As it turned out, Cale was still there when Alex arrived. At least his car was, she noted. Not wanting the food to get cold, she parked as close as she could to the door, then scrambled to get inside. She would definitely be glad to see the end of winter, Alex thought as she set the coffees and food down to remove her coat. Tossing the long winter item across the nearest counter in her lovely new kitchen, Alex left the coffee and food where they were and hurried to the dining room.
A small sigh slid from her lips as she stepped intothe room. The painting was finished, the walls a warm, off-white with burgundy trim along the top. She smiled faintly as she recalled trying to explain how she’d planned to do it and her frustration because she knew she wasn’t describing it properly. Bricker had insisted he understood, however, and she’d found herself relaxing and believing him. He had been right. While Cale had looked uncertain, Bricker had apparently understood exactly what she wanted. It was exactly as she’d envisioned.
Her gaze slid to the tables and chairs next, and a little shiver of pleasure slid through her. They were the right ones and absolutely perfect. Her luck really was turning, Alex decided as she moved forward, drawing her fingers lightly over one table, and then another. It looked good. Things were shaping up.
“It’s coming together.”
Alex turned to see Cale standing in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room. She beamed at him, grinning so wide it almost hurt. “Thanks to you,” she said, and then rushed past him to get into the kitchen.
“I can’t believe you’re still here,” she said as she crossed to the coffees and bag of food. “But just in case you were, I brought you an apology.”
“Apology?” he asked, and she could hear the surprise in his voice.
“Yes.” She turned with a coffee in hand. “I’m so sorry about your staying here to paint, and then being here to accept delivery of the furniture. I never should have agreed to that.""I offered,” he reminded her quietly, moving forward when she held out the coffee.
“Yes, well, I should have said no,” Alex announced, as he took the coffee. She turned to retrieve one of the two bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwiches next, and then offered him that as well, saying, “You must be exhausted.”
“Actually I’m good,” he said, taking the sandwich. “It must be jet lag. My internal clock is probably all messed up.”
“Hmm,” Alex said doubtfully, finding it hard to believe he wasn’t completely wiped.
“Shall we sit in the dining room?” he suggested.
Smiling at the very thought, Alex collected her own coffee and sandwich and followed him out to settle at one of the tables near the kitchen door.
“I gather your car was fixed then?” Cale asked as he unwrapped his sandwich.
“Yes. Thank you. You must have called them first thing.”
“Oui,
first thing,” he acknowledged. “What was wrong with it? ”
“Nothing serious in the end,” Alex assured him. “I think he said the connection to the battery had shaken loose or something.” She shrugged.
“That’s all? A loose wire?” he asked.
Alex nodded, unable to answer verbally since her mouth was full of warm sandwich at the moment. They were both silent for several moments after that, concentrating on their food.
“I should have picked us up two coffees each,” she said with a sigh as she balled up her sandwich wrapper and pushed it into her now-empty coffee cup.
“There’s fresh coffee in the office,” Cale announced as she replaced the lid on her cup, and when she glanced at him with surprise, he explained, “Bricker is addicted to the stuff. He insisted on stopping to pick up a coffeepot, cups, and—as he put it—all the fixings on the way back here.”
“Where did you find a store that sold coffeepots at that hour?” Alex asked with surprise.
“The grocery store where we got the items for the picnic,” he answered, collecting his own empty wrapper and coffee cup as he got to his feet. “It has a whole line of small appliances, as well as books, and whatnot.”
“Oh, yes I’d forgotten about that,” she admitted as she followed him back through the kitchen and into her office. “I’m used to the grocery store by my place. It only carries food.”
Cale nodded as he took her cup and moved toward the small garbage can by her desk. He gestured over his shoulder as he went. “I set it up in the corner there. No table of course, so I made do with the floor.”
Alex immediately moved to the coffeepot, cups, and fixings lined up in the corner and knelt to fix them both a cup.
“Mmm, it is fresh,” she murmured, taking a sip of hers, and then straightened to carry them both to the desk.
“I had just finished turning it on when I heard the back door,” Cale assured her, accepting the cup sheheld out. He took a sip, sighed with pleasure, then moved to the desk.
