Informed Consent (7 page)

Andrew
grinned and stepped out of the pantry.
 
He looked up at her, one hand resting on the balustrade. His eyes
gleamed, and his face was relaxed, happy, teasing.

“I meant
for dinner.
 
Come on back down here
and help us.”
 

Denise
hesitated, watching as he headed back towards the pantry and kitchen.

Stealth.
 
Below the radar.
 
No fuss.

What he
thought he’d find in the kitchen was beyond her.
 
Yogurt?
 
Pop
Tarts?

She
stalled at the entrance to the kitchen.
 
The boys both watched Andrew like curious puppies, Lucas happily perched
on the counter and Zander sitting on the butcher block swinging his legs. They
liked her husband, their new big brother.
 

 
Her heart climbed up into her throat
and lodged there.
 
What on earth
was she going to do?

Andrew
stuck his head in cabinets, drawers, refrigerators, grabbing any items that
caught his eye and tossing them to the boys, or up on a counter.
 
Hands on hips he perused the
collection.
 
He stuck his tongue in
his left cheek, nodded to himself.

“Parmesan.”
 
He tossed a hunk of cheese at Lucas.

“Roma
tomatoes and capers,” pointing at the items, then pushing them aside.
 
“Garlic?”

“Spice
rack over the island.”
 
Denise
spoke without thinking.
 
Andrew
fired a look in her direction.
 

Denise
blushed.

“Pasta.”
 
A box flew towards Zander. “Find a
pot.”

Her
brothers had never had this kind of interaction.

Denise
took two tentative steps into the room.
 

Andrew
pointed at the knife block. “Grab a knife.
 
I’m giving you chopping duty.”

Using
both hands, Andrew scooped up the collection of garlic and onion and put them
on the far counter.
 
He waved a
hand at them.

“Chop.”

Denise
considered the pile.
 
She opened
drawers and peered inside.
 
At some
point in her life while passing thru this room she’d seen a whirly thing that
chopped stuff fast. Made more sense to her to use that than a knife.

She kept
a wary ear and eye on the scene, and went to work peeling her very first onion.
She fumbled with the garlic.
 

A strong
hand grabbed the garlic from her grasp without warning.
 
“I’ll show you an easy way.”

Denise
watched.
 
He’d folded a kitchen
towel into his waistband.
 
Not fair
to look sexy with a hand towel tucked in your pants.
 

She
scowled.

Andrew
tossed the garlic in the microwave and punched buttons.
 
Denise raised a brow.
 
Who knew?

“Where’s
William?”

Crap.
 
Crap.
 
And Crap again.

“Don’t
know,” said Lucas.

“Out,”
said Zander.

“Not
home,” she said, tossing the word out casually.
 
Unfortunately all three of them spoke at once.

Andrew
turned from the microwave and looked at her before he let his eyes drift to her
brothers.

“Not home
from school?”
 
He turned back to
the counter and started doing something with a bunch of greens.

“UUMM,”
Denise said vaguely.
 
“What’s the
story with the microwave and garlic?”

She
pressed her face close to the glass door and peered in as though important
secrets might be revealed.

“The
teeth will loosen up in the skin.”

“The
teeth?
 
Out of the skin?”
 

Denise
knew damn well what he meant.
 
She
wasn’t a total imbecile.
 
She moved
her face away from the microwave hoping all the studies denying any threat of
radiation were correct, and looked over at him, wrinkling her brow.

Andrew
nodded, and yanked at the door of the machine.
 
He reached in, pulled the garlic out, and put the entire
mess on the counter.
 
He
pointed.“See?
 
The skin has
loosened.”
 
He picked up a clove
and rolled it between his fingers.

Denise
did her level best to look fascinated.
 
She whistled.

 
“Who knew?
 
I’ll be damned. Look at that one! Popped right out of its
skin!
 
Look at that, guys!”

She
turned towards her brothers.
 
Clearly, they didn’t realize they were all on thin ice.
 
Hers was undoubtedly thinner than
theirs.

“Guys!
Look.
 
This will be really handy to
know.”

Lucas
glanced up from his grater. “Oh. Yeah. Cool.
 
Is this enough cheese?”

Andrew
grinned and headed over to the kid.
 

Denise
let out a whisper of relief.

“That’s
not any old cheese, kid. That’s aged Parmesan.
 
Show some respect.”
 
He put out a hand and ruffled the kid’s hair.

“To
cheese?
 
I have to respect the
cheese?”

Denise
bit her tongue.
 
Instead of saying
it out loud she said it to herself with exactly the right amount of
sarcasm:
 
Andrew’s very big on respect.
 
Even cheese deserves respect.

 
“Did Will come home after school,
Lucas?
 
Or go straight to …where
exactly is he?”
 

The man
would not give up.

“Do I
chop with this?”
 
Denise pressed a
button on the food processor.
 
“Or,
like, mince?
 
I saw that once.”

She
stalked across the kitchen towards the butler’s pantry.
 
“In here, maybe?”

