My Own Mr. Darcy (18 page)

I was completely
unprepared.

Meg’s condo was on the 26
^th
floor of a swanky downtown building. A doorman (I didn’t know anyone in
Portland had a doorman) checked our names against a guest list and then stepped
inside the elevator to enter a code that would let the elevator stop at the
proper floor. The glass and brushed bronze elevator hummed quietly as we were
quickly lifted up above most of the surrounding buildings. When it stopped on
the 26
^th
floor, it opened not to a hallway or foyer, but to Meg’s
condo. I soon realized she owned the entire 26
^th
floor.

The view was staggering. Portland
glistened on all sides. The front half of the condominium was open and spacious
with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking all of downtown. A glossy red grand
piano sat in one corner. Sleek and stylish furnishings were everywhere. There
was a recessed kitchen of stainless steel and quartz fit for an Iron Chef.
Uniformed caterers worked quietly at the shiny black counters. The back half of
the condo held three large bedrooms and four bathrooms.

A group of guests sat in
comfortable couches and chairs watching a concert on a gigantic flat screen
television. Other guests filled plates from two banquet tables loaded with
delicacies—one was piled high with savory amuse-bouche. Another was filled with
miniature desserts. A bartender served drinks from a bar in the corner.

“Does Meg live here
alone?” I asked. Matt nodded.

“Matty, I’m so glad you
could come,” Meg walked up to us and took both of Matt’s hands in hers and
kissed his cheek. She was dressed just as elegantly as I’d expected she’d be.
She wore a strapless, black silk bustier with a slim black pencil skirt that
hit just below the knees. Teardrop emerald earrings were her only accessories. Her
heels were at least four inches and suddenly I felt like a pygmy standing
beside her and Matt. “How was your flight home?”

“It was delayed while they
waited for a flight from Colorado. I ended up sitting at the airport for about
four hours,” Matt said.

“I told you you should
just fly home on the same flight as me. I didn’t have any problems at all.”

“You were right. I should
have.”

“It was great to see your
family. I just love your mom.”

“She enjoyed seeing you,
as well. Your mom seemed happy.”

“She’s doing better now
that she’s adjusted to me moving to Portland. She still wonders why I didn’t
want to buy a condo in Arizona.” A waiter walked by with a tray of stuffed
mushrooms. “Oh Matt, you’ve got to come try this tofu tart. I told the caterer
to bring some of his best vegetarian dishes, just for you. I tried one a while
ago and it was delicieaux.” Was that French?

Meg linked her arm with
Matt’s and started to pull him toward the banquet tables. Matt put his arm
around my waist and we all moved together. “I hope you have some good things
that aren’t vegetarian. I’ve had to wave a white flag when it comes to
Elizabeth and vegetarian. I don’t think she’ll ever be converted.” Matt smiled
at me and Meg raised an eyebrow.

“Some people are very
attached to their meat,” Meg said. “I wish I had the willpower to be a
vegetarian but every time I’ve tried, I’ve ended up caving in.” She squeezed
Matt’s arm. “You’re one of the strong ones, Mattie.”

A woman in a catering uniform
had a question for Meg. Meg kept her hand on Matt’s arm but took a step away to
talk to the caterer and then turned back toward us. “I’ll catch up with you a
little later. I’ve got to take care of something.” After a few steps, she
turned back toward us. “Don’t forget to try that tofu tart.”

“I won’t,” Matt said.

We filled plates of food
and I followed Matt out onto the deck. The night was mild and radiant heaters
sat in several places on the deck. The traffic noise was far away and muted. A
sliver of moon reflected in the windows.

The food was superb and I
had to give Meg some culinary credit. Every bite was better than the last and I
wondered if I’d ever taste food this good again.

“I didn’t realize you two
knew each other before the bookstore,” I said.

“I’ve known Meg since we
were children. Our families go way back.”

“What brought her to
Portland?”

“That was my fault and I
don’t know if her mom will ever forgive me. Meg graduated two years ago from
Yale. After she graduated she moved back home. She and her mom had a difficult
time living together again and Meg couldn’t find a job. I guess romance
languages is like interior design when it comes to finding work.” I hardly
thought it fair to compare the practicality of romance languages with interior
design. In a better economy my degree would get me a job. What would someone
with a romance language degree do other than teach romance languages? “Anyway,
I was there for Thanksgiving two years ago and Meg came over. She was upset and
crying because she’d just had another row with her mother and she didn’t think
she could stand another day. I suggested she should come to Portland and work
for me.”

“And she took you up on
the offer.”

“She was here a week
later.”

“You must pay really
well,” I said looking around.

Matt laughed. “Meg’s
family is very wealthy. Last year, her grandfather died leaving her a large sum
of money. That’s when she bought this.”

“I’m surprised she wants
to work at all,” I said.

“I think she likes having
something to keep her busy.”

When we were through with
our food, Matt leaned back on his chaise and motioned for me to sit beside him.
He put his arm around me and I rested my head against his shoulder. The hum of
the heaters was all I could hear until a car horn honked somewhere far below
us. “What do you hope the new year holds for you?” he asked.

I wanted to say falling in
love with you and becoming Mrs. Dawson, but I didn’t. “I hope this is my year
to leave the bank behind and start using my degree.”

