Authors: Meredith Greene
“At least he didn’t say anything about grandchildren...” he muttered.
“Alfred has grandchildren?” came a voice behind him. Turning, William beheld Michelle entering the dining area.
“Ah... er... yes... well...” William stuttered. Hopefully she didn’t hear anything else. “Did... you find everything alright?”
“Yes.” Michelle grew serious. “My whole apartment could fit in your restroom.” William laughed.
“Yes, well... my lavatory is rather small,” he said, teasingly. Narrowing her eyes at him, Michelle crossed her arms.
“You’re lucky there’s nothing to throw at you easily at hand,” she said.
“Now, now... you know I’d just chase you and toss you onto the couch,” William countered. “I bet you’re ticklish.” Michelle’s eyes widened a little.
“Horribly,” she said, warily. “Don’t even joke about it; it’s a terrible affliction.” William laughed at her and pulled out a chair.
“Sit. I’ll behave,” he promised. Smiling, Michelle complied; she draped a napkin across her lap as Alfred appeared with a basket of fresh bread; he sat down on one side of Michelle and William sat on the other. Michelle felt glad that Alfred was eating with them; the apparent importance of class distinction proved to be another baseless stereotype.
The dining room looked elegant despite the simple décor. A gorgeous, solid wood table of square design dominated the space; its size seemed just right for four people to eat comfortably. Running her hand over its smooth, red-hued top, Michelle caught William’s eye.
“One of yours?” she asked, smiling. At her words, William’s eyes grew bright.
“Yes,” he said, giving her an affectionate smile. The fact that Michelle recognized a custom-built table impressed him. “One of my favorite pieces, actually. I couldn’t find a table the right size for this room.”
“So, you made one,” Michelle returned. She felt the wood with appreciative fingers. “It is beautiful.”
“Thank you,” William replied. “I am flattered you noticed it.”
Michelle looked up at Alfred. The man handed her a hot bowl of stew in a heavy soup-plate. Taking it with both hands, she smiled at him, setting the plate down in front of her. The rich, meaty scent of her mouth water. Michelle savored the first bite. A slight spiciness of fresh ground pepper made itself known, mingli ng well with the bits of braised lamb and soft pearl barley. The early winter vegetables--turnips and leeks--seemed to bring every thing together. Alfred noted her expression with satisfaction and passed her a basket of bread. Michelle swallowed her mouthful and licked her lips.
“You are a magnificent cook, Alfred,” she said, meaning every word. Looking up, William grinned at the pleasure on his valet’s face. “You cook almost as well as my grandmother did.” Michelle went on, reverently dipping another spoonful.
“Ah... a high compliment,” Alfred said, smiling. “No one could hold a candle to mine, either.”
“A triumph, Alfred,” William commented with a nod. “Perfect for this weather.”
“Yes, the air felt like stew this morning.” Alfred stirred his food thoughtfully and ate a little, nodding approvingly. “You’re mother rang, earlier,” he said, to William. “Just after one.”
“Don’t tell me. She wants me to pick up some god-forsaken cheese trinket from Switzerland before I drive up.” By William’s annoyed tone, Michelle guessed that he disliked being used as an ‘errand-boy’.
Alfred gave his boss a look, though it appeared tempered.
“Not quite,” the older man began. “I do not happen to be a cheese trinket from Switzerland and God hasn’t yet forsaken me.” William looked a little sheepish.
“Be glad to have you along, old boy,” he said, smiling. “I didn't think you wished to make the long journey in my little roadster.”
“Nonsense,” Alfred stated. “I used to cram into tiny phone booths and such with my fellow Carpathians back in college, you know. I’ll be fine.”
William snorted a little and glanced at Michelle; she appeared to be chuckling behind her napkin.
“Will there be any room for me,” she asked, smiling at her host. “Or will you have to strap me to the hood?”
“Pfft... my car’s not that small, sweetheart,” William announced, pointing his spoon at her. “You’ll fit in snugly with us. Phone booth, indeed.” Still grinning, Michelle took a bit of bread.
After a few minutes, she mustered up her courage enough to speak with Alfred.
“Margaret told me you’ve been with William’s family a long time,” she ventured.
His mouth full, William chewed a little faster.
“Please... no more bloody stories of me as a darling baby,”
he thought.
