Chapter 11
P aley spent a long time the following week designing a menu for the upcoming dinner party. Everything had to be perfect, not only the flavor and execution of the food, but also the menu itself. These were people who routinely dined at some of the country’s finest restaurants. Paley didn’t kid herself her food would be as good as those places, but she didn’t want to be outlandishly gauche in her attempts to impress. What to her seemed elegant was likely already outdated, a fact confirmed when she studied a few menus from the city’s best restaurants. Many of them dabbled in gastronomic feats she wouldn’t even attempt. Liquid nitrogen to make instant ice cream? No, thank you. She was a housekeeper, not a chemist.
In the end she stuck with the classics: prime rib, potatoes, green beans, salad, rolls, and chocolate cake. They were the little black dress of dinner party cuisine, and it was hard to go wrong unless she cooked the roast too long. Just in case, she decided to sous vide it so there would be no possibility of overcooking. The problem, she realized on Thursday, was she spent so long planning for the upcoming meal she forgot to hire a waiter, as she had told Piedmont she would. In a panic, she reached for her phone and texted Mattie.
Do you still have the tux you wore to our prom, and are you up for making a quick hundred bucks tomorrow night?
Absolutely yes to both. I assume we’re stealing some major artwork. Again. Getting a little old, Anderson.
It’s still Marshall, and I’ll try to keep the heists to a minimum after this one. I owe you infinity. XO.
Paley sous vide the roast, made the potatoes, and bread dough on Thursday. On Friday morning she baked the cake and set the table. She had ordered a centerpiece from a local florist, so she was off the hook there. The house was already clean, so after frosting the cake she had only to finish the roast, potatoes, rolls, and make the green beans. Mattie arrived with time to spare and she went over the plan with him a few times to make sure he had it right. Everything had to be perfect, and so far everything was. She had no plans to leave the kitchen, but she changed into a skirt, refashioned her hair, and dabbed on some makeup, in case.
Piedmont arrived too late to check on her in the kitchen, but he did send a text.
Everything okay for the party? Need anything last minute?
OH, NO, WAS THAT TODAY?? she texted in reply.
Hilarious. That humor could only be better if you emerge from the kitchen wearing a TARDIS, he said.
*takes off TARDIS, puts roast in oven* she returned, smiling.
In case I forget to tell you, thanks for doing this. You’re a keeper.
A housekeeper, to be specific. She smiled again, imagining him rolling his eyes as he read the text.
“This is all so Upstairs/Downstairs. I love it,” Mattie announced, popping an almond from the green beans into his mouth. “The working class heroes in the kitchen, serving the upper crust snobs in the dining room. Bourgeois power.” He bumped his fist to hers.
“Your dad is an orthodontist,” she reminded him, bumping his fist nonetheless.
“The working man’s orthodontist,” he replied, picking up a flagon of water and easing his way backwards out of the kitchen.
With Mattie acting as server, Paley was able to focus solely on the food and keep things running smoothly. As soon as everyone had been served, the glasses refilled, cake dished, and coffee poured, Paley and Mattie sat down to pick over what was left.
“When did you get so good at cooking?” Mattie asked, stealing extra roast beef from her plate.
“When I got married and realized the cooking fairy was actually my mom all along and no one was coming to save me,” she said.
“The cooking fairy’s not real? My entire childhood’s been a lie,” he said. “Heard from the scuzball again?”
“Two more times, each more urgent. PALEY, I need to talk to you. Paley, I NEED to talk to you. I’m waiting to see if he puts the inflection on each word. Paley, I need TO talk to you. Does that even work? I guess we’ll find out.”
“What do you think he wants?” Mattie asked.
“Knowing Aaron, probably future rights to one of my kidneys in case he needs a transplant. And, really, that’s about all I have left to give.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling. Don’t meet with him.”
“I won’t willingly, but he’ll likely track me down. Aaron’s not so good at taking no for an answer,” she said.
“I could meet up with him in a dark alley sometime, help convince him,” he said.
Paley laughed. “Oh, Mattie.”
“I’m serious. What? Why are you laughing? I’ve seen the guy; I could totally take him,” Mattie said.
“Thank you for the sweet and odd offer, but I don’t want you beating up my husband for me. Please.” She rested her hand on his arm.
He picked it up and gave it a squeeze. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely. Otherwise the guy would be toast. Toast, I tell you. I’m very tough.”
“You’re the toughest bowler I know,” she agreed.
The kitchen door opened. Piedmont stuck his head in the door and froze, his eyes darting from Mattie to Paley, their hands still attached. “We’re heading outside to enjoy the new and improved back yard, but I wanted to poke my head in and say thank you. The meal was a hit.” His eyes rested on Mattie. “Is this your husband?”
“Do I look like a lying, cheating, weasel, lint-licking scuzball tool to you?” Mattie asked.
Paley gave him a reproving tap on the arm. “This is my best friend, Mattie. Mattie, Piedmont Bonvoy, my employer. That intonation was code for ‘straighten up.’”
“This is the best friend who stayed over,” Piedmont said.
“One and the same,” Mattie replied, giving him a Cheshire grin.
“Nice to meet you,” Piedmont said, withdrawing from the room before Mattie had time to respond.
“He’s so sweet,” Paley said.
“What was that?” Mattie hissed.
“What?” she asked, thoroughly confused.
“That look he gave me. He thinks we’re a thing.”
