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 makesure 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 haveonion 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. Aclick-clackkind 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 presencewould 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.
