Minding Frankie (10 page)

But Lisa had waved this away. Katie had always been oversensitive about the atmosphere at home. When Katie went out to friends’ houses, she returned wistfully talking about happy meals at kitchen tables, places where mothers and fathers talked and laughed and argued with their children and their friends. Not like their home, where meals were eaten in silence and accompanied by a series of shrugs. And anyway, Katie had always been easily affected by people’s moods. Lisa was different. If Mum was distant, then
let
her be distant. If Dad was secretive, then what of it? It was just his way.

Dad worked in a bank, where, apparently, he had been passed over for promotion; he didn’t know the
right
people. No wonder he was withdrawn and didn’t want to make idle chitchat. Lisa could never interest him in anything she did; if ever she showed him one of her drawings from school, he’d shrug, as if to say, “So what?”

Her mother was discontented, but she had reason to be. She worked in a very upmarket boutique, where rich, middle-aged women went to buy several outfits a year. She herself would have looked well in those kinds of clothes, but she could never have afforded them; so instead she helped to fit plumper women into them and arranged for seams to be let out and for zip fasteners to be lengthened. Even with a very generous staff discount, the clothes were way out of her league. No wonder she looked at Dad with disappointment. When she had married him at the age of eighteen he had looked like a man who was going somewhere. Now he went nowhere except to work every morning.

Lisa went to her office and worked hard all day. She had lunch with colleagues at places that were high in style and low in calories. But it was at a private lunch for a client that Lisa met Anton Moran: it was one of those moments that was frozen forever in her mind.

Lisa saw this man crossing the room, pausing at each table and talking easily with everyone. He was slight and wore his hair quite long. He looked confident and pleasant without being arrogant.

“Who’s
he
?” she gasped to Miranda, who knew everyone.

“Oh, that’s Anton Moran. He’s the chef. He’s been here for a year, but he’s leaving soon. Going to open his own place, apparently. He’ll do well.”

“He’s gorgeous,” Lisa said.

“Get to the end of the line!” Miranda laughed. “There’s a list as long as my arm waiting for Anton.”

Lisa could see why. Anton had style like she had never seen before. He didn’t hurry, yet he moved on from table to table. Soon he was at theirs.

“The lovely Miranda!” he exclaimed.

“The even lovelier Anton!” Miranda said archly. “This is my friend Lisa Kelly.”

“Well, hello, Lisa,” he said, as if he had been waiting all his life to meet her.

“How do you do?” Lisa said and felt awkward. Normally she knew what to say, but not this time.

“I’ll be opening my own place shortly,” Anton said. “Tonight is my last night here. I’m going round giving my cell phone number to everyone and I’ll expect you all to be there. No excuses now.” He handed a card to Miranda and then gave one to Lisa.

“Give me a couple of weeks and I’ll give you the details. They’ll all know I must be doing
something
right if you two gorgeous girls turn up there,” he said, looking from one to the other. It was an easy patter. He might be going to say something similar at the next table.

But Lisa knew that he had meant it. He wanted to see her again.

“I work in a graphic design studio,” Lisa said suddenly, “in case you ever need a logo or any designs?”

“I’m sure I will,” Anton said. “I’m certain I will, actually.” And then he was gone.

Lisa remembered nothing about the rest of the meal. She yearned to go to Miranda’s flat and talk about him all night, check that he wasn’t married, that he didn’t have a partner. But Lisa had survived life so far by remaining a little aloof. She didn’t go to stay with friends, as she didn’t want to invite them home to her house. She
didn’t want to wear her heart on her sleeve and confide to someone gossipy like Miranda about Anton. She would get to know him herself in her own time. She would design him a logo that would be the talk of the town.

The important thing was not to rush it, not to make any sudden moves.

She thought about him way into the night. He wasn’t conventionally handsome but he had a face that you wouldn’t forget. Intense dark eyes and a marvelous smile. He had a grace like you’d expect in an athlete or a dancer.

He must be spoken for. A man like that wouldn’t be available. Surely?

She was taken aback when he telephoned her the next day.

