Chapter 32
Charles thought it was best he speak to Amelia alone the next morning, which was fine by me.
So, following breakfast service, I met up with Megan and Hannah at the marketplace.
They were seated at a picnic table just inside the barn, with cups of cocoa and fresh pastries, and a mountain of shopping bags beside them.
“Wow, you two have done some damage, huh?” I said, folding myself in beside Hannah, who was bundled up in a thick green knit scarf and matching cap I recognized from a local handmade goods store. “Must’ve gotten an early start.”
“There are so many cute shops around town. We’ve been hitting up all the great spots you posted about on Après Brie.”
“I can see that,” I said, laughing at their haul.
“Just a few souvenirs and Christmas gifts,” Megan added, picking off a flaky bit of croissant to pop in her mouth. “Might as well take advantage of the sales, right?”
“Well, on behalf of the local economy, thank you for your business.”
“Oh!” she said then, waving her hands in mild panic. “What happened with the party? I hope it wasn’t a total disaster. I couldn’t believe how quickly the snow shut down everything last night.”
Just thinking about that damn sage got my blood pressure rising again. I’d have stress dreams about that dinner service for months.
“Actually, it all worked out. Charles really came to my rescue. Trudged out to the neighbor’s house in the middle of the blizzard in his tux to scrounge up just enough. Then he and his dad jumped into the kitchen to lend a hand.”
“Really?” Megan sat back, impressed.
“And I almost forgot . . .” The whole night was sort of a blur. “I met Marcus Lee!”
“Whoa,” she said, eyes wide in awe. “What was he doing there?”
I shrugged. “Good friend of Mrs. Hawthorne, apparently.”
“Well, what’d he say?” Hannah demanded. “What was he like?”
“Very nice. Way more handsome in person. Said he loved my squab and to stay in touch while I’m in London.”
Hannah whistled, brushing off my shoulders. “Check out who’s moving up in the world.”
“Definitely one of my strangest days in the kitchen. That’s for sure.”
“So . . . Charles.” Hannah accentuated his name, bouncing her eyebrows at me. “Kinda sounds like he’s obsessed with you.”
Much as I tried, I couldn’t smother my silly grin. Just the mention of his name had me beaming.
“Ugh, look at you,” she laughed. “Who is this person? I barely recognize her. Smiling? Giddy? Where is my neurotic, curmudgeonly Elle and what have you done with her?”
“She’s taking some much-deserved time off,” I said. “Though there is one unresolved catastrophe from last night.”
“What’s wrong?” Megan asked, her smile dropping.
“The Instagram account. Amelia Hawthorne saw it and wasn’t thrilled I’d been using her family for content.”
“But you don’t even mention their name,” Hannah argued.
“No, I know. But I get the impression she’s sensitive about this kind of thing. She feels like I betrayed their trust. And I’m not sure she’s entirely wrong.”
Suddenly, I watched their attention rise over my head and both their faces go a little slack. I turned to see Charles striding up to our table. Yeah, he had that effect on people.
“Morning, ladies.” He bent to place a kiss on my cheek, the scent of his shampoo now a trigger that made my stomach flip and my brain turn to mush.
“Hey,” I said. “This is a surprise.”
“Hi,” Megan and Hannah both said in unison, all starry-eyed.
“Charles, this is Megan and Hannah. They don’t usually stare this much.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” he said, flashing that charming grin. “Elle talks about you both all the time. How are you enjoying your visit so far? Hopefully that storm wasn’t too rough on you last night.”
“We love it here,” Hannah gushed. I thought I might have to restrain her. “Can’t wait to come back for Christmas.”
That snapped Megan out of her trance. “We’ll see.”
“Sit with us,” I told him, moving over to let him slide in beside me. “What are you doing here?”
“Actually . . .” He glanced toward Mia’s stall through the crowd of afternoon shoppers. “I came to talk to Mia. Thought I’d take her out to lunch, so we could hash some things out.”
“I love that,” I told him, taking his hand to squeeze.
I knew he was nervous about reopening the past, but it was closure they both needed. And hopefully this would be a small step toward mending their friendship.
“And I talked to Amelia,” he said.
Megan and Hannah shared a quiet look.
“She’s a little peeved, but I think she’s calmed down after sleeping on it.
And I explained there was no ill intent behind it.
Told her it’d mean a lot to me if she could see her way to forgiving you.
I thought it might be nice for the three of us to spend some time together this week.
Give you two a chance to get to know each other better. ”
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “If you think it’ll help. I really don’t want her to hate me.”
Not just because it would make working in that house a nightmare. This relationship with Charles was really a nonstarter if his sister and I couldn’t be friends.
“Trust me,” he said. “Amelia has a good heart. I have a feeling you’ll both be laughing about this in no time.”
“So . . .” Hannah cleared her throat, turning to level Charles with narrowed eyes. “What are your intentions with our Eleanor?”
“Okay.” I smothered her face with my hand. “That’s enough meet-and-greet. You better leave while you still can.”
Charles laughed, climbing to his feet. “Catch up later?” he offered, glancing at Megan and Hannah. “Maybe I’ll swing by The Snowdrift for cocktail hour.”
“I’d love a cocktail,” Hannah said, removing my hand from her face.
“Nice try,” her mother grimaced, scolding her daughter with a glare. “Wonderful to meet you, Charles.”
As intros to the family went, I thought that had been a good one.
It was easy with Charles. He had a way with people.
Effortlessly approachable and charismatic.
It didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous, either.
Now, if only I could secure myself in the same good graces with his family, starting with coming clean to Mrs. Hawthorne.
