Something Different/Pepper's Way

  “All’s fair in …’ Well, you know the rest.”

  “‘Love and war,’ if I remember correctly. And it’s going to be the latter with a vengeance if you don’t put me down.”

  Thor looked virtuous. “It was your challenge, therefore I choose the weapons. It’s a rule.”

  “Look, I’m not used to this altitude, and I’m getting dizzy. Why don’t we sit down and discuss the rules?”

  Thor appeared to think about her request, then nodded, making a complicated maneuver that ended with him sitting on the couch and Pepper sitting in his lap.

  “This wasn’t quite what I had in mind,” she noted dryly.

  “It’s what I had in mind. You were saying something about rules?” He seemed to find her ponytail fascinating, winding the silky hair around his hand and apparently watching light play on the silvery strands.

  Or maybe, she thought wryly, he was adding insurance to the arm resting across her lap. Since he obviously didn’t intend to let her escape, Pepper, characteristically, got on with the matter at hand.

  But it was damnably hard to ignore the hard thighs beneath her….

  “The rules. Well, you said it was up to you to choose the weapons, but any contest of physical superiority ends right here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Definitely. It’s too unequal. Brute strength wins out in the end, and we both know it,” she said seriously.

  He looked at her for a long moment. “That’s a lesson usually learned in a hard school; my curiosity about your past is growing by leaps and bounds.”

  Pepper felt a peculiar little mental shock and wondered silently at his perception. But she wasn’t ready to talk about hard schools or pasts, and skated over the subject lightly. “When one is pint-size, it’s a lesson easily and quickly learned. So—no physical domination, okay?”

  In an odd little gesture his free hand lifted to lie along the side of her neck, the thumb moving gently beneath her ear. His expression was totally and completely serious. “I’d never hurt you, Pepper. That’s one thing you can always be very sure of.”

  Swallowing hard—for some reason there seemed to be a lump in her throat—Pepper decided to accept that for agreement. “Fine.” She decided to lighten the atmosphere. “And since that washes out your strongest weapon—no wordplay intended—what do you choose instead?”

  Thor’s lazy smile indicated an approval of her light question, but his reply made her realize suddenly that her own strategy was marching inexorably over quicksand.

  “Honesty.”

  “I see.” She wondered where her own unwary steps had led her, and how he defined honesty. “No punches pulled. No quarter asked… or granted.”

  “You said it first.” He was still smiling, but watchful now, gray eyes probing. “No quarter. No holds barred. And since honesty is the weapon”—his smile grew—“I’ll be the first to employ it. Tell me something, Pepper. Were you looking for a place to park your RV for a few weeks? Or were you looking for a home for Fifi?”

  “Dammit.” Pepper was torn between a desire to laugh and an urge to hit him with something. “That’s not a fair question!”

  He shook his head reprovingly. “You can’t cry foul whenever something doesn’t suit you. Come on now, ’fess up! Your gauntlet was well hidden, but you were bent on challenge yesterday, weren’t you?”

  Pepper felt a smile tugging at her lips. This was honesty with a vengeance! “Well, since you obviously aren’t taking to your heels, I’ll admit that I could have found somewhere else to park the van.”

  “Not good enough.”

  “You want your pound of flesh, don’t you?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Beast.”

  “To the core. Well?”

  “All right!” She glared at him; her expression was part mockery and part amused exasperation. “I was … interested. Satisfied?”

  He was openly grinning now. “It’ll do. Damn, you must have been born with a poker face; you certainly didn’t give anything away yesterday. I figured you didn’t have a subtle bone in your body.”

  “You call this subtle?” Pepper looked at him with a lifted brow. “If my fellow women found out about this, I’d be drummed out of the sisterhood.”

  “What sisterhood?” Thor looked puzzled.

  Pepper decided that if he wanted honesty, he was going to get it. It was a tactic that, according to theory, was guaranteed to give most men nightmares, but she was intuitively certain that it was the right one with this particular man. Not total honesty, of course. There would always be guarded areas of any individual’s privacy in which intrusion would neither be forgotten nor forgiven. She sighed. Oh, well, he knew that as well as she. Honesty in intent, though—well, that was different.

