Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of June 11, 2007
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Posted on Monday, 11 June 2007
Once upon a time, Emma Woodhouse and Caroline Bingley were the best of friends. I had no idea how Caroline had managed to acquire a normal, decent human being as a friend, but she had. Even though Emma could be catty on occasion, she was never flat-out mean, unlike most of the rest of Caroline's friends. They went to the same college, pledged the same sorority, and were closer to each other than either of them was to her biological sister.
As recently as eighteen months ago, their friendship was still strong. After Emma had stood up with her for two weddings and had been the one witness at her elopement with Jimmy Lucas, Caroline had been Emma's maid of honor when she'd married George Knightley.
The reception would see the beginning of the end of their friendship. Caroline had never really paid much attention to Emma's father, a man in his late sixties with more money than sense, but at the reception she saw the widower of twenty-three years in a new light. He was single. By his own admission, he wasn't in good health. And Emma's marriage, even to someone Larry Woodhouse loved and approved of, meant he would be on his own for the first time in his life. The thought didn't sit well with him.
So when the lovely Mrs. Elliot started showering him with attention, Larry was flattered. When she timidly confessed that she'd been in love with him since she'd seen him again at Emma's reception, he was thrilled. And when Caroline divorced her husband seven months later to become the second Mrs. Woodhouse, Larry was in love.
Emma was furious. Even though she'd known what Caroline's true nature was like, she'd never dreamed that she would do such a thing. As far as Emma was concerned, it was the last straw. She vowed never to speak to either of them again.
But resolutions such as that were impossible to keep, especially for someone who had been her father's favorite daughter. Emma made amends with her father, although she continued to hold a grudge against Caroline and refused to have her in her house. In return, Caroline often made a point of being around when Emma visited her father to insure that the closeness they once shared would never completely return.
Just Caroline's way of making sure Emma didn't try to get her cut out of the will.
Emma and George were two of my best customers and also among my favorites. They had small dinner parties for their friends about once a month. They had so many friends that the guest list changed monthly, meaning I could never be sure of the guest list. As much as I enjoyed working for them, it did make things difficult from time to time, especially when a last-minute substitution was made. Don't get me started about the time one of their guests wound up in the hospital because she hadn't been told the stuffed ricotta shells contained spinach. She threatened to sue me and refused to come to another of Emma and George's dinners as long as I was the caterer.
She hadn't been invited back since.
The bad weather that had plagued my own dinner with friends had blown over, but the streets were hazardous after dark so I planned to be at the Knightleys' house by four-thirty to prepare for dinner at seven. Thanks to a traffic snarl, I skidded to a halt in their driveway just before five.
"Thank God you're here," Emma said as she held the kitchen door open for me. "I was getting worried when you didn't call."
"Sorry about that. I got hung up in traffic and my cell phone's about to die completely on me. It's not holding a charge anymore." I walked through the door with a box with the ingredients I needed for tonight's meal in my hands. I set it on the counter and went back out for the second box of pots, pans, and utensils. "You did say chili, right? I was afraid we had a bad connection because you've never asked for it before."
"Absolutely. George has been craving it for a while. You'd think he was the pregnant one, not me!"
I laughed along with her. The only thing I should've known about Emma's pregnancy was that she was six months along, but of course I knew everything----that she didn't want to know the child's sex, how long it had taken for her to get pregnant, that they'd been considering adoption when it finally happened. Melanie joked all the time about how I could write the gossip column for the local paper because I knew a lot of things about Meryton's more influential people. I wouldn't dare to do it, though. I love what I do too much to risk it by exposing the people for whom I work. Not to mention that I can't write worth a damn.
"Still determined not to know what you're having?" I asked.
"Oh, I've known for ages that we're having a boy."
"Really? You swore up and down last month that you didn't want to know."
Emma put a hand on her stomach. "I didn't, but it wasn't hard to figure out when George started bringing home baseball mitts and little toy footballs. He'd sneaked a peek at the last ultrasound." She smiled wryly. "I should've known better than to hope for a surprise when George is around. The man can't keep a secret to save his life."
A good quality in a husband, I thought as I returned to my van to get the last box, which was filled with vegetables, ingredients for dip, homemade bread, cheddar cheese, strawberries, whipped cream, and a pound cake. Every dinner at the Knightleys' ended with strawberry shortcake, which George declared to be the best dessert I made.