“Well, your friend has
given you a little boost,” he said and I ignored the way he emphasized the word
friend.

“I hope that’s just the
start,” I said. “Where do you think this year will take you?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot
about that and I have some ideas.”

“Are you going to share
any of those ideas?” I asked. I hoped he’d say something about us.

“A friend of mine lives in
Seattle and he’s approached me about becoming a partner in another Pink
Salamander up there. I’d put in some of the money and the name and then he’d
run it.”

“Would it be pink, too?” I
asked.

“I don’t know. I talked
about making it a different color. Maybe purple or yellow.”

“What if you expand all
over the country and run out of colors?”

“I suppose that would be a
good problem to have. But right now we’re just talking Seattle. What color
would you choose?”

“Hmm. Maybe orange.
Something as bright and eye-catching as pink. Would you put it in an old
Victorian?”

“Yes. Alan has already
found a place he likes. He wants me to come up and see it. I was thinking of
taking a day trip up there sometime in January.”

“Where are you planning to
go in January?” Matt and I both jumped. Apparently Meg had beamed herself out to
the deck. “Sorry. I guess you didn’t hear me.” She sat down in a chair across
from us and crossed her long legs.

“I was just telling
Elizabeth about Alan and a possible Pink Salamander in Seattle.”

“You mean the Purple
Salamander, right?” Meg asked. She clearly knew about these developments
already.

“Meg wants purple.”

“I just think it’s the
logical choice. Pink. Purple. They just belong together.”

“That decision hasn’t been
made yet,” Matt said. “In fact, none of it has. I need to see the place before
I decide if I want to move forward. I was just about to ask Elizabeth if she
wanted to take a road trip to Seattle.”

A look of disdain passed
over Meg’s face. It only lasted a moment before she smiled at me. “That would
be fun to have you come along. It’ll be nice to get to know you better,” she said.

“Sounds fun,” I said even
though my interest in the trip had plummeted when I found out Meg was going.

“Listen,” Meg said,
standing. “I came out to find you because Toren put together a video of the
best and worst and funniest of last year. If we start it right away, it’ll end
just before the clock strikes midnight. You should come in and watch it.”

I moved to get up but Matt
tightened his arm around my shoulder. “We’ll be right in. Go ahead and start
it,” he said.

Meg looked reluctant to
leave. “All righty. But don’t be too long.”

When she’d gone inside,
Matt sighed. “I’m sorry. That invitation didn’t go exactly the way I wanted.”

“It’s fine,” I said even
though traveling with Meg sounded dreadful.

“I’d really like you to
come.” he said.

The chance to spend time
with Matt was worth having to deal with Meg. “It sounds fun,” I said.

“Good.” Matt tilted my
face toward his and kissed me, softly at first and then more intensely.

A knock on the window interrupted
our kiss. We turned to see Meg motioning for us to come inside.

“To be continued when the
clock strikes twelve,” Matt said before he took my hand and we walked inside.

“YOU MUST BE
Lizzie.
Please come in.”

Mrs. Keller reminded me of
a bird—full-figured and round on top with long, thin legs. My first thought was
that her fashionable brown pantsuit must have been a mix-and-match affair since
the top was probably a size 14 and the legs looked like size 6. She smiled and
I knew immediately where Chad’s smile came from. Her smooth, shoulder-length
bob was a combination of Chad’s coppery blond and gray. “Let me show you the
rooms and we can sit in there and talk.”

Mrs. Keller led me through
the entry and into a large living room that looked like two cabbage roses had
married and given birth to a million baby cabbage roses. Everything around me
was flowery, whitewashed, and artfully distressed.

“I didn’t realize that
fifteen years later I’d be embarrassed to show this masterpiece to a designer,”
Mrs. Keller said.

“Nothing to be embarrassed
about. This is a great room. I love the fireplace and the windows.”

“In my defense, shabby chic
was very popular when we had this room redone. Dave told me it was too feminine
but I ignored him. I don’t think he’s done more than walk through this room
since we had it decorated. He hates it. And then there’s the dining room.”

She pointed at a room
through a large archway. An ornate whitewashed table and chairs sat under a
dripping white chandelier. The cabbage roses had continued their assault in
here with three walls being covered with rose-laden wallpaper. A matching
whitewashed hutch overflowing with silk greenery stood against the wall. Open
French doors led into the kitchen and closed French doors led onto a deck in
the back yard. Cabbage rose bark cloth panels hung on both sides of the
exterior French doors.

“Do you mind if we sit at
the table and talk for a few minutes? I’d like to get some ideas of what you’re
hoping for.” We sat down and I pulled out a notebook.

“I want something simple,
not so busy. I thought this was so cozy at first but after fifteen years of it,
I can’t sit in these rooms without getting claustrophobic. It needs to be calmer
and less cluttered. And Dave says no more whitewashed wood and definitely no more
pink.”

“There’s no television in
here. Is that how you want it?”

“Yes, this room will be
for visiting with company and relaxing. Maybe listening to music and reading.
We have a family room with a large television. I want this to be an escape from
all that.”

“Do you have anything you
want to keep in these rooms?”

“Nothing. I want to get
rid of this pale carpeting, too. Everything needs to go. Oh, except the plates
on the top shelf of the hutch. I want to keep those.”