by Natalie Hart
“I thought ‘hen’s teeth’ was for something that didn’t exist,” she said. She could see where he was going with this but still wanted to play along.
“That’s what makes pulling them so hard!” They both laughed. All business dinners should be like this.
“Anyway, I have a young guy, he’s only 23 and his mother died recently, his father has been dead for years. He’s having a lot of hassle sorting out his tax affairs with the inheritance.”
“My god, the poor guy. He’s only a baby!” Emma was only 29 herself but that meant she had a lot more life experience than a 23 year old.
“It’s tough, I know. My father died, three years ago when I was 36. He was a good man.”
Emma put her hand out and touched his. She could see the sadness on his face, he still wasn’t fully over his father’s death.
“You miss him, obviously.”
“I was working in London at the time. A marketing bigwig, campaigns worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. He was happy for me but he couldn’t fully support the industry I was in.”
“That must have been hard.”
“What’s hard is knowing he was right. And it took his death to make me realise it.”
Emma squeezed his hand. She realised he hadn’t taken it away at her first touch.
“I want to help Daniel, he needs it.”
Emma froze up at the thought of losing her mother. She never knew her father, he had left once he found out her mother was pregnant. She was raised by three parents really; her mother, grandmother and grandfather. She was blessed. She couldn’t have asked for any more love, and it pained her to know some people would never experience what she had been gifted with.
“I’ll do whatever I can.”
“He needs to submit some documents to Revenue by next Friday. I was hoping we could have something done by then.”
“I’m completely free, whenever suits I can meet him.”
“He can’t pay upfront, but I can cover some expenses until he gets everything sorted.” He pulled some documents out of the leather bag. Up close it looked even better, such fine stitching.
“That bag is amazing, it’s not quite a briefcase, but—“
“It was the first payment in my new career,” he said. Emma could see how proud he was of that. “They couldn’t afford to pay me for a few months, but I liked it and needed something to carry documents, so they paid me with this. It was better than any Christmas bonus I received in London.”
Emma was falling in love. Not with Patrick, although she could see why someone would, but with the lifestyle. She had worked her butt off for her career and now she was nowhere. Patrick seemed to have had the high powered career but he left it for something more relaxing. And to Emma’s eyes it looked far more fulfilling.
“Anyway, look over the documents when you get a chance and we can get on with the eating.”
The waiter brought them some salmon, and just as he arrived the bright light above their heads was turned off, leaving them with the warm, romantic glow of the candles.
“I don’t know what I’d do without my mother,” Emma said. “She’s sacrificed so much for me and I want to make it up to her.”
“You don’t owe her anything,” Patrick said. Emma was a little shocked, she owed so much to her mother. He continued, “That’s what mothers do, they work and sacrifice for their children. If you’re happy with life that’s all the reward she could ever need.”
Emma believed him, her mother had said the same thing to her so many times. That she just wanted Emma to be satisfied with life, and she’d be happy too. She occasionally mentioned weddings, probably because she never had one for herself. She’d never liked Emma’s boyfriends though. Patrick had cut right to what her mother meant when she talked about Emma’s life, and pursuit of happiness. And she knew he was right, when she couldn’t believe her mother when she said it. She decided she could trust Patrick to be straight with her.
What surprised Emma most was Patrick’s intelligence, he was so smart but it wasn’t just knowledge or and intellectual sharpness. It was an emotional knowledge that knew how people feel. She didn’t know many men who would accept the reassurance she gave with her hand as he spoke about his own father.
There was a rugged manliness to him, not fighting-with-wild-animals manliness, although she was sure he’d rather befriend an animal than fight with it, rather he was sure about himself, and he was open with his vulnerabilities and passion for goodness; he cared.
Dinner was so enjoyable when it came to paying the bill Emma wanted to split it but Patrick insisted on paying. He said it was his business dinner, he knew he could write it off on his taxes and really it was an investment in their relationship. He suggested they go to Grant’s.
When they walked in it was quiet for a Friday night. Graham stood reading a paper and there were plenty of seats at the bar. She hadn’t really spoken to Graham before but he greeted Patrick warmly.
“Let me get you a drink,” Emma said.
He asked for a Belgian beer, small, frothy and dark. Graham poured it in its own special glass.
“Would you like a taste?” Patrick offered her the glass.
“I’ve only ever drunk a lager” she admitted.
“This is dark, but sweet. I think you’ll like it.”
She took the glass, pressed it to her lips and took a small sip. It was delicious; a hint of caramel but a real fullness to the flavour. It had tasted exactly like a beer she imagined Patrick would go for.
“I’ll have the same,” she said to Graham.
“You’ve converted another sap to that beer,” Graham said.
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“It’s Patrick’s favourite. If he offers some to you it must mean he really likes you.”
“It’s gorgeous,” Emma said. She looked at the bottle, 7.5%. “And strong.”
“Just like Patrick,” Graham said.
