by Claire Adams
"I'm telling you, the car looked like it was straight out of some futuristic movie. I almost thought I was hallucinating," the man ahead of me told his wife.
"That's nothing," his wife said. "Tina, the tailor's assistant, went up to the Brickman Estate to help all the fancy ladies with their dresses. She said she's never seen more haute couture outside of the runways in Paris."
"Good for Tina," the man nodded sagely. "If she plays her cards right, I bet she could get a full-time gig doing that. See the world with her sewing kit."
His wife snorted. "Like a lady's maid?"
The man rolled his eyes. "They don't have those anymore. They have employees, and they only hire the cream of the crop."
I thought about the overheard conversation as I continued up and down the farmer’s market aisles. The whole town was abuzz with talk of the Brickman party, and lots of people were angling for an in. I thought about how jealous everyone would be if they knew I was at the heart of it.
"He burns down her house, and then she goes to work for him?" I heard a woman whisper to her friend. "Seems a bit desperate, don't you think?"
My insides went cold. She was talking about me. The furtive glance she tossed over her shoulder confirmed it. I pretended I hadn't heard anything and continued to sort through a bin of potatoes.
"Desperate to fit in, maybe," her friend said.
"Well, where else is she going to go?" the woman asked. "It's not like her family is rushing home to help her. I can't imagine what that would be like, poor thing."
I blinked back hot tears and turned my back on the women. Their harmless gossip had actually hit on the one major flaw in my plan. Staying at the Brickman Estate and cooking for Teddy's guests was a good opportunity, but it was also an admission I wasn't ready to make. It meant that I really didn't have anywhere else to go. Everyone in town knew it, and it was time I faced the truth myself.
My family had abandoned me.
I placed massive orders with the vendors at the market and left as quickly as I could. Word of my new situation was rapidly spreading, and I didn't want to hear any more whispers. I jumped in the new pickup truck, worried that it looked like I was driving a shiny bribe, and took off for the Brickman Estate.
As soon as I pulled into the driveway, I slammed on the brakes. Every inch of the smooth, circular driveway was filled with impossibly expensive cars. I let out of a strangled breath, relieved that I hadn't crashed into the brand-new Maserati parked just inside the turn-in. The front of the Brickman Estate was a sea of shining chrome and polished paint. Drivers rubbed down vintage cars with cloth diapers, while others stood around comparing horsepower.
They looked up when I put the new pickup in reverse and laughed. It was obvious even to them that I was out of place. I reversed slowly onto the main road and drove away feeling ridiculous.
What had I been thinking? I couldn't just drive up to the front of the house. I was basically a servant, and there was a separate driveway for people like me. I found it, crowded with economical little imports and banged-up, old-model cars. Just a few hundred feet down the road, but worlds apart.
I climbed out of the car and took a moment to pull myself together.
In between the tall columns of the topiary hedge, I could see elegant women dressed in white lawn outfits. They played croquet between taking sips of champagne. Rugs, tables, sofas, and chairs had been carried onto the grass to create outdoor rooms. Guests lounged there as the sun finally broke through the clouds. It was all so elegant and leisurely.
I gritted my teeth and turned back to the full pickup truck. I had a lot of heavy hauling to do before I could start preparing lunch. And then, there was dinner to prep. I was already exhausted, but there was still a sizzle of excitement. Cooking for the elegant party was a massive challenge, and I wanted to make the most of it.
It didn't matter that the guests were practically from another planet, I reminded myself. I couldn't afford to miss this opportunity because I didn't have any others.
I grabbed the first bags out of the bed of the truck and focused on what my solo business would be like. If I got a chance later, I would have to consider actually starting a blog.
I marched into the kitchen, and all the conflicting emotions disappeared. It didn't matter that I would never fit in with the guests because I preferred the world behind the scenes. The servants’ halls rang with hurried footsteps, and everywhere I looked was a blur of work. Compared to the almost frozen vignettes spread out lazily across the lawns, this was real life—and I loved it.
