A Slow Boil

by Karen Winters

“Yes, Sylvia I mean Miss Lane, I recognized your number.”

  I could tell he was in a good mood.

  “We’re just leaving LaPorte now so I should be home by eight, barring any traffic problems.”

  “Very good. Should I save you some dinner?”

  “No, but thanks. We just finished an early dinner at Grand’s. You were right, it was delicious.”

  “I’m glad you liked it.”

  “Did you have a good weekend, sir?”

  “In some respects. I ate very well, at least.”

  “That’s good to hear.” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “I’ll see you soon, Miss Lane.”

  “See you soon, sir.”

  The drive back was uneventful and mostly quiet. We’d managed to wear ourselves out. We were only about ten minutes outside of town when I asked, "So at first you didn’t seem to like Mr. Hunter. You’re okay with him now?”

  Britt looked over at me as she put together her answer.

  “I think he’s nice. He does seem to genuinely care about you. I was a little worried he had designs on you, but you obviously like him and seem happy working for him, so unless you stop returning my calls or start making excuses not to get together, I won’t worry about him taking you captive.”

  “You don’t have worry about that,” I laughed. “I can always escape on my bike.”

  We pulled up to the house just after eight. Mr. Hunter came out to help me carry in my things. He looked as good as ever, and had a very pleased look on his face. I might have thought he was happy to see me. Britt and I sorted out our things, and I gave her a hug goodbye.

  “Thanks for doing all the driving.”

  “No problem. Thanks for helping with gas.”

  “I’ll call you soon.”

  “'Kay. Good night, Mr. Hunter!” She waved goodbye to us both.

  “Good night, Miss Sheridan. Thank you for bringing Miss Lane back to me in one piece.”

  Britt gave him a funny look, got in her car and took off down the driveway.

  “All right, Miss Lane, let’s get you inside.” He bent down to pick up my overnight bag and my many shopping bags. “It looks like your trip was a success.”

  “We had a great time. Britt made me go shopping, though. This -” I gestured to all the bags, “- wasn’t my idea.”

  “She forced you buy all this?”

  “Well,” I laughed, “it was more like blackmail. I had to go shopping with her in order to get her to the museum.”

  “Did you like it, the museum?”

  “I loved it. I got you something there, by the way.”

  He stopped. By this time we'd reached the second floor landing.

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I know. I just saw something I thought you’d like, and I had some extra money.” I shot him a sideways glance and he smirked. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  We went up the rest of the stairs and Mr. Hunter dropped my bags on my bed. I found the bag from the gift shop and fished out the print I’d gotten him.

  “Here. Do you like it?”

  He turned it over in his hands. “I do. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I looked around my room. It was good to be back.

  “You cut your hair.”

  “Just a little,” I said with a smile, reaching up to run my fingers through the new layers.

  “And what’s this?” He took one of my hands in his, turned it palm down, and ran his thumb over my fingernails.

  “That’s something we call nail polish.”

  “My goodness. What the kids are doing these days. Should I be worried about any piercings or tattoos?”

  “Mr. Hunter, what sort of girl do you take me for?”

  “A very nice one. One that I’m very happy to see again.” He gave my hand a small squeeze and then turned to go. “I’ll be in the living room watching TV if you care to join me after you’ve unpacked.”

  “Sure, that sounds good. Oh, would you mind putting something in the fridge on your way down? It’s for tomorrow night’s dinner.” I dug out the package of seafood, which I was happy to see hadn’t leaked on any of my new clothes.

  “Ah, scallops from LaPorte.” He scanned the label. “What a nice treat. I should warn you, though, I barely made a dent in all the food you made for me.”

  “That’s okay. I can freeze whatever’s left and you can have it next weekend."

  “Next weekend,” he said, running his hand through his hair.

  “Did you decide anything about me cooking on weekends?”

  “Not yet, actually, but I will. Soon. See you downstairs.”

  “Okay.”

  I was surprised he was still thinking about the weekend cooking as he seemed to make decisions more quickly than that. I wondered why he was hesitating as I put my new things away. I left the earrings out on my dresser, planning to wear them tomorrow. I checked to make sure I had a clean uniform in my closet and then went downstairs to join Mr. Hunter in the living room.

  He was on the couch and I sat down next to him, again keeping a respectful distance between us. PBS was on. I could feel a Sunday evening routine developing here, but I didn’t mind. This was a nice way to end the week.

  I rested my head back again the couch, kicked off my shoes and brought my legs up underneath me.

  “Can I get you anything? A glass of wine? I was thinking of having one myself.”

  “That sounds great. Thank you.”

  He came back a few minutes later carrying two glasses, handed one to me and put his down on the coffee table, pulling it closer a few inches so that I could reach it too.

  “You look a little tired.”

  “I am.” I took a sip of wine and felt myself relaxing even more into the couch. “Britt and I were out dancing until three this morning.”

  “Did you have fun?”

  “I did. Britt and I always have fun together, but she has way more energy than me when it comes to dancing and shopping.”

  “Are you glad to be home?” He asked me after a while. I was almost done with my wine and my eyes were starting to feel heavy.

  “I am. Very.”