“I’m just a tired hippy,” Patrick replied.
“I’m jealous of your life,” Emma said.
“There’s no need to be jealous,” Patrick said. “You’re a part of it now.”
That cheered Emma up, she really did feel like this was going to be a great relationship. He reached over and put his arm around her. He raised his glass and said, “To us!” Emma raised her own and clinked it against his. She realised his warm, strong arm around her welcomed her to a new life. She never expected for her career to go this way, but if she could look after small producers who really cared for their business and their produce and skills, she knew she could find contentment. And she knew Patrick would help her find her way.
“Do you have the bottle, Graham?” Patrick said.
“Yeah, you want it now?”
“Please.”
Graham reached into the fridge behind the bar and pulled out what looked like a champagne bottle. Emma was a little surprised, was he suggesting they drink this? It must be very expensive, she’d never even heard of Grant’s selling champagne.
Graham passed out glasses to everyone sitting at the bar, he took one himself and he put the last one in front of Emma. He popped the cork, and poured everyone a glass.
Graham raised the delicate flute and said, “To Patrick and Emma, and their new business partnership. Grant’s bar and beer saloon wish them every success.”
Emma couldn’t believe this. Everyone in the bar cheered for them as she raised her glass to her lips. All eyes were on her. She tasted the champagne, it was actually a very fine, very bubbly sparkling cider. It was delicious and she could feel the bubbles play up her nose. She smiled at Patrick, he really looked at her with care. She reached over and gave him a hug. He held her close, and she felt safe and wanted. She had some clients now.
“A partnership?” She said.
“Well, near enough,” Patrick said.
“It’s your business, I’m not a partner.”
“You’re important to my business,” he said. “I’ve had more of
my clients contact me when they heard I had an accountant joined up. I’ve even had a few new clients.”
“Oh my god!” Emma said.
“Just having you talk to me has grown my business, if this keeps up I’ll have to hire an assistant.”
“That’s amazing news. I’m so happy for you”
“Happy for us,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for all this. I thought I’d be taking it easy with a few clients, a small income and a quiet life.”
“You’re worried, aren’t you?” She said. “You’re not sure you want this.”
“I want to help people, I’m just not sure I wanted to be a big business.”
“I’ll help,” she said. She was firm with that. Emma realised she was willing to sacrifice to make this work.
“I know you will. That’s why I’m going ahead with it. You’ve already helped so much.”
“Ok, enough business.” Emma could feel herself getting emotional with all this news. “What do you do to relax? You’re going to need it.”
“Let me tell you my perfect night then. I sit with the fire, and Stan by my feet, if I can get him off the couch. There’s a good radio documentary on, and when it finishes I read my book. Occasionally I go for a drink with my friends.”
“What do you like to read?”
“Science books, biographies. I like a good sci-fi if it really shows the potential of what humans can do.”
“You like people with hope,” she said.
“I like people who can dream and achieve the important things.”
“This goes back to your life in London, doesn’t it?”
The bar had gotten busier since they had arrived. A murmur had filled the room but Emma had fallen fully into Patrick’s words. He captivated her. She felt like a little schoolgirl talking to a young teacher who seemed to have it all figured out. He just knew things, and what to say, and how to live.
“You’re too sharp,” he said. “You’re right, I don’t want to see anyone wasting their life, not on things that don’t matter.”
“You can’t help what other people do.”
“I can help some people.”
“And you’re doing that, but you can’t let the weight of the world rest on your shoulders.”
“I know, I’m not trying to complain.”
“I didn’t think you were complaining, maybe you’re too good,” Emma said.
“There’s no such thing.”
“Come on, let’s talk about books.”
Emma spent the next hour talking books and novels with Patrick. She was a voracious reader and it seemed Patrick was too. They read different genres but their love for language, and a story and real characters was just the same.
The high point was when Patrick started talking about mixed metaphors, Emma couldn’t abide them and it seemed he couldn’t either. She had just read a romance novel where the author did it on purpose. It was a romantic comedy and the hero had a love of bad English, the heroine cracked up when he deliberately messed up his allusions. It took a great author to carry that level of bad dialogue, not that the dialogue was bad, it was purposeful, but the character saying the words was deliberately being silly.
It was getting late and Patrick said he was tired, but he was happy to walk Emma home. She declined, she’d get a taxi. She was too weary to pound out the few miles home. Her weeks of unemployment had really stressed her, and that was exhausting her.
They were passing a late night café and a mischievous look came into Patrick’s eye.
“What are you up to?” Emma asked.
“They have great chocolate here, and pastries.”
“It’s gone midnight,” she said.
“You can always do with another treat,” he said. “Stan taught me that.”
Patrick took Emma’s elbow and escorted her into the little café. It was one of two that were open 24 hours in the city. It was a little late for the evening coffee drinkers, and just that bit too early for the insomniacs and after-club partiers.