“You got a chair,” she said with surprise, noticing the desk chair behind the desk.
Her
desk chair, she realized, recognizing the dark brown leather model she’d ordered and been told was back-ordered and wouldn’t show up for six weeks.
“I happened to find the bill for the chair as I was organizing your papers. When I saw that it was back-ordered, I called and made arrangements to have the display model brought over until your own chair arrives. It makes it easier to work than sitting on the floor.”
“They agreed to that?” she asked with amazement.
“Oui.
Once I pointed out that according to the receipt it was supposed to be delivered last week, and that delays and disappointments like this were bad business and might not make good press,” he added with a devilish grin. “When I then suggested they bring the display around for you to use in the meantime, the manager agreed readily enough.”
“Bad press?” she asked with amusement.
Cale shrugged. “I was tired of sitting on the floor. Besides, I could get it mentioned in an article easily enough if I put my mind to it.”
“Hmm,” she murmured, peering at the chair with a little sigh of pleasure. It looked as good as she’d thought it would, and her own model would look even better since it would be minus the few scuffs and scratches this one had.
“I took care of the paint matter as well,” Cale announced, moving around the desk to begin sorting through papers on it. She recognized the bill for the paint when he pulled it out of the pile. “After the table and chairs arrived, I took the paint cans into the store and showed them that the cans read White Sand but obviously weren’t White Sand. The manager agreed they’d been mixed wrong. He’s going to reimburse you for the paint, as well as the cost of the painters, and asked me to give you his apologies.”
“Wow,” Alex murmured, peering down at the receipt he handed her. It had a bunch of incomprehensible scribbling on it now and what appeared to be a signature. Probably the manager’s, she guessed, and then glanced to Cale as he began sorting through the papers again.
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t do anything about the carpet. Your project manager signed for that despite its being the incorrect color. However, I stopped at the store where you bought the tiles. I pointed out that the fault was the salesman’s, and that you shouldn’t be expected to double-check his numbers. I also pointed out that while the numbers were wrong, the color written beside the numbers was correct, and that would have been what you checked. I suggested a judge would probably agree.” He paused to smile at her, and then held out that bill as well, and said, “He agreed to reimburse you for the tiles.”
“He did?” Alex breathed as the threat of bankruptcy receded in her mind. Dear God, with the return of the money for those damned expensive Italian tiles, she’d even have money in her savings again. Not much, but something.
“Oui.
He did … with a little persuasion and a couple of threats,” Cale added dryly, and then cautioned, “You still have to eat the cost of both installations. He wouldn’t bend on that, but since he was taking a big hit on what was essentially a mistake by his sales guy, I didn’t push too—”
Cale’s words died on an “oomph” of surprise as Alex suddenly launched herself at him with a squeal. She hugged him hard, then caught his face in both hands, kissed him on both cheeks, and proclaimed, “You are a god!”
Cale chuckled at her excitement and slid his arms around her waist. “Well, I’m glad you’re satisfied with my work, ma’am.”
“Satisfied?” she asked with a laugh. “I’ve never been this satisfied in my life. Getting reimbursed for the tiles is better than … well, better than sex even.”
“Then you’ve been having sex with the wrong people,” he assured her solemnly, and Alex was suddenly conscious of several things. That she was his boss and he an employee, that they were in her office, and that she was in his arms … and shouldn’t be. Geez, he could charge her with sexual harassment.
Suddenly flustered, she pulled away from him, aware that her face was flushing a bright red. He frowned but let her go without protest. Alex immediately turned toward the door, saying in tones as businesslike as she could manage, “I guess I’d better get to the old restaurant to prep before the dinner hour starts. And you should go home—well to your hotel and catch some sleep. You must be exhausted.” She stopped walkingsuddenly and turned back with concern. “This is Saturday. You didn’t have to give up any plans to visit family today to stay here, did you?”
“No,” Cale assured her quietly as he moved to turn off the coffeepot. As he straightened, he added, “In fact, I had the day clear with only plans for a late supper with my cousin Thomas and his wife Inez.”
Alex sighed unhappily at this news. “And thanks to me you’ve been up all night and day and will probably be too exhausted to enjoy the visit.”