Vincent Jeffry was also in his glory. His tall frame seemed even taller over the sea of scrambling staff members. "Allison and Carrie, your one job is to make sure the west wing bathrooms are fully stocked. If I hear one more request from guests, I'm going to have to do a full inspection."
The women gathered up armfuls of supplies and ran up the back stairs. I waited as he doled out a dozen more orders, sending staff to all corners of the house.
"Oh, Kiara, thank God," Vincent Jeffry said. "I was worried you might not want to come back to all this chaos."
"Are you kidding?" I asked. "First off, I love it. And secondly, with you in command, there will never be chaos."
He preened for a split second and then snapped back to work mode. "We've already run out of the snack trays you prepared. I'd say we only have about an hour before we start hearing inquiries about lunch."
"I'm on it. Though, I might need a hand unloading things from the truck," I said.
"I'll help."
The buzzing kitchen paused, and I turned around to see Teddy smiling at me. "Fine, I guess you'll do," I said.
A few mouths dropped open as the staff heard what I said, but Teddy's smile only widened. He gestured for me to lead the way and followed more closely than I would have liked. It was one thing for people at the farmer’s market to speculate, but quite another for the staff to interpret what they saw and spread rumors.
I worried about it until I caught sight of the full pickup truck. The gauntlet of lunch, cocktail hour, and dinner was too much of a happy distraction for me to worry about gossip.
Teddy noted my change in expression. "Having fun?" he asked.
"Yes," I admitted. "I really am."
"Good, because you are already a complete success. I've had four friends issue a challenge to steal you away. I told them I would never let it happen, but that I'd pass their compliments along to you."
"How about you?" I asked, loading Teddy up with an armful of produce bags. "Are you having fun?"
"Here and there," he shrugged.
My heart warmed as I led the way back into the kitchen. Had I been right about Teddy's visits to the kitchen? Was it possible he preferred my world to the glitz and glamor of his own party?
"Sir, your sports coat," Vincent Jeffry cried. He rushed over, yanked the produce bags out of Teddy's arms, then furiously dusted him off with a clean cloth. "Really, sir, you shouldn't be down here."
"Don't worry. I got this," I said. Bravado had helped me through a lot worse than preparing a large luncheon.
Teddy gave Vincent Jeffry a pained smile and retreated to the doorway. "You are all doing an amazing job. I'll report back with more compliments soon."
The staff members grinned as they worked. I joined them, but without the same concentration. I still felt the pull upstairs, the pull towards Teddy. Would I really be content there in the kitchen, or did I still want more?
#
I didn't have much time to think or even look up as the afternoon moved on to evening. Lunch had been simple and let everyone leave room for the sumptuous feast at dinner.
I had spent a large portion of the cocktail hour cutting out delicate leaves from dough and doing my best to make the fancy patterns on beef Wellington. Now that everything was out of the oven and ready to be served, I looked up with a wave of nervousness.
Whitney had sent staff down with snobby suggestions for dinner, and I had done my best to incorporate the
ones that worked with the already set menu.
"Ready?" Vincent Jeffry asked.
He hefted a gleaming, silver tray. He had insisted on bringing one complete roast to the table to show the guests the artistry of the flaky crust.
My throat was tight, and my stomach was all knots as we headed up the back staircase. I refused to join him in the formal dining room and instead, peeked through the narrow door.
The guests were just promenading into the candlelit room. Teddy led the way with Whitney on his arm. The knots in my stomach twisted, but the glittering parade of fashions distracted me.
As soon as everyone was seated, Vincent Jeffry presented the beef Wellington. The long table of guests applauded. I felt my breath coming easier until I caught Teddy looking straight at me. I felt a quick swell of panic as he waved me into the dining room.
I must have looked like such a fool spying on all the pretty people from the dark, narrow servants’ doorway. I turned and headed back to the kitchen, back to where I felt I belonged. I was rushing along the dim, hidden hallway when a side door flew open.
