Read Online Kisses in the Rain by Pamela Browning - Free Book Online
Authors: Pamela Browning
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people wearing them."
"Unless you happen to have webbed feet, they're a good idea. You can wear them anywhere in Ketchikan, even to weddings." Martha smiled at this and was unnerved when Nick seemed to be serious.
Back in Kokomo—but she wasn't in Kokomo anymore. She was in Ketchikan, Alaska, where people wore red rubber boots to weddings. The people she was with wore plaid lumberjack shirts; her own high-fashion hand-knit sweater seemed out of place. Her hair curled annoyingly around her face, but somehow she didn't mind. The important thing was that Nick Novak stood beside her, and that in itself seemed peculiar. Always before, the important thing had been how she looked and the impression her appearance made on others.
When they had filled their plates, Martha sat self-consciously across from Nick at a corner table. Next to them sat Nick's brother Dan and his wife, Stella. Stella was bright and pleasant company, and Dan was stolid and calm. Nick's oldest brother Fred and his wife, Andrea, stopped by to say hello, but moved on to a less crowded table.
"Nick," Stella said, "when you get a chance, stop by our house to pick up some toys that my kids have outgrown. They'd be just about right for Davey."
"Thanks, Stella. I'll come over soon."
"This Nick," Stella said playfully to Martha. "He's always saying that. But we don't see him very often. Him or Davey."
Martha, listening to this familial exchange, wanted to ask who Davey was. But there was no chance, because Faye, who clearly enjoyed being a hostess, stopped by the table.
"Anything you want to know about Ketchikan's social life," she said teasingly, "you just ask Nick Novak."
Martha could have sworn that Nick actually blushed, but here in the corner, where two strands of multicolored lights blended their colors so brilliantly, it was hard to tell.
"I don't know that much about the social life," he objected, but Faye fluttered away to laugh at a joke told by another of her friends. Martha wondered how much of Nick's protest was real and how much was due to self-consciousness.
After dinner, Stella and Dan left. "Have to get back to the kids. We left them alone tonight. I guess our daughter at thirteen is old enough to keep the six-year-old in line, but I don't like to leave them alone too long."
"Do your kids like cookies?" Martha asked on impulse.
"My Wendy is the original cookie monster," Stella told her.
Martha wrapped some of her chocolate-chip cookies in aluminum foil. "Here, take these. There are plenty for the other guests."
"Why, thanks. They're delicious cookies, Martha," Stella said.
"I've baked a lot of them for the party. I even have a couple of extra tins of cookies in my apartment," Martha said with a laugh.
When Stella and Dan were gone, Nick turned to her curiously. "Do you really have more cookies in your apartment? There are trays of cookies already here."
"I've been baking batch after batch, perfecting Faye's mother's recipe for this party. Not that the cookies weren't wonderful to begin with, but there was this place in San Francisco where I used to buy the best fresh-baked cookies every day. I brought a big supply with me, but I ran out and now I'm trying to duplicate that flavor. Anyway, I don't have anything else to do after work, so I like baking the cookies to occupy my time."
"If you don't have anything to do after work," Nick said slowly, fighting his own embarrassment, "maybe we could get together for that drink sometime."
Her startled gray eyes flashed astonishment at this unexpected invitation.
"Maybe we could," she said when she had recovered.
"Maybe," he said, even more slowly, trying to get to the bottom of the confusion in her eyes, "maybe we wouldn't have to wait until after work. We could get together sooner if you like."
"When?" she said, unaware that she was almost whispering, but overwhelmingly aware that he was standing closer to her than he had all evening and that the hair on her arms was standing on end.
"Unless you happen to have webbed feet, they're a good idea. You can wear them anywhere in Ketchikan, even to weddings." Martha smiled at this and was unnerved when Nick seemed to be serious.
Back in Kokomo—but she wasn't in Kokomo anymore. She was in Ketchikan, Alaska, where people wore red rubber boots to weddings. The people she was with wore plaid lumberjack shirts; her own high-fashion hand-knit sweater seemed out of place. Her hair curled annoyingly around her face, but somehow she didn't mind. The important thing was that Nick Novak stood beside her, and that in itself seemed peculiar. Always before, the important thing had been how she looked and the impression her appearance made on others.
When they had filled their plates, Martha sat self-consciously across from Nick at a corner table. Next to them sat Nick's brother Dan and his wife, Stella. Stella was bright and pleasant company, and Dan was stolid and calm. Nick's oldest brother Fred and his wife, Andrea, stopped by to say hello, but moved on to a less crowded table.
"Nick," Stella said, "when you get a chance, stop by our house to pick up some toys that my kids have outgrown. They'd be just about right for Davey."
"Thanks, Stella. I'll come over soon."
"This Nick," Stella said playfully to Martha. "He's always saying that. But we don't see him very often. Him or Davey."
Martha, listening to this familial exchange, wanted to ask who Davey was. But there was no chance, because Faye, who clearly enjoyed being a hostess, stopped by the table.
"Anything you want to know about Ketchikan's social life," she said teasingly, "you just ask Nick Novak."
Martha could have sworn that Nick actually blushed, but here in the corner, where two strands of multicolored lights blended their colors so brilliantly, it was hard to tell.
"I don't know that much about the social life," he objected, but Faye fluttered away to laugh at a joke told by another of her friends. Martha wondered how much of Nick's protest was real and how much was due to self-consciousness.
After dinner, Stella and Dan left. "Have to get back to the kids. We left them alone tonight. I guess our daughter at thirteen is old enough to keep the six-year-old in line, but I don't like to leave them alone too long."
"Do your kids like cookies?" Martha asked on impulse.
"My Wendy is the original cookie monster," Stella told her.
Martha wrapped some of her chocolate-chip cookies in aluminum foil. "Here, take these. There are plenty for the other guests."
"Why, thanks. They're delicious cookies, Martha," Stella said.
"I've baked a lot of them for the party. I even have a couple of extra tins of cookies in my apartment," Martha said with a laugh.
When Stella and Dan were gone, Nick turned to her curiously. "Do you really have more cookies in your apartment? There are trays of cookies already here."
"I've been baking batch after batch, perfecting Faye's mother's recipe for this party. Not that the cookies weren't wonderful to begin with, but there was this place in San Francisco where I used to buy the best fresh-baked cookies every day. I brought a big supply with me, but I ran out and now I'm trying to duplicate that flavor. Anyway, I don't have anything else to do after work, so I like baking the cookies to occupy my time."
"If you don't have anything to do after work," Nick said slowly, fighting his own embarrassment, "maybe we could get together for that drink sometime."
Her startled gray eyes flashed astonishment at this unexpected invitation.
"Maybe we could," she said when she had recovered.
"Maybe," he said, even more slowly, trying to get to the bottom of the confusion in her eyes, "maybe we wouldn't have to wait until after work. We could get together sooner if you like."
"When?" she said, unaware that she was almost whispering, but overwhelmingly aware that he was standing closer to her than he had all evening and that the hair on her arms was standing on end.
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