Authors: Meredith Greene
“Do you need any help, love?” William asked, standing on the other side of the counter from Michelle. She sent him a shy smile and looked back down at the basket of eggs. He could see she was still a bit embarrassed from the ‘button’ incident.
“Sure,” she said, biting her lip. “Know anything about omelets?” Omelets sounded good to William.
“Yes, I do. If you hand me the eggs I’ll whisk them,” he offered, giving her an encouraging smile. Michelle did so, feeling a little better. It felt good to cook again, let alone with someone cherished; the atmosphere in the large kitchen was homey and relaxed. Michelle set about to finding cheese and other items in the ‘larder’, as William referred to it.
The smell of cheese and fried mushrooms filled the air. Michelle stirred some browning shallots in a little pan; next to her, William used a spatula to loosen the edges of an omelet that was nearly done. Switching off the heat, Michelle tilted her pan over William’s and watched admiringly as he expertly folded the omelet and slipped it out on a plate.
“OK… I’m impressed,” she said, smiling. William grinned at her; his smiles made Michelle heart race, but she tried hard not to show it. “If I can just keep from drooling over the man I should be alright,” she thought. She busied herself with setting out drinking glasses. William came close, holding a glass jug of a brownish-tan liquid. The label bore a picture of whole apples falling from a tree.
“Oh… apple cider,” Michelle said, smiling brightly; her joyful expression pleased William.
“I thought you’d like it,” he remarked, pouring some of the cider into the glasses. “The flavor should go well with these omelets.”
The door of the kitchen clicked, loudly.
“Once again!” Jean-Claude yelled with his hands in the air. “What? I must get up now at three in the morning to cook for you? Sacre Bleu!” Though his words seemed fierce, Michelle could see the man had laughter in his eyes. It was just a game.
“Terribly sorry Jean-Claude.” William said, smiling. “We just got a bit famished waiting around.” The chef mumbled a few things Michelle couldn’t hear.
“Don’t worry, sir,” she said, gently. “We’ll clean up after ourselves.” The chef smiled at her. He looked at William and pointed to Michelle.
“She has the good manners, oui?” he said. “Bon... likely your food is cooked all wrong.” He stalked over to the table and sat down with them, much to Michelle’s amusement.
Alfred soon joined them, and Margaret not long after. She swept into the kitchen and saw them all sitting there.
“Everyone’s up? Oh, good,” she said, brightly. William and Michelle apparently made the omelets right; Jean-Claude did not complain. Michelle noticed he ate rather quickly, for a chef. She liked her own food very well and savored the apple cider especially. It tasted so fresh, as if one had just that morning plucked perfectly ripe, tangy apples and used them to make this liquid ambrosia. William watched Michelle sip the juice; she licked her lips and smiled at the glass with real enjoyment.
“It’s so easy to make her smile,” William mused, silently. A simple thing like apple cider or a taxi-ride made her eyes sparkle, like she was about to do something really exciting. She climbed trees and sat watching the scenery, completely content. She drew faces and sold them for just pennies, not caring if the work was demeaning. She didn’t lose hope at the prospect of misfortune. She seemed to have the missing pieces of his life, and he knew he provided the same sort of completion for her. Sitting with his family and extended family, William felt that it was right she be here with them; she belonged there. She belonged there, with him.
Michelle felt William’ scrutiny and looked up; their eyes met over the table. His cobalt eyes held a warm look, one that bathed Michelle with numerous fond feelings. From his expression, he looked to be thinking things good and wonderful about them, about her. She gave him a brilliant smile and looked back down at her breakfast.
“What a guy,” she thought. “Thank you God for sending him to me.”
“So, William, what are your plans today?” Margaret inquired, wiping her mouth on a table napkin. Her son seemed to consider the question for a moment.
As wonderful the idea of being alone with Michelle, William wanted to be very careful how things were perceived until the wedding.
“I want to drive over to Dorset and show my fiancée the museum there,” he replied; he ate the last bite of his omelet. Margaret seemed pleased at the idea.
“Oh, a lovely town,” she said, nodding approvingly; she looked over at Michelle. “They have a contemporary art museum there that is very nice; also the houses are so charming… all white clapboard and lamp-posts; very historical.”
