Sweet Silver Bells

by Rochelle Alers

  Joseph blinked as if coming out of a trance. “No...not at all.” Stepping aside, he opened the door wider. “Please come in.”

  Crystal handed him the decorative bag with several bottles of wine. Not wearing heels made her aware of the differences in their heights. The top of her head came to his chin. “I didn’t know if you were serving meat, chicken or fish, so I brought zinfandel, pinot noir and a sauvignon blanc.”

  He peered into the bag. “Thank you, but I have wine.”

  “Please keep it,” she said when he attempted to give her back the bag. “I have more than I’d ever attempt to drink in a year.”

  Placing the bag on a side table, Joseph escorted Crystal into the living room, seating her on the love seat facing an unlit fireplace. The layout and furnishings in his apartment were identical to hers. He hadn’t drawn the wall-to-wall drapes, and lights from office buildings and streetlights shimmered eerily through the nighttime mist. A steady downpour had left the city with more than two inches over a twenty-four-hour period.

  Her gaze shifted to the table in the dining room set for formal dining with china, silver and crystal. It was apparent dinner was going to be anything but casual.

  She turned to face Joseph staring at her, wondering what was going on behind his dark eyes. Crystal asked herself why she’d accepted his invitation when it would have been so easy to decline. As soon as the thought entered her head she knew the answer. Not only was she curious about Joseph, but she also had to acknowledge the physical attraction. Everything about him: face, body, the hypnotic scent of his cologne and the sensual timbre of his voice radiated blatant sensuality.

  “Did you ever work in a restaurant?” she asked him.

  Folding his hands together behind his back, Joseph angled his head. “Yes. Why?”

  “Just asking.”

  A smile tilted the corners of his mouth. “Why are you ‘just asking’?”

  Pushing to her feet, Crystal walked into the dining room. “Only someone with restaurant or catering experience would know how to arrange silver and glassware for a formal dinner.” The place settings included salad, dessert and fish forks and dinner and butter knives, water goblets and red wineglasses.

  Joseph followed Crystal, resting his hands on her shoulders. “My mother owns a restaurant. The year I turned fifteen I worked there as a dishwasher. At sixteen it was busing tables, and at seventeen I’d graduated to waiting tables.”

  She froze for several seconds before relaxing under the light, impersonal touch. Crystal peered at him over her shoulder, smiling. She’d misjudged him. He wasn’t a rich kid whose parents had indulged his every whim. Washing dishes and busing tables were the least glamorous jobs in the restaurant business.

  “Where’s her restaurant?”

  “Palm Beach. It’s called Marimba in honor of my grandfather who was a percussionist with a Latin band back in the day.”

  “You’re Cuban?”

  Tightening his hold on her shoulders, Joseph turned her around to face him. “I’m African-American, Cuban and Puerto Rican.” Reaching for her hand, he laced their fingers together. “Come with me into the kitchen and I’ll give you a brief overview of the Cole-Wilsons.”

  The sight that greeted her in the gourmet kitchen rendered her temporarily mute. He’d prepared an antipasto with prosciutto, Genoa salami, roasted peppers, mixed olives, fresh mozzarella, sliced tomatoes and a Caesar salad topped with parmesan shavings. There were also small cubes of marinated beef kabobs on a plate next to the stove-top grill.

  Moving closer to the cooking island, she stared at a baking sheet with risen dough sprinkled with garlic, rosemary, olive oil and coarse salt. Joseph had poked shallow indentations and sprinkled grated Parmesan over the top of the focaccia bread.

  “There’s a lot of food here,” she remarked.

  He pulled out a high stool at the island, seating her. “It looks like a lot because I enjoy different courses. I grew up eating soup, salad, bread, rice, beans, meat, chicken or fish for dinner, plus dessert. There’s enough here for two servings from each course.”

  Joseph continued to surprise Crystal. His culinary prowess was definitely impressive. “You must have spent all day putting this together.”

