They
sat in companionable silence for a few minutes as the smell of the vegetable
strudel began to permeate the kitchen. “That smells incredible,” Mason said,
nodding his head at the oven.
“It
came out nicely,” Emma agreed. “I haven’t made this before, but I think I’ll
keep the recipe. I liked it.”
“You
experiment a lot?”
“I
do. Makes cooking more fun. I have my tried and true recipes, like manicotti,
but they’re more my comfort food recipes – the things I make when I want consistency,
or when I just feel blue.”
“Is
that a good mood barometer for you? If you make something new, you’re feeling
fine?” he asked, motioning that the wine should be ready to taste.
“Pretty
much. Or I might feel fine, but just be thinking of my mom or my Gran. Though
these days, if I think of Gran, I’ll be heating up a frozen dinner,” she said
wryly, taking a sip of the wine. “Oh my goodness! That’s amazing wine! Can I
see the label?” she asked.
He
pushed the bottle toward her.
“If
nothing else, I’m going to leave here in three years with a solid education in
wine,” Emma said absently as she read the label, missing the look of
consternation that appeared on Mason’s face and then was quickly stifled.
Getting
up, she pulled the piece of strudel from the oven and placed it on a dinner
plate in front of Mason. Adding the bowl of salad and the dressing, she dug in
a drawer and found silverware to hand him as well.
“Thanks.
This looks amazing, Emma,” he said as he took in the feast in front of him.
“I
hope you like it.” Sitting back down, she pulled her wine glass toward her
again, then stood up quickly. “Forgot the chocolate!” Reaching back into the
pantry, she emerged with a bar of dark chocolate, and sat back down at the
counter. Mason watched surreptitiously as she broke off a piece, placed it in
her mouth, and closed her eyes, enjoying the flavor. When she took a sip of
wine, she broke into a smile. “Oh wow. This is so good. I’ll save you some,
Mason - you have to try this combination.”
For
his part, Mason had already forgotten to eat, but when she opened her eyes and
looked over at him, he quickly looked down at his plate. Ah yes. Salad. And
dinner. Yes. And wine. Forcing himself to concentrate, he cut off a piece of
strudel and bit into it.
He
was silent as he chewed, looking up at Emma thoughtfully. “You made this?” he
asked.
“Of
course.”
“From
scratch.”
“Well,
yes. But I bought the phyllo dough. I don’t think I could make that without
uttering a lot of curse words, and Chaos is a sensitive dog.”
Mason
looked down at the ‘sensitive dog,’ who had moved strategically over to be
directly under him, ready to catch crumbs.
“Don’t
you ever feed your dog?” he asked with a grin.
“Seldom.
Poor dog. Nothing but skin and bones.”
“Seriously,
Em. This is delicious. I had no idea that you could make something like this in
a home kitchen.”
“Well,
your kitchen doesn’t quite fit the definition of ‘home kitchen,’ but yes. It’s
actually pretty easy.”
Mason
was shoveling food into his mouth at an astounding speed. Emma just watched in
awe.
“Do
you want me to heat up another piece?” she asked.
He
shook his head. “This is plenty. I’m just hungry. But I’ll finish this up and
I’ll be fine. Thanks Emma, this is really good. I appreciate it.”
“You’re
always welcome to whatever I leave in the fridge, Mason,” she said quietly.
“Thanks,”
he responded. “I may start to take you up on that. I don’t usually get food
this good when I order take-out. But only if you let me buy the groceries.”
“Nah.
You keep contributing wine, and we’re even, I think. Probably more than even –
I think I’ll get the better end of the deal.”
“We’re
not roommates, Emma,” Mason said quietly. “This doesn’t have to be an even
split. And I think I can put food on the table in my house.”
Emma
looked up at him in surprise. “Of course you can,” she said gently. “But…”
“But
what?”
“But
you don’t need to buy my food or support my cooking habit. And you may decide
that you want to go back to take-out, and…”
“Go
on.”
“And
I can buy my own food, Mason. Look,” she said, deciding to lay her cards on the
table. “I know you’ve been avoiding me. I’m not entirely sure why, but I know
it makes you more comfortable in many ways, so that’s OK. But you might feel
the need to continue doing that. And I don’t want you paying for my groceries
if you’re not sharing them.”
“You’re
my wife, Emma. I hardly think that my paying for groceries compromises our
relationship.”
She
smiled sadly. “We have an arrangement, Mason, not a relationship. And no, we’re
not roommates, not exactly. But we’re probably closer to that than we are to
husband and wife.”
Mason
drained his wine glass. “Are you asking to revisit the terms of our agreement,
Emma?”
She
drained her glass as well. “Nope. Good night, Mason. Thanks for the wine. Bring
Chaos up with you when you come?”
Standing,
she placed her glass in the sink and headed for the stairs. Because if she
stayed, she might be tempted to open negotiations.
On
Saturday night, Emma dressed carefully in a short black classic sheath dress
with high black and red shoes. A simple silver band encircled her neck, simple
silver hoop earrings hung from her lobes, and her brown wavy hair was pulled
back in a red metal clasp. It was the perfect combination of dressy and chic,
and Mason nodded his approval as she came down the steps to join him in the
foyer.
“The
caterers are nearly set up,” he informed her. “Is there anything you’d like to
change?”
Her
eyes widened. “Oh heavens no. I don’t know anything about throwing a dinner
party of this caliber! I’m sure it will all be fine.”
He
took in her jittery hands and her quick breathing, and his eyes narrowed.
“You’re not nervous, are you?”
Sighing,
she admitted, “A bit. These are all your friends this evening, and all of them
will be looking at us, wondering why they’ve never met me before, and why the
rush.”
