3. Alex
3
Alex
After I give Dara the details of the house and we arrange a time for her to come over, I leave the restaurant and climb into my Mercedes. The SLR McLaren looks strange sitting on the road of this small town. It suddenly makes me realize that maybe, when this deal goes down, I might want to put something a little less ostentatious on the driveway of my family home.
Folding my large frame inside, I start the car and take in the surprised glances of those walking nearby as they hear the growl of her 5.4-liter V8 engine.
Yep. Definitely need something a little more modest .
But as I pull away from the curb, it’s not my car that holds my attention. I’m still struggling to come to terms with the fact that Mark’s sister, Dara Gilbert, is back in Riverdale. She escaped this place once. What could possibly have brought her back?
Clearly, she didn’t want to discuss it, and given that it’s none of my business, I didn’t push it. I just can’t understand what happened.
She was working in Opulento , one of the best restaurants in the city, under the guidance of Michelin-star chef Dino Cabrini, one of the best chefs in the world. It’s not an opportunity afforded to many, and given where she’s come from, I’m reeling that she’s given such a chance away.
But again, it’s none of my business. Apart from a dinner party that Mark threw several years back, I’ve only spoken to her two or three times when we’ve coincidentally met. But even then, she gave me the impression that she was loving her work.
That being said, I can’t believe my luck. I hadn’t really thought about such details as meal preparation. My attention has been too focused on getting Spire Healthcare on board. Maybe it’s divine providence that Dara is back in town.
For you, maybe. Not for her.
That’s true. She was definitely defensive, and thus, I can only conclude that things ended badly. Not to mention, it’s a huge step down. From a world-renowned restaurant to a greasy spoon? Hardly a career move she’s made by choice. The poor woman.
A very beautiful, poor woman.
We’re not even going there. I’m done with relationships, no matter how stunning she is. Besides, Mark made his views very clear several years ago after I made mention of meeting her on the sidewalk.
I’d called him one afternoon when I had a gap between clients. We usually meet up once a month for dinner, when he’s not halfway around the world helping his parents in their humanitarian endeavors, that is. But we also call each other too.
We’d already discussed work, and talked about what was going on in each other’s lives, when I had dropped into the conversation that I had bumped into Dara a few days before.
“Stay away from my sister,” Mark had said light-heartedly.
“Hey, I didn’t seek her out, man. I was just on my way to the office, and she was walking toward me. What did you want me to do? Ignore her?”
“Don’t mess with me, Alex. You know exactly what I’m saying. After the mess you managed to get yourself out of, you have some pretty heavy baggage. Dara doesn’t need that kind of emotional weight in her life.”
“Thanks a lot,” I countered, feeling his words were a little harsh.
“I say it honestly because I know you can take it.”
“Well, your words are wasted on me, and you know it,” I said. “I have no intention of getting into any sort of relationships, never mind with your sister.”
“That’s Okay. As long as we’re clear.”
“Crystal,” I replied a little snappily.
He made a joke after that, and my animosity waned. I can’t say I wasn’t a little ticked off at his tone, but afterwards, when I had calmed down, I could see where he was coming from. Kind of.
Mark is super protective over Dara. He always has been. He’s my age, thirty-three, and a few years older than her. From what he’s told me, he spent many of his teen years protecting her from the guys at school. I think he thinks she can’t handle herself, but I’ll be honest, from what I’ve seen, Mark doesn’t give his sister enough credit.
As I pull the car into the driveway of my huge new house, I wonder if I ought to have mentioned the idea of hiring Dara as my chef to Mark before I asked her. Then I shake my head.
We’re all adults, right? Dara can make her own darned mind up. Anyway, I’m hiring her for a job, not asking her to marry me.
I put the key into the lock and stride into the house. It still needs a lot of work, which is why I have contractors coming later today and the days following. It’s an old house with old furnishings and an old kitchen. All that is going. A family house might be what I need, but I don’t want it to look like a set from Days of Our Lives .
A family house with no family. Well, not anymore. I did have one once.
Cindy and I met when we were teenagers, so you could say we were childhood sweethearts. The town we grew up in was a bit more populated than Riverdale, but when I went to medical school, she came with me to the city, and we married a year later.
My hours were long, and she hated that she was always alone in the small apartment we struggled to afford. She had a part-time job in a shoe store, which she tolerated, but I tried to encourage her to get out and make some friends.
