A Slow Boil (10 page)

“Miss Lane, dinner is ready.”

“Oh, sorry.  I lost track of the time.  What are we
having?”

“Chinese.”

“Yum.”

I followed him downstairs.  Instead of entering the dining
room through the kitchen, he led me into the living room and through the door
that he always used.  He’d set two places at the table, his usual one at
the head and another just to his left.  He pulled my chair out for me, sat
down next to me and gestured at the various take-out containers on the table.

“This one’s Kung
Pao
chicken, that’s
Szechuan beef, there’s egg rolls, rice, and a side of vegetables.  I
didn’t know how spicy you like your food, so everything’s two stars.”

“I love spicy.  The hotter the better.  The only thing
is I don’t eat meat.”

“You don’t eat meat?  I had no idea.  What have you been
having for dinner here every night?”

“An extra serving of whatever side dish and vegetable I made that
night.”

“I wish I’d known.  I wanted you to enjoy your first regular
dinner here.”

“This is perfect,” I reassured him, dishing some of the vegetables
onto my plate. “I love mushrooms.”

He helped himself to the other dishes, clearly leaving the vegetables
for me, and we ate together in silence for a few minutes.  It didn’t
surprise me at all that he could handle chopsticks like a pro.

“Tell me, Miss Lane.  How are you able to cook a flawless
steak when you don’t eat meat yourself?”

“I grew up cooking for my dad.  He’s a meat and potatoes kind
of guy.”

“You’ve mentioned him a couple of times.  But not your
mother.”  He spoke quietly, as if knowing this might be a sensitive issue.

“She left us when I was two.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  We’re still in touch.  She just wasn’t cut
out to be a wife and mother.  We have more of a friendship than a
mother-daughter kind of thing.”

“I see.”

“What about you, Mr. Hunter?  Any family?”

“I'm the oldest of three brothers.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.  I can’t even imagine what that would be
like.”

“It was noisy.  Our house was total chaos growing up.  I
guess that’s why I like my peace and quiet so much as an adult.”

“Yeah, that would explain it.  That would also explain all
the photos in your bedroom.”

“You noticed those?”

“Well, I have to dust them, don’t I?”

“I suppose you do.”

“Are you close with your brothers?”

“Relatively.  No pun intended.  We’re all quite some
distance from each other now, but they’re coming to visit in July.”

“Oh good.  I’m looking forward to meeting them.”

“Hold that thought.  They’re bringing their wives and
children.  Things get very turned upside-down around here.”  He put
down his chopsticks and started to get up.  “I forgot to offer you a
drink.  What you would like?”

“This is weird.  Are you going to be waiting on me on the
weekends?”

“No.  Yes.  I don’t know.  We’ll take turns, maybe,
on meals we have together?”

“Okay.  I’ll have whatever you're having.”

He moved over to the liquor cabinet and returned shortly with two
martinis.  We finished the rest of our dinner and I started to gather up
the dishes.

“Uh-uh.”  He took the plates out of my hands.  “Not
tonight.  You can carry in the left-overs, though.”

We put things away in the kitchen and after the dishwasher was started,
Mr. Hunter asked me if I was going out for the evening.

“I don’t think so.  Britt invited me to a movie, but I’d
rather go tomorrow.”

“Well, when you do decide to go, I’ve got one more thing to show
you.”

“What’s that?”

“Follow me.”  He started toward the garage.  There he
gestured to a bicycle I hadn’t noticed when we’d driven in.  “I thought
this would come in handy.”

“You got me a bike?”

“I don’t want you to feel stuck out here.  This will get you
into town in no time.”

I went to examine it more closely.  It looked brand
new.  And expensive.

“Mr. Hunter, I can’t accept this!”

“Of course you can.”

“But it’s too much!”

“Not if it helps you get around, it isn’t.”

“But I don’t mind walking.  I’m used to it.”

“I know you are.  But you know how I am about your
safety.  I don’t like to think of you going everywhere on foot.  It
was either this or a moped, and I knew you wouldn’t accept that. 
So.  Any more inquisitive buts that need addressing?”

