Husband Next Door. Anne Ha
enjoy them.” It had been the first of many pleasant, platonic evenings they’d spent together.
Shelly returned to her stool and took another sip of orange juice. While she’d been thinking of the past, Aaron had chopped a tomato and beaten the eggs he’d borrowed from her refrigerator. He put a pan on the stove and poured some olive oil into it, stirring it briefly before consulting his cookbook.
“Tell me what you’re making,” Shelly said, “since it isn’t cabbage quiche.”
“Tomato basil frittata,” he replied.
“Another experiment?”
He nodded.
“And you thought you’d try it out on me.”
“What? You’re staying for dinner?”
“Of course I am. That’s been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”
“Now that you mention it,” he said, “yes.”
Shelly smiled to herself as she set the kitchen table with her favorite place mats and napkins.
She poured him a drink and lit the taper candles she’d picked up last week, then sat at the table enjoying the sweet fragrance of beeswax wafting from the candles and the muted clatter of Aaron selecting dinnerware and serving out their meal.
Aaron’s frittata was similar to the omelets he occasionally cooked for her on weekend mornings. It was smooth and creamy with a delightful blend of flavors.
“That was pretty good,” she said when they’d finished.
“Thank you. I want to serve it as a side dish. Do you think it’ll go with steak? And do you think Amanda will like it?”
She looked up. “Amanda? Is this a new one?”
Aaron carried their plates to the sink and set them in the basin. “You know, Shelly, you almost sound jealous.”
“Hardly,” she scoffed. “What you’re hearing is my disapproval of your life-style.”
He grinned at her, unrepentant.
She rolled her eyes. “About the steak,” she continued. “I think that’s an unconventional combination. But you just might be able to carry it off. I mean, people eat steak and eggs, right? Steak and frittata isn’t much different.”
He returned to the table. “You’re not saying that just to get me into trouble, are you? I could make salmon, instead.”
Shelly grimaced. “No. Stick with the steak. That way you can get Alison tipsy on a nice red wine.”
“Amanda.”
She stared at him. “Are you sure?”
Aaron paused. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Shelly watched while he dug into his back pocket and pulled a business card from his wallet, checking it quickly before giving it to her. It was his own card, but on the reverse was the name Amanda James and a telephone number, all written in a flowing, feminine hand.
“Lucky you,” she said pithily as she handed back the card.
Aaron tossed it onto the island, where it would no doubt stay until his next girlfriend found it and went into a jealous rage. “I’ll make coffee,” he said.
“No, it’s my turn.” She stood and crossed to the machine. “You made it last time, didn’t you? Fair’s fair.”
They both took their coffee black. Aaron sipped his appreciatively and leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. “So, Carpenter, aside from that marriage proposal, how was your day at the office?”
“Don’t ask.”
“Oh, that’s right. The April open house is tomorrow.”
“Exactly.” Every month, legal aid invited low-income and homeless people to come in for help with legal problems. If a lawyer could take the case, and if the person qualified, then the services were free. It was an effective way to reach those in need of assistance, but the days leading up to it were always hectic.
“Is Eric going to be there?”
Shelly shook her head. “No. He had to fly to Sacramento this afternoon—to lobby for that grant again. He won’t be back till next week.”
“So you have plenty of time to make up your mind.”
She nodded. She would have at least five days to think about her decision, and she knew Eric wouldn’t ask for her answer the moment he returned. He’d told her to take as much time as needed, and she would. Shelly was determined to make the right choice because, when she married, she wanted to be married forever. She didn’t want to fall into the same trap her mother had, rushing into matrimony with heedless passion only to realize, too late, that she’d made a mistake.
Of course, Eric wasn’t anything like Shelly’s father. But she was going to be careful nonetheless.
“You know,” Aaron said, startling her from her reverie, “I was thinking of asking you the same question.”
Shelly frowned, trying to pick up the thread of the conversation. “What are you talking about?”
He sipped his coffee. “I was thinking of asking you to marry me.”
Caught by surprise, Shelly felt her heart speed up. Finally she managed a laugh.
Aaron brought all four legs of his chair back to the floor with a thud. “I guess that means no,” he said, his tone ironic.
“You haven’t asked me the question.” Only when the words were out of her mouth did she realize she’d given him the perfect opening.
Aaron pushed aside his coffee cup and leaned across the table. Before Shelly could pull away, he grasped her hands in his and gazed soulfully into her eyes. His touch was warm and firm, and she could feel the slight roughness of his fingers against her palms.
“Shelly,” he said, “will you marry me?”
She gulped. Even though she knew he was kidding— and knew she’d never want to marry him—hearing Aaron say those words made her feel unaccountably shaky. She withdrew her hands from his grasp and said, as casually as she could, “Very funny, Aaron. You’d run screaming if I answered yes.”
“Probably.” He shrugged.
Shelly frowned. Had there been the briefest flicker of something in his eyes just then? She examined his features. No, she told herself, of course not. He leaned negligently back in his chair, his expression bland. He was the same unconcerned Aaron as usual.
His next words, spoken in a musing tone, confirmed her assessment
“It’s too bad, though, since there are tons of advantages. We could get a house together and never have to ring a doorbell to talk. I could cook for you every night. We know each other well, so there wouldn’t be any surprises—not to mention you’d be spared the heartache of deciding whether or not to take my name.”
“There’s no heartache involved,” she said, recovering her composure. She was used to this sort of nonsense from him. “No matter what happens, I’m keeping my name.”
Aaron drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes took on a mischievous sparkle, and he said in a stuffy voice, “For your professional life, certainly, dear. But I really think you should use mine in our social life. It’s so much simpler that way.”
Shelly shook her head, smiling.
“Of course, if you really wanted to be fair, we could hyphenate. Both of us. We’d be Shelly and Aaron Carpenter-Carpenter. How’s that?”
“Please, Aaron. Give me a break already. You’re only doing this to tease me.”
He didn’t deny it, she noticed.
She