My Own Mr. Darcy (22 page)

“Nice to meet you,” I
said, putting out my hand. Alan’s handshake was limp and soft and seemed
unrelated to his boisterous carriage and loud voice.

“You too. You too.” He
barely looked at me before he turned his attention back to Meg. Of course I
didn’t mind the lack of attention from Alan, but suddenly I felt very young and
plain in my dress and cardigan and flats. I was a mouseketeer next to Audrey
Hepburn.

A hostess showed us to our
crystal and silver-laden table with a card that said “Dawson Party” in delicate
calligraphy. Three small bouquets of roses and sparkling votive candles adorned
the center of the table.

The meal that followed was
like the Olympics of fine dining—nine courses of impeccable food, each course
better than the last. We had oyster and cucumber soup, olive-oil poached lamb,
lemongrass sockeye, and figs with truffled cheese. When the waiter brought us
each a trio of desserts, I gave Matt my blackberry rose geranium ice cream and
he gave me his hazelnut cheesecake tart.

Alan had a sarcastic and
irreverent sense of humor. Some of his jokes made me uncomfortable but I was
glad he kept the conversation lively and Meg occupied. Matt was sweeter than
he’d ever been. He ate the food without any complaints and made sure I was
included in the conversation even when the subject turned to opening the new
bookstore.

We had finished dessert
when the waiter brought out “an assortment of small treats.”

“More dessert?” I said. “I
don’t know if I can eat another thing.”

“Could you wrap this to
go?” Matt asked the waiter.

“Certainly.”

“Mine, too,” Meg said.

“Why don’t you just wrap
them all,” Alan said and the waiter took the tray away.

“They could have skipped
that. I’d have been happy with eight courses,” Alan said.

“But that extra tray of
treats lets them charge $150 per person,” Meg said.

I nearly choked on my
water and turned to Matt who was smiling at me. “Don’t look so shocked.” He
laughed and kissed my cheek. When the waiter returned with four boxes wrapped
in silver ribbon, we left.

“I’ll drive Meg back,”
Alan said. “and let you two be alone.” He lifted his eyebrows suggestively and
I felt my cheeks burn. Meg, who’d been flirting all evening with Alan, shot me
a dirty look.

“We should walk around the
gardens before we leave,” Matt said.

“Ugh, I’m not in the right
shoes for traipsing through gardens,” Meg said. “I guess I should have brought
walking shoes.”

“Oh no, Babe, you
definitely wore the right shoes.” Alan looked at Meg’s five-inch heels and her mile-long
legs. “Let’s leave the gardens to them,” he said to Meg and winked at Matt. Meg
looked like she was going to explode, but she smiled at Alan and took his arm.

“See you later,” she said
in a syrupy voice.

A wide stone path led away
from the gentle piano music of the restaurant. Soft lights lit the flowerbeds
and herb gardens. A bubbling fountain at the end of the trail was surrounded with
benches and flowerpots. Twinkling stars dangled from the indigo sky.

“Are you cold?” Matt
asked.

“A little, but I don’t
mind,” I said. “It’s so beautiful here.”

“Let’s
sit down for a few minutes.” Matt guided me to a bench by the fountain. The
lights from the restaurant glowed in the distance. He put his arm around me and
his fingers traced circles up and down my arm.

“I’ve never had a dinner
like that,” I said. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad you liked it.”

“Sorry they didn’t have
your kind of food.”

Matt laughed. “I liked the
food just fine.”

I leaned against Matt’s
shoulder and he rested his cheek on my hair.

“This place is like a
dream,” I said.

“Or a fairytale,” Matt
said.

Actually, it was more like
Jane Austen’s England, I thought. I didn’t want to leave. I’d never felt so
close to my dream. Matt had never behaved more like Mr. Darcy, and even Meg and
Alan could be tolerated when I thought of them as Caroline Bingley and Mr.
Wickham.