I turned back to face him, ready to keep arguing my case but he
had such an amused look on his face that I closed my mouth and just put my
hands on my hips in frustration. He was enjoying this far too much.

“You’ll still need a lock and a helmet if you want one.  If
it makes you feel better, I’ll let you get those things yourself.”

I stood there for a second and then impulsively reached up to hug
him.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he whispered back, putting his arms around
me.  He held me longer than the moment required, the arm he had around my
waist pulling me tightly against him.  He felt so strong, so warm, and he
smelled so good up close, not like cologne or soap, just like 'man.'  His
other arm was across the top of my back, and I felt him gently finger the ends
of my hair.  I could have stayed in that hug forever, but eventually he
gave me a quick final squeeze and let me go.

I pedaled my new bike into town around eleven the next
morning.  Britt and I were meeting at noon for lunch and then a movie, and
I wanted a few extra minutes to stop at a hardware store and get a lock and
chain.  What would have been a thirty minute walk was now a five minute
ride.  I picked out the most expensive lock I could find; no way was I
allowing my new baby to get stolen.  I loved it already.

“Nice wheels!”  Britt exclaimed as I pulled up to meet her
outside the pizzeria.

“I know, right?  Mr. Hunter gave it to me last night.”

“Jesus.  Where can I get a sugar daddy?”

Britt could always make me laugh out loud.  We’d met in a
class last fall when I overheard her mutter something sarcastic about the
syllabus that had just been handed around.  I muttered something back and
before we knew it, we were both giggling hysterically.  The professor
glared at us for the rest of the day but it was too late.  We’d become
best friends almost immediately.

I tried to sound professorial myself as I answered, “Miss
Sheridan, a sugar daddy, as you know, is a degenerate fellow who gives
trinkets,
geegaws
, and other useless things to a
woman of low substance in exchange for sexual favors.  What we have here,
on the other hand, is a fine, upstanding gentleman showing consideration for
the fact that his employee, a fine, upstanding gentlewoman in her own right,
might find the occasional use of bipedal transportation to be to her
advantage.”

“Ooh, well-said.  Still.  I’d let someone feel me up for
a bike like that.”

I laughed again, locked up my bike and we went inside to
eat.  She asked me about my first night at Mr. Hunter's and I told her
about the new furniture in my room.  We went back and forth for a while
about various things until we were almost done with our pizza.

“I really do wish I could come up with some way to pay Mr. Hunter
back for everything he’s doing for me this summer.”

“What do you mean?  You said he wouldn’t take any money from
you.”

“He won’t.  But I was lying in bed last night trying to fall
asleep and all I could think of was, here I am in this gorgeous house with my
own room, my own bathroom, the use of the library.  He offered to have a
TV installed in my room.  He gave me a brand new bike.  And on top of
everything else, he pays me way too much.  I just wish I could even things
out a little bit, but apart from cleaning extra thoroughly, I can’t think of
anything else to show my appreciation.”

“You’ve known him for what, a couple of weeks now?”

I nodded, sipping on my soda.

“Do you know any of his likes and dislikes?”

“He likes silence.  I could take up mime.”

She laughed.  “I’d love to see that and I bet he would
too.  But what else?”

“Um, he likes art.”

“Can you draw?”

“Yes.  Like a child.  He could put it on the fridge.”

“Okay, what else then, smart ass?”

“Umm,” I took a deep breath and tilted my head up to the ceiling,
trying to remember any of the conversations I’d had with Mr. Hunter when he’d
said anything about what he likes, apart from being waited on and obeyed, of
course.

“He’s complimented my cooking several times, and in a genuine way,
not just being polite.”

“There you go, you can up your cooking.”

“I’m going to have to.  I’ve already made him most of the
fancier dishes I know.  From here on out, all I’ve got is stuff like chili
and burgers, fried chicken, tacos, the things my dad likes.”

“You could go online and find recipes, or check out the library
for cookbooks.”

“Yeah, I guess I could. In fact, I will.  Good idea, Britt.”

“You know what they say, the way to a man’s heart is through his
stomach.”

