9. Alex
9
Alex
When Dara leaves, she looks exhausted, and I do feel a little guilty. She’s been on her feet for more than twelve hours, and if her car wasn’t in the driveway, I would have offered to drive her home, just to make sure she actually makes it.
When I asked her to cook for this dinner party, I had a price in mind, but after the amazing meal she provided, I added half again. She’s worth it, and it’s well deserved.
Truly, I could have her here every night, cooking for me.
I’m on my way out to the porch when that thought stops me in my tracks. Holding my wine glass halfway to my lips, I pause everything, as though time has stood still.
Could I really do that? Could I have her working for me full time?
I continue outside onto the decking and lower myself into the rocking chair. Like every night, the crickets sing across the fields, but rather than relax as I ordinarily do, my mind begins to whirls.
In fact, an even crazier thought enters my head. Something that originated from what Mike said the other day.
“You should hire a girlfriend for the night,” he teases. “I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?”
Am I completely mad, or would that actually work? More to the point, would Dara be up for it?
I could make her an offer she couldn’t refuse. She mentioned something tonight that I hadn’t known about. Something I could easily make a reality.
This is crazy. She’ll never go for it.
No. Of course, she wouldn’t. She’s far too principled for that. Maybe this wine has gone to my head. But now the thought is in there, I can’t get it out. In fact, rather than dismiss it as ridiculous, I’m looking at the option from every angle.
She’s wasted in that diner, and we both know it. While she won’t tell me what happened with Dino and the restaurant, I know something bad went down. She loved working there, and besides, it was the opportunity of a lifetime for a country girl. It’s obvious to me, and especially after tonight, that she pines for that life again.
A wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I realize I need to go to bed. Maybe, after a good night’s sleep, this entire inner dialogue will be laughable in the morning.
I shuffle into the house and make my way to the kitchen. I take a minute to look around it. It’s completely spotless. She refused to leave until it was as clean as it was before she arrived, but as I’m looking at it now, I’m pretty sure it’s cleaner.
I can’t help myself. I stand there a little longer and imagine what it would be like having her working in it full time.
I do need a chef while I’m here, right?
Go to bed.
All right, I’m going.
I wash my glass, take a final look around the kitchen, and smile to myself. Something tells me that tomorrow morning, this idea will still be lingering, and the strange thing is, I think I like it.
I wake at 5:30 like I always do, and as habit would have it, I throw on my running gear and leave the house. I love this time of the morning. It’s like I’m privileged to spend a little time with nature before the rest of the world wakes up. It’s the time of the day I clear my head and ready myself for what’s to come.
Only this morning, my head isn’t clear at all, and no matter how hard my feet pound against the road, I still can’t shift the crazy idea from last night. By the time I get back and I’m in the shower, I’m bargaining with myself.
I won’t know unless I ask her.
At which point, she’ll tell you you’re nuts and refuse to ever cook for you again .
I don’t think so. I think she enjoyed herself too much last night. It was written all over her face. Even as exhausted as she was, she clearly loved every minute of it.
Fine, but cooking for a one-off dinner party is a far cry from what you’re proposing.
Maybe, but in the end, she’ll be happy. She’ll get what she really wants.
You mean, if she’s still speaking to you afterwards. And then there’s Mark.
That thought brings me up short. In all my reasoning, Mark hasn’t even come into the equation. He had been crystal clear about staying away from Dara. But surely that was in the biblical sense. This would just be a business arrangement. Besides, he’s not here. This will be over and done with before he even returns.
You’re walking on very thin ice here.
Yes, I am. But then, I’ve already put too much into this deal to give up now, so I’m going to put my life jacket on and hope the water isn’t too cold when I finally fall through.
When Mark told me to stay away from Dara, his directive was specifically aimed at a romantic relationship. I wouldn’t exactly be breaking the rules. It’s not like we’d be going out for real.
So, after I shower and dress, and entirely ignoring my conscience, I go down to my office and lift my phone. With her number sitting there on the screen before me, I hesitate for a few seconds.
Just do it.
I take a deep breath, and I press the green button.
It rings out for some time, and I’m beginning to wonder if she might be at work already. Surely, she doesn’t start at 7:30 in the morning, which is what the time is now. I leave it for another few seconds, getting ready to hang up, when I hear a breathless, “Hello?”
“Dara?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Sorry for calling so early. Have I disturbed you?”
“No, I was just…” She trails off, clearly not wanting to divulge that information, but I’m going to assume she might have been taking a shower.