“I’ll have a coffee,” Patrick said, “And two of the truffles, and four squares of the 90% chocolate, please.” Emma could see him get excited at the prospect of his treats.
“I’ll just take a hot chocolate,” she said. “I’ve not been sleeping well and I don’t want to be up all night.”
They waited for their drinks and soon were taking up a table with low slung armchairs you could really collapse into.
“Is it stress that’s been affecting your sleep?” Patrick asked.
“I don’t know,” Emma said. “Maybe. I was always so tired after work that with nothing on my plate I guess I just don’t get drained enough.”
“You can go for a walk with me and Stan, a good few hearty miles and we’ll tire you out.”
“Is Stan eager for walks?”
“He likes them, which is good because he eats so much.”
“Just like you!” Emma said. Patrick sucked his gut in, not there was much gut there. His work in the countryside kept him busy, and was often quite physical.
“I guess you can’t sleep with your windows open,” Patrick said.
“What do you mean?”
“I had trouble sleeping when I left London. I was still fixing up my cottage, I had no curtains up and one night I decided to sleep with the windows open.”
“Lots of flying critters, and bugs I’m guessing?”
“Not if you keep the light off. Mostly I learned that with the windows open I could feel the cool air on my skin and a little breeze, I could see that special darkness in the countryside where there’s only starlight to illuminate the night.”
“I’d just hear cars and the odd drunk at 4am.”
“I thought that. I think you might sleep better in the countryside.”
“Maybe,” Emma said. “Someday,” she trailed off.
“What do you want from your life, Emma?”
“A big question for midnight,” Emma said. She was trying to joke but it was a question that was playing on her mind a lot recently.
“We always have time to reconsider,” he said. “It’s never too late to make a change for the better.”
“You did that, didn’t you?”
“It was the best thing I could do for myself, and it was the right thing to do.”
“Was it hard?”
“At first, but once I saw the countryside, and slept in that bed with the windows open I knew it was for me.”
“Do you have any regrets?”
“Lots,” Patrick said. “But I figure I did what I needed to do at the time, I did what was right for me in the moment.”
“I don’t think I can even imagine what’s right for me at the moment.”
“Put one foot ahead of the other, we’ll get you dealing with my mucky farmers and if you find it’s right for you we can go from there.”
Patrick finished his last square of chocolate and they were ready to go. Emma knew Patrick had given her a lot to think about. When they left each other by the taxi rank Emma struggled over whether she should hug Patrick goodbye. This was a business relationship but it felt like more than that. Like they were becoming friends.
Patrick was quiet, and short with words but when he spoke he really opened up. She didn’t think he’d be uncomfortable with a parting hug, but she wasn’t sure herself. She’d never worked with someone like this.
He answered her doubts, he looked down on her kindly with his weather roughened face and took her in his arms. She’d feel nervous with other people if they encompassed her so fully, but Patrick was a man with real depth. She knew he meant he cared with his embrace.
She could feel his stubble bristle against her ear. It made her think of all the strong men she knew, and made her think of the one strong man she didn’t have, a father. She didn’t think of Patrick as that, he was older than her but he was the type of man she’d want to raise children with. He’d be open with his love for them.
Emma slouched into the taxi and gave the driver her ad
dress. She almost nodded off at least once on the journey home. Thankfully the driver could see was tired and didn’t try to start a conversation.
She changed into her pyjamas when she arrived home, and set a mug of tea next to her bed. Since she had been laid off it had taken her far too long to fall asleep, and she’d need something relaxing to help her nod off. She didn’t need it after her night with Patrick, she felt restful and at peace, her immediate future was safe. She fell asleep thinking of her mother, and Patrick, and of raising children. Children with a man as kind as Patrick as their father.
***
Emma rose a little late the next day. It was the most rest she had had in weeks. She put on her big thick slippers and saw the full and cold mug of tea next to her bed. She hadn’t needed it the night before and that made her smile.
She put on the kettle and made a fresh mug. She thought of the fruit tea Patrick had for her in the restaurant the previous night, it must have been from one of his client’s. That was the theme of the night. Well, that and getting to know each other.
She went to her front door and picked up the newspaper she had delivered. She read the paper religiously ever since she was in college, she liked to stay informed. She’d have to cancel her delivery soon, the physical paper was just a luxury she couldn’t afford anymore. She could get her news on her tablet but she knew it wouldn’t be the same.
She settled in to read and had finished her first pass-through when she decided to text Sandra. She had a response quick enough, she was in town and had just picked up a box of cupcakes from the new bakery that opened. Did she want her to come over for a natter? A chat sounded great to Emma and the prospect of cupcakes made it even better.
She went and washed her face as she waited for Sandra to arrive.
When she opened to the door to Sandra she bust through, full of energy and brightness. “You’re still in your pyjamas?”
“And I don’t plan on changing out of them,” Emma said.
“Did you have a fulfilling night last night?” Sandra was pure filth.
“I had a business meeting and I’ll tell you all about if you give me a cupcake.”