William turned to Alfred.
“Perhaps I can prevail upon you, old boy to accompany us. It’s not very far. Wouldn’t be the same without you,” he said, smiling. Alfred lifted an eyebrow at him.
“As charming the company of you and Miss Michelle would be, master William… it would be a bit of a pain to stuff myself back into your little motorcar unless we were returning home.”
“Not even to join the Dorset Cheese Tour?” William inquired; his face was expressionless. Alfred narrowed his eyes at his employer.
“Now, don’t think you can wheedle me with cheese...” he began.
“Fresh farm cheese,” William corrected, laying his fork on his plate. “Chevre, Gouda, the famous
Grafton Cheddar...”
Alfred smiled and turned towards Michelle.
“This is a man who knows how to argue,” he warned. “You may count me in, sir.” Smiling, William stood up, taking his plate with him; he looked at his watch.
“A half-hour then?” he suggested. Alfred nodded. William looked over at Michelle.
“I’m ready,” she said, smiling. “It sounds like an interesting day... I’ve never heard of cheese blackmail before.” Alfred and William both laughed at this.
“I am very fond of cheese, my dear,” Alfred said. “Really, it’s a bit of an obsession.” Michelle smiled at him.
“I can think of worse obsessions to have,” she said. “I’m glad you’re coming with us.” Alfred smiled at her and sipped his coffee.
Sobering, Michelle glanced at Margaret.
“I hope you don’t mind us leaving you alone,” she said, apologetically. Margaret laughed.
“My dear, don’t even think of it,” she said, gaily. “Though I am flattered you did. I have so many letters to write; really, I need to work on them for a few hours.” Michelle believed her earnest tone; she felt better about taking off with William for the day. Standing, Michelle helped stack the dishes and moved towards the sink to clean up the pans. Jean-Claude forestalled her, however; he took her by the shoulders and despite her protests pushed her gently out of the room.
“Out,” he said, smiling. He closed the door to the kitchen, leaving Michelle to shake her head in the corridor. William emerged a few seconds later.
“Jean-Claude must like you,” he said, grinning down at Michelle. “He has never cleaned up after anyone before.” Michelle returned his smile.
“He probably just didn’t want me scratching the pans,” she remarked. Chuckling, William nodded.
“There is that,” he agreed. Poking William in the shoulder, Michelle looked up at him.
“Thank you for helping me cook breakfast,” she said, softly. “It made the job very enjoyable.” Her face glowed with a soft gratitude; she looked very touchable.
“It’s a good thing Alfred’s coming with us,” William thought, grimly. “You’re very welcome, Michelle,” he said. He gently nudged her arm with his elbow. “Go get your coat, minx.”
THE SMALL town of Dorset looked just as Margaret described. Michelle liked walking down the old-fashioned streets much more than the museum of contemporary art; the modern, rather withdrawn displays therein did not match the town’s warm atmosphere, in her opinion. The locals, however, seemed very proud of the museum. Much more interesting were the historical homes and various displays set up about the area’s history.
The 'Dorset Cheese Tour', as it was affectionately referred to by the locals, consisted of following a map of local farms, set up in a specific order that cheese aficionados appreciated. It all tasted good to Michelle. The ‘farms’ themselves were set up with seating areas and café-type buildings and were all immaculately clean. The friendly farmers showed off their kitchens and cheese-making facilities with pride and offered delicious scones, quiches, fruit and various wines with the cheese samples. By the time they finished, Michelle felt she would not eat any more for the rest of the week. Alfred was in seventh heaven; he praised the farmers in his decorous way and purchased several of each type of cheese to take back with them.
The rest of the evening eased by calmly in Margret’s parlor; Alfred played Chopin for them and Michelle played Debussy for the hostess. William relaxed, watching the scene; he made a mental note to purchase a piano for his home. Not as large as the concert grand but something his bride could play on when she moved in. The very thought of her living there with him made him smile and--when no one could hear--he sighed contentedly. He mentally rearranged things in his bedroom, though the thought of her clothing hanging in his closet made him chuckle; she had so few things. His ‘side’ of the closet would look packed in comparison. Watching Michelle, he saw her smile at the piano as she and Alfred played a duet; he knew she didn’t want him buying things for her, but William knew a way around that.