  “News for you, pal,” she told him with a gentle smile. “Women have always done the chasing; we just never let you guys know it. Subtle, you see. Which is why the sisterhood would disown me if this got out.”

  Thor stared at her for a long moment. “What have I gotten myself into?” he murmured.

  “Trouble.” She bit back a giggle. “With a capital T and a capital all the other letters too. You’ve opened a Pandora’s box, remember.”

  “What about you?” The intent, probing expression in his gray eyes belied his easy smile. “Aren’t you putting yourself in a vulnerable position by admitting interest so early in the—uh— game?”

  “You mean, ‘what price honesty’?” Too serious, she thought, and gave him a light answer. “Well, I’ve always paid my own fare. And, besides, it seems to me that a lot of the problems in human relationships arise out of trying to hide what’s painfully obvious.” She smiled a little. “I’d be an idiot to deny interest after the way I reacted to your—uh—physical response to my challenge. Wouldn’t I?”

  Something flickered in Thor’s eyes, an expression that might have been admiration or approval—or bewilderment. When he spoke, his voice was a curious combination of all three emotions.

  “I asked for honesty, but I didn’t really expect it, Pepper. The closer I look at the puzzle, the bigger and more complicated it gets.” Almost whimsically he added, “Are you real? Or will I wake up and find you were a dream?”

  Pepper didn’t delude herself into thinking that the question meant what it seemed to mean: that her honesty made her more imagined than real, something he’d needed but never expected to find. She wasn’t that complacent about herself or that certain of him. So she simply answered the first question and tried to ignore the second.

  “I’m real. And you’d better remember that honesty’s a double-edged sword; it cuts both ways. You have to be honest too.”

  “And so?”

  “And so … the chase is on. Do you feel hunted?”

  He appeared to consider the question seriously. “Oddly enough, no. I suppose because I feel certain that you’d chase, but not trap. And I’d be a fool if I weren’t flattered by your… interest.”

  Pepper was honestly surprised. “Why?”

  Thor was clearly amused. “My ego, I guess. I’ve never been chased by an angel before.”

  Instead of taking the remark as the compliment it was obviously intended to be, Pepper was shaken by it. “Thor… don’t put me on a pedestal. I’d lose my balance. I’d fall off.”

  In that moment Thor felt a curious need to reassure her. He didn’t know why, but the need rose with a certainty not to be questioned. And he didn’t question. He simply drew her closer, resting his chin against her hair and wrapping both arms around her. “You look like an angel,” he told her quietly. “I don’t expect you to be one. In fact, I wouldn’t know what to do with an angel.”

  Pepper was surprised by his reaction to her plea, but warmed by it. She wanted him to think of her as a flesh-and-blood woman, not the china doll some men wanted her to be. A china doll was placed on a shelf and displayed proudly; it was rarely touched or even held. Pepper had discovered in the last few minutes just how much of a woman sh
e was, and she didn’t want to risk the loss of Thor touching and holding her.

  Wary again of being too serious, of delving into too many unfamiliar emotions, she tried to lighten the mood. “You said something about giving me the nickel tour,” she murmured, highly conscious of his big arms around her.

  “It’s gone up to a dime,” he responded gravely. “Inflation, you know.”

  “Really? Well, I guess it’ll be worth it.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “True.” She made an experimental attempt to remove herself from his lap, both relieved and disappointed when he allowed her to get up. “Lead on.”

  Thor rose to his feet slowly and stood looking down at her for a moment. “I am flattered, you know,” he said suddenly.

  Pepper was deliberately obtuse. “Just because I think the tour’ll be worth a dime?” she asked lightly.

  “No.” He touched the tip of her nose with one finger. “Because I’m being chased.”

  “It’s early days yet,” she told him wryly. “This time next week you may be running in fear for your very life.”

