up. Rachel's good sense was always useful for keeping things in perspective. A pity she had wasted herself on medical school; she would have made a great judge. In fact, Rachel's father was a judge.
The cats were waiting in the mudroom when she came in the rear door. The sleek black male, Damocles, waited aloofly while the calico lady, Lilith, twined suggestively around Val's ankles, gaze locked on the plastic shopping bags. "Don't pretend you're starving, Lilith. I saw you inhaling your breakfast." Val bent to stroke Lilith's head, skritched Damocles's neck so he wouldn't feel neglected, and headed for the kitchen.
Some fast work resulted in marinara sauce with sliced Italian sausage gently simmering on the back burner, a table set with crystal and candles--why restrict elegance to dinners with men?--and a green salad chilling in the refrigerator next to a bottle of wine. Val was wrapping garlic bread in foil for heating when the doorbell rang.
She skipped to the front door to admit her friend. Tall and serene, with short dark hair that fell naturally into soft waves, Rachel inspired confidence even when she looked exhausted, like this evening.
She stepped into the vestibule and inhaled deeply. "Smells wonderful. How do you do it, Val? You're at least as busy as I am, but you still manage to be a domestic goddess."
Val laughed. "I know where to buy good food made by other people to fill in whatever gaps I don't have time to fill myself. Come on in and have some wine and tell me what you've been up to."
Over wine, pasta, and dessert, they talked with the ease of friends who can reconnect immediately no matter how long it has been since their last meeting. Afterward, they settled on the sun porch, which was cozier than the formal living room. Val curled up in her wing chair, Lilith on her lap, while Damocles sprawled across Rachel, who was conveniently wearing black so the fur wouldn't show.
Having heard Val's story about how and why she was changing her career, Rachel said, "This must be a good decision. I haven't seen you so happy and excited for years."
"I'm excited but scared, too." Val paused to clarify her qualms. "Up until now, sheer competitiveness kept me pointed in the right direction. Not only am I tackling professional areas where I don't know much, I have no idea how to manage leisure time. I'm too used to running like a gerbil on a wheel."
Rachel took the disclosure calmly. She had always been the Mother Confessor of their group of friends. "Of course you're scared. Any life change worth doing is scary. But I think you'll be glad once you make the adjustment. You just have to trade some of the orderliness you like for more disorder."
Val groaned. "It sounds awful when you put it that way."
"Then impose order by making lists. You always enjoy that. What's on your list for using your new leisure time?"
"I'd like to garden again," Val said thoughtfully. "Travel more, cook more, go antiquing. Heck, it would be heavenly to be able to loaf around the house with the cats guilt-free. But the biggie is relationships, of course. Friendships are plants that need watering with time and effort. I want to be able to have lunch with a friend without scheduling it a month in advance, and then having to cancel half the time."
"I wonder if that's why most of my friends are people I've known for years. I haven't had time to develop new friendships." Rachel scratched Damocles under the chin. "Speaking of relationships, tell me about this landlord of yours. You get a feline gleam in your eyes when you mention him."
Val made a face. "Is it that obvious?"
"Crystal clear."
"He's an interesting guy--the still-waters-run-deep sort. Very down-to-earth and practical, which should help in this death row investigation. He genuinely cares about saving Daniel Monroe's life, I think, so he'll do his best."
"That's all very well, but is he attractive?"
Val looked for a movie analogy from the years when the old gang watched films
The cats were waiting in the mudroom when she came in the rear door. The sleek black male, Damocles, waited aloofly while the calico lady, Lilith, twined suggestively around Val's ankles, gaze locked on the plastic shopping bags. "Don't pretend you're starving, Lilith. I saw you inhaling your breakfast." Val bent to stroke Lilith's head, skritched Damocles's neck so he wouldn't feel neglected, and headed for the kitchen.
Some fast work resulted in marinara sauce with sliced Italian sausage gently simmering on the back burner, a table set with crystal and candles--why restrict elegance to dinners with men?--and a green salad chilling in the refrigerator next to a bottle of wine. Val was wrapping garlic bread in foil for heating when the doorbell rang.
She skipped to the front door to admit her friend. Tall and serene, with short dark hair that fell naturally into soft waves, Rachel inspired confidence even when she looked exhausted, like this evening.
She stepped into the vestibule and inhaled deeply. "Smells wonderful. How do you do it, Val? You're at least as busy as I am, but you still manage to be a domestic goddess."
Val laughed. "I know where to buy good food made by other people to fill in whatever gaps I don't have time to fill myself. Come on in and have some wine and tell me what you've been up to."
Over wine, pasta, and dessert, they talked with the ease of friends who can reconnect immediately no matter how long it has been since their last meeting. Afterward, they settled on the sun porch, which was cozier than the formal living room. Val curled up in her wing chair, Lilith on her lap, while Damocles sprawled across Rachel, who was conveniently wearing black so the fur wouldn't show.
Having heard Val's story about how and why she was changing her career, Rachel said, "This must be a good decision. I haven't seen you so happy and excited for years."
"I'm excited but scared, too." Val paused to clarify her qualms. "Up until now, sheer competitiveness kept me pointed in the right direction. Not only am I tackling professional areas where I don't know much, I have no idea how to manage leisure time. I'm too used to running like a gerbil on a wheel."
Rachel took the disclosure calmly. She had always been the Mother Confessor of their group of friends. "Of course you're scared. Any life change worth doing is scary. But I think you'll be glad once you make the adjustment. You just have to trade some of the orderliness you like for more disorder."
Val groaned. "It sounds awful when you put it that way."
"Then impose order by making lists. You always enjoy that. What's on your list for using your new leisure time?"
"I'd like to garden again," Val said thoughtfully. "Travel more, cook more, go antiquing. Heck, it would be heavenly to be able to loaf around the house with the cats guilt-free. But the biggie is relationships, of course. Friendships are plants that need watering with time and effort. I want to be able to have lunch with a friend without scheduling it a month in advance, and then having to cancel half the time."
"I wonder if that's why most of my friends are people I've known for years. I haven't had time to develop new friendships." Rachel scratched Damocles under the chin. "Speaking of relationships, tell me about this landlord of yours. You get a feline gleam in your eyes when you mention him."
Val made a face. "Is it that obvious?"
"Crystal clear."
"He's an interesting guy--the still-waters-run-deep sort. Very down-to-earth and practical, which should help in this death row investigation. He genuinely cares about saving Daniel Monroe's life, I think, so he'll do his best."
"That's all very well, but is he attractive?"
Val looked for a movie analogy from the years when the old gang watched films
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