Or perhaps these things tallied precisely with a man who had matured emotionally, and learned to channel his flighty tendencies into characteristics that allowed him to soar; a thoughtful, ethically minded entrepreneur driven by an almost pathological enthusiasm. This Ryan, it seemed, had retained all the things she had loved best about her childhood friend—kindness, a killer sense of humor, an aptitude for fun—and had gained some unexpectedly welcome additions. This Ryan was turning out to be absolutely fricking perfect for her.
19
Warren picked her up fromHallow House in a taxi at 6:45 that evening, even though she had said she was happy to drive down. It was a sweet gesture. Aunt Aggie answered the door as Fred was rummaging around in the bottom of her wardrobe for her one pair of high-heeled boots. Through the open bedroom door she could hear her aunt’s singsong voice below saying, “Come in, young man, she’s almost ready for you.”
Oh god!She didn’t want to leave him alone with the aunts for too long, they might start offering him drinks.
The first boot revealed itself behind a box that was essentially a graveyard for gym goods; the second was trapped beneath a foot spa she had somehow imagined would become part of her self-care routine, should she ever implement one. She pulled them on and rushed downstairs only to find the hallway empty. Following the smell of smoke, she found Warren and both her aunts smoking cigarillos outside the back door, tall glasses of something creamy in hand.
“Hey,” she said.
He turned and smiled when he saw her. “Hey,” he returned.
He was smart, as always; his shirt pressed, the collar tips sharp and his short hair neatly swept to the side. His overcoat was open to reveal a blazer beneath. There was no denying that he was handsome…and yet, she noted that he wasn’t setting her loins alight. It was like being able to appreciate a piece of art without being moved by it. She had made her decision almost without realizing. She sighed inwardly and knew that she would have to find a nice way to tell him that this would be their last date. His going back to London would make being relegated to the friend zone easier.
“You look lovely,” he said, breaking her chain of thought and making guilt squirm in her stomach.
“You too.” It was true.
He stubbed out his cigarillo and picked up a bouquet of winter flowers. He handed them to her, smiling.
“Thank you,” she said, feeling even worse. “They’re beautiful.”
Aunt Aggie blew a smoke ring; it floated between them and then popped. “You’d better get going, the meter’s running,” she said, referring to the taxi idling outside. “I’ll take those and put them in water for you.” She held out a hand for the flowers. “You two go off and have fun.”
“Okay. Bye, Aunties!” Fred called.
“Give my regards to Mrs. Doukas,” called Aunt Cam.
—
Demeter was packed,even though it was a Monday; such was the power of the Christmas market and also, it seemed,the draw of a potential food critic. As Mrs. Doukas led them through the crowded restaurant, people smiled or wanted to shake Warren’s hand, as though he was a Goodfella, and everyone wanted to stay in his good graces. One man, with a napkin tucked into his shirt and a sheen of sweat on his top lip, held on to Warren’s hand with both of his and said, “We’ve been coming here for twenty years. Make sure you give them a good write-up, yeah?”
Fred felt self-conscious. “Did you tell them you were here in an official capacity?” she whispered at Warren when he’d got his hand back.
Warren shook his head, looking like a rabbit caught in the headlights. “No, I didn’t.”
Fred looked at the carpet and tried to avoid eye contact with her fellow patrons.
They were seated at a candlelit table for two in the window. A waiter placed cloth napkins on their laps and poured two glasses of water from a carafe, before being ushered away by Mrs. Doukas.
“Fred, we are so happy that you are back home where you belong,” she said, taking over and smiling, her hands clasped under her chin. “And Mr. Reeves, it is an honor to have you here.”
“Please, call me Warren.” He gave Mrs. Doukas one of his angelic smiles, and Fred watched the matriarch fall under his spell.
“Warren,” she said, looking down at him as though he was her prodigal son. “We have prepared a tasting menu for your delight. We hope you enjoy.” And with that she left thetable and headed back toward the kitchen, shouting, “Kelly! Wine! Table four! The good stuff, eh!”
“Don’t you feel a bit…awkward?” Fred asked. “With everybody looking at us, and the staff treating us like honored guests.”
“So awkward!” Warren hissed, grinning. “I amthisclose to rolling up into a ball like a woodlouse. How do you think they found out?”
Fred pondered for a moment and then messaged her aunt.
Did you by any chance tell the Pine Bluff Jezebels that Warren was eating at Demeter tonight?
The response was quick.
Yes, dear. We asked them to spread the word far and wide. It’s all very exciting. The Doukases were thrilled. Extra baklava for you, I reckon. You’re welcome.