The drive back to the
hotel was lovely. Twinkling lights reflected in the water as we crossed the
long bridge back into Seattle. Matt’s hand was warm holding mine. I was happy
I’d come.

“Seattle’s a great place,”
Matt said.

“Do you come here very
often?” I asked.

“I’ve come several times
since Alan moved here. There’s so much to do here and so many interesting
people.”

“Do you wish you’d have
moved to Seattle instead of Portland?”

“There was a time I
thought I might have liked Seattle better.” Matt pulled my hand to his lips and
kissed my fingers. “But not anymore.”

I sighed.

I DROPPED MY
overnight bag
beside the couch and sank into the soft cushions. With as little movement as
possible, I kicked off my shoes and burrowed my toes into the thick area rug.

It had been a very long
day. After breakfast we’d met a realtor who took us to see the house Alan had
found. It was an old Victorian in West Seattle. It was larger than The Pink
Salamander in Portland and had twice as much gingerbread detail, but the front
porch was smaller and the inside had been renovated and modernized.

After we looked at the
first house, the realtor took us to three others she thought might be a good
fit. In the end, Matt and Alan decided on the first house, so we returned to
look it over again. The realtor drew up an offer and told us she’d call as soon
as she heard from the seller.

We went to a deli a few
blocks from the house and ate sandwiches while Matt, Alan, and Meg made plans.

“Are we all happy with
this one?” Matt asked.

“It was my first choice,”
Alan said.

“I really liked the third
one, but I know it was a little small,” Meg said. I was surprised how
opinionated she was about Matt and Alan’s business. “Now, about the color.” She
gave me a warning look. “I don’t want to go with something wild or garish. Absolutely
no orange or red.” I almost laughed. Because purple and pink were so sedate.

“I’ve been thinking about
that,” Matt said. “I think we should stick with pink. Just keep them the same.”

“I love the idea of
purple,” Meg said. “And we’d go more lavender so it wouldn’t be too much.”

“I just don’t think The
Purple Salamander sounds good and if we stick with pink, we’ll have continuity.
It will be better for branding,” Matt said.

“I think he’s right,” Alan
said. “It makes sense to keep them the same. Hey now. Don’t go pouting.” He
laughed and patted Meg’s arm.

“Just remember, I’m
putting in just as much money as you two. You can overrule me on the color but
if you two start voting together on everything, I don’t want to be your
partner.” Now I understood why she was so opinionated. The three of them were
partners. It suddenly felt wrong for me to be sitting in on these discussions.
I had nothing at stake and no good reason to give an opinion. And no one asked
for one.

When the meeting had gone
on for nearly two hours, Matt turned to me with a look of surprise. “I’m sorry.
I’ll bet this has been awful for you.”

I smiled weakly. “It’s
fine. There’s a lot for you to work out.”

“You’re a good sport,”
Matt said. He rubbed my back as he talked to Alan and Meg. “I think we can take
care of any other details over the phone.”

“And if we get the house,
you’re coming up again next weekend, right?”

“Right. I’m sure I’ll be
up here plenty. We’d better head home.”

We said our goodbyes and
soon we were southbound for Portland. Meg steered the conversation to the
bookstore most of the way home. I was tired and had no part in the conversation,
but I didn’t dare fall asleep and risk becoming the topic of their conversation
again.

It
was good to be home. Except for the lovely few dinner hours, it had been a
pretty uncomfortable trip. I loved my cozy couch and relished the sound of
quiet—no shop talk, no icky Alan jokes and no Meg.

I had just closed my eyes
when someone knocked on the door. I groaned and pulled myself up to answer it.

“Miss me yet?” Matt asked.

“What are you doing?”

“You forgot your ‘assortment
of small treats,’” Matt said mimicking the waiter’s tone. He handed me the pretty
box of little candies and cookies from The Herbgarden.

“Thanks, Matt. That was so
sweet of you,” I said.

“Meg said I should just
wait and give them to you tomorrow, but I thought you might want them before
then.”

