Another Summer (8 page)

She said good-bye. And then, feeling guilty that her father was still working and she wasn’t, she picked up Landry’s book and took it to bed with her.

  K
ELLY WAS ON HER SECOND CUP OF COFFEE,
mentally cursing Matt Landry for keeping her up until three-thirty in the morning reading his book when he knocked on her door.

“We meet again,” he announced, plainly pleasantly surprised. He gave her a smile bright enough for sunglasses. “Kelly with a ‘y,’ right?”

“I was hoping you’d forgotten.” She reached for the key.

“No need,” he said. “I do a lot of crazy things, but I don’t surf in the fog. I just came over so you wouldn’t hang around waiting for me.” He backed off the brick porch. “When you see Andrew tell him I came by and that I’ll catch up with him later.”

She looked past him to the thick, gray fog hugging the ground like a down blanket. “Oh, my

God … I’m going to have to be more careful from now on.”

He tossed her a questioning look.

“The fog,” she said. “It’s my fault–according to Andrew, that is. No one told me I wasn’t supposed to talk about it.”

Matt laughed. “Don’t take it too hard. This isn’t as bad as it looks. It’ll burn off by noon, and you’ll be back in everyone’s good graces.”

It could have been his casual thoughtfulness or his easy laugh or the fact that his book had made her aware of the brilliant mind inside the amazing package, or it could even have been her need for company the morning after ending her relationship with Ray. The reason didn’t matter, the impulse did. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” she asked, surprising herself as much as him.

He considered the invitation. “As a matter of fact, I would. I could use a good cup of coffee.”

She winced as she moved out of the doorway to let him enter. “Remember the ‘good’ part was yours, not mine.”

He followed her into the kitchen. “I’ll drink anything. I’ve had coffee where the grounds were tossed in a pot of water and boiled for three days and gone back for a second cup.”

“I should be safe then.” She took a mug from the cupboard. “How do you take it?”

“Black.”

She poured, he took a sip. After several excruciatingly long seconds, he put the cup on the counter. “You win. Grab your coat.”

“Where are we going?” she asked suspiciously.

“To this place I know that has the best coffee in Santa Cruz County.”

“Thanks, but I’ve already had two cups and–”

“Did I mention they make cinnamon rolls the size of a dinner plate?” He looked at his watch. “If we hurry, we can get them right out of the oven.”

She had no business going with him. It was one thing to have a friend as opposing counsel, another when he was a potential witness for that opposing counsel. Not that there was any law against it: more that her life was complicated enough without adding Matt Landry to the mix.

“Kelly?”

“What?”

“Did I mention it’s a nonfat cinnamon roll?”

That made her laugh. “And sugar-free, too, no doubt.”

“And loaded with beta carotene and an entire day’s worth of fiber.”

Even on the odd chance she and Landry did become friends, he was far too sophisticated to expect anything but her best if or when they faced each other in a courtroom. “Okay, you convinced me.”

What was she thinking?
Before she could change her mind, she took her purse and a windbreaker out of the closet by the front door.

“Was it the fiber that convinced you?” Matt asked.

“If you must know, it was the dinner plate size.” She locked the house and followed him to Andrew’s driveway, where he’d parked his car. “The artichoke I had for dinner last night is a distant memory.”

He stopped to open her door before going around to the driver’s side. Settling behind the wheel, he looked as if he were going through a mental checklist before starting the car. “Bear with me. I just got this thing yesterday, and I’m not used to all the bells and whistles.”

Only then did she realize there was something different about the car. “What kind is it?”

“A prototype electric I’m testing for Karol Motors. It’s the first one I’ve driven that I think has a real chance of succeeding in the marketplace. From the reports I’ve read, it handles freeway speeds and the around-town stuff as well as a traditional car.”

She waited for him to go on. “But?” she finally prompted.

“There’s always one of those, isn’t there? Right now it’s the cost. Assembly line models would still come in at half again what you’d pay for a gas-powered model.”

“Even with fuel costs factored in?”

“People who can afford forty-thousand-dollar cars usually don’t keep them long enough for something like that to matter.”

The closest she’d come to an electric car before today was her father’s golf cart. Having lived in Los Angeles the entire time she was in college, she had seen the need for cleaner cars firsthand. She just wasn’t convinced electricity was the answer. “How long is it down for recharging?”

