A Slow Boil (8 page)

“Okay, bye.  Sweet dreams.”

Pete whistled appreciatively as I walked up to the meat
counter.  “Well, well, look at you.  What's the special occasion?”

“Running out of clean laundry.”

“Ah, one of the best reasons to dress up.  Really, you look
great.”

“Thanks, Pete.  So, what do you have for me today?”

“Hmm.  Nothing new, unfortunately.  How did Mr. Hunter
like the lamb?”

“He loved it.  I’ll definitely be making that again, but not
two nights in a row, I don't think.”

“No, I suppose not.”  We pondered the case together. 
“It’s been awhile since you made something with beef.”

“That’s true.”  I looked over the various roasts and cuts of
steak.  Then some ribs caught my eye.  “Are short ribs hard to make?”

“No, they’re easy, but they take a while.  You have to cook
them long and slow until the meat falls off the bone.  Give them at least
two hours in the oven, maybe even three.”

I thought for a minute.  Today was Friday so all I had to
clean were the bathrooms.  I should have time for ribs.  “Give me a
couple pounds, Pete.”

Tiptoeing into the house thirty minutes later, I quickly put away
my groceries and headed upstairs.  My dress from last night was still on
the bed where I’d left it.  I added it to the clothes from Mr. Hunter's
hamper and took everything downstairs to put in the wash.  Now where was
the apron?  I’d been wearing it when I fell asleep but not this morning
when I woke up.  I checked the dining room but it wasn’t there, nor was it
hanging in the pantry.  I wondered where Mr. Hunter put it.  Oh well,
I guessed it wasn’t going to get washed today.  I went back downstairs and
found my other uniform still folded on top of the dryer with the rest of
yesterday’s wash.  I took everything upstairs and put away Mr. Hunter’s
things, then went into my room to change.

There were four bathrooms in the house, but since the only
occupant of the house right now was Mr. Hunter, his was the only bathroom that
really needed cleaning.  I made sure the other three were dusted, mopped,
and tidied, and then carried my gear into his room.

Really, this guy was impossibly neat.  Apart from some stray
whiskers in the sink and a sliver of soap that had fallen onto the shower
floor, you wouldn't know anyone had used this room since the last time I
cleaned it.  I made short work of bringing it up to snuff and then turned
to strip the bed.

I was pulling off his pillowcases near the head of the bed when
something white on the floor under the bed caught my eye.  Bending down, I
retrieved my apron.  It looked like it had maybe fallen to the floor and
then been pushed under the bed by the coverlet.  What the heck was my
apron doing in here?  Maybe I didn’t want to know, I thought hastily, and
tossed it onto the pile of dirty sheets.

I had the ribs in the oven and was peeling potatoes by
three-thirty.  Earlier in the week I’d found a small radio in the pantry,
and this afternoon I took the liberty of bringing it out and tuning it to a
college radio station.  I made sure the volume was low and pulled the door
closed tightly.  I was singing along under my breath to one of my favorite
songs when I heard two quick raps on the door, and Mr. Hunter stuck his head
in.

“Miss Lane, am I interrupting?”

“Oh no, of course not.”  I ran to the radio and turned it
off.  “I hope I didn't bother you – please tell me you couldn't hear that
from upstairs.”

“I didn’t hear a thing.  Use the radio any time you like,
just keep it low.”

“Thanks.”

“I was wondering if you had a free moment.  I’d like to have
a talk with you.”

“Sure.  Now’s perfect.  Just let me wash my hands.”

“Come up to my office when you’re ready.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Walking upstairs to meet Mr. Hunter in his office reminded me of
the day I’d come to interview with him.  I’d been so nervous to begin
with, and then so affected by his good looks and intimidated by his remote
manner.  I never would have guessed that three weeks later would find me
here fully comfortable with my duties, and even comfortable with him, I
realized.  And in a dress, no less.

He was sitting in his chair when I walked in and he waved me to a
seat in front of him.  I sat and folded my hands, having no idea what he
wanted to speak to me about.  I didn’t think I’d done anything to upset
him, but he could be hard to read.  Well, I guess I’m about to find out, I
thought, as he cleared his throat.

“Miss Lane, I have a proposition for you.  I’d like you to
move in here.”

“What?”

“I want you to move in here.  With me.”

“Here?  With you?”

“It makes perfect sense.”

“No it doesn’t.”  Wait a second, maybe it did.

“You can have the room you’ve been using.  I won’t charge you
rent.  Your duties won't change.”

“But -”

“Yes, Miss Lane?  I’d love to hear your 'buts' that aren't
argumentative but rather, inquisitive.”

I refused to be teased.  “Yes, my 'buts,'” I said, leaning in
for emphasis.  “First of all, I can hardly accept free room and board from
you when you’ve seen for yourself what the
market’s
like right now.  That’s just taking advantage of your generosity.”

“I don't understand how it’s taking advantage when I offer it
freely.”

“You should at least dock my pay.”

“I would never do that.  You’re worth every penny you earn.”

“What about your silence rule?  I can’t tiptoe around here
like I was walking on eggshells the whole time.”

“Of course not.  I just ask that you try to remain relatively
quiet during the mornings and nights.  No overnight guests or parties,
that kind of thing.”

“Do you expect me to make you breakfast and lunch?”

“No.  Like I said, your duties won’t change.  I expect
you to be here in the afternoons, performing your regular chores and serving me
dinner.  Beyond that, you’re free to do whatever you like.  And I
called
Southbay’s
today.  They’re willing to
deliver out here on a weekly basis, so you don’t have to worry about to walking
into town every day for groceries.”

He was wearing me down.  I was running out of reasons to say
no so I decided to stall.

“I still get to use your library?”

