Breaking Josephine (10 page)

“Macy!” I hissed
through clenched teeth, “Keep your voice down, please!”

“What? You should
be proud of yourself!” When she saw I was still glaring at her and about to run
for the exit, she grabbed my arm. “Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet. But seriously,
Jo, it sounds like things are going great and I’m super happy for you. Now
let’s find you something amazing to wear. Who knows what he’ll do if he sees
you actually dressed up and making an effort!”

I jabbed her in
the ribs and we laughed, turning back to the clothes and looking for the
perfect dress. I picked an emerald green lace sheath dress with nude lining and
a pair of brown cork wedges. I figured I could wear the shoes with pretty much
anything I owned and the dress was versatile enough to wear day or night. Macy
dropped me off at my apartment and wished me luck. “You have to let me know ALL
the details on Friday at work!” she exclaimed.

I laughed and got
out of her car, saying, “We’ll see Macy. I can’t guarantee I won’t keep at
least a few things to myself!” I shut her car door and Macy drove off as I
walked around the stone walkway to my apartment in the rear of the house. As I
fit my key into the lock, I looked down and saw a small package sitting on my
front door mat. I picked it up and brought it in the house. Setting my shopping
bag on the kitchen table, I opened the package and pulled out a lovely folded
piece of pale blue note paper, textured and substantial in my hands. I opened
it and saw an H for Hartley emblazoned across the top in a dark navy script
with a note written beneath it in a commanding style that could only be Dex’s.

Jo,

I’ve been thinking about you ever since I left
you curled in your bed Sunday morning. Think of this as a pre-date present. I’ll
see you tomorrow at 8.

Dex

I looked in the
box and pulled out a beautiful Tahitian pearl necklace. The pearls were small,
but perfectly round, and had a beautiful sheen that changed from gray to blue
to green in the shifting light. I went into the bathroom and put them on,
looking at myself in the mirror. They were beautiful and only enhanced my pale
skin. I was shocked at Dex’s generosity and a bit taken aback. But I tried to
let it go, smiling in giddy anticipation of our date the following night.

I
raced home after work Thursday to prepare for my date with Dex. Thankfully Macy
had forced me to do the entire spa experience with her for the social last
Saturday, so I didn’t need to waste time shaving my freshly waxed skin. I took
a shower, blew out my hair and put it in large velcro rollers. I painted my
nails a dark, metallic grey that matched the pearl necklace and after my nails
dried and my hair set, I took my hair out of the rollers, letting soft curls
fall around my shoulders. Then I put on my makeup—nothing too daring,
just eyeliner, dark brown shadow, and mascara. Despite trying lipstick
repeatedly as a teenager, sneaking it into the bathroom at Overton, I never
liked it, finding it too thick and artificial. Besides, my lips were naturally
very pink and I’d been asked many times over the years what lipstick I wore and
was met with more than one raised eyebrow when I said none.

I pulled the new
green dress on and zipped up the back, slipped my new shoes on, buckled the
straps, and assessed my work in the bathroom mirror. I looked put together,
polished, and lovely. I put the pearls on and held a hand to my throat, amazed
again at Dex’s generosity and how lovely the pearls looked against my skin and
the bright green lace.

A knock at the
door startled me and I jumped, looking at the clock and realizing it was 8:00. I
walked toward the door and opened it, finding Dex standing in front of me. He
was wearing dark rinsed jeans and an untucked button-up shirt with the sleeves
rolled up his forearm, exposing his suntanned skin. He held car keys in one
hand and a handful of calla lilies in the other.

He smiled and
handed me the flowers, “For you, to brighten your already cheery apartment.”

“Thank you,” I
replied as I let him in and went to the kitchen to put the flowers in water. I
pulled the only vase I had out of the cabinet, filled it with water and placed
the lilies inside. I put them on the kitchen table and turned to Dex. My
nervousness made my hands shake and I pressed them to my dress, smoothing out
imaginary wrinkles so my shaking wouldn’t show.

“Do you like
them?” he asked.

“The flowers?” I
said, looking up. “Oh, yes, I’m sorry, they’re beautiful.”

“No, Jo,” he said,
laughing slightly. “The pearls, do you like them? They look even more lovely on
you than I imagined.”