“It isn’t. Or I should say rarely. The entire shell is a solar collector. It feeds the batteries whether the car is moving or standing still.”

“What happens on a day like today?”

“The reserve kicks in.” He glanced at her and grinned. “If not, we walk.”

He started the car and backed out of the driveway. Kelly had trouble orienting without the traditional engine noise, and fought the feeling that they were floating over the road and not actually on it. “Weird.”

“It took me a while to get used to it, too. This is the third car I’ve tested for them. They keep getting better, but they’re not there yet.”

“What do you usually drive?” She was curious if he practiced what he preached.

“I have a truck that’s been converted to run on natural gas, but most of the time I ride my bike.” They came to the state park road. Matt made a left and then another that led to Highway 1.

“As good as electric cars sound, I’ve always wondered if it isn’t a wash as far as pollution goes. Don’t most electric plants run on fossil fuel? If everyone converted their cars to electricity, wouldn’t that lead to more dams and power plants and fossil fuel consumption?”

“You’re right. The cars have to be made solar dependent.”

“But doesn’t that mean they’ll only work in the Sun Belt?” she countered.

Matt pulled up to a stop sign and turned to look at Kelly. “Not that I don’t find this stuff fascinating, but would you mind if we save it for class? I spin these arguments all day every day, and once in a while it’s nice to take a break and talk about something else.”

Only then did she realize how aggressively she’d been questioning him.

“Let’s talk about you,” Matt said. “Where are you from and what do you do for a living?”

“San Diego.” There was no way out of telling the rest of it. “I’m a lawyer.”

He chuckled. “Now I understand.” He took off again, went through an underpass, and then north on Highway 1.

“Sorry you invited me for coffee?” she asked.

He surprised her with a grin and a wink. “Sorry you agreed to come?”

“No.” And she wasn’t.

“Me either.”

T
HE COFFEE SHOP WAS IN A SMALL CON
verted house that overlooked Soquel Creek. It was painted blue and white both inside and out, with polished hardwood floors, chintz curtains on the mullioned windows, and real flowers on the tables. The smell of cinnamon and fresh-baked bread filled the air with mouth-watering promise.

The owner knew Matt and responded to a called greeting by bounding out of the kitchen. Dressed completely in white except for a dark green apron with a picture of cartoon kids sitting around a campfire with a bear dressed like a firefighter, he looked more like a mechanic than a chef. “I heard you were back in town you old SOB. What in the hell took you so long to get over here to see me?”

He took Matt’s hand and pulled him into an enthusiastic hug. “What’s it been? Two years?”

“Closer to three. I came by on Sunday, but you were at some wine-tasting thing.”

“No one told me.” He peered over Matt’s shoulder. “And who’s this you’ve brought with you?”

The implication was impossible to miss. Kelly would have protested if the idea weren’t so preposterous that it would take care of itself.

“Kelly–” Stumped, he looked at Kelly.

“Anderson,” she supplied.

“Kelly Anderson, Oscar Stevens.” To Oscar he said, “She’s Andrew’s friend.”

His eyes widened in surprise before a frown drew his bushy eyebrows back together. “No kidding? I thought–” He shook his head and tried to cover his confusion with a smile.

“Something wrong?” Matt asked.

“I must’ve heard wrong,” he said. “I thought Andrew was working on seeing Cheryl again.” He gave Kelly a sheepish look. “My mistake.”

Kelly waved him off. “I’m a friend of Andrew’s,” she said. “Not Andrew’s
friend
.”

Matt shrugged. “I don’t see the difference.”

The bell over the door rang, announcing another customer. Oscar led Kelly and Matt to a table. “What can I get you?”

“Two coffees, two cinnamon roles,” Matt said.

“Coming up.”

When he was gone Kelly zeroed in on Matt. He hadn’t fooled her with his innocent act. “Why did you want him to think Andrew and I were a couple?”

“It was either that or let him think you and I were a couple and have it all over Santa Cruz by noon. The last woman I brought here was my wife.”

“You’re married?” She was as disappointed as she was surprised, and neither made sense.