“Of course.  Spend all your free time in it, whatever you
wish.”

“Why are you doing this?  Why do you care where I live?”

He stretched back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his
head.

“To be honest with you, I’m not entirely sure.  I’ve lived
alone for a very long time, by choice.  All I can tell you is that even
though I’ve only known you for a few weeks, I can’t stand the thought of you
leaving here every night to go
some place
like the
one we saw today.  I want you here. The two nights you slept here
..."
  He
sat back up and shook his
head.  “I don't know how to explain it.  I want you here from now
on.  That’s all I can say.”

I was more than a little confused.  While his behavior this
week had been considerate, generous and even friendly at times, he easily
switched back and forth between that person and the authoritative one I’d first
met.  Even now, I felt like he was telling me to move in, rather than
asking me.

We held each other’s gazes and as usual I fell under that spell of
being unable to hold back what I was thinking.

“Why did I find my apron under your bed this afternoon?”

“I took it off of you before carrying you upstairs, and brought it
back up with me after I cleaned the kitchen.  I was about to throw it in
my hamper when I noticed how good it smelled.”

“How it smelled?”

“Yes, like the delicious dinner you just cooked for me.”

“So you brought it to bed with you?”

He shrugged as if it was no big deal, but I wasn’t quite finished.

“You’ve asked some rather odd things of me.  Last night, for
instance.”  I was remembering kneeling at his side.

“I know I have.  Look, Miss Lane, I have some unusual
character traits, I fully acknowledge that.  I’ve always demanded complete
obedience from my housekeepers but there’s something about you, your
blush, that
brings out that side in me tenfold.  I’ve
never laid a hand on an employee before you, but last night I just couldn’t
help myself.  If I made you uncomfortable, I promise it won’t happen
again.  I don’t have any ulterior motives, no nefarious schemes.  I
just need to know that you’re safe under my roof at night.  Truly, I don’t
think I’ll be able to sleep otherwise.”

The sincerity in his voice was obvious.  The expression on
his face one of kindness, with a touch of apprehension.  He really wanted
me to say yes.  I could almost literally feel him trying to pull the word
out of me.  I opened my mouth to do so and was surprised at what I said
instead.

“I liked it.”

“Pardon?”

“Last night, when you played with my hair.  I liked it.”

He held my gaze, his jaw moving slightly back and forth.  I
had no idea what he was thinking.

“So, Miss Lane, will you agree to move in?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  Very, very good.”  The relief that washed over
his face was so immediate and intense it made me smile.  “We can discuss
the details at dinner. Unless you have any further questions, you’re free to
return to the kitchen.”

I rose and smoothed down my dress. “Yes, sir.  See you at
six.”

“At six, Miss Lane.”

I served the ribs on a bed of mashed potatoes with a side Caesar
salad. Putting down his plate, I asked Mr. Hunter if he'd a like a martini
tonight or would prefer wine.

“A martini, please.”

I fixed one quickly and set it beside his plate.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome, sir.”

Mr. Hunter seemed distant tonight, I thought, as I sat at the
island eating my salad.  Why had I told him that I’d liked it when he'd
touched my hair?  I wished I could learn to keep my mouth shut around
him.  Now he might take that as an invitation to do it again. 
Suddenly his demeanor tonight made more sense, like he was trying to assure me
that his behavior last night had been a one-time aberration.  One time, I
mused, feeling a little mixed.  I mean, I knew that being asked to kneel
beside him was just wrong on every level.  But it had felt so good when he
started in on my hair, and his leg had felt so warm and firm under my cheek …
oh, lord, Sylvia, stop this train of thought right now.  Right.  Now.

“Miss Lane?”

“Yes, sir?”  I hurried through the kitchen door and stood
beside Mr. Hunter with my hands behind my back.

“You’ve outdone yourself again.  These ribs are superb.”

“Thank you.  Would you like another martini?”

“Not tonight.  I called you in to ask if I could assist you
with your move.  I assume you have some things you’ll need driven over.”

“A few boxes, yes, but I was going to ask Britt if we could borrow
her father’s car.”

“I’m happy to do it for you.  When would you like me to
come?”

“We have to be out of the dorm by Sunday at five, so any time
before that is fine.  Whatever works for
you.
”

“Would you mind if we moved you in tomorrow?  I can be at
your dorm around four.”

“That would be fine.”

“Good.”

While we were talking, he had finished his dinner.  Handing
me his plate, he stood and moved to the door.  “After you’ve finished
cleaning up and changing clothes, come to the office and I’ll give you your
pay.”

“Yes, sir.”

I finished in the kitchen and went upstairs to change in what was
now officially my room, although I had to admit I’d begun thinking of it as my
room already.  I looked around it again as I slipped out of my dress and
put my skirt and blouse back on.  It really was a lovely room, even nicer
than any apartments I’d imagined myself finding.  I ran a hand over the velvet
bedspread, trying to get used to the idea that I’d be sleeping here tomorrow
night and every night after that for the rest of the summer.

I knocked at the door of the office and let myself in.  Mr.
Hunter was working at his computer but stopped as soon as he saw me.

He took in my appearance for a moment.  “You look very nice
this evening.”

“Thank you.  Britt and I are going out to celebrate the end
of the term.”  No need for him to know about the mountain of dirty clothes
back in my dorm.

He pulled an envelope out of a drawer, rose, and walked over to
hand it to me.  “Don’t spend all of this tonight,” he smiled.

“Like I could if I tried.  I told you before it’s too
much.  You really won’t let me pay any rent?  Even a modest one?”

He shook his head.  “I could never profit off your staying
here.  I was even prepared to offer you a raise if that’s what it took to
get you to accept my offer.”