“Metaxas is my partner. We own six other restaurants.”
“I didn't ask you how many restaurants you owned. Actually it wasn't a question at all. Merely a statement. Now I'm going to ask you a question. Are your cooks women or men?”
“Men of course.”
“Really,” Ruby said.
“Amazing,” Nealy said.
Metaxas continued to play it safe and kept quiet, his eyes full of misery.
“I've never eaten anything I liked that was cooked by a man. Have you, Ruby?”
“Never!” Ruby responded smartly.
“I think you'll like tonight's dinner,” Kendrick said, looking to Metaxas for help. Metaxas fiddled with his cuff links and refused to make eye contact.
A devil perched itself on Nealy's shoulder and spurred her on. “I'm a steak and potatoes girl. With lots of ketchup on the side. Thick chunks of bread with big hunks of butter to sop up the juice. How about you, Ruby?”
Ruby winked at Nealy. “I'm a sopper from way back. I like my meat rare and bloody. Give me a triple-baked potato with sour cream, butter, bacon bits, chives, ketchup, and a dab of hot mustard. Do not ever serve me chicken. Honey, how about you?” Ruby prodded her husband.
Metaxas took the safe way out. “I'll have whatever you all are having. Ken, what about you?”
“Well . . . I was going to recommend . . .”
Nealy leaned across the table, a half smile on her lips. “Tell us,” she said.
Flustered by Nealy's intent gaze, he mumbled, “I was going to recommend the duck roulades with avocado, pistachios, and pistachio armagnac sauce. We also have a tangerine duck that is quite good.”
“Nah,” Nealy said.
Ruby shook her head.
Metaxas stared at the chandelier.
“We also have a wonderful sautéed escolar with curry oil and apple mint couscous.”
Ruby and Nealy shook their heads in unison. Metaxas stared across the room at a painting hanging on the wall.
“We do have a lovely curry-crusted lamb chop with a garlic wine sauce served with a potato shallot custard,” Kendrick said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.
“I don't care for lamb. If I'm desperate, I can eat it, but I'd rather not,” Ruby said.
“I don't like curry, and I'm not crazy about lamb either,” Nealy murmured.
Metaxas switched his gaze to the beautiful stained-glass window opposite their table.
“That just leaves our chicken dish, and since you don't care for chicken, I'm at a loss as to what to offer you. If there's something in particular you like, I'm willing to go into the kitchen to cook it for you myself.”
“You cook!” Nealy asked in amazement.
“Doesn't everyone?” Kendrick shot back.
Metaxas felt like he was now on safe ground. “Kendrick is a five-star chef.”
“Really,” Ruby said.
“Amazing,” Nealy said.
Metaxas clamped his lips shut as he stared down at the bowl of fresh violets on the table.
“If you are serious about the offer to cook for us personally, then I would like French oysters wrapped in spinach leaves as an appetizer. Go light on the paprika. A salmon and sorrel soufflé for the main course with some braised mushrooms with pancetta and pine nuts and perhaps an endive custard. Don't forget the nutmeg. For dessert, I think I would like a fresh strawberry soufflé. I'll leave the wine selection up to you.”
“I'll have the same thing,” Ruby said guilessly. “Honey?”
“Sounds good to me.”
“What am I missing here? The three of you look like you just put one over on me.”
Nealy burst out laughing. Ruby joined in.
“Ken, this pretty lady sitting next to me isn't just our friend and family member. She's the one who rode Sharpshooter to the winner's circle at Belmont this afternoon. I think it's that tit-for-tat thing women are famous for.”
Nealy smiled.
Ruby beamed.
Metaxas scowled at his business partner's miserable countenance. “This might be a good time for you to say something, buddy.”
Kendrick Bell slipped off his chair onto his knees. He reached for Nealy's hand. “I'm sorry if I offended you. That wasn't my intention. I'm looking at you sitting here and you're so beautiful and so womanly and feminine, it's impossible for me to believe you . . . do what you do. I guess I mistakenly thought you need to be a hard-muscled man to handle a horse. If there was a crow here, I'd eat it. I want you to know you have my deep admiration, and I will never make a mistake like that again. Would you like to marry me?”
Nealy flushed a rosy pink. “I think I have to get to know you a little better. This city would suffocate me. I could never live here. I need wide-open spaces, and I need the horses. It probably wouldn't work,” she said impishly. “You can come for a visit, and I'll teach you to ride.” My God, she was flirting with a virtual stranger. And liking it. She took a moment to wonder how Nick and Emmie would like this man with the laughing eyes.
“I don't live here. I live in the mountains, where there are trees and grass. I just might take you up on your offer.”
“Can we eat now?” Metaxas grumbled good-naturedly.
“Absolutely. How about three T-bone steaks grilled to perfection. Beef straight out of Texas, Coleman beef to be exact. Wouldn't serve anything else. Some potatoes and a nice crisp garden salad.”
“Sounds wonderful,” the trio said in unison.
“I'll head for the kitchen and put the order in. Any particular wine you'd like, or do you trust me to come up with one?”
“We'll leave it up to you,” Metaxas said.
The moment the restaurateur was out of sight, Ruby turned to Nealy. “So, what do you think?”
“You mean other than being a typical man? Seems nice. What did you think?”