“I have, Miss Gregory,” Alfred said, leaning back in his chair. “I was his father’s valet until he passed, nearly eight years ago.” Michelle glanced at William; she said nothing but he saw a look of mutual sympathy in her eyes.
“You’re not going to regale me with William’s repressed childhood memories, are you?” she asked, turning back to Alfred. Chuckling, the older man shook his head.
“My dear, grown men dislike very much to be reminded that they were once adorable toddlers dressed in cute outfits,” Alfred stated, laying his napkin on the table. “Judging by his rather pained expression, I’ll just eat and let his memories be.”
Michelle laughed softly and clapped her hands together.
“I am so glad,” she said, merrily, “When we were eating lunch with Margaret I thought he was going to have an aneurysm.”
“I’m right here, you know,” William said, giving Alfred a grateful look. “My mother does far too much tripping down memory lane… with anyone. When I took her to lunch at the Oriental, she actually showed baby photographs to the server.” He gave Michelle a narrow look; she hadn’t stopped giggling. “It isn’t funny,” he stated, returning to his food.
The conversation turned to the proper time to leave for Vermont that Thursday.
“We should get an early start,” William remarked. “Really early. I strongly dislike sitting in traffic.”
“Not too early, sir, if you please,” Alfred countered. “Bear in mind that I am sixty-four.”
“Weren’t you in the army?” William asked, smiling. “Where’s your pre-dawn spirit?” Alfred shuddered.
“Buried deep in my youth, thank Heavens,” he said, grimacing. “No need to bring it back.”
Having finished her food Michelle stood up, plate in hand. Taking the opportunity while the men were engaged in conversation, she disappeared into the kitchen before anyone could object.
“Where’s your dish soap?” her voice floated in from the other room. Alfred rose from his chair and motioned towards the door; with William’s help he brought the other dishes in and waylaid the ‘helpful’ guest at the sink.
“I’m used to cleaning up after myself,” Michelle objected as William led her from Alfred’s domain.
“Yes, and I’m used to eating alone in my office buried under paperwork.” William told her. “You are going to relax ... don’t look so innocent.” Michelle gave him a secretive smile; she obediently sat down on the couch again and looked up at William.
“You’re not going to suggest ‘Boggle’, are you?” she asked. Her voice was light and full of fun. William liked this ‘comfortable’ side of Michelle very much. She was still sweet and a little shy but she looked more relaxed, like she was enjoying herself very much; he marveled at how easy it was to enjoy himself around her.
“I actually enjoy playing Boggle,” he grinned, sitting down beside her. Carefully, he laid his arm on her shoulders. She did not seem to mind him doing that.
“I do was well,” Michelle admitted. “But, you have to have more than two people to play it properly, kind of like Scrabble.” William nodded.
“I bet your family played board games every night,” he said, looking down at her. Michelle smiled.
“Not every night, but we did play them quite often.” She sighed; with William nearby it did not seem quite as difficult to access her memories. “My father adored Scrabble, especially. He could make up the most convincing words, and could relate the supposed meanings so well that it felt like one was risking a lot to challenge him.”
Chuckling, William rubbed his forehead a little with one hand.
“In my elementary school, we were instructed to occupy ourselves in a civil manner,” he informed his guest. “Board games were actually part of the curricula. With Scrabble—for instance--I prided myself on knowing all the ‘X’ and ‘Z’ words.”
“All forty-three of them?” Michelle inquired; her eyes looked bright with mirth.
“Well, it was forty-three more than the other lads knew,” William defended.
There was a long pause. As she gazed out the windows Michelle considered asking William more about his family, but she felt hesitant in doing so; she really did not want to pry, nor make him uncomfortable… but the fact that she knew so little about him seemed glaringly obvious. More than anything, Michelle wanted to know him better, and on a far deeper level than finding out his favorite color or preferred food.
“I take it your family didn’t have a ‘game night’ together,” she said, quietly.
At her remark, William shifted in his seat a bit.
“No,” he said, flatly. “My father was a respected investment banker; he was extraordinarily busy. For him, dinner was a meal taken between 9pm and 2am. I rarely saw him.”
