At Witt's End (20 page)

The capacity crowd at Yerry's on the Bay taxed the dock boys to the limit. Locals and vacationers boated to the restaurant, the finest in the upper Midwest, and moored in a sheltered cove just below the facility. The restaurant sat on the eastern shore of Pinecone Lake. A recent article in a national travel magazine featured Yerry's as offering the most romantic sunsets in northern Minnesota. Dining reservations were difficult to obtain.

A hostess welcomed Paul and Nan to Yerry's and ushered them past a large group of people waiting in line. The maitre d’ asked if Paul was satisfied with the location. At Paul's nod, he pulled Nan's chair out and waited until she was seated.

"How were you able to pull this off on such short notice?” Nan gazed at the spectacular view. “Window tables are impossible to reserve."

"The owner is a personal friend of mine. I manage his investments. My recommendations more than doubled his net worth,” Paul said, “so he was happy to accommodate us."

The maitre d’ waited as Paul swirled the wine in his glass and brought it up to his nose. After inhaling the bouquet, Paul tipped the glass to his lips and drew in a sip. “That will do,” he said. The couple watched the waiter fill each glass half full.

"I'm sorry it got to be so late. I was called out on a retrieval about the time you said you'd pick me up. Thanks for understanding.” Paul had been unusually attentive and she liked this new approach. Being the consummate businessman, his tunneled focus reflected his demand for perfection as well as his refusal to be distracted. Tonight was different. Paul made her his priority.

A blush from the setting sun settled over Nan's face. Paul smiled at her. “Getting here later than I planned turned out to be even better. Look at that sunset."

Nan rested her chin on her fist. “It's almost surreal, isn't it? With those hues reflecting off the water, I feel like I'm surrounded by flowers.” Even though the dinner hour was drawing to a close, the restaurant was full of patrons seeking the perfect sunset.

Nan wiggled her fingers in greeting to a recent client approaching their table. “How are you doing, Mrs. Boutain?” The woman clasped Nan's hand to express her gratitude for everything the funeral director had done in her time of need.

Paul patted the woman's hand as she clung to Nan. “I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Boutain. If there's anything I can do, please let me know."

"Such a nice young couple,” Mrs. Boutain whispered to her dinner partner as they were escorted to their table.

Strains of jazz filtered into the dining room from the lounge.

Nan sipped her wine. She grinned coyly. “Stop staring at me like that. You're making my mind wander."

"Good.” Paul laughed. “But that'll have to wait till later. I need to talk to you.” He raised his glass and waited until Nan's glass touched his. “Here's to an important evening. Here's to our future."

The maitre d’ led the waiter to their table and stood back as the server set their plates in front of them. After a gesture signaling Paul's satisfaction, the two men gathered the tray and exited the room.

"I love your hair pulled back like that. You look angelic.” Paul rubbed his fingers over the top of her hand.

"It's the glow from the candles. Or maybe the wine's clouding your vision."

"You're beautiful whatever the reason,” Paul said. “But I suspect it's because I'm in love with you."

Surprised by Paul's declaration, Nan set her glass on the white linen and placed her fingers in the arc of Paul's hand. “That's the first time you've actually told me you loved me. I've often wondered if that's how you felt, but was afraid to get my hopes up. Before when we talked marriage, you seemed so nonchalant.” She cocked her head. “You're a hard man to read."

"It's hard for me to say, but that's how I feel. I'm in love with you Nan. I want to marry you."

The tender moment was interrupted by the waiter lifting their salad plates and replacing them with their entrees. “Enjoy your meal while it's hot,” Paul said. “We'll discuss this after dinner."

The sound of Paul's voice warmed Nan as she listened to him chat about the day's events. He spoke with such fervor she stopped eating. Paul had ordered Chateau Briand with Bearnaise Sauce. Known state-wide for their presentation of beef tenderloin smoked over apple wood prior to being roasted, Yerry's on the Bay had won several national awards for their gourmet rendition.

The sun tickled the horizon adding to the room's glow. Candlelight shimmered in Paul's eyes and his Romanesque features disarmed her. When Paul entered a room, women lingered a bit too long attempting to portray an image he'd find appealing.