“Of course he doesn’t. He knows I’m in the midst of uncoupling,” she said.
“Don’t use made up words to sugarcoat it, and I’m telling you he thinks I stayed over for more than practicing contortionism on your loveseat,” he said.
“Technically it’s his loveseat,” Paley said, frowning slightly. Piedmont didn’t think she and Mattie were together, did he? If so, was that why he thought her marriage imploded? The thought bugged her, more than a little. She didn’t want Piedmont to think badly of her, to wonder if she was the type of person who cheated on her husband.
Mattie volunteered to stay and help her with the dishes, but Paley sent him home with a hundred dollars and a hug. He’d already worked a full day, in addition to playing the part of a waiter for her. He had to be exhausted. And she didn’t mind the dishes. They gave her time to think, to assess the evening. If the empty condition of the plates was any indication, the night had been a success. Plus Piedmont told her everyone liked the food.
It was nearly midnight by the time she finished cleaning the kitchen and dining room. The last guest drove away, and Piedmont poked his head into the kitchen again.
“Was there by chance any cake leftover?” he asked.
“Mattie tried to snatch it, but I saved you a piece,” she said, sliding it in front of him.
“This cake was extraordinary, Paley, really the whole meal was. I heard many multiple comments on it. Everyone wanted to know the name of my caterer. They about fell off their chairs when I told them my new housekeeper cooked everything.”
“Am I blushing?” she asked, pressing her palms to her cheeks.
“Yes, it’s cute,” he said. “Sit with me.”
She sat. “I have to say something that might be a little awkward, but I feel the need to say it anyway. Mattie and I, we’re not together. I mean, not in that way. When he stayed over, he actually slept. Nothing happened.”
“You’re an adult and free to do whatever you want,” he said.
“Yes, but I’m a married adult, in the most technical sense of the word. I would never do that while I’m still married. Probably not even afterwards.” She stared at a spot on the far wall. “Dating has lost its appeal, possibly forever.”
“Someday I have to believe things will get better,” he said, sounding as desolate as she felt.
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “Want to talk about it?”
“No.” He scraped his plate a few times. “Her name is Amelia. We dated a few months. Things were serious, or so I thought. I bought a ring and planned to propose. Some clients of opposing counsel were troublesome. They kidnapped her and took her to Africa. She married the guy who went after her while they were there.”
“Oh, ouch,” Paley breathed.
“Yeah. You know what’s worse than being dumped? Being dumped for someone you could never be. The guy she married, he’s that guy. The conquering hero, basically everything I’m not.”
“I should have saved more cake for you,” Paley said. “I’m sorry, really, really sorry.”
He shrugged. “I’ll get over it. Right?”
“You’re asking the wrong person.”
“What’s your story?” he asked.
“Before I worked here, I worked at a bakery decorating cakes. It was a little job, but I loved it. Until the day I decorated my own divorce cake. Turns out my husband of three years had a girlfriend, and now she’s pregnant.”
“You win,” he said.
“It’s not a competition, but you’re right, I totally win,” she said. “And until this moment, I didn’t think much about the other woman, but now you’ve got me wondering. Is she everything I’m not? Is she someone with a power career, someone who has never missed her bus stop because she was caught up in a daydream about talking cats? Someone who doesn’t corner the dog at every party and become his constant companion until the night is over? Someone who doesn’t even own a TARDIS costume? Someone tall, blond, and willowy?”
“Amelia was tall, blond, and willowy,” Piedmont interjected.
“Of course she was,” Paley said, sighing. They sat in comfortable silence a few minutes. “Did they really like the food?”
“They loved it. You were a smash.”
“Thank you. I know you’ve worked hard in your career, but when you get offered a partnership, I’m going to claim total credit for it because, despite your years on the job and multiple wins, we both know it was my rib roast and cake that put you over the top.”
“For sure,” Piedmont agreed, holding his hand aloft for a high five. “Did you pay the waiter?”
“Yes.”
“Out of your own money?” he guessed.
“Technically it was your money before you paid me with it,” she said.
He gave a longsuffering sigh. “Paley, what am I going to do with you?”
“I spent the last seven days arranging and preparing your fancy dinner party. I think a better question would be what are you going to do without me?” she said.
“Good point. You’re getting a bonus.”
“That’s mean,” Paley said, and he laughed.
“And furthermore, I’m sleeping in tomorrow, and I expect you to do the same.”
“Define sleeping in,” she said.
“Until six.”
She gasped. “That’s crazy talk. Have you taken leave of your senses? Are you planning to skip your workout too, slacker?”
“No, I thought we’d work out together after whatever fattening breakfast you’re planning to make us,” he said.
“It’s a date, except not really because we’ve both given up on those. Let’s call it an un-date, the kind with no romance and no future, doomed before it even gets off the ground.”
“That sounds eerily similar to most of my real dates,” he said.
“You should take some hints from my husband. Apparently he’s a real ladies’ man,” she said. She gave his hand a little tap. “Good night, Mr. Bonvoy. May you dream of palm trees and monkeys and no women whatsoever.”
“Goodnight, Mrs. Marshall. May your husband soon wake up to realize what a good thing he let go and what an utter fool he’s been,” he returned.
She gave him a little curtsy, and he laughed. “Go to bed, you weird, weird person.”
“Takes one to know one, genius,” she replied and scampered out of the kitchen in order to have the last word.