by Luke Steel
At the counter, Emma gingerly sets the plate down in front of me, complete with a flourish of napkin and fork.
She stands back as I inspect the plate of flapjacks and then look up at her.
“Honey,” I say, and watch Emma’s eyes get wide at the endearment. “You mind passing the syrup?”
“Sure, Jamie,” she says, drawing out the family pet name.
When she reaches for the small jug of maple syrup at the end of the bar and passes it to me, her breasts strain at the fabric of her shirt.
In the midst of the bustle and the commotion of all the people, we have a moment to stare into each other’s eyes like a pair of dumb kids, and I wonder if this is what it feels like for Joe when he looks at Lena. A little calm in the chaos.
A half hour later, my mother listens, enrapt, as the great hulking security dude tells us all the story of his life.
“So what’s the biggest event you ever worked?” My mom is in her fifties, but she’s got the dreamy look of a teenager on her face as she listens.
“I worked a lot of concerts, and then I worked stage crew for KISS. Boy is that a crazy show…” The stories continue.
Joe, Lena, Emma and I are huddled together at the end of the counter, sipping the last of the coffee and watching the drama unfold.
“Did he just flex a muscle at mom?” Joe asks.
Emma points, “Oh no, your poor dad looks like he’s afraid she’s fixing to run away with a roadie.” She doesn’t look overly concerned, however, just sips her coffee and watches the group.
“Jeeze, man. Are you just going to keep eating until you bust a gut, or what?” Joe watches me polish off the last of another plate of pancakes.
“Don’t be jealous, bro. Two more days and you can have all the pancakes.” Someone isn’t eating so he can try to fit in his tux on Saturday. That someone is not me.
“Got a little more of that sweet cream, Emma?”
Emma turns red as a rose, and Lena reaches over her to smack my arm. “No harassing my designer! I need her.”
I hold my hands up. “Well, the pancake rivals are BFFs now. Noted.”
Lena holds her cup up at me, “Actually, smartie, Emma is the genius designer behind this whole week. She’s the one who makes it all work.”
Emma shakes her head, self-deprecating. “It’s the bride’s vision that pulls it all together. We just execute it.”
“Well, you’re the reason I get to look and act like a princess for a whole week,” Lena says, “though why you’re forced to play fairy godmother and Cinderella in this story is beyond me.”
“Who’s the wicked mom, yours or mine?” Joe jokes.
Lena’s puts a hand to her mouth and stage whispers, “Justine!”
Emma doesn’t laugh, but she doesn’t deny it.
Lena presses, “She’s is just so mean to you! I’ve seen her—“
Lena cuts off the rest because the very woman we’re talking about materializes in the door leading to the kitchen. Justine is surveying everyone’s post breakfast as though she just walked in at the end of a horror movie, and when she spots Emma her face is livid.
“Just what is happening here, Emma? What are you thinking?” Justine spins Emma around and grabs her by the sleeve, a raging scold.
I’m half a second away from hauling the crone’s hand off Emma and tossing her out of the house, but instead, I stand to my full height and let my presence speak for itself. Justine was too upset to notice me before. There’s no way she misses me now.
“The groom’s parents decided to throw an impromptu breakfast for the crew as a show of gratitude for all their hard work.” By the winces on Joe, Lena and Emma’s faces, I know there’s some serious steel in my voice, though I don’t raise it even once. I do, though, give a very pointed look at Justine’s talon in Emma’s arm. “Why don’t you go pull up a seat? Over there.”
The anemic little vampire scuttles off as though I just doused her with holy water. A few people in the room noticed the exchange and make an effort to ignore it, but the breakfast patter carries on for everyone else.
I sit back down in my high-backed seat at the bar and pick up my fork. “These are some seriously great good pancakes by the way.” And I do mean it.
Lena looks at Joe and shrugs, happy. Then she throws her arms around Emma and bumps her hip against her, “Aren’t they? If I wasn’t marrying my guy, I’d sooo marry her. Brilliant, pretty, cooks a super mean breakfast.”
Joe protests, “Hey! I offered to scramble your eggs just this morning!”
Once again, Emma hides her smile behind her coffee cup.
Big giant security guy in the corner is still regaling my mother with his behind-the-music style exploits. “…but then in the 90s, I had to hang it all up. Less stage shows, more moshing and crowd surfing. Got too wild.”
Mom gives a little hop, “Oooh, I’ve always wanted to crowd surf!”
Joe looks at me and we both bust out laughing.
Mom pooh-poohs at both of us, “It’s true! It always looks so fun!”
“Well, mom,” I say, and push back from the counter. Before she knows what’s what, I sweep her up and over my shoulder. “You can start now!”
All the family and Renaissance crew laugh and cheer as I parade her around the kitchen.
For her part, my mother hangs over my back and smacks at my rear while she tries to stay balanced and upright. “This isn’t crowd surfing, you maniac. Put me down.”
“I think she’s right, folks,” Joe calls out over the assembled. “Come on, we need a crowd!”
Nine
Emma
Lord save me from hot guys who are sweet to their mothers.
