip out in the heat of the moment, it’s not just sexy. It’s damn sexy.

Dinner was nothing short of exquisite. I had a filet of salmon, which had been seared to perfection on an open wood grill. When the waiter set it on the table, I gasped. Really. It came with a side of thinly sliced red cabbage sprinkled with coarse black pepper, lime juice, and olive oil. Next to that was a little bird’s nest of the thinnest, crispiest french fries I’ve ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. I actually felt like I was cheating on Tanisha as I ate them.

Ethan had the red snapper, which looked absolutely delicious, but I was so taken with my dinner that I refused to insult it by having even a tiny bite of Ethan’s.

By the time we finished dessert, which was a beautiful yellow Spanish flan with a crispy flamed crust of caramelized sugar and a dollop of freshly whipped cream on top, it was well after eleven o’clock. Also, I’d had at least four glasses of wine. Big red-wine glasses, the size of cereal bowls. I’m not much of a drinker, and red wine especially goes straight to my head, so by the time we were ready to leave, I was as relaxed as a limp cat soaking up sunshine on a redbrick porch. I was as loose as a black snake drooping out of a tree. Floppy as a worn-out pair of flip-flops. In other words, I was hammered.

Luckily, I’d had the forethought to call my friend Pete Madeira to take my appointments the following morning. Pete sometimes fills in for me when my schedule gets a little too busy, and since I’d suspected I might be staying out pretty late, I figured it couldn’t hurt to give myself a break and take part of the morning off. I didn’t feel too guilty about it, especially since it would be Saturday, and my schedule is always slower on the weekends. Plus, Pete is retired and always looking for things to do, so he jumped at the chance. I knew my pets would be well taken care of in his hands.

There were only a few people left in the restaurant when we said goodnight to Alfred and thanked him for the lovely meal. He and Alfred shook hands and then hugged good-bye. Outside, the night air was warm; there was a slight breeze coming in from the Gulf and the palmettos were waving gently.

I think I must have been waving gently, too, because Ethan took me by the hand and led me down the sidewalk toward his car.

Pointing behind us, I said, “Wait, my car ish back there.”

“Yes, I know that, but you’re not driving it.”

I said, “Oh, no way. I’m not going home with you tonight, so jusht forget it.”

He laughed. “I know you’re not going home with me. I’m driving you home, and we’ll get your car tomorrow.”

I was in no condition to argue. Plus, he looked so cute, I would have jumped through hoops for him if he wanted me to. Then I imagined myself actually jumping through hoops in my low-cut purple dress and my high heels, and that threw me into a giggling fit. Almost as soon as we got in Ethan’s car, I leaned my head on his shoulder and instantly fell asleep.

I woke to the familiar sound of car wheels on my crushed-shell driveway. My head was still plopped over on Ethan’s shoulder, and I shuddered at the thought that I might have drooled all down the front of his nice jacket, but luckily it looked fine and he didn’t seem to be utterly disgusted with me. In fact, he smiled sweetly when I raised my head and looked around.

“You were sound asleep.”

“Oh, no. How completely embarrassing.”

“No, not at all. You only snored just a little bit.”

I punched him in the arm and hoped to God he was kidding. As we pulled into the carport, I was relieved to see there were no other cars. I could just imagine the teasing I would have gotten from Michael and Paco if they’d been home to see me arrive completely snoggered and holding on to Ethan for dear life. I wasn’t sure if Paco would be home later, but I knew Michael’s shift at the firehouse would be ending at midnight, so by the time he got home I’d be in bed, all alone and fast asleep.

I was just about to turn to Ethan and thank him for a truly wonderful evening and apologize for downing so much red wine when I heard him saying my name.

“Dixie.”

“Huh?”

“Dixie. You’re home.”

I opened my eyes and found Ethan looking down and grinning at me. We were on my balcony in front of my door. He was holding me in his arms. He had carried me all the way across the courtyard and up the stairs.

I shook my head and wailed, “You have got to be kidding me. You had to carry me to my door?”

He looked down at me, and his grin widened. I felt myself falling into his big brown eyes. He bent down to kiss me, and just before my lips touched his he said, “Front door service, ma’am.”