"There you are," Teddy said, blocking my way.
I swallowed my scream of surprise and tried to shove past him. "What are you doing? You shouldn't leave your guests at dinner. You're the host."
He snorted. "Whitney's the real host. I'm just the address."
I wanted to ask him about his relationship with Whitney, but it seemed ridiculous that that was the first thought that popped into my mind. "I have to get back to the kitchen and make sure the salad course is ready to go."
Teddy nodded and followed me along the passageway. "You really are enjoying yourself?"
"Yes," I said and burst back into the busy kitchen.
Servers were already returning with empty bowls and compliments on the seafood bisque. Silver trays of salad topped with nasturtium flowers were being hefted onto steady shoulders for the long haul to the dining room.
"I really think you could turn it into a business," Teddy observed. He settled against the kitchen island, obviously in no hurry to return to his guests. "Either as a private chef, a caterer, or you could even start your own restaurant. I've known a few people to invest in restaurants. Want me to work up some contacts for you?"
I checked the fragrant stuffed peppers that were to follow the salad and raised an eyebrow at him. "A restaurant? No, thanks. I think I'll just take this one step at a time."
He grinned. "One course at a time."
"Exactly," I said. Then, because he was irresistible, I admitted, "I've thought about starting off as a personal chef or party caterer. Maybe work up a website and a blog of recipes. Then, I should probably go to culinary school and get the right credentials."
Teddy snagged a piece of beef from the carving table and savored it. "I think your food is all the credentials you're going to need."
"You think someone will hire me just based on recommendations?"
"I think someone's going to marry you and be the happiest, fattest husband in all of New York," Teddy said.
Vincent Jeffry cleared his throat. "Sir, the guests are beginning to wonder where you are. It is not a good recommendation if the host skips eating the meal."
Teddy shrugged, stole one more savory bite, and then saluted me as he left.
"I'm not fishing for a marriage proposal, if that's what you think," I snapped at Vincent Jeffry when Teddy was gone.
His eyes rounded. "I didn't think you were."
"Good, because I'm not," I said, warming up into a rant. All the conflicts I had been balancing all day were bursting at the seams to get out. "It's ridiculous that my only choices are servant or wife. Where's equal? What if I want to be a successful woman who celebrates her own independence?"
Vincent Jeffry snorted. "No one has ever thought of the Davies as dependents."
"Exactly," I said, adding more broth to the mushroom risotto. "I'm Teddy Brickman's equal, and there's nothing else to it."
"Bravo," Teddy said.
I choked on a test bite of risotto, and Vincent Jeffry struggled to swallow his smile. "Is there something wrong with dinner, sir?" he asked.
Teddy held up his hands. "I enjoyed my salad, and I chatted with my guests. They would like to meet the chef, so I told them I would bring her the request myself."
"No," I protested, looking around for anything else to do.
Vincent Jeffry anticipated my move and assigned the task of plating the beef to one of his trusted staff members. "We wouldn't want to refuse the guests' request," he said with the glimmer of a mischievous grin.
I vowed to get even with him, maybe smudge some of the silverware, but Teddy offered me his arm. I had to take it or appear rude and snobbish.
Teddy shook his head when I headed for the servants' hall. "We'll go through the main doors. As equals," he said, leading me out to the grand foyer.
"I was just letting off steam, being silly," I told him.
"No," he said, "you're right. You grew up next door to me; your family was respected by my father and admired by me."
I pulled back, ready to protest, but it was too late. Curious guests were already looking up from the long table and smiling. I took a deep, jagged breath, and tried to paste a confident smile on my face. Teddy squeezed my arm closer to his body and led me into the dining room.
In order to accommodate all the guests, the normal dining room table had been placed at the far wall and turned lengthwise. Four tables branched out from there and filled what was normally a cavernous room.
