Chapter 9
nine
. . .
peony
“Mr. Edgewood accepts your invitation.”
Kellen delivers the news over breakfast. I made croissants last night before bed and tucked them away in the fridge so the butter could harden, then popped them into the oven this morning.
Now Kellen is eating one slathered in jam and butter, clearly unaware of the smudge of blackberry preserves that’s dribbled onto his shirt.
“He did?!” I bounce on the balls of my feet. “Wow. I didn’t think he would.”
Kellen looks very serious as he says, “I didn’t think he would, either. He is putting a lot of trust in you, Peony.” The way he uses my first name in such a low tone, some of my excitement turns into trepidation. I hope I don’t disappoint Mr. Edgewood. I would hate if I permanently scared him away.
“When you see him,” Kellen goes on, “I want you to do your best not to react. You may be frightened by him, but please, don’t let it show.”
Is he perhaps disfigured? Is that why he won’t emerge from his quarters? I never considered it before, thinking he was simply a shut-in from some kind of social anxiety.
“Mr. Edgewood will be as afraid of you as you are of him,” Kellen says.
Schooling my expression to be as solemn as possible, I give a nod of understanding. “I won’t scream if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“It is one of the things.” With a sigh, Kellen lifts himself off his stool. “Shall we go shopping, then?”
All my enthusiasm immediately returns. “Yes! I know exactly where we should go first. But it will be kind of a drive.”
Kellen takes a set of keys out of his pocket. “Then why don’t you take us there?”
Holy shit.
I’ve never pictured myself behind the wheel of a car like this. It has a button you push to turn it on, and the engine purrs quietly underneath me. I don’t know what model or make—cars aren’t my thing—but I know it’s expensive just by the leather seats and many displays and knobs.
Kellen shows me where the gearshift is, and then we’re on our way.
I have to be careful with how much gas I put on, because the second we leave the driveway, we go flying over the road. Kellen grips the handle above his window, and I apologize profusely. But once we reach the highway, I decide to see what it’s made of.
“Hold on,” I tell Kellen, and he gives me a perplexed look until I push down on the pedal.
We zoom down the highway until I reach a cruising speed, and Kellen is panting.
“Maybe I should drive next time,” he says, eyes wide.
“No way.” I laugh. “I want one of these for myself.”
The first place we’re visiting is a restaurant supply store where I used to shop with the chef.
That means driving to the big city about an hour away, which takes me an hour closer to where I used to live with Andy.
It sends a small shiver up my spine, but I push it away.
Andy won’t be where I’m going. I don’t have to worry.
Kellen and I fall into an easy conversation about my old job, then what brought him to work for Mr. Edgewood. They met nearly fifteen years ago, he says, before Edgewood became a hermit. He’s worked for him ever since.
“He did big business,” Kellen says. “He was always pushing, pushing his way toward the top.”
I wonder what stopped him. “When did this change happen?”
Kellen bites his lip. Long moments pass where he doesn’t answer, but then finally he says, “He made a bad deal. A very bad deal. It got him everything he wanted… at a steep cost.”
I quirk a brow, hoping he’ll continue, but he doesn’t. I get the sense that whatever happened, he’s not willing to tell me. Perhaps Mr. Edgewood will himself.
At last, we arrive at our first destination.
Kellen’s brows rise as we enter the store, which is a massive warehouse filled with every sort of kitchen gadget possible.
We pass shelves upon shelves of cookware, dishware, and utensils.
Finally, we get to the part of the store that holds all my favorite things: tools.
I feel like a kid in a candy store as I get to pick out everything I could want for the dinner. Luckily, they have most of what I need, and we head to the checkout with a full cart.
“Is this going to be all right?” I ask, nervous for the first time that I might be asking too much to put this dinner together. “I think the smoker isn’t—”
Kellen snaps his fingers in front of my face, surprising me. “Don’t think about it for a second.” He whips out his wallet and removes a matte black credit card. “Mr. Edgewood is more than happy to pay.”
Then he winks.
The clerk takes the black card, studying it like a rare artifact before ringing up our purchases. Then we’re on our way.
Next is the natural foods market where I know I can find most of my more odd and particular ingredients. I buy a few whole red snappers, a pound of daikon, flying fish roe, and a host of vegetables that mystify Kellen. But he simply follows me around the store as I choose what I need.
Finally, it’s finished, and we’re ready to head home. Kellen surveys everything I’ve purchased in the back of the car.