“Good. I found you,” he said, sounding pleased to hear her voice.

“How many places did you try?”

“This is the third. Will you have lunch with me?”

“Today?”

“Well, yes, if you’re free.…” And he named Quentins, one of the most highly regarded restaurants in Dublin.

Lisa had been going to have lunch with Katie. “I’m free,” she said simply. Katie would understand. Eventually.

Lisa went to her boss, Kevin.

“I’m going to have lunch with a very good contact. A man who is about to open his own business and I was wondering …”

“… if you can take him to an expensive restaurant—is that it?” Kevin had seen it all, heard it all.

“No. Certainly not.
He’s
paying. I thought I might offer him a glass of champagne and that I might go an hour early so that I can get my hair done and present a good image of the agency.”

“Nothing wrong with your hair,” Kevin grumbled.

“No, but better to make a good impression than a sort of halfhearted one.”

“All right—do we have to pay for the hairdo as well?”

“No way, Kevin. I’m not greedy!” Lisa said and ran off before he could think about this.

She raced out to buy a large potted plant for Katie and turned up at the salon.

“So this is a consolation prize. You’re canceling lunch!”

“Katie,
please
understand.”

“Is it a man?” Katie asked.

“A man? No, of course not. Well, he is a man, but it’s a business lunch and I can’t get out of it. Kevin is on his knees to me. He even let me have time off so that I could have my hair done.”

“What do you want done? Apart from bypassing the line of people who actually made bookings?”

“I beg you, Katie …”

Katie called to an assistant. “Could you take Madam to a basin and use our special shampoo? I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“You’re too good …,” Lisa began.

“I know I am. It’s always been my little weakness, being too good for this world. I wish it
were
for a man, you know, Lisa. I’d have done something special.”

“Let’s pretend it
is
for a man,” Lisa begged.

“If it was a man who would get you out of that house, I’d do it for nothing!” Katie said, and Lisa smiled to herself. She yearned to tell her sister, but a lifetime of keeping her own counsel intervened.

“You look very elegant,” Anton said as he stood up to greet Lisa at Quentins.

“Thank you, Anton. You don’t look as if you made too late a night of it yourself.”

“No, indeed. I just gave my phone number to everyone in the restaurant and then went home to my cup of cocoa and my narrow little bed.” He smiled his infectious smile, which would always manage to get a return smile. Lisa didn’t know what she was smiling at—cocoa, a narrow little bed, an early night … But it must mean that he was giving her signals that he was available.

Should she send back a similar signal or was it too early? Too early, definitely.

“I told my boss I was coming here for lunch with a man who was going into business on his own and he said that I should offer you a glass of champagne on the company.”

“What a civilized boss,” Anton said admiringly as Brenda Brennan, the proprietor, came over. She knew Anton Moran already. He had worked in her restaurant a while ago. He introduced Lisa to Brenda. “Lisa’s company is buying us a glass of champagne each, Brenda, so could we have your delightful house sparkling to start us off, with a receipt for that to Lisa, and the rest of the meal is on me.”

Brenda smiled. Her look said she had seen Anton here with several ladies before.

Lisa felt a stab of hurt, which surprised her. In twenty-five years she had never known such a feeling. It was envy, jealousy and resentment all rolled into one. This was completely ludicrous.

It wasn’t as if she were a starry-eyed teenager. Lisa had had many boyfriends, and some of them had been lovers. She had never felt a really strong attraction to any of these men. But Anton was different.

His hair looked soft and silky, and she longed to reach across the table and run her hands through it. She had the most absurd wish to have his head on her shoulder while she stroked his face. She must shake herself out of this pretty sharpish and get back to the business of designing a look and styling a logo for his new company.

“What will you call the new place?” she asked, surprised that she could keep so calm.

“Well, I know it’s a bit of an ego trip, but I was thinking of calling it Anton’s,” he said. “But let’s order first. They have a really good cheese soufflé here. I should know—I made enough of them in my time!”

“That would be perfect,” Lisa said. This could not be happening. She was falling in love for the very first time.