  “Somehow I don’t think that’s likely. In the meantime, however… This, ma’am, is the den. And, if you’ll come this way…”

  The house was beautiful. Downstairs was the living room, den, study, kitchen/breakfast nook, formal dining room, and one of the three bathrooms.

  The rooms were spacious and airy, decorated—Pepper’s discerning eye for such things told her—professionally, but with instructions to lean toward comfort rather than style. The furniture was composed of sturdy woods and comfortable cushions, nothing delicate or spindly. Colors varied from room to room, mostly earth tones brightened by greens and blues.

  The study held her interest the longest, particularly since she was looking for clues to the man himself, and experience had taught her that work areas in the home offered the most insight for those who cared to look.

  It was carpeted in deep brown, paneled in birch, and filled with bookshelves that were filled, in turn, with books of every type. Pepper could find no preference that would aid in her deductions, except that he seemed to have a fondness for mysteries. The huge oak desk in one corner was neat; no clutter of papers or objects to indicate that work was done there.

  Two high-backed chairs were grouped with a table and reading lamp in another corner. In the center of the large room was a game table, suitable for card games or jigsaw puzzles, or whatever. It was bare.

  In the remaining corner was a baby grand piano. Gleaming a velvety black, its polished surface spoke of loving care, but whether that was due to Thor or his housekeeper, Pepper couldn’t tell. She touched a sparkling ivory key with one finger and wondered silently.

  “You play, I gather,” she said aloud.

  “Indifferently. How about you?”

  “When I get the chance.”

  “Feel free.”

  “Thanks; I just might take you up on that.”

  They left the matter there and went on with the tour. The laundry room held no interest for Pepper, but a good-size room with a door through to the garage did. It was bare except for a storage cabinet and a large deep sink, and appeared not to be in use.

  “What’s this?”

  “In the plans it’s called a mudroom.”

  “You don’t use it for anything?”

  “No. Why?”

  Pepper eyed the size of the room, paying close attention to the sink. “I was just wondering… well, if you don’t need it for anything, d’you mind if I use it while I’m here? I promise to leave it just as I found it.”

  Thor looked at her curiously. He wondered why she needed a large bare room, but decided that the reason would become apparent in time. “I don’t mind. Help yourself.”

  “Thanks.” Pepper smiled a little, wondering how he would react to the second invasion he would suffer shortly. She hoped it would be humorously; never before, she was reasonably sure, had a man been the victim of such an honestly declared and inwardly devious chase.

  If nothing else, she thought with humor, her methods were original. She was being totally honest in her goal— permanence—and utterly absurd in her methods. One of them would win… or Thor would murder her, resulting in a sort of victory by default.

  “Why the Mona Lisa smile?” Thor asked a bit uneasily.

  “Oh—no reason. Is the tour taking us upstairs now, or shall I imagine the rest?”

  “Heaven forbid. After you.” He gestured for her to precede him, still wondering about that smile but lacking the nerve to ask again.

  They went up the staircase in the entranceway so she could view the four bedrooms. They were accompanied by Fifi— who’d been with them from the first of the tour, and by Brutus—who’d caught up with them in the kitchen. All the bedrooms were beautifully decorated, one containing a huge king-size waterbed. There was a central bathroom opening into the hall, and another off the master bedroom.

  That room itself was the largest, and possessed a tremendous oak four-poster bed that Pepper would have needed a stool to climb onto. It looked like an antique, along with the long dresser and tall chest of drawers. The room also boasted a walk-in closet, and the bathroom contained a sunken bath deep enough to satisfy a giant.

  Passing up the opportunity to call him a sybarite, Pepper made only one remark. “Awfully big house for only one person,” she murmured as they were going back down the stairs.

  “Mmm. I like space.”

  She considered his reply as they went back into the den. And a glance around at the room made her remember that she’d seen few indications of “personality” in the house. No clutter or mess, which merely indicated that he was either very neat or that his housekeeper was. More surprising—and perhaps more revealing—was the lack of personal touches.