  “I got up early to put up the dough, but it took me less than half an hour to make the antipasto and salad. I cooked the main dish of baked rigatoni with a tomato-basil sauce and meatballs last night, so it just has to be reheated.”

  Resting her elbows on the granite countertop, Crystal watched Joseph unbutton and roll back the cuffs on his shirt. Her gaze lingered on his hands. They were as exquisite as his face. “Who taught you to cook?”

  “Mi madre y abuela. My mother and grandmother,” he translated quickly. “I hope you brought your appetite.”

  “I did,” Crystal answered truthfully. Her caloric intake for the day included yogurt topped with granola, an apple and bottled water.

  Joseph opened the refrigerator and removed a pitcher of clear liquid filled with sliced white peaches and green grapes. “We’ll start with peach sangria and the beef kabobs.”

  She stood up. “Do you need help with anything?”

  Leaning closer, he ran his forefinger down the length of her nose. “Yes. I want you to help me eat this food.”

  Crystal rolled her eyes at him. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  “Do you know that you’re real cute when you pout?” he whispered, filling two glasses with sangria and handing her one. He touched his glass to hers and took a swallow.

  For several seconds she had no comeback. “I never pout.”

  “Yeah, you do,” Joseph insisted. “You push out your lips and roll your eyes upward.”

  “Pouting is sucking teeth, closing your eyes, while rolling your head on your neck. Like this,” Crystal added, demonstrating the motions.

  Throwing back his head, Joseph laughed loudly. “You remind of Wanda. The Jamie Foxx character from In Living Color.”

  Crystal’s laughter joined his. “I love watching reruns from In Living Color and Martin. And to see those actors transform themselves into characters that became icons is genius.”

  “Now, that takes real talent,” Joseph agreed. Turning on the stove-top grill, he sprayed the surface with cooking oil. “How do you like your meat cooked?”

  “Well. How do you like yours?” she asked.

  He placed the skewers on the heated surface. “Why? Do you plan to cook for me?” he teased with a wide grin.

  Crystal flashed a sexy moue. “Could be yes, could be no.”

  “Which one is it, Crystal?”

  The uneasiness she’d felt when first walking into Joseph’s apartment disappeared, replaced by an easygoing emotion that made her feel as if she’d met him weeks ago instead of two days. “I’ll cook for you if you want.”

  His wide grin showed straight white teeth. “I want.”

  “Are you certain your girlfriend won’t mind?”

  The teasing glint in Joseph’s eyes vanished. “Why would you mention a girlfriend?”

  Crystal also sobered. “You said you’re single, but you could still have a girlfriend.”

  He lifted a skewer, testing the meat for doneness before turning it over. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “Do you like women?”

  Joseph’s expression was a mask of stone as he glared at Crystal, unable to believe she would ask him something so ridiculous when he was practically salivating over her. It had taken every ounce of his self-control not to kiss her and satisfy the yearning to see if her mouth tasted as sweet as it looked.

  “Yes, I like women. In fact, I like them a lot. It’s just that I’m not seeing anyone right now.”

  “And why not?” she asked, pressing the issue.

  Joseph turned fou
r of the eight skewered cubes of beef over. He preferred his meat medium-well. “I was in a relationship for four years.”

  “What happened?”

  “She wanted marriage and I wasn’t ready for it at that time.” Leaving his position at the courthouse to work for ColeDiz entailed longer work hours and a great deal more responsibility.

  Crystal recoiled as if she’d been struck across the face. “You date a woman for four years and then decide she’s not worth marrying?”

  A frown furrowed Joseph’s forehead. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Crystal. I never said she wasn’t worth marrying.”

  “What exactly are you saying, Joseph?”

  “Kiara and I met in law school. We saw each other off and on, then hardly at all after graduation because I was studying for the bar. We reconnected when she relocated from Baltimore to Orlando. She was offered a position with the public defender’s office at the same time I began clerking for your uncle.”

