White Collar: An unofficial novel - part 11

Cornish hens

Armed with a glass of red wine each, Neal and Sara sat on the Burke couch. It was not by choice any of them sat there. Neal watched his handler lay the table with his wonderful wife.

"The contractor's gonna do the weather stripping on the storefront on Monday," Elizabeth said.

"And?"

"And he said the reinforced foam is much more efficient than the self-stick plastic."

"No!" Peter objected. "I want a written statement."

"Sore loser," Elizabeth grinned back at her husband. She held out her hand, and Peter dug in his pocket. He handed her a greenback. "Yes!"

"Weather stripping," Peter said, turning to his guest. "It's the latest controversy rocking the Burke household."

"Imagine that," Neal mumbled as Sara said just as unenthusiastic: "Wow."

To be so open and trusting with each other as Peter and Elizabeth must be great, Neal thought, but neither of the two was a con man, known to deceive, and a prison inmate as well.

"You guys are very quiet," Elizabeth said. "You want some more wine?"

"Yes," they both said in unison. "Please." But he doubted their hosts would find them more talkative no matter the amount of wine. It felt like he was sitting beside an ice cube.

The ice cube did melt a little over dinner, Neal noted, but not towards him. He guessed it was the same with him. He talked freely with Peter and Elizabeth but avoided even looking at Sara.

Both Peter and Elizabeth made the best of efforts to include them both in some form of conversation, but it was doomed to fail.

After dinner, when the coffee was served, Elizabeth pulled Sara over to the sofa and left Neal and Peter alone by the dinner table.

Neal glanced at them. He liked Sara. He enjoyed being in her company. But could they ever be the perfect couple as Peter and Elizabeth? With a house, a dog, and good jobs? Neal knew that a part of him yearned for just that. He was also well aware of the origin of this need: it was what he longed for as a child.

But now he was an adult, and it was evident that a child's dream was not necessarily what he wanted now.

"Think I'm in trouble?" he asked Peter, nodding in the direction of the ladies.

"No, I'm sure they're discussing... shoes."

"Shoes?" Sure, both women were aware of fashion, just like himself, but that two smart women would discuss such footwear out of the blue seemed highly unlikely. He got to his feet to help get the dishes, or anything, out into the kitchen to get himself out of their sight.

"What do you think they're talking about?"

"Us."

"Yeah?" Peter grinned and rose too. "Well, you, you've got a lot to learn about women."

"Oh, I've got a lot to learn?" The man on the other side of the table could not flirt while he had bedded more women than he wanted to remember.

"I come home to this every night." The smile on his handler's face was filled with love. "Last Sunday, I was on that couch, lying with El. She's reading, and I'm watching the game and Satchmo's asleep on my feet. It hits me. Again. I'm the luckiest guy."

His Utopian dream. His childhood dream. But he was a conman for a reason.

"I don't think that's who I am."

"You just need to figure it out," Peter said softly. "And when you do, then you'll be the luckiest guy."

Peter moved towards the kitchen with the dishes. Elizabeth rose and past her husband on the way there.

"Hey, nice ass," she said and gave his bum a pat.

"Oh," Peter chuckled, and they were both gone, and Neal was alone with Sara. She rose from the sofa.

"I should go."

She did not look awkward or stiff any longer. Neal approached.

"Look, I know things are complicated."

"Well, that's kind of your specialty, Neal."

"I could teach a master class. Yeah." He nodded in agreement. Somehow he so often seemed to mess up his relationships. "I want you to know I wasn't lying when I said things were over between me and Alex. I meant it."

"At the time," Sara said. Neal watched her. She was not sarcastic, just pointing out facts.

"At the time. Yeah." He nodded with a sigh. He had never thought he would kiss Alex as she was his one true love. That he, for a short time, would feel something for her again. It was the rush of being alive, but Sara had seen it.

The brilliant and beautiful Sara stood there, watching him, with no trace of anger or scorn.

She took a step forward and kissed him gently in the corner of his mouth.

"You owe me a lunch."

She was ready to start over. What had Elizabeth told her? She knew who he was. Had she said something that would make Sara disappointed again?

He smiled. And so did she. If she was ready to try again, so was he.

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