James and his brother are passing the poor woman between them as though she weighs nothing. James does a lap around the whole kitchen with his mother thrown over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, before he passes her over to Joe, who does the same. Most of the Renaissance crew stand up and join the fun. Joe passes his mother to Steve, the burly, barrel-chested former roadie-turned-security guy, who passes her to Carlo, and then back to her sons. Lilly Blake crowd surfs over a few more family members before James deposits her in a giggling heap back to her seat.
Breakfast continues with loads more laughter and play. We’re winding down when I catch the look of absolute evil on Justine’s face. She’s still fuming, has been stewing the entire time. This doesn’t bode well.
I clap my hands for attention. “Ok, Ren crew! Time to get to work.” There are groans, but mostly good-natured clapping and hooting all around. “Let’s thank our very generous hosts for their hospitality.”
There are noises of protest from the family, but lots of happy thank yous from our guys as they bring their dishes to the giant farmhouse sink. Some of the regular house staff is bustling around in the mix, and I turn to help tackle the mess.
Justine claws my arm as she passes.
“Don’t even think about leaving this kitchen until every single bit of the mess is clean.”
“Absolutely, of course.”
“We will revisit this.” Her tone could not be clearer. She’s too refined a woman to shove me as she walks away, but the promise of murder in her eyes is enough. I am so fired after this job.
I stand and blink for a second, to pull myself together.
Right. Ok. Dishes. I turn to the stack piled high next to the sink and roll up my sleeves. One of the lead Blake House staff, Joan, is already rinsing and stacking for the dishwasher. She’s a round and pleasant woman who has helped many of the crew get situated with their tasks in the giant house over the last week.
“Girl, you don’t have to do any of this. We’ve got it,” she says to me as I step in next to her and take over rinsing. She saw that little exchange with Justine.
I shrug and look back over my shoulder in the direction I last saw my boss. “Um…I don’t mind. Let me help. Consider it a favor. Might get me out of some hot water.”
Joan laughs and sprays a little in
my direction. “Suit yourself.”
Behind us, the Blake family are still chatting and dispersing as one by one they bring their dishes up to join the pile. To my chagrin, I find they’re all lovely people, every single one of them offering to help too, or saying something nice about the party. They’re a genuinely happy group and it’s hard not to like them.
And then I feel a warm, firm hand at the small of my back. After spending the night with him, I’d know that touch anywhere.
Joan is to my left at the sink, loading the dishwasher as I rinse. James is to my right. He leans in close and brushes his lips against my neck. The tickle and shock at the public touch almost make me jump out of my skin. I’m elbow deep in water, so all I can do is crane my neck to check if anybody is left to see. Of course, Joan saw everything.
He doesn’t move away at all, just leans against the counter next to me, his hand still at the small of my back, and talks to the smirking cook over my shoulder.
“Good morning, Joan.” James’s voice is warm and familiar, as though they’re old cohorts.
“Good morning, James,” Joan says back in singsong before she looks at me and waggles her eyebrows.
I can feel the blush burning my cheeks, and I want to sink through the floor.
“Good morning, Emma,” James says to me, and his voice is the sexy deep rumble from last night.
“Morning,” I squeak out, trying to step to the side. Instead, James pushes his hand up the back of my shirt and I feel his palm flush to my skin as he hooks my waist and leans in tight. “Sleep well?”
The glass I’m rinsing pops right out of my soapy hands and plunks back in the water. Joan snickers.
“I’m going to go and see what’s doing. Somewhere else. You two enjoy yourselves.” She grins at me as she dries her hands, and then saunters off.
Speechless, I can only stand and watch as James rolls up his sleeves and takes over where she left off, slipping dishes into the washer. It’s almost full.
“I’ll take that,” James says, pointing at the glass I dropped and then makes a show of reaching across me to lean into the water and grab it, brushing my breasts against his arm as he goes. I throw a dish sponge at him and he laughs.
That’s the last of it. James faces me as we rinse and dry our hands.
“You climbed out of bed with me to make pancakes for my parents.”
“Pretty much how it happened, yeah,” I say, and laugh. “But they were very nice to the crew.”
“And they liked you,” he says. He grabs the apron I’m wearing by the strings and pulls me into him. “Seems to run in the family.”
All I want to do is crawl all over him again, but instead, I duck and try to pull back, looking around. For Joan, for any of my guys. For Justine.
“I can’t do this here. Someone will see.” I say the words, but the heat between my thighs is a whole other story.
“Remember what happened the last time you said that?” I can feel his breath as he nuzzles my neck. His hands brush my hips, pull me in, and he flicks his tongue just under my ear.
It’s so good, his hands on me. His very talented mouth. I do indeed remember.
“Come back upstairs,” he whispers after a long kiss.
I shut my eyes and press my forehead to his then lean back. “I can’t. Duty calls.”
“What are you planning today? Lemme guess. A hummingbird tea party? A rodeo?”
“Don’t suggest it to her or we might end up having to do it.” I pull the apron from around my neck and hang it up. “I have to scope and stage a few areas around the lake for the lantern launch after the party tonight.”
“What’s a lantern launch?”