When Nan first met Paul, she denied the attraction. He could never be interested in her. Glamour had not been her forte because her profession didn't allow time for primping and even if it did, she wondered if she could live up to his expectations.

Paul oozed charisma. Nan had become self-conscious about her appearance when she noticed the caliber of woman Paul escorted around town. She had always been disillusioned with her curly blond hair. Even though it was natural, she wished for dark hair and piercing eyes like the other women Paul dated. Instead, she did nothing to change the pale features that were part of her heritage.

Nan was shocked when Paul had phoned her a year ago asking for a date. Her nerves had gotten the better of her during their first encounter and she wrote the date off as an utter failure.

Drastic changes had taken place in her life over the past several years. Her parents had died tragically in a boating accident and then she had taken on a financial burden by signing the mortuary land-lease with the Witt sisters. That lease could be her ruin. If the sisters lost the resort, she'd lose everything. Adding to her tangled situation, she now found herself contemplating marriage to a man she barely knew. Even though she spent ample time with Paul, she felt he held her at arm's length.

The maitre d’ waited for a signal from Paul before instructing the waiter to remove their plates. “Are you ready for dessert, sir?"

"I couldn't possibly eat another bite,” Nan said. “I'm absolutely stuffed."

"Let's see what they've got. You don't have to eat if you don't want to."

The maitre d’ smiled. “Yes, sir,” he said as Paul pointed at the menu.

A business associate of Paul's stopped by the table and offered condolences on the recent loss of his business partner. “I suppose it's going to be a mess sorting through the legalities.” Shaking his head the man added, “I still can't believe an entire family died in that accident."

"I can't either,” Paul said. “Thanks for your concern."

Nan placed her hand on Paul's wrist as the man walked away. “Don't forget. If there's anything I can do to help sort things out, let me know."

"Thanks,” Paul said. “I've got it under control."

The maitre d’ placed Nan's dessert in front of her before setting Paul's glass on the table. The long stemmed glasses were rimmed with sugar and filled with strawberries. The maitre d’ tipped Paul's glass to let champagne trickle down the inside of the stemware. He did the same with Nan's glass. He placed two long-handled forks next to the glasses before smiling at Nan. “I hope you enjoy your strawberries."

"You remembered,” Nan gushed. “One good thing about our first date was the fresh strawberry I had in my wine. Everything else was a disaster."

"You knocked your plate off the table, your heel got caught in the sidewalk grate, and you slipped and fell outside the theatre,” Paul said. “The only time you smiled that night was when you saw that fresh strawberry and you devoured it in one bite."

"That's because my dinner ended up on the floor.” Nan stabbed at a strawberry and held it up to Paul's lips. He eased it off the fork and mimicked the gesture, lifting a sugared strawberry to her lips. The savory juices flowed over her tongue. She gathered another berry. “That maitre d’ makes me nervous,” Nan whispered. “He keeps staring at us."

"He's staring at you. The man knows a beautiful woman when he sees one."

"I think he wants us to hurry and finish so he can go home."

"I doubt it."

She tipped her glass to find the next strawberry. Nan squinted, staring deeper into the glass. “Oh my God.” Jerking her head up to look at Paul, she uttered, “Oh my God.” She placed the fork gingerly into the center of the berry and lifted it out of the glass. “I can't believe it."

Paul reached for the strawberry and pulled it from the fork. He removed the diamond ring and said, “Give me your hand."

As tears began to pool in Nan's eyes, Paul slipped the ring on her finger. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Wiping her eyes, Nan gaped in disbelief. “I can't believe you. How did you manage this?” Nan looked toward the side of the room where several restaurant employees were lined up watching the event unfold. Nan mouthed a thank you in their direction before grasping Paul's hand.

"I've waited a long time to find happiness, Paul. I can't believe this.” She dabbed under her eyelid, trying not to smear her mascara. “I can't believe this."

Laughing, Paul said, “You already said that."

"Of course I'll marry you. But..."

"I don't like the sound of that,” Paul said, grasping her hand.

"I need to make sure you understand what you're getting into.” She placed a hand on her chest. “You need to understand before you commit to a life with me."

