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"I have to give you something. How about if I take a few shifts to help clear tables in exchange for rent?"
Rita beams back at me.
"That's a great idea. Do you think you can manage that along with your writing? We'd love to have you downstairs with us and you'll get a chance to work with Cammy."
Seven mentioned his niece Cammy already.
"Cammy's working there? I thought she was coming for vacation?" I ask.
"She is here for vacation, but she usually takes a shift or two. She says that being a server helps her practice her conversational Spanish whenever she comes to visit. It's gotten quite good over the years that she's been coming. And you'll love her, she's the best."
"She's supposed to be here tomorrow. Would it be alright if I moved over tomorrow?"
The sooner that I'm out of Seven's house the better.
"I see no problem with that. I just need to change the sheets on the bed."
"Thank you. I really appreciate this. Can I help you with dinner?" I ask, looking around at the food that looks like it's already been prepared.
"No, everything's done. We're just waiting on the man of the hour," she says.
I take another sip of the wine to see if the first sip was deceiving but the second sip is even better.
"Mmm, that's really good."
Rita swirls her wine in her glass and then takes a sip as well.
"This is one of my favorites. My husband took me to Italy a few years back for our anniversary, and we traveled around, wine-tasting our way through Europe. It was the last vacation we took before he passed, and it's one that I'll never forget."
She smiles bittersweetly. I can tell that her memories of her husband are ones she holds dear instead of seeing the tragedy.
"He knew that I loved our trip so much that he wanted to make the memories last even longer, so he ordered several cases of the wine we had at this tiny villa in Tuscany and had them shipped here for me. I'll never forget that long weekend we spent there. We felt like newlyweds even after nearly fifty years together."
"He sounds like he was very special. I'm not so sure they make them like that anymore," I say.
I hear the front door open and close, and then, before I can prepare myself, Seven is in the archway of the kitchen.
I hold my breath the moment he steps into the kitchen, and our eyes lock.
I divert my attention back to Rita and see her smirking at me like she caught me red-handed.
"No, honey… They still make them like that. They're just limited edition now and come standard with a scowl to ward off predators."
Seven walks over to the fridge and opens the door looking inside for something.
"Who's warding off predators?" he asks.
He must have gotten only the very end of our conversation and has no idea that Rita is hinting that Seven is one of the last good men left. She might be right, but that's not for me to investigate. As soon as I get back to Seattle, Daniel and I will have a lot to discuss to determine what the future looks like for us, and Colston's character in my book will be written and I won't need Seven as my muse any longer.
He reaches into the fridge and pulls out a long-neck beer and then pops the top off and takes a long pull as he walks over towards us standing by the stove as Rita starts to dish three plates.
"The local jellyfish. Haven't you heard? They're getting picked off left and right. Researchers don't know why."
Rita hands him a plate full of food, and when Seven isn't looking, she gives me a wink.
I chuckle at her quick-witted thinking, though I'm pretty sure the jellyfish story isn't true. I watch as Rita starts to plate me up a typical helping of food. Not like the portions that Seven is always trying to feed me.
"Fine with me if jellyfish go extinct. I've stepped on enough of those assholes on the beaches here. I wouldn't shed a tear if I never saw another one for the rest of my life," Seven says.