  The prints and paintings throughout the house were ambiguous as to taste, mostly landscapes and seascapes. No adventurous abstracts or romantic portraits, no favored artist. There were few ornaments, and what there was seemed more the touch of a decorator than a declaration of personal taste. Where were the souvenirs of places visited? Photos of people related or known?

  Pepper wondered just how often his job took him away from home. Now, she asked herself, which one of them was putting a puzzle together? She or Thor?

  “Another drink?” he asked, pulling her from speculation.

  “No, thanks.” She slid a hand into her pocket, absently retrieving a worry-stone and beginning to “worry” it rhythmically.

  Thor watched her curiously for a moment, then stepped closer and caught her wrist. “What’s this?”

  Realizing only then what she’d been doing, Pepper opened her hand and watched him lift the smooth stone to examine it. “It’s a worry-stone,” she said.

  Thor turned the object in his fingers. It looked like quartz and was roughly two inches from end to end and about a quarter of an inch thick. Oval in shape and smoothly polished, it was flat on both sides and had a slight depression in one end which was, he saw, perfectly suited to be rubbed by a thumb.

  He placed the stone back in her palm, his fingers lingering on hers. “Are you worried about something?”

  Rather hastily Pepper slid the stone back into her pocket. “Of course not. I quit smoking a few years ago. Some people chew gum—I play with a worry-stone.”

  “I see.” He didn’t look convinced.

  Pepper decided to change the subject. “Look, it’s almost suppertime, according to my stomach’s clock. I think I’ll take advantage of those liberated tendencies you blanketed us females with and ask you to share my meal. I can bring some stuff over from the van, since your dining room’s larger than mine. Or else we can go somewhere. If you’re interested, that is.”

  “I’m interested. But why don’t we just make do with whatever’s in the kitchen here? Mrs. Small usually keeps the place stocked.”

  “Fine with me. What were you planning to have tonight?”

  “A TV dinner.”


  Pepper lifted a brow at him. “Is that your usual fare?”

  “On Mrs. Small’s day off it is.”

  She shook her head mournfully. “It’s disgraceful to reach your advanced years without being able to cook.”

  Thor decided to ignore the first part of her sentence. “Don’t expect me to be perfect. I suppose you can cook?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, that was a flat answer.”

  “You asked a flat question,” she reminded him.

  “No modest disclaimers, huh?”

  “We’re being honest.”

  “So we are,” Thor said.

  “Will Mrs. Small mind us invading her kitchen?”

  “We just won’t ask her.”

  “Devious man.”

  The rest of the evening was companionable, and if they felt the undercurrents, neither mentioned it. They observed a tacit agreement not to delve any further into their sudden relationship, treading instead around lighter topics with the wariness of fencers. They talked casually about various subjects in the curious give-and-take probing of new acquaintances, neither giving much away.

  What emerged was that Thor preferred blue and enjoyed football and soft pop music and hated snails, while Pepper loved the color wine-red and also enjoyed football and pop music and could take or leave snails. Both agreed that Maine was a beautiful state and that the latest best-selling novel was fascinating and that neither nervous Dobermans nor inquisitive Chihuahuas belonged in kitchens.

  After a totally deadpan preparation of hot dogs and French fries by Pepper and a joint clean-up in the kitchen, a murder mystery on television topped off the evening. Thor sided with the detective while Pepper seriously defended the murderer’s motivations.

  Pepper firmly dissuaded him from walking out to the RV with her, refusing his offer to help in hooking up the vehicle to his electrical supply and condescending only to accept a flashlight. After a comically grave handshake she thanked him solemnly for the meal, the flashlight, and the place in which to park her van, gathered the dogs firmly to heel, and strolled off into the darkness.

  A while later, as he was lying in bed and staring up at a darkness-distorted ceiling, Thor wondered how on earth such an emotional and challenging afternoon had turned into a disconcertingly calm and companionable evening. Questions floated around in his mind, their answers beyond his reach because he didn’t yet know Pepper well enough to even guess.