  “I missed you this weekend.”

  “You did?”

  He nodded, his eyes still on the TV. “I know you’ve only been here for a week, but the house just felt empty to me for some reason. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.”

  He’d missed me. I felt a sudden surge of affection for him and looked up at his profile. He looked back down at me and took in how tired I was getting. “Come here,” he said, lifting up his arm, and I scooted closer, resting my head on the side of his chest while he curled his arm across my shoulders. So warm. “I’ll wake you up when this program ends.” I closed my eyes and nodded.

  “I missed you, too, Mr. Hunter.”

  His arm tightened around me and I felt him kiss the top of my head. He whispered something that sounded like ‘my girl’ but I was too tired to ask him to repeat himself.

  Chapter 15

  Monday morning I slept in until ten. I lay in bed for a while enjoying the warmth of the sun coming in through the windows and wondering what to do with myself today. I didn’t want to go out, but felt like I should do more than while away another morning reading in the library. Eventually I got up, used the bathroom, returned to my room, and turned on my computer. My dad had answered my email with a brief note in all caps, which made me snort. I wrote him back, told him to quit yelling at me, and filled him in on my weekend with Britt.

  Soon I felt the kitchen, or rather, the coffee pot, beckoning me. I realizing half way there that I was still in my pajamas. Was that okay? I was in cotton pants and a tank top. Modest enough, I decided. But Mr. Hunter wasn't in the kitchen so I quickly poured myself a cup and took it back up to my room, passing quietly by his closed office door.

  I spent the rest of the morning online, checking to see if grades were posted yet, searching the summer class schedule for anything th
at looked interesting enough to audit, and researching what the requirements were for me to apply as a regular student in the fall. It didn’t look like Noble was going to make it too difficult, but since I wasn’t a citizen, my tuition was going to go up significantly. I did a quick calculation of how much I would earn over the summer and realized that even if I lived as frugally as possible, I would still need to apply for financial aid. I wasn’t too worried about that, though, as I’d managed thus far to find a way to pay for college, and was confident that I could continue to do so.

  Before I knew it, it was eleven-thirty and I was getting hungry. I took a quick shower, dried my hair, changed into my uniform and went downstairs.

  Still no Mr. Hunter. I opened the fridge to look for something to make for lunch. I’d clearly made too much food on Friday as most of the chili and pot pie were still untouched. I transferred both of them to the freezer, where I spotted a package of frozen spinach. Mmm, that sounded good. I grabbed a couple eggs out of the bin in the fridge and checked the drawer that held meats and cheese. Yes, I thought triumphantly, I knew I’d seen some feta. One Greek omelet coming up. I searched the pantry for kalamata olives and scored again. At the last minute, I cracked three additional eggs into the bowl, figuring if Mr. Hunter showed up, he could have half the omelet, and if not, I could save it for tomorrow.

  “Ah, Miss Lane, here you are. Did you sleep well last night?”

  “I did, thank you kindly, sir.” I smiled as I poured the eggs into the pan. It was good to see him. “I slept until ten. It felt decadent.”

  He laughed. “You look rested. I guess decadence becomes you.”

  “Maybe it does.” My smile grew larger. “Would you like to share my omelet?”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t. I’ll find something for myself.” He went over to the fridge.

  “It’s okay. I made it big enough for two.”

  “That was very thoughtful of you, Miss Lane. In that case, I’d love some. Can I do anything to help?”

  “You could start some toast.” The eggs had set up and I scattered in the ingredients. He watched me work as he pulled out the bread.

  “You found some olives, I see. I’m glad you’re making yourself at home here.”

  “I told you I’d be making a mess. I haven’t even gotten warmed up yet.” I gave him another smile as I gently flipped over one side of the eggs. Perfect. I hated when the underside of omelets turned brown.

  Soon we were at our usual seats at the island, eating in silence. I was hungrier than I’d thought and was focused on my lunch.

  “I didn’t hear you in the house this morning. Would it be imprudent of me to ask what you were doing?”

  His manners were beginning to amuse me to no end. I also thought it was funny that he’d gone from demanding that he never see or hear me to being curious about my activities when he didn’t. I smiled a little and said, “Of course not, Mr. Hunter. I spent the morning in my room online. I’m still waiting to get my grades and I’ve got some stuff I have to get organized for my application in the fall.”

  Did I imagine it or did his face fall a little? “I’d forgotten about that. When does the fall term start again?”

  “September.”

  I saw his mind working and added, “In three months.”

  “Hmm.” He took another bite of his omelet. “This is very good.”

  “Thanks.”

  He was still thinking about something. I was about to ask him jokingly if that gave him enough time to replace me when he changed the subject.

  “So. Dusting today?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You can come in and do my office. I’ve decided it’s unnecessary for you to do my office on Wednesdays. From now on, just come in each day and do whatever’s on your list.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I had that rule about not disturbing me mostly for Mrs. Sheridan’s sake. She was a good housekeeper but she bothered me. I found myself inventing ways to avoid her.”

  "What did she do that bothered you so much? She told me she never even saw you.”