“I was. We’ve been divorced almost two years now. We’re still friends–as much as people who live different lives a continent apart can be.”

“Kids?”

“Luckily, no. We wanted them, but it just didn’t happen.” He leaned back to make room for the waiter to deliver the coffee and rolls. “What about you?”

“No kids and never been married. Came close once–to getting married–but that was when I was in college. We decided if we were going to make it work, we should stop going to parties and spend more time with each other. We did and realized parties and friends were what we had in common.” She cut the roll, took a bite, closed her eyes, and made a low mmmmmm sound. “Oh, I can see this was a mistake.”

“Don’t like it?”

“Are you kidding? This is the stuff dreams are made of.”

“Try the coffee.”

She did. It was as good as the cinnamon roll. “I wonder how well coffee freezes,” she thought out loud.

“I think we could talk Oscar into selling you some beans. Then all you’d need is a grinder.”

“Won’t make any difference.” She took another bite. “I’ve tried every brand on the market–Folgers, Starbucks, Gevalia. I even managed to ruin some Kona that cost me thirty-five dollars a pound.”

“Well, I can see I have my work cut out for me.”

That sounded suspiciously like a plan to stick around, something her conscience told her she should discourage.
Easy enough,
a second inner voice countered.
Just remind him who you are and why you’re here.
But she didn’t. She was enjoying herself and didn’t want the morning to be over. “It’s hopeless. I’d feel guilty wasting your time.”

He gave her a look that told her he knew exactly what she was doing. And then, as if testing her, added, “I don’t mind.”

She headed him off by switching subjects. “How do you know Andrew?”

“We used to sail and free climb together back in our wild and crazy days. Lately we’ve both gotten so busy the best we seem able to do is get together a couple of times a year and talk about what we can’t seem to find time to do anymore.”

“I’m surprised you don’t make fun and games a higher priority.” Ray insisted on it. Evenings and weekends with his male friends took precedence over everything but work.

“We both knew we had to grow up sometime.”

Kelly guessed Matt and Ray to be near the same age–thirty-three. Ray, however, was a decade behind emotionally and showed no signs of maturing. “You mean you never sail or climb anymore?”

“I go every chance I get. I just don’t make it the priority it once was. And I don’t feel cheated if it doesn’t happen.”

He’d actually finished his cinnamon roll and was eyeing the half she’d left on her plate. “Are you through with that?”

“Help yourself.” She thought he was kidding, no one could pack away that much sugar and look the way he did. He wasn’t. He finished her roll with as much gusto as he’d eaten his own.

Satisfied, he sat back, ran a hand over his stomach, and glanced at his watch. “Ready?”

She nodded.

Matt left a twenty on the table and stopped by the kitchen to tell Oscar he hadn’t lost his touch. Kelly waved and added she would be back, soon and often.

Outside again, Kelly stood on the sidewalk and looked down Riverview Avenue. “I think the fog is lifting.”

Matt lightly touched her arm as they crossed the street to the car. “Do you have plans for the rest of the day?”

Tell him yes,
her increasingly irritating inner voice demanded. “Nothing firm. Andrew suggested several places he thought I should see while I’m here. I checked the map and Mission San Juan Bautista and Fremont Peak were close enough that it looks as if I could do them both in a day, so I’ll probably head inland.”

They were in the car before he said, “I’ve been invited to join some friends on a research vessel that’s leaving from Moss Landing in about an hour. You can’t see as much of the country from the bay as you would from Fremont Peak, but I guarantee what you do see will be spectacular. Want to come?”

All the reasons she’d had for not going to breakfast with him were still in place and still valid. He couldn’t be her friend, at least not a good friend. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them. Her father would be furious. Donna would never let her hear the end of it. But then the only way they would know was if she told them. “I’d love to.”

Again the voice.
You are out of your mind. The salt air has corroded your good sense. You’re acting like a starstruck teenager, not the ambitious, focused woman who graduated with honors from law school.

She’d spent her whole life listening to the voice of reason and looking back with nagging feelings of regret. Not today.

Matt traveled Highway 1 south for several miles before taking an off-ramp and backtracking. “I forgot I’d promised Ed I’d return the research material I borrowed from him on Friday.” He made a right onto a road that led into the hills. “It will just take a minute.”