“Oh,” Michelle said, not knowing how to reply to such a statement. She waited a few seconds before speaking again. “I can see it did you good, though… in a way.” William looked at her with his eyebrows raised a little. “I mean,” she continued, “In that you seem to know there is more to life than work, and money, or hiding yourself away pretending other people don’t exist... as you showed me earlier.” Michelle allowed herself to look up into his clear, blue eyes. “I bet you even want to play Scrabble with your own kids... someday.”
Michelle’s earnest words moved her host more than he let show. Inwardly, William felt struck by the thought of children, his children; he imagined cozy nights around a board game, listening to little voices laughing. His throat clenched with an odd emotion… something like longing. Certainly, children changed one’s life; they cried and got sick and needed attention, but the wonderful moments they brought made William silently admitted he wanted to have children of his own. Perhaps they’d have Michelle’s beautiful eyes.
“Definitely,” he replied. His voice dropped very low. “What about you?” Michelle blushed, to William’s delight. Perhaps she was thinking the same things as he.
“Yes,” she answered, softly. “I cannot imagine my life without a family. All money and career aside, it’s the only thing really worth working for.”
For just a moment, William glimpsed a bit of the vast well of loneliness that lay within his guest.
“You never wanted to be a CPA, did you?” he asked, gently. At his words Michelle’s eyes widened, a little.
“No,” she admitted. Her voice was suddenly unsteady. This conversation was moving perilously close to home. “I had a knack for it, but it was always just a way to pay the bills. My heart wasn’t really in it.”
“I gather... that you’re one of those girls who wanted to have a family,” William pursued. “You know… children, keeping a house and all that.” Drawing in a steady breath, Michelle nodded. She was amazed at the man’s ability to extract these things from her. She’d never admitted to anyone what at college had been such an “outdated” idea, being a homemaker.
“Yes... my mother worked for my father, you see, keeping his books from their home-office. I always liked that arrangement, you know. She was always there when I needed her. My father used to joke at parties that he was having a lifelong ‘affair’ with his secretary.” William chuckled quietly at this; his guests’ face seemed to light up whilst speaking of her parents.
“But… that kind of thing takes two,” Michelle continued, shrugging. “I mean, most guys turn pale and run away from the idea of marriage, and children. At least, these days they do.”
Michelle did her best to sound calm as she spoke; she felt horribly vulnerable sitting here next to the man she so admired, confessing her most cherished hopes. “The idea of commuting to an office each day and sitting in a tiny cubicle for eight hours has never once appealed to me.”
Sensing that his companion was a little uncomfortable with this subject, William turned his gaze out the windows.
“Not all men run from marriage, Michelle,” he said. “Just the irrational ones with inferior DNA; survival of the fittest, you know.” His joke broke the awkwardness feeling of the discussion. Michelle let out a soft chuckle.
“Yes,” she replied. “They party until they're thirty-nine years old and realize in horror that by the time they find a girl, marry and have children they’ll be a senior citizen before their first child graduates high school.”
Laughing a little, William nodded.
“That’s probably not far off,” he agreed. He ventured a glance at Michelle, She gazed out the windows. “So, you’ve been waiting, have you? For a nice bloke who won’t run at the suggestion of a family?” Michelle looked at him and nodded.
“I know it sounds very old-fashioned,” she began, “But, to me... raising a family is a life-long career; it’s hard work, sometimes, but the job has satisfying dividends… and a 401k in grandchildren.” Her frank expression made William laugh. She looked ready to bring out a pie-chart.
“That’s a creative way of putting it, Michelle,” he returned, looking down into her eyes. “I have always liked the idea of the lord and lady of the castle. Perhaps, I have been waiting... like you.”
Listening to William, Michelle found herself unable to speak. She did not know if he was talking directly about her, or if she was supposed to say something in reply. Should she shrug, give a half-smile and act dumb? Her mind muddled with these thoughts, she felt William’s arm tighten around her shoulders; looking up, she saw that he was leaning down towards her upturned face.
As his face drew closer Michelle’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, but William did not give her the chance. Michelle had been kissed once before but it was nothing like this; William seemed to overtake her. Even though he was being gentle, she felt only him. Her eyes closed of their own volition and she allowed him to continue unimpeded. William was not disappointed; Michelle tasted exactly as she looked, sweet. He thoroughly enjoyed the feel of her lips until those nagging ‘discomforts’ came back for another visit.