After I left the marketplace, I returned to the chalet and asked Ali if I might find some time with Mrs. Hawthorne today. I was surprised when she came back minutes later to say she would see me in the gym.
In a wing of the main house I hadn’t visited before, I found a room almost entirely enclosed by windows on one side and mirrors on the other.
There was every imaginable piece of equipment arranged around the room, with a large space by the far wall with rolled-up yoga mats and large inflated balance balls.
And off a short hallway, a sauna and steam room too.
Inside, Mrs. Hawthorne, wearing black leggings and a zip-up athletic jacket, lay on an elevated table while a man in a polo shirt manipulated her back and legs through a series of stretches. I knocked on the open door, hesitant to disturb her.
“Come in,” she called from the table. Mrs. Hawthorne lifted one hand to wave me over. “What can I do for you?”
It was a strange departure, encountering her like this. So casual. Every other time it had been in the kitchen or her office. Always pressed and proper. Buttoned up and impeccable. Now she wore her hair in a simple pony tail and sweat beaded her forehead.
“It really isn’t urgent,” I said, feeling like an intruder. “We can talk later.”
“Nonsense. You’re here now. Say what’s on your mind.”
I took an unsteady breath and glanced at the man who continued to flex her knees and roll her ankles. He kept his attention firmly on his client, blending into the scenery. Something I supposed came with practice.
“Amelia mentioned to me last night that she’d found an Instagram account I started.
Après Brie.” It was mortifying having to explain this to a woman like Mrs. Hawthorne.
It felt infantile and silly and I wanted to sink into the floor as my mouth dried up and my hands went clammy.
“Sort of a food blog kind of thing, I guess you could say. I post about cooking and also some reviews from places around town and—”
“I’m aware.” Mrs. Hawthorne sat up abruptly and reached for a towel, wiping her forehead.
“Oh.” I braced for that long-awaited ass-chewing.
Instead, her trainer handed her a bottle of water and helped her down from the table. He handed her an elastic band that she placed around both ankles, before proceeding to put her hands on her hips and balance on one leg while extending the other to her side, repeating the action.
“I think it’s marvelous.”
“What?” I couldn’t be sure I wasn’t hallucinating.
“It’s quite entrepreneurial. Everyone was talking about it at the party last night. I do hope you’ll post photos of the event. I can have our photographer send over some shots.”
“Really? Oh.” I was totally at a loss for words. The panic was now turning to utter confusion. “It’s just, I know it technically violates the NDA .”
She switched to balancing on the other leg.
“I don’t consider my dinner china a matter of national security,” she said, flicking her eyes to me with the slightest hint of a smile on her otherwise pencil-straight lips.
I was pretty sure that counted as a joke and it hit me sort of sideways. I didn’t know Mrs. Hawthorne had a sense of humor.
“My friends are all terribly jealous,” she said, moving on to squats. “Seems like everyone has a spread in Architectural Digest now. None of them have a viral chef.”
Wow. I didn’t know I was such a trendsetter.
Her trainer then spread out a yoga mat on the floor with more elastic bands, instructing her through a further series of stretches and joint exercises while I stood off to the side because she hadn’t dismissed me yet.
“Since you’re here,” she said, lying on her back to lift her hips off the ground with one foot planted on the floor. “We might as well discuss my son.”
I swallowed the heavy lump in my throat.
“He tells me he’s quite taken with you.”
Her words from their argument still echoed in my head, the sting as potent as when they’d first come from her mouth.
“He’s always been impulsive,” she said. “Tends to leap without looking. Got him into a fair bit of trouble in his youth.”
So I’d heard.
“And he’s stubborn. Once he’s set his mind to something, there’s no use arguing with him. I suppose he gets that from me.”
That was a trap and I knew better than to open my mouth.
“But my son isn’t frivolous and he doesn’t easily give his heart away. If you’ve captured his interest, he must see something special in you.” Mrs. Hawthorne sat up, reaching for her bottle of water. “And you feel the same about him?” she said.
“I do. I know this presents all sorts of thorny issues with my employment, and I’m so grateful to have a job here, but . . .” I shrugged. “I think he’s pretty special, too.”
“Let me give you one piece of advice,” she said, taking another sip of water and wincing at some pain as she flexed her knee. “Never get old.”
I smothered a laugh.
“I’ve had two knee replacements and hip surgery,” she said. “Looking back, I’m not sure skiing was worth the damage it caused.”
Her trainer handed her another elastic band to wrap around her toes as he led her through another exercise.
It felt like I was learning more about her in this one conversation than I’d gleaned from all the time I’d been here combined.
This felt intentional. Like she was bringing me into her world. Letting me see the real her.
“But you must’ve loved it a little,” I said. “All the trophies and titles.”
Again, a slight smile teased the corner of her lips. “I was something back then.”
“We get so little time to be great at anything,” I offered. “Some people never find their thing. I don’t know. Maybe I’m naive, but I think being great for even a little while is still better than never at all.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She considered that a moment while her attention remained focused on her trainer. “I have no doubt you’re well on your way to being a truly great chef, Miss Evans. Eleanor.”
A compliment from her felt like winning a gold medal. Little fireworks went off in my chest while I tried to maintain my composure.
“My son’s romantic intentions are his own business,” she said then. “I don’t intend to interfere. But between us, he could do worse. I think you’ll be good for him.”
I smiled to myself. Caroline and I weren’t about to become best friends overnight, but that was the closest thing to a ringing endorsement I could expect.
More importantly, it felt like we understood each other now.
She’d let me into her circle of trust. Even if just the outermost layer. It was the first step.