in the dark.”
Dena laughed. “Well, here’s another plan. Irma and I will be done with the casita in an hour. Is there a good pizza delivery place in town?”
“Yeah,” Manny said.
“Are you inviting us to dinner?” Zeke asked.
“Sure. It’ll be my first night in the casita. If you bring the wine, I’ll buy the pizza. There’s a small refrigerator and a microwave, but no oven. So pizza—”
“Admit it,” Zeke said, and grinned, the corner of his mouth dimpling on the right side. “You can’t cook.”
Manny laughed.
“I can so,” Dena said. She tilted her chin. “I’m an excellent cook. California cuisine is my specialty.”
Zeke winked at Manny. “That means pizza and salad.”
“Okay, have fun.” She attempted her best haughty air. “I was going to use the main kitchen and make my penne pasta Anna. I sauté garlic in olive oil, add red peppers, spinach, goat cheese, and—”
Zeke’s mouth dropped open. “That sounds fabulous.”
“Too bad. You missed your chance.” Dena strode toward the back verandah.
“Who is Anna?” Manny yelled after her.
Dena frowned and looked back. “Oh, my recipe,” she said, and laughed. “Anna is the daughter of a friend. She’s a fabulous chef, but too old for you.”
Manny put on a sad face. “If you make that, maybe Mama will make a salad. It would be a feast.”
Dena stared at him. He was almost drooling. “Didn’t you just come from lunch?”
“Yeah. Two hours ago.”
“Men!” she said, and shook her head.
“Come on, Manny.” Zeke laughed, and lifted his end of the table again. “Let’s get this positioned then we’ll take a swim before dinner.” He turned. “Hey, which wine goes best with that pasta?”
Dena stood on the verandah steps, shaded her eyes against the afternoon sun, and grinned at his boyish expression. “Pinot Grigio, do you have any?”
“I think it can be arranged,” Zeke said, and hustled Manny down the path.
Dena checked the refrigerator for the vegetables and found every ingredient she’d need in the crisper. In the dairy compartment she found a block of Parmesan and a packet of goat cheese. Plus, there was pasta in the pantry, plenty of olive oil, cracked black pepper, fresh garlic, and her secret ingredient, a jar of Kalamata olives.
She couldn’t wait to play in the kitchen but first she’d need Irma’s blessing, even though it was Sunday.
****
That evening, Zeke leaned against the end of an armchair and stretched his legs out on the rug. He was flushed from the wine and the heat from sitting so close to Dena. She sat behind him and his head rested against her legs. A man could get used to these comforts.
Flames flickered around the artificial logs in the small gas fireplace and he watched everyone relax after the huge meal. “That was an amazing meal, Dena—”
“Thanks, but Irma helped too.”
“Not so much,” Irma said, and giggled.
“You know the chairs are recliners, don’t you?” Zeke asked, and turned his face up to Dena. “There’s no handle. Sit back deep and use your body weight against the back of the chair. Want me to show you?”
“No. But you better move before I pop this footrest up.”
Zeke moved to one side. The door was open, the windows open, and the cool night breezes flowed through the casita. It wasn’t really cold enough for a fire, but they’d all agreed it set the mood.
“What are you looking so smug about?” Dena asked, and gave him a quick dig in the shoulder with her bare toes.
He tilted his head back again. “You’ll never know.”
She laughed, reached forward and mussed his hair. “Don’t expect dinner like this every night. I’m going to have a lot of work to do to pull off this event before the holidays. Besides, Irma and I slaved in the kitchen for hours.”
****
Irma laughed. Zeke watched her with deep affection. She had a throaty chuckle going with the help of two glasses of red wine. She’d made her own selection from the wine cellar and was now in a recliner with the footrest raised. He liked how she and Dena had warmed up to each other. It had been far too long since there’d been laughter at Three C’s. He had Dena to thank for that.
Manny came in from outside, were he’d gone for a cigarette, and lounged in the doorway.
“Are you ready to leave, Manny?” Zeke asked.
“Nah. This is cool. It’s a happy place.” He pulled up a kitchen chair and straddled it. “Like old times.”
Zeke had to admit it had been a fabulous evening, yet it depressed him