I glanced at Matt’s car
sitting at the curb. Meg had moved to the front seat. I resisted the little tug
of annoyance that I’d been dropped off before Meg.

“I think I’ll have one
right now. Thank you for running them back.” Matt gave me a quick peck on the cheek
and hurried back to the car. I waited at the door until he was gone and then
snuggled back into the couch to wait up for Janessa.

“Hey, welcome home.”
Janessa gently shook my shoulder.

“It’s good to be home,” I
said, stretching and shaking off the grogginess. “What time is it?”

“It’s a little after
eleven.”

“Wow, I slept for three
hours?”

“You should have just gone
in to bed.”

“No way. I was waiting up
for you. I wanted to share my assortment of little treats with you.”

“What are you talking
about?” I tucked my feet up under me and Janessa sat down.

“We went to this insane
restaurant last night. It was nine courses of the best food I’ve ever tasted.
This was the last course.”

“Looks impressive.”

“It was.” I picked up the
box and untied the silver ribbon with a flourish. Janessa leaned over to look
inside at the display of little truffles and cookies and cinnamon sticks.

“This is fantastic!”
Janessa pulled out a chocolate truffle with little sprinkles.

“This was mine. We all got
a little box like this.”

“Mmm, this is good,”
Janessa said.

I pulled out a little
macaroon with chocolate drizzles and popped it in my mouth. “You should have
seen this place. It looked like a cottage with English gardens surrounding it.
I wish you’d have been there.”

“Maybe we’ll have to take
our own road trip sometime,” she said.

“Only if someone else is
paying. It was $150 per person.”

“So I just ate a $10
truffle.”

I laughed. Then I
surprised Janessa and myself by reaching over and hugging her.

“What was that for?”

“I missed you this
weekend. And I’m so glad you’re normal.”

“Hmm. Thank you?”

“That came out wrong. I’m
glad you’re not fancy.”

“And it just keeps getting
better.”

I pushed the box toward
her and we each picked another treat. “I’m going to quit talking but I promise
I mean all of this as a compliment.”

“I know you do. I’m glad
you’re not fancy either.”

We finished the treats
while I told Janessa about the trip. An hour later I went to bed with a sick
stomach. The treats had been a little too rich.

“You’re going to do what?”
Matt asked. He didn’t sound happy.

“I’m going to use my
vacation to do the remodel job.”

“I thought you were going
to fit that in during the evening and on weekends. It seems like you’re going
above and beyond if you’re using your vacation time as a favor to these
people.”

“Matt, this isn’t a favor
to them. This is a job for me. A job doing what I want to be doing. They don’t
live close enough for me to go work during lunch and every night this week I’ve
been placing orders and shopping. I’m going to need time to do actual work at
the house.” Matt shook his head. “I don’t want this job to drag on forever.
They’re without part of their house while I do this.”

“I thought they were okay
with you taking longer than usual, since you have a full-time job.”

“They are. It’s me. I’m
excited to do it and I don’t want to stretch it out so long. I’ll get more out
of it if I do it like it’s a real job. This is what I hope to do someday.”

Matt was quiet for a long
time. I ate my salad and worked on a list of tasks.

“So when are you taking
this
vacation
?” He said vacation like it was a curse word.

“I’m going to make
appointments and purchases during the next two weeks. The Kellers are going to
Hawaii for two weeks so I’m taking my vacation the same time they take theirs
and I’ll get as much done as I can while they’re gone. I have eight days of
vacation. I have a pretty good timeline set up and if everything goes according
to plan, the job will be finished when they get home.”

Matt’s expression was hard
to read. His face was serious, his jaw clenched.

“Why is this bothering you
so much?” I asked.

“I’m not bothered. I just
don’t understand why you’d use vacation time for a job. Let’s not talk about
this anymore.”

And with that Matt quit
talking completely. He ate his sandwich and flipped through a stack of papers
on his desk. It was like I wasn’t in the room.