“I’ll catch a nap before I meet them,” he assured her as he retrieved his coat from the back of the desk chair. “It’s going to be a very late dinner, and then I’m driving them to the airport. They came for the wedding,” he explained, “but Inez needs to get back to work, so they’re flying back to Europe tonight.”
“Europe?” she asked with surprise.
“England,” he clarified. “While it’s only a two-and-a-half-hour journey there from Paris, and wouldn’t seem far to a Canadian, to us it’s considered an overnight trip, so we don’t see each other much despite his being in Europe.”
“Ah.” Alex nodded with a faint smile, relaxing a little. “I remember that from being there. You guys have a different view of travel than we do.”
Cale nodded. “Anyway, I’m visiting with them tonight, but I’ll check in at your other restaurant at closing time and see that all is well.”
Alex clucked and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. You’re not expected to work all hours of the day and night. Which reminds me, what days do you want towork?” When he hesitated, she pointed out. “This is Saturday, and normally I wouldn’t think you’d be working Saturdays because the banks and most businesses are closed on weekends. You’ll probably want to work Monday through Friday. Yes? ”
Cale nodded. “That sounds fine.”
“But you should also get a full weekend, so if you want this Monday off—” she began.
“No, no. I’ll work Monday,” he assured her. “I’ve been on vacation this last week, remember.”
Alex hesitated, but then nodded. “Okay. I’ll see you next week then.”
Cale frowned and hesitated, but then said, “I suppose you’ll be cooking tomorrow as well?”
“Yes.” Alex nodded. “We’re open Wednesday through Sunday, with Mondays and Tuesdays off. Surprisingly, a lot of people book for Sunday dinners, but Mondays and Tuesdays are slow, so it seemed best to take them as our weekends.”
His frown deepened. “Then I’m off on Saturday and Sunday and you’re off on Mondays and Tuesdays?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “So don’t be surprised if I drop in to see how things are going here once in a while on those days.”
Cale nodded and relaxed a little. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Alex snorted. “Yeah right, cause everyone enjoys their boss hanging over their shoulder.”
He smiled faintly. “You can hang over my shoulder anytime.”
“I’ll remind you of that when you complain that Idon’t know how to delegate and hover too much,” she said with a forced laugh, and then did up her coat. “Now, come on, you need to go catch a nap before you meet your cousins. I feel guilty enough about your lack of sleep. Besides, I need to get to La Bonne Vie, the other La Bonne Vie,” she added, and frowned and muttered, “I should have called it a different name. It gets confusing in conversation.”
Cale stood to shrug into his own coat, and suggested, “Call them Bonne Vie One and Bonne Vie Two.”
“Good idea.” Alex turned to lead the way out of the office. But she paused in the door and turned back to smile at him. “Thank you, Cale. For everything. For a guy named after food, you’re pretty brilliant.”
He paused abruptly, a startled expression claiming his features. “What?”
She grimaced, “Just teasing … well mostly. I do think of the vegetable every time I say your name.”
“The vegetable?” he asked in a choked voice.
Alex grimaced. “Yeah. Kale with a K is a green leafy veggie, a type of cabbage as I recall,” she murmured, turning to head out the door.
“Call me Cal,” he said grimly, following her.
Alex smiled faintly, but was searching her mind for something else to say. For some reason she had a terrible urge to babble around the man now, and knew it was out of discomfort over what had happened in the office. Finally, she blurted, “Is Cale short for anything?”
“No.”
“It’s Scottish, isn’t it?” she asked as she crossed the kitchen to the back door and pushed it open.
Cale hesitated, and then admitted, “My mother loved poetry, and Calliope was the muse of eloquence and epic poetry. She hoped if she named me for the muse, I’d grow up to be a poet rather than a warrior like the rest of my brothers. She thought that Cale would be a good male version of the name.”
“Warrior?” Alex asked, glancing at him with surprise as she turned back to watch him lock the door.
“My English,” he excused himself, sounding oddly grim. “I meant soldier. My brothers all grew up to be soldiers.”
“Oh, your brothers are older than you then?” When he turned from locking the door, she added, “I’m pretty sure you have to be eighteen to be a soldier. If they were soldiers when she named you, then they had to be at least eighteen or so when you were born.”