“Once she is my wife, she can object all she likes...”
he thought, smiling to himself. He chuckled at the thought of her protesting; he’d carry her into the stores over his shoulder, if he had to.
During dinner, Margaret hinted heavily about several wedding planners she knew. Michelle surprised William by speaking up.
“I appreciate that, Margaret,” she said, softly. She looked at the kind lady in her eyes. “But, I have always wanted to plan my wedding, myself. It’s been my dream.” William observed is mother looked near tears at the young woman's words.
“Oh, that is so darling,” she said, smiling at Michelle. “Of course you do. Just let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.” Michelle reached over and lightly squeezed her hand.
“I will, and thank you,” she said, smiling. Sitting across the small table, William admired Michelle’s method of diplomacy very much; if he’d asked his mother to butt out she would have dug in her heels. His fiancée managed to do it without any bloodshed at all. William winked at Michelle over the table, well pleased.
Alfred was even in a good mood, for Jean-Claude brought out a lovely fruit flambé instead of Crème Brule; he actually praised the chef for his creativity. At his words, Michelle smiled down at her plate; Alfred didn’t need to know she had mentioned to Jean Claude earlier the fact she’d never eaten a seasonal fruit dessert made by a professional chef. It was true; the Frenchman had looked askance and promised her a good dessert. Michelle sensed that William knew; he smirked at her knowingly over his plate.
“That man can see right through me...”
she thought. The very idea brought her comfort; as the hours went by since he'd proposed it seemed more and more that they were indeed made for one another.
THE PARTY of three reluctantly left Margret’s pleasant domicile the next morning; their hostess did not want them to go but knew Michelle and William both needed to get back to the city. With tears, she bid them fond goodbyes and dabbed at her eye with a hankie.
“Please come back again soon,” she said, earnestly. “I would love to have you visit often. There really is so much to see and enjoy around here.” Michelle hugged her and felt a little emotional herself; she could not have imagined a better future mother-in-law. Their trip back to the city had a little more conversation this time and laughter; they did stop at the same country café. Alfred was very pleased to see the waitress bring out a proper tea-trolley this time and complimented the owner accordingly.
Dropping Michelle off at her hotel, William did allow himself to kiss her several times, not really caring that a few people whistled at them; some tourists even took a picture. Michelle looked up at him with her lovely eyes.
“I’ll miss not being near you,” she admitted. William felt the same emotion keenly, but he smiled at her.
“Just call me when you’re lonely,” he said, “Really, anytime. I’ll be calling you often as well, you know. We’ll see each other soon, for lunch or something, alright?” He noticed his tone sounded slightly desperate but did not care; his tone merely corresponded with the emotions within. Michelle nodded; her eyes seemed a little misty. Her saddened expression tugged a bit at William’s heart; he caught her in a warm embrace.
“Chin up there,” he said, smiling. “I’m not far from you. We’ll be married soon, love. Very soon.” Michelle pulled away and smiled at him with courage.
“Two weeks,” she said, holding up two fingers. William smiled.
“Only two weeks, minx,” he replied. He gave Michelle her traveling bag and waved at her as she disappeared into her hotel.
Back in the car, William drove through the city traffic feeling rather depressed. Michelle’s presence was like a soft beacon of light; he felt its loss immediately.
“I can see you miss her already,” Alfred said, quietly. William smiled a little and nodded. He didn’t really have the heart to speak. “If I may, sir,” his valet continued. “I do not think you could have found better girl
to marry. Anyone can see she’s a match for you. I think you will both be very happy.”
“I agree,” William said, at last. “Thank you, Alfred.” The elderly man smiled.
“Anytime, sir,” he said. As they drove home, William considered Alfred's words; he felt comforted by the fact that others saw the bond between Michelle and himself. Although quickly formed, their affection was solid; it wasn't merely a matter of 'feeling' or only an emotional response. William just knew; he knew Michelle was the one for him. There were many ways he could keep busy while he waited for her; his bedroom needed to be slightly arranged for a new bride, for starters. Already, ideas formed in his mind how to accomplish this. It occurred to him he wanted some pictures of Michelle to have and put up. Thinking on these things, William smiled again; his grin remained the whole drive home.