Teddy brought me to the first table and introduced me to the smiling guests. "May I present Ms. Kiara Davies? Not only is she our amazing chef, but she is also a cherished family friend and my closest neighbor."
"Delighted to meet you," a stunning woman with raven-black hair said. "Your lobster dip is by far the most delicious thing I have ever tasted."
"Thank you," I managed, still reeling from Teddy's generous introduction.
He repeated it time and time again. I was his closest neighbor and a cherished family friend. I saw firsthand the effect of my family's Long Island address as the guests immediately warmed up to me.
"How amazing that you are willing to cook for us," a slim, brunette woman said.
Teddy pulled me closer. "Kiara really saved me at the eleventh hour. We might have had to cancel otherwise."
"How lucky to have such generosity and talent next door," she said.
As we moved through the first two tables, I started to relax. Teddy's introduction was better than any fairy godmother waving a wand, and I was surprised at the guests. Most were like Teddy—quick to smile, easy to talk to, and quite genuine. Every now and then there was a stuffy man or a snobbish woman, but overall, I liked the people I met.
I was so encouraged by the time we reached the head table that I teased Teddy. "We met as children. I still remember when he'd get freckles from being out in the sun too long."
An older woman pressed a hand to her heart. "Isn't that charming? And, you two make such a handsome couple."
Shock stopped my breath. It wasn't so much the suggestion, since we were still walking arm-in-arm like a couple would, that surprised me. It was the rush of warmth that filled me up. I was struck dumb by the realization that I liked Teddy—more than as a neighbor and friend.
I was still glowing when we turned to the rest of the table. A pair of disapproving eyes bored into me from a delicate, beautiful face.
Whitney's smile was brittle, but polite. "Now that you're done parading around your cook, we really should take some time to visit with our guests, Teddy."
She stood up and waited for him to come to her. Teddy hesitated, his arm tense in mine. "Now? What about dinner? The next course is just about to be served."
"I should be going," I said, slipping my arm out of Teddy's. I thanked everyone and made a beeline for the servants’ door.
Vincent Jeffry swung the narrow door open from the inside and unleashed a stream of servers with the next course.
I had no choice but to change directions and was quickly caught by guests at the next table.
"Please, tell us about this course. Such an inspiration to include peppers on the menu," a silver-haired man said.
"The secret is a little marinara sauce in the stuffing. My own recipe," I said.
I found myself making the rounds again as the dinner continued. Guests stopped me with questions and compliments, and there was no polite escape.
On the other side of the dining room, Whitney flashed looks at me as she moved alongside Teddy. I saw her try to steer him away from me, but Teddy moved on, oblivious.
I tried not to look, but I could feel him. No matter which way I went, we were drawn together like magnets.
"There you are," he said with a smile as we bumped into each other between tables.
A few guests exchanged curious smiles until Whitney slipped an arm possessively through Teddy's. "We best head back to our seats. We wouldn't want this lovely course to get cold," she said.
"I really should be getting back to the kitchen," I said.
"Yes," Whitney agreed, looking over my head as if I was nothing. "You really should."
Teddy's smile slipped, and he released Whitney's clinging arm. "I'll walk you back, Kiara. Maybe get a hint at what's for dessert."
The guests murmured their approval as Whitney fumed. She had no choice but to act as if she did not care and return to the head table alone.
"You didn't need to do that," I said as Teddy walked with me out into the grand foyer. "I don't want people to get the wrong idea."
"About what?" he asked. "You are my closest neighbor. My father always respected your family, and I consider you my friend."
The blooming warmth spread through my chest again. My body kept prompting me to be more than Teddy's friend, and it was getting harder and harder to fight off its imperatives.
"This is far enough," I said. "Go back and rejoin your guests."
I felt his eyes follow me all the way back to the kitchen door, but I refused to turn around. I couldn't let Teddy see I was walking on a cloud. No matter what he said, we were still worlds apart.