“Maybe,
but I think they’ll be pleasantly surprised. And Amanda will be here, so you’ll
have a familiar face in the crowd.”
She
looked relieved. “Oh good. I really do like your sister.”
“I
think the feeling is mutual.”
“Is
your Mom coming?” Emma asked with some trepidation.
“I
doubt it.”
“Did
you invite her?”
“Yes.”
“And
she didn’t RSVP?” Emma feigned dramatic concern by moving the back of her hand
to her forehead. “Oh my goodness, the rules of society have been broken, the
world must be ending. I’d better run back upstairs and say farewell to Chaos.”
Mason
rolled his eyes. “Speaking of the dog…”
“He’s
in his crate. I gave him a frozen Kong of peanut butter. If you turn the music
up when he starts to whine, you won’t even notice he’s there.”
“And
if he barks?”
“I’ll
go up and comfort him.”
Mason
looked at his watch. “Does he need to be let out before everyone arrives?”
Emma
shook her head. “I let him out about 20 minutes ago. He should be ok, unless
guests really linger. In which case, I’ll get him leashed and take him out the
side door.”
Mason
seemed to really look at Emma then. “You look nice,” he said softly.
“Thanks.
I’m recycling. I didn’t have time to shop. I hope no one notices, but I don’t
think people pay as much attention to black, so I think I’m safe.”
Mason
laughed. “I think you’re fine. Lovely, in fact. Would you like a glass of
wine?”
“Before
guests arrive?” Emma laughed. “Talk about living dangerously. Anything I need
to know about the group you’ve invited?”
“Some
are friends, some are colleagues, many are employees.”
“Ah,
so the obligatory go-to-the-boss’s-house evening.”
“I’m
sure people want to come,” Mason said with a straight face.
Emma
burst out laughing. “I’m sure you’re right,” she giggled. “We’ll see how late
people stay.”
Mason
grinned. “Go make sure they have your olives and nuts. I want to be sure that
we’re set at the bar.”
Emma
wandered out onto the patio and was happy to see that Mason had taken her
request to heart. There were bowls of mixed nuts and olives spread around on
various tables, and the caterers were moving around, ensuring that everything
was set up correctly. When Emma heard the doorbell ring, she reluctantly took
one last look around and headed back inside.
“You
did well tonight.” It was the end of the evening, and the last guests had
headed out a short while ago. The caterers were moving around, picking up the
remnants of the party, and packing up leftovers to leave in the fridge. Emma
had gone upstairs to let Chaos out, and was now back downstairs helping to get
things in order. She looked up when Mason appeared next to her.
“Thank
you. You sound surprised.”
“I
was concerned that you might not enjoy yourself, or that you might not feel
comfortable with the people I work with.”
“Why
would you think that?” Emma asked.
“You
don’t know any of them.”
“I’m
a lawyer. I schmooze.”
He
smiled then. A warm, happy smile. It took Emma’s breath away.
“You
should smile more often,” she said softly.
Mason
looked at her as if he hadn’t heard her. “What?” he asked.
“It
makes you more approachable,” she explained.
“I’m
not approachable?”
“Aw
geez, Mason. Not normally, no.”
“According
to who?” he asked.
“Well,
me. And probably a good portion of your staff. I think half of them are afraid
of you, and the other half was too scared to tell me that they are afraid of
you.”
“They
told you this?”
“Well,
not right off. Some were sure that I was some kind of nasty spy who was going
to rat them out to the boss. Others, like your mom, think that I’m a
gold-digging vapid idiot who only married you for your money because,
seriously, why else would I be with you? And the rest thought I was some poor
stupid girl who got sucked in by your sexiness, and that I’m going to find out
very soon what a mistake I’ve made.”
“Sexiness?”
he asked, his eyebrows raised.
She
shrugged. “Well, yeah.”
He
rolled his eyes. “Did anyone in the room have anything nice to say about our
marriage?”
“It
will come, Mason,” she answered quietly. “People just didn’t expect this,
that’s all. You date supermodels. You don’t marry the girl next door.”
“I
like
the girl next door,” he said in his own defense.
“That’s
just because I feed you.”
He
leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms in front of him, looking down
at her with a crooked grin on his face. “So you didn’t come out looking so good
in all of this, did you?”
“What
do you mean?” she asked suspiciously.
“Well,
you were either a spy, a gold-digger, or a girl with a low IQ who makes
decisions based on looks alone.”
“Oh.
I didn’t think of it that way, but you’re kind of right. OK, I’m insulted.
Except that I can kind of see the sexiness thing.”
Mason’s
eyes narrowed. “How much did you have to drink tonight?”
“Probably
a couple of glasses of wine too much,” she admitted. “Your friends intimidated
me a little. Plus, I was scared your mother would show up.”
“So
you think I’m sexy?”
“Of
course. Anyone with two X chromosomes thinks you’re sexy. And some of the
people with Y chromosomes. If they’re gay. You’re kind of appealing across all
crowds, I think.”
Mason
looked at her closely. “Only
two
glasses of wine too much?” he asked.
“Yeah.
Only two glasses. It’s like truth serum to me. Give me wine, and ask me
anything.”
“Anything?”
“Sure.”
“Why
didn’t you want money to do this?”
She
looked puzzled. “To do what?”
“To
marry me.”
“I
don’t marry for money.”
He
chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t make a habit of it. But it would have made your
life easier to take the funds. So…”
But
Emma shook her head. “I make decent money on my own. I’m living in your house
for a while, so I can rent my place out if I choose. And I live the way I want
to. So I don’t need the money, and it would just cause problems. I don’t want
to be beholden to you financially.”