“I am quite curious to see what you’ll come up with,” he says with a pleased smile.
“I hope you like it.”
“Ms. Austin,” he says sternly as we get in the car, “I like everything you cook, and so does Mr. Edgewood. I am certain we will both enjoy it.”
Buoyed by Kellen’s confidence, I put the car in drive and we head back to the manor.
After dinner, I start my prep. There’s a lot to be done to make sure tomorrow night goes off without a hitch, and I’m going to pull out all the stops.
When Kellen returns with Mr. Edgewood’s plate, it comes with a note, as I had hoped.
A marvelous meal, Ms. Austin, as always. I look forward to tomorrow night’s sorcery.
-R
I clasp the note tight, hoping he likes what I have planned for him. And maybe I’ll finally find out what the “R” stands for.
Ronald? Roger? Ralph? None of those seems right for Mr. Edgewood, though. Maybe I’ve never seen him, or even spoken with him, but I feel today as if I’ve gotten to know him. He’s kind and generous and has an odd sense of humor.
When I’m finally finished with all my arrangements for the big dinner, I call it quits. It’s almost ten o’clock, and it’s time for bed given how I’ll spend most of my day tomorrow cooking.
But when I’m curled up under the covers, my mind races. What does Mr. Edgewood look like that he’s so afraid of me seeing him? It’s frightening enough that Kellen thought to warn me. I imagine all sorts of things but shame myself into stopping.
It doesn’t matter how he appears on the outside. I make a pact with myself right then that I’ll accept him no matter what. Mr. Edgewood deserves that dignity.
By the time midnight rolls around, I still haven’t been able to get to sleep.
I’m too anxious, running over the menu again and again in my head, wondering whether perhaps the spices I’ve picked are too strong, or the smoke will hurt Mr. Edgewood’s nose, or worst of all, I somehow accidentally slip onion into it.
I know that won’t happen because we don’t even have onion in the house, but I’m far too worried to sleep. Finally, I give up and get out of bed. All that time thinking about food has gotten me rather hungry, and there are leftovers in the fridge with my name on them.
It’s dark in the manor, so I make my way carefully to the big stairs and navigate down with the help of moonlight coming in the windows. Wearing my new slippers, my footsteps are utterly silent.
When I reach the main floor, though, I hear something. A click-clack kind of sound, and it’s coming from the kitchen.
Curious. Maybe Kellen is up for a late-night snack, too, and he’ll hold a conversation with me until I’m tired enough to fall asleep.
When I step into the kitchen, the fridge is open, casting a bright yellow light on the silhouette standing in front of it. It’s absolutely enormous, far bigger than Kellen’s five foot ten. It must be a bear that’s broken into the house.
I scream reflexively, backing away so I can run to Kellen’s rooms and wake him up to call 911. But when the bear turns its head to look at me…
It’s no bear.
rupert
Bugger it all, this is not at all how I wanted our first meeting to go.
I had a plan. When Ms. Austin had finished preparing dinner and was waiting at the dining room table for me, I would slowly walk into the room.
Kellen would be there to calm her should she be afraid and assure her that I would never do anything to harm her.
His comfortable presence would soothe her, and perhaps she would sit back down in her seat, and we could have a lovely dinner together, getting to know one another.
That is out the window now.
I don’t realize she’s there until she lets out a scream, like a fire alarm, and I turn to find the source.
Here she is, up close. She has round cheeks and a petite upturned nose with wide dark eyes. Her skin is a soft tan, and her hair is long and black. Even in this low light I can make out how long her lashes are, how plump her lips are as her mouth goes big and round.
The sound rattles me so much I cover my ears.
I stumble backward, where I bump into the kitchen counter, sending the plate of food in my hand to the floor.
The plate cracks with a terrible sound, the pieces scattering.
Ms. Austin has also backed up, her arms covering her chest as if I might attack her.
I can’t believe it. She’s seen me.
She’s seen me, and she’s terrified.
Damn it all. I thought this could be different. I thought she could be different. Instead, everything is as much of a disaster as I expected.
I turn around and sprint away as fast as I can, the claws of my awful, scaled feet slipping on the slick flooring as I try to veer out of the kitchen.
“Mr. Edgewood!” she calls after me. “That is you, isn’t it? Mr. Edgewood!”
This is even worse. She knows what I am now.
It’s like the old man said, once upon a time:
And you will never, ever find happiness.