I smile. This one was my idea. “We have these great Chinese paper lanterns shaped like hummingbirds that the guests will set off when it gets dark tonight. You light them and they hang in the sky as they rise. We’ll launch a few more from a distance, but I need to find some good places with a line of sight.”
James is quiet for a moment, and then he says, “You know, I can help you with this one.”
Oh yeah, sure, Justine would just love that. I say as much to James. “I work for you, remember? You’re not supposed to help me.”
He winks at me. “This time, there’s a perfectly valid reason. Who better than the owner to tell you all the best spots around Blake House?”
“You didn’t say anything about a boat.”
James is tugging a small wooden rowboat from a metal shed. He tugs the thing out onto a sandy patch next to a short dock on the lake.
I hang back, a little skeptical.
He tosses the tow rope inside the boat next to the oars, then walks to the back and shoves it out into the water. It bobs as it begins to float.
“You said you need best vantage points. Greatest way to see the best places is on the water—otherwise, you’d have to hike around the whole lake and through the woods. There’s no road to drive around it.”
I actually hadn’t thought of that.
James offers me his hand and a courtly bow, “M’lady. Your rowboat awaits.”
It’s not fair how handsome he is.
I take his hand and he leads me out to the dock and helps me to step down into the flat bottom. I hang on as it rocks gently and he settles down across from me. He slips the oars out on either side of the boat and we’re off. The house drifts back behind us, and the boat glides out onto the open water of the inland lake. The trees that ring the lake are the gorgeous deep red and gold of late fall. Over the tree-tops, you can see the coast in the distance. Along the shore, we pass water reeds and pussy willows. The house is visible still, but winds in and out of view as we move along the water.
I want to admire the land and the lake, but I’m distracted by another view altogether: James’s shoulders and chest pulling and pushing as he strokes with the oars. My palms tingle as I remember the feel of his chest and shoulders while he let me ride him last night, how broad and strong he is. I realize he’s caught me looking a little too hard when he flashes that movie star smile at me.
“Enjoying the view?”
“It has its charms,” I say, and we both know I’m not talking about the estate.
“Think you’d like to see it again after this?”
The push and pull of his arms is smooth, but the question seems to hang between us. I don’t quite know how to answer it yet, so I punt, and lean back a little, closing my eyes and enjoying the sunshine. “A girl could get used to this, sure.”
“Look over there.”
I pop my eyes open and look where he’s pointing. A long distance away, on the hill, I see the cluster of houses I passed this morning.
“See the one on the top there. With the stone fence? I grew up there.”
I know the one he means. It’s the charming little cottage I saw this morning, with the swing set in the back of the garden.
I look at James, confused. “You stayed there as a kid?”
“No, I mean we lived there. My parents and Joe and I. We’ve always lived on the estate, but Blake House, the main house, was abandoned for a long time. The property has always been in my family, we just didn’t always have the money to live in it. So we lived in that house on the edge there.”
I’m curious now. “How could you not have the money if your family owned it?”
He pulls on the oars and the boat continues its glide. “You’d be surprised. My great grandmother lived here when she was a girl and her father lost most of his money in the crash in the 20s. Luckily he owned the house and land outright. They sold everything in it to keep it. She and all her brothers and then all their kids pooled money to pay the property taxes and keep it in the family, but the main house was abandoned and falling apart for years. We lived in the gatehouse because that’s all we could afford, and the rest of the family scattered all over the country.
“But Blake House has always been a family obsession. Everyone just kind of figured that one day one of us would have the means to do som
ething with it.”
“And that was you?”
“Yep,” he says, but nothing else. I’m sure there’s more of a story behind that short, clipped word. He stops the slow strokes of the oars and we float for a bit. I take the time to study the modest house James grew up in. I imagine him living there with his parents, the loving older couple I met this morning, and his rambunctious kid brother, Joe.
Something’s been bothering me. “Your family doesn’t act like a lot of the other people I meet in this job. They’re very… grounded. That’s not always the case.”
James smiles and considers. “Probably because they didn’t come from money, per se. They came from lost money. Having a lot of it and then losing it all grounds a family pretty fast.”
I can only imagine. “Did you always want to renovate Blake House?”
James’s eyes narrow, and he looks past me to the palatial estate. “As a kid, I was more scared of the place than in love with it. It was this crumbling heap of stones that Joe and I weren’t supposed to play in because it was too dangerous. But the family stories and the history were kind of pounded into us, so there was no question of not restoring it when I finally could. This week has been a real eye-opener. It means a lot to them that it’s been brought back.”
He focuses his eyes on me then. “And I wouldn’t have met you if I hadn’t. So there’s that.”
My face hurts from smiling so much today, but it’s a good hurt. “True.”
A breeze rolls across the water and ruffles the curl of hair at his temple. I see him with fresh eyes. Because of the house, I assumed so much about his background and his family, there’s part of me that’s ashamed I judged them—judged him—without knowing the whole story. All my questions have spawned more questions. I want to know more about him. What he was like as a boy. Who is he? We’ve spent a night together, and our bodies have this primal knowledge. But that’s just the beginning, I can feel it.
“Seen what you need?” he asks.
I start and look around, realizing I completely spaced on the whole reason we’re out here. “Oh, yes.” I scan the shore. “I think so.”