“He's a hell of a guy,” Metaxas blurted, worried that his choice for Nealy was being frowned upon. “He'd give you the shirt off his back, and if you needed a dollar and he only had fifty cents, he'd borrow the other fifty for you. That says something about a man in my book. Plus, he's a hell of a good cook. He likes the outdoors. Good sense of humor. Has humility. He's rich, so he doesn't need your money. Hard worker. Very hardworking. Great smile. Did ya see those teeth? Perfect. Women faint over him. I can't figure out why some woman hasn't snapped him up. He's never married and he's more than eligible and he has no baggage. Fifty. Fifty is good. Still young. Works out. Likes sports. Loves to dance. Loves animals, especially dogs. Loves music. He's everything a woman would want.”
“Enough, honey. I think Nealy likes him. You do, don't you, Nealy?” Ruby asked.
“No one is that perfect,” Nealy sniffed. “He seems very nice. You two are matchmaking. Listen, my life is very good. Just because there isn't a man in it doesn't mean it isn't good or isn't what I want. There weren't any bells and whistles if that's what you mean. He doesn't do anything for me. I appreciate you trying, I really do. I can see by the look on your face that you're both feeling sorry for me. Please don't. I have new directions now. I don't need a man in my life to clutter it up.”
“Is that what men do, clutter up women's lives?” Kendrick asked, coming up behind Nealy's chair.
Nealy flushed. “Some men do. That's just my opinion, of course.” Damn, couldn't she do anything right? She'd just sabotaged what could have been the beginning of a nice relationship. Ruby and Smitty were right. She didn't know how to act. She'd been living and working with horses so long she no longer knew how to act with human beings.
Nealy knew in her gut the evening was ruined, and there was no way to salvage it. The beautiful emerald dress that made her feel like Cinderella, the gift from Metaxas, was now nothing more than a dress. The matching satin slippers were just shoes. The magic ball was simply a restaurant, and the prince turned into a frog way too early in the evening. She felt like crying. Just leave it to a man to ruin things.
“I would hate to think I was one of those men. By the same token, what about women who clutter up men's lives with their âI want this, take me there, do this, and do that.' Now, that's what I call clutter.”
“I'm not like that,” Nealy said.
“I never said you were, miss, whatever your name is. We're talking generalities here, or at least I thought we were.”
“You don't even know my name! One minute you're blasting women for doing something you think only a man is capable of, the next minute you're on your knees asking me to marry you and then you . . . you . . .
cook!
Cooking is women's work.”
“Says who?”
“Says me, that's who. I wouldn't eat in this place if it was the last place on earth.”
“It's easy to see what kind of palate you have. You like
ketchup.”
He was making fun of her, and people were turning their heads to listen. Without thinking, she stood up, pulled back her arm, and whopped the restaurateur smack on the nose. “Kiss my ass,” she hissed as she stalked from the room, her head high, her eyes bright with unshed tears.
“What the hell!” Kendrick said, blinking to ward off a wave of dizziness.
“She popped you,” Metaxas said, his eyes wide with amazement.
“I think she broke my nose,” Kendrick said.
“You need to apologize,” Ruby said, getting up from the chair. “I'll go after her.”
“Apologize for what? She's the one who hit me. I swear, I think my nose is broken. You're a man, what the hell did I do?”
Metaxas sucked in his breath. “Don't look at me for an answer. You're a great guy. How could you ruin something that was so perfect?”
“What? Tell me what? There was nothing perfect about this evening. Not one damn thing. People are staring at me. I own this damn place, and people are staring at me like I killed someone. They'll probably never come back. Goddamn it, Metaxas, say something.”
Metaxas cleared his throat and took the high road. “I think, buddy, my wife is right, you owe Nealy an apology. I can't believe you forgot her name.”
“Damn it, I know her name. Cornelia, Nealy Coleman Diamond Clay. She had me so rattled I couldn't think.”
“You! Debonair bachelor that you are were rattled by that little slip of a woman? Now I've heard everything. Just in case you're interested, people aren't staring anymore. They're eating. So, what did you
really
think of Nealy?”
“This is the last time I'm letting you try to fix me up. Don't think for one minute I've forgotten the other disasters.”
“It's your own fault,” Metaxas said virtuously. “Never argue with two women. You argued. Admit it. I have to go now. Nealy's in Room 1207 at the Plaza in case you want to send flowers or a note of apology. We're leaving tomorrow.”
“That'll be the damn day. Go ahead, go. Some friend you are. You got me into this. You said she was a gem among gems. That rare jewel one finds only once in a lifetime. That's what you said, Metaxas. And I believed you! She's a
zircon.”
“I can see myself out,” Metaxas muttered.
“Don't come back,” Kendrick shouted. He was rewarded with more sly smiles and knowing winks.
The day he apologized to that horse jockey would be the day they served ice water in hell.
Â
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Nealy knew from the dampness on her pillow that she had cried in her sleep. She hadn't done that in years. She rolled over and looked at the clock on the nightstand: 4:10. She slipped her legs over the side of the bed. What was that noise? She walked through the luxurious suite of rooms to the door and put her ear against it. She jerked backward when she heard what sounded like a tentative knock. Alarmed that something was wrong with Ruby, she undid the chain lock and dead bolt. Cautiously, she opened the door. Startled at Kendrick Bell's appearance, she stepped backward.
“It's four o'clock in the morning and you're knocking on my door. Plus, you're drunk. I know this because you smell like a distillery. How did you get here?”
“I walked!” Kendrick said. “I came to apologize. It's your turn now,” he singsonged. “That wasn't nice what you said in my restaurant. I run a respectable . . . establishment,” he hiccuped. “Ladies don't do things like that, and they don't say âkiss my ass' either. Even if I deserved it, which I did.”
Nealy led Kendrick to the sitting room. “You're absolutely right. My social skills are abominable. You're right about me and the horses, too. You got under my skin. I apologize.”