She did do that eventually, and then things were good for a while. I finished my degree, but my love was for more than just medicine. Cindy wasn’t happy when instead of taking a job with great pay, I went on to train in my specialist field of surgery.
“I’m tired of having to live in this tiny apartment,” she had said one night when I came home exhausted after a fourteen-hour shift.
“It’s just for a little bit longer,” I had promised.
“You keep saying that, Alex, but we’ve been here for three years. I’m getting claustrophobic.”
It had ended in a big argument. We made up later, of course, but the following months only got worse. Until one day, she announced she was pregnant. That should have been our happily ever after, I suppose. But it didn’t turn out that way.
I look around this huge house, wondering what it might look like filled with children, but now, it’ll never happen, and I’ve come to terms with that. I think.
An hour later, and there’s a knock at the door.
“Dr. Bennett?” the guy says. He’s stocky and dressed in overalls of a dreadful mustard color. Behind him, two other guys are clambering out of the truck.
“Yes,” I say.
“We’re here to fit your new kitchen.”
“Excellent.” I open the door wider. “Come on in.”
Once the men have entered, the stocky guy says, “We’re going to have to turn your water off to fit the appliances. Is that Okay?”
“Sure,” I say, waving a hand that tells them they can do whatever they want. “Do you need me for anything else?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”
“All right. Then I’ll let you get on with it.”
I walk away and leave them to it, making my way to the room I’ve allocated as my study. Thankfully, it’s on the other side of the house, so the racket they’re about to make shouldn’t disturb me too much.
Closing the door behind me, I move around my desk and drop into my chair. Lifting my phone, I call Barbara.
“Well, how is it?” she asks after we’ve got the greetings out of the way.
“It’s exactly what we need,” I reply, “though it needs some work. Work men have just arrived to put in a new kitchen.”
“What’s wrong with the old one?” Barbara asks. I can hear her typing on the keyboard as she speaks to me. She’s a great multitasker and an asset to the clinic.
“It looks like something out of Little House on the Prairie ,” I quip back.
She giggles down the phone. “And we can’t have that now, can we?” she says teasingly.
“I need a family home, not a relic, Barbara.”
“If you say so. You have two surgeries booked in for tomorrow,” she continues. “One at 11:30 a.m. and another at three in the afternoon. I had Mrs. Crawford on the phone earlier, wanting to speak to you. I told her you were out of the office and that I would pass on the message.”
“Thanks, Barbara. I’ll give her a call. I also need you to set up a dinner party for Tom Burgess and the rest of his team. I managed to snag myself a chef who’s willing to work. What’s my schedule like for next week?”
“Let me see,” Barbara says, clicking at the keyboard again. A few seconds pass, and then she says, “Okay. Well, Friday might suit you better. It’s the only day of the week that you don’t have any surgeries. I can rearrange the consultations for the week after.”
“All right. Email Tom and see if that works. If it does, send him the address, and then come back to me with how many are going to attend.”
“What about Jack Norton?” she asks.
“I’m not ready to meet the Spire team yet.” I reply. “This will be a test run, then we’ll go forward from there.”
When we say our farewells and hang up, I fall back into my chair and let out a long breath. There’s still the tiniest niggling doubt in the back of my mind that I am indeed crazy and that all this effort isn’t worth it. But like I have done for the last six months, I ignore it, hoping it will find somewhere in the depths of my brain to settle itself.
I work in my study for several more hours, the faint sound of thumping hammers and high-pitched drills seeping through the thick walls.
I’m determined to secure this contract, no matter what it takes. My business is going strong, and I have several investments that also supplement my surgeries. But no one knows what the future holds, and thus, I want to make everything as secure as I can. Besides, I’m driven. Maybe that’s partly my ex-wife’s doing.
She always wanted the best of everything when I finally made it. How ironic that she’s not here to live in the lap of luxury she so desperately desired. She still has her claws in me, mind. Something I’m willing to live with. But she’ll never have me. Not ever again.
Dusk finally overtakes the afternoon, and I settle myself outside on the porch with a glass of pinot grigio. This is the first night I’ve spent here. I’ve already checked the work in the kitchen, and it’s looking pretty good. They haven’t finished yet, so they’re returning tomorrow. Thankfully, I’ll be back in the city, and won’t have to listen to the racket.
Now peace has returned, and the only thing I can hear are crickets chirping in the long grass in the field beside the house. I can’t remember the last time I sat in such peace and quiet. The city is always noisy.
Maybe, when all this is done, I might just keep this place as a retreat. Somewhere to runaway to when I want some solace.