Tempting Taylor. Joan Elizabeth Lloyd
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up on the house with Mopp and Fred around.
“Coming,” she yelled, delighted to have something break the monotony, even if it was just the UPS man.
She opened the front door and stared at a tiny, brown-haired woman whose age could have been from thirty to forty-five. She came up only to Tay’s chin, but there was a presence about her that projected class. Her makeup accentuated her hazel eyes and her hair was casually chic. She was smartly dressed in a pair of casual tan slacks and a longsleeved taupe blouse accessorized with chocolate sandals. Her jewelry was confined to several strands of deep amber beads and matching chunky drop earrings. Tay glanced down and noticed that the woman’s toes and fingernails were polished in the same shade of red-gold. Her smile was warm and friendly. “Hi, is Dave around? I know I haven’t seen him, or Lissa either for that matter, in a while, but I was hoping…”
“I’m sorry. Dave and Lissa are away on a photo shoot and they aren’t expected back for several months.” Looking at this classically lovely woman, Tay felt dowdy in a pair of old, comfortable jeans and a baggy “Save the Whales” T-shirt. She’d thrown all the windows open to catch the late spring breeze and turned off the “canned air,” as she called the central air-conditioning system. She looked down at her bare feet, her toes polished embarrassingly flaming red, and almost apologized for her appearance.
“Oh damn. I’m sorry, too,” the woman said. Then, as if just thinking about it, she extended her hand, graceful with slender fingers, wearing only a beautiful floral designed gold ring on her right index finger. No wedding ring, Tay noticed. “Pardon my rudeness. I’m Pam DePalma and in case you haven’t seen me around I live two houses down.”
“Tay Barwick. It’s nice to meet you.”
Tay hadn’t noticed the woman but she had noticed the house when Lissa had pointed it out. It was set almost as far back from the road as possible, and from what she’d seen it was large yet comfortably doable, not palatially imposing the way that the Bonner house was. “That’s certainly a lovely house,” Tay said, taking the woman’s hand. “I’ve been admiring it and all the others on the block. I’m house-sitting while Dave and Lissa are away.”
“Taking care of all the animals must be quite a job. I’m sorry to have bothered you,” Pam said.
“Oh, it’s no bother,” Tay said quickly, glad to have someone to talk to. “Can you come in for a moment? I’m a bit of a coffeeholic and I always have a pot on. Would you like a cup?”
She saw Pam hesitate for a moment, then walk into the large foyer, her heels making a clicking sound on the parquet floor. “I’d like that. Thanks.”
As they walked toward the kitchen, Pam said, “I really like this house. He’s done wonders with it. The old owners were here for about three years and lamented that they’d never be able to sell it. This whole area’s now a wetland and no one’s sure whether any changes or additions will ever be permitted.”
“I didn’t know that. I remember when Dave bought it,” Tay said, entering the large kitchen. The counters were black granite and almost everything else in the kitchen was either white or black, from the place mats on the large white oak table to the canisters on the counters. It was a bit too organized for Tay’s taste but it certainly looked put together. “He was so delighted.”
“I can imagine. This is a great kitchen.”
“Sadly I can’t make much use of it. Not only can’t I cook but I think I’d even burn any water I tried to boil. I can microwave and use a coffeemaker, but that’s the extent of my culinary skills.”
“I’m not much of a cook, either,” Pam admitted. “But I’ve always admired this kitchen.”
“Dave said that he didn’t do much with the decorating when he bought the place. Instead, he just let a professional handle everything.” Tay huffed out a breath and decided to be honest. “Actually the whole place is a bit too masculine and sterile for my taste. I’d love to add some color, maybe a few green plants in here, and a throw pillow or two in the living room.”
Pam chuckled. “I’ve always thought the same thing, but I didn’t want to insult the house in case you were a fan.”
“Very tactful of you,” Tay said, grinning, liking this woman immediately. “Have you ever been upstairs? The best bit of decorating is the master bath. It has to be seen to be appreciated. He had it redone just about a year ago.”
A small smile crossed Pam’s face. “Yeah, I remember the hoard of hunky guys in coveralls crawling all over the place during the construction. And I did see it once.” She looked as if she could say more, but she remained silent.
While Pam settled at the kitchen table, Tay poured two cups of coffee into black and white patterned mugs and pulled a black and white striped cream pitcher from the kitchen closet. “Don’t bother with a pitcher on my account,” Pam said, “I’ll just pour from the container.”
“My kind of person,” Tay said as she settled across from Pam at the kitchen table. “Although I’ve had the desire to go out and buy a pitcher shaped like a cow in bright green or something.”
Pam’s laugh was warm and inviting. Then the cats arrived. It wasn’t time for their daily canned food and they disdained their dry crumbles, so whenever there was someone in the kitchen, they wandered around, purring loudly, hoping for a handout. As Precious started to climb into Pam’s lap, Tay said, “Precious, stay down. This nice lady doesn’t want your fur all over her slacks, nor your claws in her thigh.”
“Not a problem,” Pam said, but Precious, tail straight in the air, changed her mind and, thinking there might be something edible in the offing, paced impatiently beside her food dish. As Ginger climbed into Tay’s lap, Tay was pretty sure that Honey was somewhere within earshot just in case food materialized.
The two women chatted for a while, about the weather and the town. They quickly discovered that they both frequently ate food from the same local Italian restaurant. “Their penne a la vodka is to die for,” Pam said.
“I know. I eat out often in the city but I’ve never had it better anywhere. More often than my waistline would like, I stop on my way here from the train station and order something to go.”
Chuckling, Pam said, “I do worse. I’ve discovered they will deliver for a generous tip.”
“I’m really sorry you told me that,” Tay said with a rueful grin. “Have you been able to find out where they get their green olives from? They’re fabulous.”
“I know. I always ask for extras and they indulge me since I’m a pretty good customer. I once asked the owner where he got them, thinking I could buy my own. However, he told me that he had them imported specially from Spain. He hates to admit that there’s something that the Spanish make better than the Italians.”
Tay nodded. “I can imagine.”
“So, if you’ll pardon me for being nosey, what do you do?” Pam asked as she sipped her coffee. “Do you commute to the city?”
“Most days. I work for a multinational you’ve probably never heard of. It’s got its fingers in architecture, foreign manufacture, pharmaceuticals, but it’s always the name behind the name.”
“Interesting. What do you do for them? Or am I being too snoopy?”
Tay’s laugh was warm. “Not a problem. I began in their Web-design department but several years ago, after one of those multiple firings they euphemistically called a downsizing, I was asked to work on a section of the in-house site that excerpts articles from scientific publications, in addition, of course, to doing all the things I used to do. Now I do all that and help with grant applications, edit papers for publication, do research, stuff like that.”
“I’ll bet you can even spell,” Pam said.
“Actually you’d be wrong,” Tay said, shaking her head slowly. “I can’t spell worth a lick. I depend on