“I’m not aiming for his heart.” I made eye contact so she’d know
my sincerity.  “I’m aiming for his stomach and that’s it.”

Britt laughed off my seriousness.  “If you feed him well
enough, it’s the same thing.”

The movie got out around three-thirty.  Britt and I spent
another hour window shopping on Front Street, and then we parted ways for the
day after she made me promise to have her out some morning this week to see the
house.  I got on my bike and pedaled to
Southbay’s
. 
Even though Mr. Hunter and I hadn’t discussed our dinner plans this morning
when we had our coffee, I thought I would get myself something to fix just in
case he wasn’t going to be home or didn’t provide another night of take-out.

I took my time walking through all the aisles, imagining that this
was my pantry and these were my ingredients, trying to scout out things I’d
never used before, getting ideas for dishes I’d never tried, wishing someone
could helpfully tell me what to do with chipotles in adobo sauce or
peperonici
.  Finally, I headed to the produce section,
where I tossed a head of lettuce and some other vegetables in my basket,
figuring a salad would do for tonight, paid for everything myself, and biked
back home.

Mr. Hunter’s car was in the garage so I entered the kitchen
quietly.  I left my bag of groceries on the island and tiptoed up to my
room.  The house was silent but I had no idea if he was working or
not.  It was only a little after five, so I washed up a bit, then decided
to send my dad a quick email, updating him on my summer plans.  I kept the
email fairly brief, just assuring him that I’d finished the term, gotten a
great job and found a nice place to live, had seen a movie with Britt that
afternoon, and was doing well.

At quarter to six I went downstairs to make my salad.  There
was still no sight or sound of Mr. Hunter.  I took my finished salad into
the dining room and was just about to start without him when he came through
the door.

“Ah, Miss Lane, good.  You didn't wait for me.”

“I didn’t know if I should or not.”

“No, you never need to.  You’re having a salad then?”

“Yep.”

“Just give me a minute to mike the left-over Chinese and I’ll join
you.”

I waited until he returned with a hot plate he was having trouble
holding on to.

“I always leave it in too long,” he explained, sitting down in his
usual seat.

“I’ll make the drinks tonight if you want one.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Help yourself, though.”

I declined as well, and we set into our dinners.

“How did the bike work out today?”

“Oh, it’s great.  I love it.  I really love it.”

“Good.”

“It only takes me five minutes to get to town now.  I was
thinking that if I got a basket for it, I could still do the shopping every
day.  That way I can get you the freshest things.”

“I guess that would work.  But what if it’s raining and we’re
out of food?”

“Then we starve to death,” I answered in my best
horror-movie-narrator voice.

“Or one of us eats the other.”

“Gross.”

“Oh, I don't know.  I bet you taste pretty good.”

I choked on a piece of lettuce and could feel a furious blush
rising to my face.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Mr. Hunter, you like to tease me.”

“I can’t help myself if you set me up like that.”

“You should show more respect for my delicate nature.”

“You’re a confessed cake murderer.”

“That was an accident.  It was
cakeslaughter
.”

“Still, a violent crime.”

“I was under duress.  Exhaustion, remember?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “I guess you were.  All right, I’ll let
you off the hook for that one.”  He was smiling at me the way that made
his eyes crinkle in the corners, the way that lit up his face.

We finished our dinners and carried our plates into the
kitchen.  He loaded the dishwasher and I set up the coffee.

“Do you want to watch some TV with me?  I think I’m done
working for the day.”

“Sure, that sounds good.”

We went into the living room and agreed on a PBS documentary.

“It looks like we have similar tastes in TV programs, Mr. Hunter,”
I said, sitting down a respectful distance from him on the couch.

“Just tell me you don’t watch any of those awful reality shows.”

“God, no.”

“Good, then we’ll get along fine.”

The program eventually ended, and Mr. Hunter said he was done for
the night.  I agreed and followed him upstairs.  We said goodnight to
each other and I entered my room. I wasn’t quite done for the night, though,
and booted up my laptop to search for recipes.