  “Had you moved to Miami?”

  He shook his head. “No. I kept my West Palm Beach condo.”

  “You commuted the seventy miles between West Palm and Miami?”

  He nodded. “Driving a minimum of three hours roundtrip every day isn’t what I’d call a walk in the park, but I did it because I loved what I was doing.” Joseph exhaled an audible breath. “I regretted having to resign clerking for Judge Eaton because criminal law had taken over my life. I ate, breathed and slept it.”

  Crystal took a sip of sangria, waiting for Joseph to continue. She wondered what would make a woman date a man for four years hoping, wishing and praying he would marry her. “Why did you resign?”

  “Unfortunately, ColeDiz’s general counsel was murdered when he walked in on a home invasion, and my cousin Diego needed someone in the legal department he could trust because he’d restructured to take the company global. I was able to set up an African international division, which allowed Diego to pay cash on delivery to a Ugandan cotton grower with an extra-long staple crop. It resulted in ColeDiz becoming the biggest family-owned agribusiness in the States. I traded commuting for jetting around the world.

  “One month I’d be in Mexico or Belize. Then a couple of months later it was Jamaica, Brazil, Puerto Rico or Africa. Kiara complained we didn’t see enough of each other, but there was nothing I could do about it because of my commitment to ColeDiz. I took her to Hawaii for a vacation to try and make up for the time when we couldn’t be together, but she misconstrued my intent, believing I was going to propose marriage. When I didn’t, all hell broke loose. The only thing to do was cut the trip short and return to the mainland.”

  “You never reconciled?”

  “No.” The single word was adamant. Joseph would never reconcile with Kiara because she had cursed not only him but also his entire family.

  A beat passed before Crystal spoke again. “What else are you involved in besides cotton?”

  “We have banana plantations in Belize and coffee in Mexico, Jamaica, Puerto Rico and Brazil. Two years ago we established Cole Tea Company, our first North American–based enterprise. It’s only the second tea garden in the United States.”

  Crystal stared, surprised. “You’re growing tea here in South Carolina?”

  An expression of triumph brightened Joseph’s eyes. “Yes.”

  “That means you’re going to compete with the Charleston Tea Plantation.”

  Joseph sobered. “I don’t know about competition, but ColeDiz has done very well with coffee, so tea was the next logical choice. Our tea garden covers one hundred acres between Kiawah and Edisto islands, and we plan to harvest our first crop in a couple of months.”

  Crystal sparingly sipped the sangria. “Is that what you meant when you said you were a farmer?”

  “I now think of myself as a farmer because before the tea garden I knew absolutely nothing about bananas, coffee or tea except to eat or drink them. I spent a couple of years studying everything I could find about irrigation, soil composition, disease control and various methods of planting and harvesting these crops.”

  “Why did you decide on South Carolina? Why not Georgia or Florida?” she asked.

  “The Lowcountry has the perfect environment for tea because of its sandy soil, subtropical climate and an average rainfall of over fifty inches a year. And there’s a common myth that different types of teas are produced from different tea plants.”

  “Aren’t they?” she asked.

  “No. All types of tea are produced from the same plant, although there are two different varieties. The differences between them are the result of the different processing procedures. Sinensis sinensis thrives in the cool, high mountains of central China and Japan and sinensis assamica in moist, tropical regions of northeast India, the Yunnan provinces of China and here in the Lowcountry.”

  Crystal’s eyebrows rose in amazement. “Are you saying green, black and oolong tea all come from the same plant even though they don’t taste the same?”

  “Yes. If you have some free time I’d like to take you to see our tea garden.”

  Although Crystal wanted to see the tea garden, she knew it couldn’t be this weekend because she’d promised to spend that time with Xavier and Selena, and she was also scheduled to meet Al and the contractor Tuesday afternoon. “Monday is the only day I’m free this coming week.”

  “It’s all right. We can put it off until a later date. By the way, do you have boots?”