  “It wasn’t anything in particular. I guess I just didn’t like her. You know how I am about certain things.” He ran a hand through his hair. I was beginning to recognize that as a gesture he made when he was uncomfortable or nervous. I nodded, assuming he was referring to the way he liked to be served dinner.

  “She didn’t like it, she never did, I knew that. But after long, I started pushing her. Not physically, mind you, I just found myself getting more demanding with her. I was quite childish about it toward the end. That’s probably why she quit.” He looked over at me, a little abashed.

  “Maybe subconsciously you were trying to get her to quit.”

  “Maybe.” We’d finished eating and he gathered our plates. “I am glad she did.”

  “You are?”

  “Yes, because that brought you to me. You, my dear Miss Lane, don’t bother me at all. Hence the end of the Wednesday office cleanings.”

  He took our dishes to the sink.

  “So what will I do on Wednesdays from now on?”

  “I don’t suppose you’ll let me give you the day off?” He had turned and was leaning back against the sink.

  “Absolutely not. No way.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought you’d say,” he laughed. “I’ll think of something, then. Thank you for lunch, Miss Lane. I’ll see you later.” He started to leave.

  “Mr. Hunter, do you have a favorite scallop dish you’d like tonight?" I asked before he’d reached the door.

  He turned back and came and stood in front of me, shaking his head a little to himself.

  “Miss Lane, what am I going to do with you?” He reached up and tapped my nose. “One minute you’re talking of leaving me and the next you’re treating me like a king.”

  “Well, you are the king of the castle, aren't you, Mr. Hunter?”

  “If I’m the king, what does that make you?” One of those smirks he always got when teasing me started to appear on his face.

  “The king’s housekeeper, of course.”

  “No, that won’t do. You can be my princess.”

  “Princess? Me?” I scoffed. “Never.”

  “Never?”

  “No. I’ve never felt like a princess.”

  “I may have to do something about that.” He gave me one more smile and left, never having answered my question about the scallops.

  The office door was open when I’d worked my way down to the second floor. I entered with my dusting gear and he smiled up at me from his computer, then hit a few keys on the keyboard, stood up and moved over to the windows to let me work. There wasn’t that much to dust in Mr. Hunter’s office, just some bookcases, his desk and credenza. I did his bookcases first, then the credenza. I turned to his desk and saw the print I’d bought him in LaPorte sitting in a frame. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I picked it up and wiped it free of invisible dust, then cleaned the rest of the desk and his computer screen. I ran my cloth lightly over his keyboard, trying not to press any keys. He still hadn’t spoken to me, and with my back to him, I had no idea if he was looking out the window or watching me work.

  When I was finished, I gathered my things and turned to let him know I was leaving. He had been watching me, leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets.

  “Miss Lane, are you doing the library next?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Would you mind if I came with you and played the piano while you work?”

  “Would I mind? Are you serious? You'd do that?”

  “I realized the other day that I need to brush up, so if you don't mind a few missed notes, I’d be happy to practice while you work.”

  “That would be wonderful, Mr. Hunter.”

  He gestured for me lead the way to the library and proceeded to practice some of the most beautiful music I’d ever heard in my life. I think I was dusting but didn’t have a clue if I was doing a good job or no
t as the music swirled around me. I finished the books and didn’t want to interrupt him by starting the piano, so I started toward my chair. Then I got an idea and on impulse knelt on the floor near his bench. His eyebrows went up but he didn’t stop playing, and we smiled at each other. I closed my eyes and leaned against the piano leg, letting the music wash over me. About ten minutes later he brought the piece to a thundering conclusion. I opened my eyes and looked up at him.

  “What was that?”

  “Chopin.”

  “My god. I had no idea music like that even existed.”

  “You give me oysters, I give you Chopin.”

  “Oysters live in the ocean, but you can play Chopin.” Oh good, I was now fully fluent in gibberish. I’d have to put that on my resume.

  I heard him chuckle, but he didn’t say anything else as he reached down a hand to help me to my feet.

  “Mr. Hunter?”

  “Yes, Miss Lane?”

  “Thank you for playing for me,” I said as I started to wipe down the piano.

  “You’re welcome, my dear.”

  At five-thirty I was in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on Mr. Hunter’s first course and side dishes. The scallops were getting sautéed at the last minute so I pulled out a pan and poured in some oil. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was forgetting something. I looked over all the ingredients for dinner, but everything seemed to be in order. What was it? I drummed my fingers on the counter. There was something I’d meant to do before dinner, but it wasn’t food-related. What else was there? I tightened my apron and straightened my hair. Oh, the earrings! I ran upstairs and put them in, then rushed into the bathroom and put on some mascara, giving my appearance a final check. Not bad, Sylvia, I thought. The earrings were perfect.

  I trotted back downstairs and quickly finished dinner. At six sharp, I entered the dining-room and placed Mr. Hunter’s bowl before him.

  “Good evening, Miss Lane,” he said, raising his eyebrows approvingly at his stew. “What have we here?”

  “Lentil stew, sir, with Spanish flavors. Would you like a martini to go with it?”

  “Hmm. No, I’ll have wine tonigt.” He looked up at me. “Did I hear you running on the stairs a few minutes ago?”