He looks at me as if I have grown a second head. “Are you sure, Madam?”
“Absolutely. I’m just going to cook some steaks for Mr. Bessant and me,” I smile and say confidently.
He looks apprehensive. “Perhaps I could just show you how all the appliances work,” he ventures cautiously.
“That is a brilliant idea,” I agree, glancing at all the professional-grade appliances.
It is a Viking range with blue knobs that is the most intimidating. Other than that, everything else is pretty easy. He leaves after repeating that he will be at the staff quarters should I need him. I get started with dinner. First, I pull out ingredients I need from the massive double fridge. Two pieces of fillet steak.
Great, I will make grilled filet mignon with rosemary roasted potatoes and a side of asparagus sautéed in garlic butter, and a red wine reduction sauce to tie it all together. Once all the ingredients are on the marble counter, I start peeling and chopping the potatoes. The blade slices through with satisfying thuds. I drop them into a pan of boiling salted water.
At that moment, Dora bustles in holding her notebook. She stops in surprise at the sight of me in front of the stove.
“Since Frances sf dining out, I’m cooking dinner for Blake and me.”
Her eyebrows fly upwards. “Oh, that’s nice.”
Leaning against the counter, I phrase my words casually. “Freya’s been wanting to have a sleepover at one of her friend’s houses, and her father figured tonight would be nice. Who do you think she would be most happy to spend the night with? I want to surprise her.”
Dora pauses, her face softening with a newfound warmth for me since the surprise party.
"Oh, Mrs. Bessant, that's very sweet of you. Freya has a few playmates, but for short notice sleepovers, the best option is Lily, her Vietnamese friend from school. They live really close byin Glen Cove, so it would be easy for Franklin to drop her off. I can make a call and set it up if you'd like."
Relieved, God, so relieved. The tension uncoils like a snake in my chest. “Thanks,” I say, my voice bright. "That would be perfect, Dora. Please put me on to Lily's mother."
She nods and starts to pull her phone from her apron pocket.
“Er. Can you remind me again what her mom does?”
“She’s a teacher. Good woman,” Dora says, scrolling through the contacts on her phone.
“Yes, I remember now.”
Dora dials quickly, the ring echoing tinny in the kitchen. Then she hands her phone over to me.
“Thanks, Dora,” I whisper appreciatively.
Lily’s mother and I chat a little bit on the phone. Her voice is warm and prettily accented. Of course, Lily would love to have Freya over, she confirms enthusiastically. The date is scheduled for six o’clock. Easy as that. I hang up and hand the phone back to Dora with a grateful smile.
Dora offers to help me, but I refuse. There is not much to do, but trim the woody ends of the asparagus spears, season the steaks with cracked pepper and salt, and make the reduction once the steaks are nearly done. Dora wishes me luck and goes upstairs to finish off her day and help Freya get ready.
I am so relieved to have solved my problem.
Now I can really focus on getting the meal right for the both of us. Once the potatoes are boiled, I strain them in a colander, shake them up to break up the edges, and dump them onto a heavy baking tray. I drizzle some olive oil over the golden chunks and toss in some fresh rosemary sprigs. Their piney scent fills my nostrils as I slide the tray into the oven.
They should be done in half-an-hour.
Soon enough, it gets dark outside, twilight deepening through the windows to inky night. The kitchen lights cast a cozyglow over the counters. I time the grill pan on the range to sear the filets, the sizzle filling the kitchen with savory smoke. The potatoes are turning golden in the oven, their edges crisping just right. It's therapeutic, this cooking, my hands busy as my mind quiets. The simple act is grounding me in the moment.
I hear his arrival—the crunch of gravel under tires, the front door opening with its familiar creak. My heart races just thinking about being alone with him. That heat from last night is still smoldering under my skin, making me ache in ways I shouldn't. If anything, acknowledging the desire has made it sharper, more insistent.
He comes in just as Freya comes down, bounding into the kitchen in her pajamas and overnight bag. He picks her up and swings her into his arms. She hugs him tightly. "Daddy, I'm going for a sleepover at Lily’s!"
“You be good.”
Dora follows, nodding to Blake. "Everything's set, Mr. Bessant. I'll be retiring for the night as well, good evening."
I feel the heat creeping up my neck because it's obvious now that everyone's clearing the way for us. The house empties like a stage being set, whispers of orchestration in the air. It was supposed to be just a simple dinner. I’ve been here a while now and we haven't had any alone time like this. But now the occasion feels charged and inevitable. My pulse quickens at the thought.