“Oh, yes,” I
answered, “I mean, wow, Dex I can’t thank you enough. And I really don’t
deserve them. I’ve never gotten anything this nice from anyone before and I …
and … well, thank you.” I felt ridiculous for stammering and falling all over
myself. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten to thank him when he walked in. I
reflexively brought my hand up to my neck, rolling the pearls between my
fingers.

“You’re welcome. You’ve
never been given anything this nice before? Really, no pearl necklaces? No
family heirlooms handed down?”

I frowned,
responding, “No, my mom and I didn’t have much apart from each other, and when
she died, I didn’t inherit anything of value. I have a few photos, but no jewelry,
nothing like this. I’ve never even seen pearls like this in person before, I
mean, they are just beautiful. They’re from Tahiti, right? I’ve seen pictures
in magazines—it’s a place I’ve always wanted to go, but I’ve only ever
dreamt about it.”

“Yes, they’re
Tahitian.” Dex smiled and his face lit up. “I’m glad to be the first to give
you something that only enhances your natural beauty. Come, let’s go.”

I let him lead me
outside, happy and excited to be with Dex and actually have a chance to get to
know him and enjoy his company. We walked toward a sleek, elegant sports car parked
on the curb. It’s metallic smoky gray exterior ended in a rounded back, and the
yellow and black prancing horse shield on the side told me immediately it was a
Ferrari. With Dex’s hand lightly resting on the small of my back, he guided me
towards the car. He opened the passenger door and I stepped in, enveloped in
rich charcoal grey leather. I leaned back into the seat and noticed even the
interior roof was upholstered, not in standard car carpeting, but in rich, diamond
quilted leather. Dex slid into the driver’s seat and before I knew it we took
off, my head pressed into the seat as if inside an airplane taking flight.

We pulled up
outside Hartley Manor minutes later. I looked at him, confused. He was taking
me on a date to his house? It made no sense. Even after letting him undress me
and do amazing things to me on Sunday, I didn’t think that automatically
signaled I’d just jump into bed with him without at least a bit of effort on
his part.

“We’re having a
date at your house? That’s a little presumptuous isn’t it?” I said, my eyebrows
raised.

“Where else can I
cook you dinner? I don’t own a restaurant. Not one in Cannon Beach anyway.” He
smiled and got out of the car. He’s cooking me dinner? I thought to myself. Dex
Hartley is cooking me dinner in his kitchen for our first date. Unconventional,
yes, but also romantic and sexy. That someone as masculine and assertive as Dex
would choose to spend a first date stirring pots and chopping herbs instead of
throwing money around actually impressed me. If his cooking skills were half as
good as he claimed, it would at least be a good meal, even if it ended
awkwardly. As Dex opened my car door and offered me his hand, I decided to go
with it, not question his motives, and just enjoy myself.

He
opened the large wood front door and ushered me inside. Having only briefly
been in the top floor study, and only seeing that at moonlight, I wasn’t
prepared for the grandness of Hartley Manor. The marble entryway floors softly
reflected a large chandelier’s light, with grey and brown veining running
dramatically in haphazard angles across the floor. An antique mahogany table
with a beautiful yellow spider orchid sat in the middle of the floor, flanked
on either side by a curving, grand staircase. Past the entryway, a huge living
room opened up to wall-to-wall windows overlooking the ocean. Sparsely
furnished with two over-sized, square-arm leather couches and an industrial
utility cart serving as a coffee table, the view took center stage, drawing
your eye toward the raw power of the ocean. The fireplace on the far wall
crackled and glowed with the light of burning firewood. In the corner of the
room, nestled between the windows and the fireplace stood a deep swivel chair
in dark walnut, with a high back and sides upholstered in a rich, brown
leather. A wire crate sat next to the chair, piled high with magazines and
books, and a metal reading lamp hung over the chair. I smiled, thinking how
comfortable snuggling into that chair would be with a cozy blanket and a good
book. I turned to Dex, still smiling, taking in his home like the rays of the
sun.

“Dex, this is
beautiful,” I said.

“Thanks, but wait
till you see the kitchen,” he responded, taking my hand and pulling me with him
around the corner.

As we rounded the
corner I stood in a massive kitchen, with a huge six burner gas range, dark
wood cabinets, and an enormous island in the same marble as the entryway floor.
And next to the kitchen, tucked into an intimate corner with windows
overlooking the ocean, sat a small walnut table, complete with service for two.