“The baby
processor is fine, Dinx.”

Her head
stuck in the pantry, Denise froze.
 
She’d been called Baby, Sweetheart, even Hotstuff.
 
But Dinx?

She stuck
her head back into the kitchen.

Lucas was
chortling, waving the grater, parmesan flying down the counter.
 
“He called you Dinx!
 
I like it!”

Zander
spoke up.
 
“I do too!
 
It’s cool, DeeDee!”

“DeeDee?”
 
Andrew grinned, one brow quirking up.

“Don’t
even think about it!” She was faking of course.
 
He could call her any damn thing he wanted as long as he
stayed far away from…

“So where
is William?”

Shit.

“Basketball.”
Zander.

“Phil’s
house.” Lucas

Again, at
the same time.

Denise
bent over and peered at the interior of the chopper.

“Basketball
at Phil’s house,” Zander added.

“Does
this look ok, Andrew?”

He shot
her a glance, laying the lethal looking knife on the counter.
 
He’d moved on in his work, wielding his
knife with his right hand while he held the head of some vegetable in place
with the heel of his left hand, hacking away at the green stuff. Disciplining
the poor spinach.
 
Or
broccoli.
 
Now he brushed his hands
on his tucked towel and walked towards her.

Hands on
his hips, he jerked his head at the little machine.

“Undo
it.
 
Take the bowl off. Go ahead.”

Denise
fumbled it.

“Turn it
to the left.
 
There you go.
 
That frees the bowl.
 
It’s a safety mechanism that keeps it
from working if the bowl isn’t completely seated and the lid on correctly.
 
So you won’t chop your hand off by
accident.
 
Take the lid off.”

Denise
closely examined the interior of the bowl.
 
Garlic had probably never been so carefully examined.
 
Where the fuck was William?

“Look
good?
 
Pretty fine?”
 
Andrew was helpful.

Denise
nodded.
 
“I think.”
 
She held out the bowl to him.
 

Andrew
took it, gave the garlic a rather cursory look, and headed back to the butcher
block.

“Great.
So William is playing basketball at Phil’s.
 
Should we call?
 
Tell him dinner is close?”

“Phil’s
mother is a great cook,” Lucas offered.
 
“She usually feeds us.”

Andrew’s
head cocked to one side.
 
He
pointed to a large kettle.
 
“Get
that down kid and fill it with water for the pasta.
 
So Mrs. Phil feeds you?”

“She
feeds whoever is there,” Denise said. “She’s very motherly.”

Zander
decided to contribute. “She loves kids.
 
She’d feed every kid in town if she could.”

This was
exhausting.
 
She didn’t want to
have to work this hard.
 
She was
tempted to collapse and confess. She bustled over to the pot rack and shoved
Lucas out of the way since he was only staring at it anyway.

Andrew
inserted himself between Denise and the butcher block island and reached up to
the pot rack.

“I got
it, Babe.”

He bumped
her gently with a hip.
 
“You fill
it?”

He thrust
the pot at her, and leaned his hips against the counter.

“So what
are the rules around here?
 
You
guys supposed to check in after school?”

His voice
was level, friendly, no hint of danger.

Zander
and Lucas stared at him, mouths open.

“Rules
about dinner?”

Both boys
turned back to their tasks abruptly.

“Is there
a set time when the boys have to be home Denise?
 
Do they have to check in after school?”

Denise
pulled in a breath. The man might as well be a damn rat terrier.

 
So much for stealth mode.
 
It was William or her and frankly, she
wanted -a lot- to kill the little bastard. But for now, she threw herself on the
IED named Andrew.

“Jesus
Christ, ’drew! What’s with the rules! Does there have to be a rule about every
fucking thing?!

Andrew,
still lounging casually by the counter, looked at her thoughtfully.

Zander
and Lucas did that thing that involved staring, open mouthed at her.

So Denise
stormed from the room, wrapping the big fat Red Herring around her, making sure
he would follow.

Except he
didn’t.

***

Well over
an hour later Andrew nudged the door of their bedroom open with the toe of his
foot and walked in, hands full of a tray bearing pasta, bread, salad, and a
glass of wine.
 
He and the boys had
finished making dinner and eaten and he’d put them to work on dishes. He’d
gotten them started and spelled out instructions, slipping innocuous questions
in here and there until he was sure they were lulled.
 
Then he’d hit them with the zinger.

“So does
Will miss school often?”

“Jesus.
 
Practically all the time.” Zander had
an innocent soul.

Lucas was
savvier.
 
His body straightened
immediately. “Shut up,” he muttered, deliberately knocking into his little
brother.

Andrew
ignored both reactions and went on telling humorous stories about his own,
very rare,
instances of playing hooky.
Eventually he doled out more instructions and generous praise and put together
a plate for their sister.
 
Zander
chattered on.
 
Andrew felt Lucas’s
eyes on him as he left the room.

Now gales
of laughter wafted up from below.
 
They’d probably flood the house with dirty dish water.