  Crystal nodded. “I have a pair of rain boots.”

  “They’ll do because most times the island is a little muddy.”

  “What about your resorts?”

  “What about them?” Joseph countered.

  “How many do you have?”

  “Eight. That’s why I offered to invest in Selena’s company. Her gourmet jams and jellies when marketed as duty-free souvenirs will make her a very wealthy woman. ColeDiz of course will be responsible for exportation, tariffs and other fees.”

  Crystal closed her eyes for several seconds. Now she understood how the Coles had amassed their wealth, and she wondered how many people outside their family were privy to this information. When she opened her eyes Joseph had placed four kabobs on a plate with a tiny cup of dipping sauce for her along with a knife and fork.

  Setting down the glass of wine, she picked up the knife, cutting a slice of the grilled meat and popping it into her mouth.

  “Oh my word!” she gasped. “This is so good.”

  Joseph dipped his cube into the leftover marinade, slowly chewing the tender buttery sirloin. It was only the second time he’d attempted the recipe, and he had to admit to himself it was delicious. “Not bad.”

  “Don’t be so modest, Joseph,” Crystal chided. “You’re an incredible chef.”

  “Cook,” he corrected. “My mother is the professional chef. Enough about me,” he said, deftly steering the topic away from him. “Is there someone special in your past?”

  Crystal stared at the precisely cut raven-black hair lying close to Joseph’s scalp, wondering, if he let it grow, if it would curl or stand up like brush bristles. The seconds ticked while she composed her thoughts.

  “I lived with a man for three years when I was in graduate school.” The disclosure seemed to shock Joseph. “Brian taught art at New York University. We met at a sports bar in the Village where students and faculty from NYU and Parsons hung out on weekends.”

  “If you lived together for three years, why didn’t you get married?”

  The censure in Joseph’s voice sounded so much like Raleigh Eaton she thought she’d conjured him up. “There were a number of factors. I was twenty-three and felt I was too young to settle down. Brian was thirty-nine and he didn’t want children.”

  “Damn, the dude was too old for you.”

  “He wasn’t that old.” Cry
stal knew she sounded defensive, but it wasn’t what it seemed. Brian might have been sixteen years her senior, but he looked years younger.

  “I still say he was too old for you,” Joseph whispered under his breath. “Should I assume you wanted children?”

  “Not then. However, I’d like to have one or two sometime in the future.”

  “Why did you break up?”

  Crystal caressed the granite surface under her fingertips. “We really didn’t break up. He was offered a teaching position in California and I encouraged him to take it. After I graduated I gave up our Greenwich Village apartment and moved back to Florida.”

  Joseph placed his hand over Crystal’s. “How did your family react to you shacking up with a man?”

  She rolled her eyes at him again. “You could’ve said cohabitating instead of shacking.”

  “It is what it is, Crystal.”

  “To answer your question—my parents didn’t like it for a number of reasons. First, they felt I was too young to shack up with a man and second, Brian was too old for me. It was sort of a test for me because I grew up as an only child and if it hadn’t been for my aunt, uncle and cousins I probably would’ve had abandonment issues. My parents divorced not only each other but also me. They were so caught up in their own lives at that time they’d forgotten they had a child.”

  He tightened his grip when she attempted to extricate her fingers. “How old were you when they divorced?”

  “Eight.”

  Joseph stared at his hand covering her much smaller one. “That’s very young.”

  Crystal smiled wryly. “I managed to survive without having to spend thousands of hours on a therapist’s couch. Now that I’m an adult, I’m cool with my parents. It’s better they’re not married because they get along better as friends than husband and wife.”

  “Did you ever think you lived with a man who was that much older than you because you were looking for him to replace Daddy?”

  Crystal clenched her teeth as she gave Joseph a long, withering stare. “I definitely wasn’t looking for another father. Brian and I were together because we offered each other what we needed at that time in our lives.