Vineyard Fear by Philip Craig Page B

another delicious meal from the kitchen of J. W. Jackson.”
    â€œIndeed. But first this.” I gave her a perfect martini and waved her back out the door. We went up onto the balcony and I put a plate of smoked bluefish pâté, Brie, and saltless crackers on the little table between our chairs.
    We looked out over the garden and Sengekontacket Pond to the sound where, in the haze of the summer afternoon, sailboats were leaning with the wind as they beat for evening harbors. Along the road between the pond and the sound the cars of the beach people were pulling out and heading home.
    â€œI was beginning to wonder whether I was ever going to get another invitation to come here,” said Zee.
    â€œIt’s been a while,” I agreed.
    â€œIn fact, we haven’t seen each other very much since May.”
    â€œTrue. My nose has been out of joint ever since you told me you were going away next month. I’ve been sulking.”
    â€œBut you’re over it now?”
    â€œOver enough to want to see you a lot before you go off on your pilgrimage.”
    â€œGood. Me too. You’re really over it?”
    â€œI don’t like sulkers, especially when one of them is me. I want to make up for the time I’ve lost. I know I’ll miss you, but I’m not mad about it anymore.”
    â€œGood.” She got up and came around and leaned over and kissed me. I kissed her back. She went back to her chair.
    We sat and drank and ate and looked across at the boats and cars.
    â€œI doubt if New Hampshire is as nice as this,” said Zee.
    â€œWell, you can always come home early.”
    â€œNo, I’m going to do it all.”
    â€œA woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do. A manly man like me understands that. It’s a kind of code you have to obey.”
    â€œYou’re so sensitive I sometimes wonder how you survive. What’s for supper?”
    â€œA simple but elegant Scandinavian baked fish served with little boiled potatoes and fresh beans from my very own garden. Madame will find it quite satisfactory.”
    â€œTell me more.”
    â€œNormally the chef never reveals his secrets, but I know I can trust you to be discreet. You cook a bunch of sliced onions in a skillet with butter until they’re soft, then put them in a baking dish, put a pound or so of fish on top, add a couple of bouillon cubes and cover the whole thing with a couple of cups of roux. Easy and mega-delish. I like to use fish with white meat best, by the way. Today you’re having cod caught up off Cedar Tree Neck. First, though, another drink.”
    I brought more martinis and we worked our way through the hors d’oeuvres. I felt happier than I had in a while. When the time was right, I went down and gotsupper going. At seven, we ate, washing everything down with a nice Graves I’d been saving. Zee ate everything in front of her, leaned back, and patted her lips.
    â€œYum. You have not lost the touch, François.”
    â€œNote my modest smile. If you will place yourself on the porch, I will bring the coffee and cognac.”
    She did and I did and we watched the night darken around the house. She put her hand in mine.
    â€œI’ve got to go home,” she said.
    â€œSad words for one who has plied the maiden with his best booze and food.”
    â€œI have to go to work in the morning.”
    â€œYou can go from here.”
    â€œI don’t have a clean uniform here, J.W.”
    â€œWear this one.”
    â€œThis one needs to be washed. It has smudges from when I helped today’s first moped accident up onto a table where we could patch him up. No, I’ve got to go.”
    â€œI want to see you a lot before you leave.”
    She put her arms around my neck. “Why don’t you come to my place for supper tomorrow?”
    â€œCan I bring a clean uniform with me?”
    She laughed. “Yes.”
    The next day, early, I was on