"You need to give me some credit, Nan. I've thought this through. You're concerned about Aanders. You're worried how he'll adjust to having someone new in his life. I also know you're concerned about your finances and you don't want to be a burden."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about."

"I'll make a deal with you. Let's not talk about this until tomorrow. Let's go to the boat and celebrate the way engaged couples should celebrate.” Paul pulled Nan from her chair. “I promise tomorrow we'll sit down and map out a plan that will work for both of us."

"I wish you could spend the night. I don't want you to go,” Paul whispered, his lips caressing Nan's neck.

"I have to go,” Nan said. “I can't leave Aanders alone. You know how I feel about that."

Nan moved several items around in her purse, searching for her house keys. The evening on the boat had been magnificent and the scent of Paul's skin still lingered. He had truly knocked her off her feet when he told her he wanted to buy the land for the mortuary as a wedding gift. She had been giddy with joy. Her legacy would stay intact. Paul confessed he hadn't wanted to tell her about the land until later, but in the throes of passion, he divulged his secret.

Nan's purse tipped over, spilling the contents onto Paul's car seat. As she tried to push everything back into her purse with one sweeping motion, several items and slips of paper fell to the floor. She ran her fingers along the floor under the seat. Grasping the papers, she pulled them up, folded them and shoved them into her purse.

After returning home and placing the keys next to her purse on her kitchen table, Nan noticed note paper protruding through the purse clasp. She removed the items and carried them to Aanders’ room. She pushed on the door and slipped into his room without a sound.

A hairy lump of dog sprawled in a U shape around Aanders’ pillow. Five thumps of Belly's tail signaled he was aware Nan had entered their sanctuary.

Lost in sleep, Aanders lay on the far side of his bed with his video control resting on his chest. Nan switched the television off and placed the remote control on his dresser before bending to kiss his forehead. She watched his chest rise and fall in slumber, thankful sleep offered him a brief respite from the sorrow. She pulled the blanket up over his body.

Before Nan flipped the kitchen light off and surrendered to fatigue, she turned the papers over and paged through the notes. She wadded the first one into a ball and tossed it into the waste basket. She placed the second slip on the counter. She'd deal with it in the morning. She studied the return address on the final piece and realized she had picked up an envelope belonging to Paul.

Nan placed the envelope next to her purse. She'd give it to Paul when they got together in the morning to discuss their plans. She turned out the kitchen light, hesitated for a moment, flipped it back on, and lifted the envelope from the table. She ran her finger over the return address. “Gessal Life Insurance. Where have I heard that before?"

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Failing to get the attention he felt he deserved, Belly grunted and dropped down onto the rug next to the screen door. He scratched at his blue rhinestone collar and stared soulfully toward the crossers. No one noticed. A pitiful whine erupted before he rolled over and closed his eyes.

"We'll leave you to your business,” Jane said, glancing at her sister and Aanders sitting at the table. Jane placed her nose on the screen and peered back into the cabin. “Don't be too hard on the boy. You had to learn how to be a death coach, too."

Jane grabbed Mr. Bakke's arm and led him toward the steps. She suddenly turned back and shouted, “If I remember right, you made your share of mistakes as a death coach. In fact you made quite a few. I'd be willing to share them with Aanders."

"Thank you for those words of wisdom."

"Think nothing of it,” Jane yelled from the bottom step.

"Has anyone seen Rodney today?” Sadie queried.

Everyone seated at the table shook their heads.

"Don't tell me he found someone on the brink. We couldn't possibly be that fortunate,” Theo said. “At least I'd have a few tranquil moments before I go on to the next phase."

As Tim leaned on Sadie for support, Sadie directed the crossers’ attention to Aanders. “Let's hear why Tim thinks his father was murdered.” She shot a stern glare toward Aanders. “If you think this will buy you more time with Tim, you're wrong."

Getting no response, she tapped the table top with a blue lacquered nail. “Aanders, I'm serious. You need to understand the consequences if Tim doesn't go though the light.” Sadie tugged at her blue paisley halter top trying to resituate it against the strain of Tim's weight.