A couple of hours later I’d bookmarked enough pages to get me
through the rest of the week, tending to like the online chefs who kept things
simple, but also adding a few who used more advanced techniques and exotic
ingredients.  Satisfied, I tiptoed across the hall to use the bathroom,
noting that the light was out in Mr. Hunter’s room.  Thinking of him
asleep so close to me was going to take some getting used to.  I brushed
my teeth and did my other night time bathroom stuff as quietly as possible.

Monday morning Mr. Hunter was already in the kitchen when I came
down around eight-thirty for some coffee. We exchanged good mornings and I
started making some toast and helped myself to a banana.

“I’m going to bike to
Southbay’s
this
morning before it gets too hot.  Do you need anything while I'm there?”

“That’s kind of you to ask, Miss Lane, but no, I don’t think so.”

“I’m going to do a few other errands while I’m in town, so if
there’s anywhere else I can go for you, I’d be happy to do so.”

“Now Miss Lane, I’m not going to allow you to sneak in extra work
as my personal courier.”

“I’m hardly being sneaky by asking outright, am I, Mr.
Hunter?  Polite is the word you’re looking for, I think.”

I was rewarded with one of his crinkly smiles.  “I’d never
say otherwise. You’d very politely like me to increase your hours, of that I
have no doubt.”  He looked at me for a moment, as if weighing an
idea.  “Actually, Miss Lane, there is something you can do for me in
town.  A book I’ve ordered at Harland’s has come in.  Would you mind
stopping by and picking it up?  That would save me a trip in to town
today.”

“Of course not, I’d be happy to.”

“Thank you.  I’ll call and let them know they can give it to
you.”  He picked up his coffee cup and plate and carried them to the
sink.  “Today is what, dusting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good.”  He turned to go.  “I’ve got quite a bit of
work today, so I may not see you until dinner.”

“All right.  See you then.”

He nodded and left.  I spent the next hour finalizing my
grocery list and then headed to town.  I did my errands first, stopping by
the bank to deposit my pay, and then the drug store where I got my monthly
birth control, more shampoo, and on impulse, some new mascara.  When I
arrived at Harland’s, I told the woman behind the counter that I was picking up
a book for Mr. Hunter.

“Ah, yes,” she said with a big smile. “He called not long ago and
said you’d be stopping by."  She handed me a book that was already
bagged, and then held out a small envelope.  “He said to give you
this.”  I frowned in confusion, opening the envelope to find a twenty-five
dollar gift card.  “He said you were to get yourself something as well.”

“He didn’t!”

“Is that a problem?”

“Can you put this back on his account?”  I tried giving it
back to her but she shook her head and held her hands out, palms forward. 
“I’m sorry, it’s non-refundable.”

I sighed in exasperation.  I couldn’t even run a simple
errand for Mr. Hunter without him doing something generous in return.

“Fine.  Thank you.”  I gave the saleswoman a quick smile
of apology for my ungrateful response and turned to look at the store.  I
tried to think of a book to get Mr. Hunter, but considering the size of his
library I’d probably end up duplicating something he already had.  Maybe a
self-help book, I thought as I started to wander through the shelves. 
“How to Stop
Being
so Generous and Let Others Do
Things for You,” would get the message across.  Eventually I stumbled into
the cookbook section, and realized that was perfect.  If I spent on the
card on a cookbook for myself, he’d just have to accept it, even if he’d be the
ultimate beneficiary.  I browsed for a while, finally settling on one that
looked just right.  I paid for it with the gift card and a few dollars
from my purse, and then headed to
Southbay’s
.

I’d decided to make another fish dinner for tonight because they
were quick and I honestly didn’t know if I was ever going to get faster at
dusting.  I was going to try a balsamic vinegar reduction and was happy to
see some Alaskan salmon in the fish section.  I asked Pete to wrap me a
one-pound filet, then went and hunted down the rest of what I needed.  I
was getting hungry by the time I’d finished, so I decided to eat in town, grabbing
a veggie pita and iced tea at one of my favorite sandwich shops, which was
oddly deserted for the lunch hour until I realized that most of the university
students had left by now.  I kind of liked having the place to myself, I
thought, as I leafed through my new cookbook.  I could actually hear
myself think for once.