Back at the office Kevin asked her, “Any luck with Golden Boy?”

“He’s very personable, certainly.”

“Did you give him any outline and our rates?” Kevin was anxious there would be no gray areas.

“No—that will come later.” Lisa was almost dreamy as she thought of Anton and how he had kissed her cheek when they parted.

“Yeah, well, as long as he understands it doesn’t come free because he’s a pretty boy,” Kevin said.

“How do you know that he’s a pretty boy?” Lisa asked.

“You just said that he was personable and I think he was the same guy that my niece had a nervous breakdown over.”

“Your niece?”

“Yes. My brother’s daughter. She went out with a chef called Anton Moran once. Nothing but tears and tantrums, then she drops out of college,
then
she goes to face him down about it all and he’s gone off cooking on a cruise ship.”

Lisa’s heart felt like lead. Anton had told her of his wonderful year onboard a luxury liner.

“I don’t think it could have been the same person.” Lisa’s tone was cold.

“No, maybe not … probably not …” Kevin was anxious for the least trouble possible. “Just as long as he knows he’s getting nothing for free from us.”

Lisa knew with a terrible certainty that there would be a lot of trouble ahead. Anton had barely the money to cover the deposit on his premises. He was relying on outstanding restaurant reviews to meet the mortgage payments and the expenses of doing the place up. He had given no thought whatsoever to the cost of a graphic artist and a campaign.

The site for the restaurant was perfect: it was in a small lane just a few yards off a main road, near to the railway station, a tram route and a taxi rank. He had suggested a picnic. Lisa brought cheese and grapes, Anton brought a bottle of wine.

They sat on packing cases and he described his great plans. She
hardly took in any of them as she watched his face. His sense of excitement was contagious.

By the time they had finished the cheese and grapes she knew that she would leave Kevin and set up on her own. Perhaps she could move in with Anton, work with him—they could build the place together—but she must not rush her fences. However hard it was, she mustn’t look overeager.

Anton had mentioned very little about his private life.

His mother lived abroad, his father lived in the country and his sister lived in London. He spoke well of everyone and badly of no one. She
mustn’t
ask him about Kevin’s niece. She must hassle him about nothing. She knew that he was totally right—this place was going to be a huge success and she wanted to be part of it and in at the very start.

She gave a sigh of pure pleasure.

“It’s good, that wine, isn’t it?” he said.

It might as well have been turpentine. She couldn’t taste it. But she mustn’t let him know at this early stage that she was sighing with pleasure at the thought of a future with him.

It would be lovely to have someone to tell—someone who would listen and ask, What did you do then? What did he say to that? But Lisa had few close friends.

She couldn’t tell anyone at work, that was for sure. When she left Kevin’s studio she wanted no one to suspect why. Kevin might become difficult and say she had met Anton on
his
time and that he had stood them the glasses of champagne that had clinched the deal.

Once or twice he had asked her if “Anton pretty boy” had got any further along the line in his decision-making. Lisa shrugged. It was impossible to know, she had said vaguely. You couldn’t rush people.

Kevin agreed. “Just so long as he’s not getting anything for free,” he warned several times.

“Free? You
must
be joking!” Lisa said, outraged at the very idea.

Kevin would have been astonished had he known just how long
Lisa had spent with Anton and how many drawings she had shown him to establish a logo for his new venture. At that moment she had concentrated on the colors of the French flag, and the
A
of
Anton
was a big curly, showy letter. It could not be mistaken for anything else. She had done drawings and projections, shown him how this image would appear on a restaurant sign, on business cards, menus, table napkins and even china.

She had spent every single evening with Anton—sometimes sitting on the packing cases, sometimes in small restaurants around Dublin, where he was busy seeing what worked and what didn’t. One night, he did a shift at Quentins to help them out and invited Lisa to have a meal there at a staff discount. She sat proudly, looking out from her booth, grateful that she had met this man who was now quite simply the center of her whole life. Then and there she had definitely decided to leave Kevin’s office and set up business on her own.