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“I can microwave a frozen meal really well.” Picking up the paper napkin at her place setting, she spread it on her lap. “I learned that particular talent from Cole and Noah when I was about ten.”
“That’s certainly not a skill to be proud of,” he teased. “Even I can do better than frozen dinners.”
“Quick and easy is my motto. I don’t have the time for anything more.”
He draped his arm along the back of her chair and leaned close so that it appeared they were having an intimate conversation. “I’m thinking you spend way too much time on the go chasing bad guys and not enough time giving slow and thorough a try.”
Were they talking about cooking, sex, or nurturing a relationship? She wasn’t certain, but either way she bristled at the insinuation that her job and choice of lifestyle were affecting any of the three, no matter how much it might be true. “It’s all by choice. My choice,” she clarified.
The defensive note in Jo’s voice caught Dean off guard. He held her gaze, which glimmered with too much stubborn pride. The woman was way too sensitive about her occupation and the need to defend what she did for a living. He’d only meant that she might try to open herself to other possibilities, ones that might include more than their brief time together, but he lost the opportunity to explain when Frank and Iris entered the dining room carrying platters of fragrant food.
Minutes later, Dean was digging into a plate filled with tender pot roast, potatoes, buttered vegetables that no doubt had been homegrown, and fresh buttermilk biscuits. His moans of appreciation and verbal compliments made Iris blush, though it was obvious that she enjoyed his praise.
Iris poured more iced tea into her glass and refilled her husband’s. “Be sure to save room for apple cobbler.”
“Not a problem there,” Jo said, casting Dean a sweet smile that contradicted the playful provocation he saw in the depths of her eyes. “My husband is like a bottomless pit when it comes to food.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a man having a healthy appetite,” Iris said, defending Dean’s voracious hunger.
Dean bestowed one of his most charming smiles on his hostess. “I just don’t get meals like this very often at home,” he said truthfully, though his statement also served to goad Jo, his wife, right back. “So it’s a real treat for me when I do.”
“Consider this an open invitation to stop by anytime you’re passing through to visit family.” Iris broke open a biscuit and slathered butter on one steaming half. “Now tell me, how long have the two of you been married?”
“Just a few months,” he replied, not missing a beat.
“I knew it!” Iris glanced excitedly at Frank, who was busy concentrating on his meal. “Didn’t I tell you that these two still had that newlywed glow about them?”
A small smile quirked the older man’s mouth, softening the harsher lines etching his features. “Yep, you certainly did.”
“Oh, to be young and in love and to experience the bliss of being newly married again.” Iris placed a hand over her heart and sighed dreamily, obviously remembering those early days with Frank. “Though our first year together was the best in so many ways, I do have to admit that it was also the toughest.”
“In what way?” Jo asked as she pushed her fork through her vegetables, her tone curious. “That is, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Not at all.” Iris dabbed her mouth with her napkin, warming to the subject. “My Frank has always been the strong, silent type and a man of few words. He prefers to think of it as being contemplative, but a good amount of it is due to sheer stubbornness, I’ve come to learn—and accept.”
Frank hrmph’d in response as he ate a bite of roast, but didn’t deny her claim.
She placed a hand on her husband’s arm in a loving, soothing gesture. “We didn’t have much when we first married, and times were certainly very lean. Through the hardships we had many disagreements, and one of the most important lessons we learned was that in order for us to make our marriage last and be happy together we had to compromise on certain issues. Give and take equally, and find a common ground.”
Her words struck a chord in Dean, one that made him realize that compromise had been one of the essential ingredients missing from his own parents’ marriage. “That’s very sound advice.”
Iris smiled gently. “It’s made a huge difference in our relationship and has carried us through forty-three happy years of marriage.”
“Forty-three years,” Jo said, her tone soft and wistful. “That’s wonderful.”
“We think so,” Iris said, speaking for both her and her husband. “And don’t forget to make sure you both take time in your busy lives for each other, to keep the romance in your marriage fresh and exciting.”
Dean set his fork on his empty plate and pushed it aside. “We’ll be sure to do that,” he said, wishing his own parents had had someone like Iris to offer them that particular piece of advice somewhere along the way. Not that his father would have made the time easily, but possibly their marriage would have been much different if his mother had insisted on more attention, and his father had compromised even halfway.
Frank took a long drink of his iced tea, then swiped his napkin across his mouth, done with his supper. “I think the boy here is ready for some of your apple cobbler, Iris.”
Dean recognized a switch in topic when he heard one, and apparently so did Iris, who said no more on the subject of love and marriage. “I’d love some cobbler,” he replied, unable to pass up such a delicious treat.
“I’ll clear the table while you serve up dessert,” Jo offered. Standing, she stacked their dirty dishes then followed Iris into an adjoining room.
While the two women were in the kitchen, Dean addressed the problem of Jo’s Suburban being stranded. “Do you know of a local towing service I could call?”
“No need to call anyone,” Frank said, shaking his head. “I have a towing hitch on my truck and I’ll take the two of you and your vehicle into Medford.”