Dex pulled out a
barstool and offered it to me as he walked around the island and opened a huge,
fully stocked wine cooler. He pulled out a bottle of white wine, uncorked it
and poured me a generous glass. I silently thanked him since my nerves were
still getting the better of me and I hoped a glass of wine would calm me down. Dex
smiled and clinked my glass with his as he opened one of two refrigerators. He
pulled out fresh shrimp and pasta, lemon, garlic and butter, and set to work
making what appeared to be shrimp in a white wine sauce and pasta. He cooked
quietly, and I contented myself to watch and enjoy his company. Although with
other dates I would have been incredibly uncomfortable with such a prolonged
silence, with Dex it seemed natural, and I felt no void that needed filling
with irrelevant chatter.

Dex drained the
boiling water into the sink and plated the pasta, steam rising up and causing
his face to flush. He poured the shrimp on top, letting the buttery wine sauce
coat the pasta. Then he pulled an enormous bowl of salad out of the fridge, the
bowl overflowing with blue cheese crumbles, croutons, tomatoes, and more, and
ushered me to the kitchen table. I sat down and he placed my plate in front of
me, the smell of buttery shrimp making my stomach rumble. I waited for him to
sit down and then took a bite, almost exclaiming out loud it tasted so good. I
broke off a piece of the french bread on the table and used it to sop up the
sauce while I ate, too busy enjoying myself to even attempt conversation. When
I finished my entire plate and a huge helping of salad, I looked up and noticed
Dex was smiling at me, a laugh twinkling in his eyes and making his nose
crinkle.

“What’s so funny?”
I said, as I washed down my last bite with a mouthful of wine.

“Hungry much? You
ate that as if you hadn’t eaten in days,” he said, laughing at me over the
glass of wine.

I laughed. “No,
gosh I’m sorry, Dex it was delicious. And here I go again doing something I
need to apologize for. I’m sorry, everything was amazingly good.”

“Stop,” Dex said,
putting his wine glass down. I looked at him, startled. “You never have
anything to apologize for. I wasn’t offended you weren’t talking—I have a
mouth too, I could have said something if I’d wanted. I’m pleased to know you
liked it so much you got lost in the meal. Isn’t that what good food is
supposed to do?” He smiled and continued, “Now you know why I wanted to cook here
at home instead of go to a stuffy restaurant.” He took a drink of his wine and
smiled at me again.

I smiled back and said,
“You’re right. Dex, thank you. I’m completely stuffed,” I said laughing and
relaxing in my chair. Dex refilled my now empty wine glass, finishing off the
bottle, and I could feel the warm glow of the wine coursing through my body.

“Come, I want to
show you something,” he said, getting up and offering me his hand. I took it
and stood up, following him out of the kitchen. He led me back through the
kitchen into the living room and out the large glass-paneled doors onto an
expansive deck, the same deck I had climbed up and over to break in not even
three weeks ago. An assortment of metal lanterns adorned the deck in small
clusters, lighting the entire space with soft candlelight. Some of the lanterns
were delicate, with filigree patterns casting beautiful shadows on the wood of
the deck, others were huge hurricanes with towering white candles radiating a
warm glow. I squeezed Dex’s hand as we followed the candlelit path down to a
set of stairs leading to the private stretch of sandy beach directly behind
Hartley Manor. The large rocky outcrops I remembered flanked the edges of the
house, partially closing off Dex’s part of the beach in a private oasis. A
lantern sat on the edge of each step, illuminating our descent as Dex led me
down to the sand and the ocean waves.

We reached the
last step and I hesitated, knowing my shoes would just sink into the sand and
be useless. I pulled them off, holding them by their straps with my free hand,
and walked into the sand. I felt the sand squish between my toes and yield to
the pressure of my feet with every step. We walked almost out to the edge of
the ocean, the waves lapping at Dex’s shoes. He turned around, and stared back
up at the house. I did the same and was struck by its beauty. I finally
understood why it was built of stone and why it stood where it did, alone on
the beach. From this vantage point, with the rocky pediments flanking the
house, it looked completely at home, as if it had grown organically out of the
very rocks it sat nestled between. Although it seemed looming and out of place
from the front, Hartley Manor was calm, serene, and at perfect ease in its
natural surroundings in back. I understood why Dex never wanted to leave the
sand at the end of the day as a child, feeling protected by the rocky arms of
Hartley Manor reaching out to keep him in their embrace.