“Is there another dinner party already?” she asks, swiftly changing the subject.
“No. Well, actually, yes,” I flounder, “but that’s not the reason I’m calling.”
“Oh,” is all she says, leaving it open for me to continue.
“I have a proposition for you, but I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Besides, I’m sure you’re probably in the middle of getting ready for work. Can I come to see you?”
“Er… sure,” she replies, not sounding sure at all.
“Does this evening suit?”
“I don’t get off until six, but—”
“I don’t want to come by right away,” I assure her. “I’m sure you’d like to get something to eat and relax. How does eight-ish sound?”
“That’s fine.” She doesn’t speak for a minute, and then she says, “Why are you calling again?” By her tone, I’ve made my intentions as clear as mud.
“I just need to speak to you, and face to face would be better.”
There’s another pause, and then she says, “Okay. Then I’ll see you about eight.”
“Great.”
I fall back in the office chair and rest the phone against my chin. Okay, so, she’s agreed to meet. That’s got to be a good start.
You’re kidding yourself, right? She has no clue what’s coming.
I shake my head and tell myself to stop being so negative. The best I can hope for is that she’ll at least listen to my proposal. After that, it’s anyone’s guess.
The day flies, and eventually, the time for me to leave for Dara’s arrives. It might sound ridiculous, but I feel my stomach churning. Not a feeling I’m used to, I admit. I’m pretty confident in most things. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I was nervous.
You were nervous the other day when Dara arrived.
I don’t think that counts.
Sure, it doesn’t.
Ignoring my own sarcasm, I grab a jacket and head out to the Merc.
When I arrive at her house, I’m pleasantly surprised. I’m not sure what I imagined, but it’s a two-story place with a small front yard. There’s dahlia’s, asiatic lilies, sunflowers and other blooms I can’t name that give the place a burst of color.
I walk the thin path up to the front door and knock. A second later the door opens.
“Hey,” she says, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
“Thanks.” I say, stepping into the small hallway.
She closes the door and then leads me further into the house. “It’s a far cry from your place, but it’s home for me.”
“I think it’s quite quaint,” I say, passing shelves filled with strange-looking teapots. When she sees me looking, she rolls her eyes.
“It’s a joke.”
“Well, they certainly look amusing,” I quip back.
She shakes her head. “No, I mean, it started off as a joke. The first time I went out to see my parents, I brought back a teapot. Mark told me I was going to end up as an old spinster who collected weird teapots, and so I nearly can’t help it when I see one. Every time he visits and discovers a different one, we laugh about it.”
“Huh,” I say, nodding and appreciating the close relationship they have. And in that second, that niggle returns to my mind.
Mark is not going to approve of this, and you know it.
“So,” she says, showing me into the kitchen, where there’s coffee brewing, “what is it you needed to discuss? Coffee?” she offers, before I get chance to answer her first question.
“Sure. Thanks.”
I actually don’t drink coffee after 6:00 p.m. It messes with my sleep pattern, and with my work, I need every minute of sleep I can get. But under the circumstances, I feel like I can’t refuse. Maybe it’s a pacification thing.
I remain on one side of the small island that stands in the kitchen, while she pours the coffee from a machine that sits on the far counter. She then turns and slides the round, blue mug across the island
“Milk? Sugar?”
I shake my head. “No. This is great. Thank you.”
Lifting her own mug, she takes a sip, and leaning on the island, she looks at me expectantly. “So?”
“Right,” I begin. “Well. I wanted to speak to you personally because what I want to ask you is a little unusual.”
“How unusual?” She frowns.
I’m not quite sure how to answer that, and for a minute, I don’t know what to say. I imagine it’s a pretty big deal, right? Especially the second thing I have in mind.
“Okay. It’s probably best if I just come out with it.”
“That would be great. I don’t want to die an old maid before I find out.”
I smile at her over my coffee cup, and after taking a sip, I say, “The first proposal is the easiest, so I’ll start with that. I want to offer you a full-time post.”
Her eyes widen, but I continue.
“I need a chef while I’m in Riverdale, and after last night’s performance, I can well and truly say you fit the bill.”
Her mouth is still open, when I say, “And the second proposal is on a different level.”
She’s frowning now, but her eyebrows dance a little, somewhere between astonished and confused.
As she takes a mouthful of coffee, I continue. “I also want to know if you’ll agree to be my fake fiancée?”
A second later, I take a swift step back as coffee flies out of her mouth and across the island.