Dinner at the Knightleys' was never complicated. Unlike Caroline, George and Emma had no problem with me cooking most of the meal at home and transferring it to their house. A lot of the meals they liked were also simple to whip up. I once asked why they didn't do their own cooking and made George laugh so long Emma left the room in disgust.
Which was answer enough before he told me about the time Emma almost burned down the kitchen making macaroni and cheese.
"So who's going to be here tonight?" I opened a can of my canned crushed tomatoes and poured it into a large soup pot, then turned on the burner to get it started. I added another can of tomatoes and two cans of beans.
"Well, there's going to be John and Isabella. They got stuck in town because of the weather and decided to extend their stay a week. I think if they're not gone by tomorrow, George is going to kill her. Don't get me wrong, she's my sister and I love her. But every five minutes she's worrying about the weather, everybody's health, the war in Iraq. She calls home once an hour to make sure the nanny's taking proper care of Tara."
"Tara?"
"My niece. She's eighteen months old. When she got sick over Christmas, Isabella sent her home with the nanny so Daddy wouldn't get what she had. I asked Isabella why she wouldn't go home with Tara if she was that concerned about her health, but all she said was that they paid Fiona for a reason. Fiona's the nanny," Emma said before I could ask. "But the end result is that Izzy's driving me crazy."
"With four sisters, I know the feeling." I got out my knife and cutting board for the spices, chilies, onions, and tomatoes.
"Yeah, well, it's really bad this time around because she's trying to fix things between Caroline and me. I've told her over and over again that I have no interest in speaking to that..." A hefty dose of anger flashed in Emma's eyes.
I couldn't blame her. I know how I'd feel if my best friend married my dad. Of course, my father didn't have millions in the bank like Larry did, and I'd like to think he'd be smart enough not to be fooled by someone like Caroline. Then again, what did I know? In my personal experience, men were often fools.
I thought Emma was going to say more, but instead she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. "I've also invited Henry Crawford and his girlfriend, Frances. Isn't she a friend of yours?"
"Yes," I said, surprised. I wondered why they'd been invited, but I wasn't about to ask. Besides...
"The only reason I invited them was because Henry's working on a business deal with George. Personally, I don't care for him."
...I knew I could count on Emma to tell me. I began chopping up vegetables.
"I invited my friend Harriet----she's been down since her last boyfriend broke up with her. And then there's Sam Lucas."
"Sam? How do you know Sam?" I asked, surprised that anyone else outside of the Lucas family knew----besides my friends.
"He went to college with George. George hated him when they played on opposing basketball teams in high school, but once they got to college it was all behind them. We've flown out to Seattle a few times to see him, but now he's home, for good I think." She gave me a puzzled look. "You didn't sound surprised to hear that Sam was back. How did you know?"
"His sister Charlotte is a good friend of mine." When Emma looked blank, I added, "The mother of the Terrible Twins."
"Oh! Right. I saw her just the other day at Wal-Mart with those two." Emma glanced down at her stomach. "I'm hoping this one doesn't give us that much trouble. But George says with a mother like me, he's sure our son's going to be full of mischief. Of course, with him as a father, my meddling genes are sure to be balanced out by his laissez-faire ones."
I nodded absently.
"Anyway, Sam is coming to work for George starting next week."
So that was who the big job offer was from! I wondered if Charlotte had known that.
"I thought maybe he and Harriet would hit it off...he's getting over the girl from the song, Harriet's getting over a breakup...wouldn't it be great if they found solace in each other?"
I thought it was a terrible idea, but it wasn't my place to say it. I just made an absent noncommittal sound and started chopping fresh herbs for the chili.
"Well, I need to finish getting ready for tonight, so I'll leave you to it. Is there anything I can get you?"
I smiled and shook my head. "I think I've got everything here, but thanks."
Emma nodded and walked out of the kitchen. I fried hamburger and onions together, drained the grease, and added it to the simmering chili. As I grated cheddar cheese for those who wanted to add it to their meal, my thoughts wandered to Sam Lucas. Like my younger sisters, I'd had a small crush on Sam when he'd dated Jayne. Unlike them, I did my best to make sure he had no clue of how I felt. I wasn't stupid. Cat and Lydia made fools of themselves around him, and he considered them a pair of nuisances. I maintained my cool, and he would occasionally make conversation with me while waiting for Jayne to finish getting ready.
The last time I'd seen Sam had been at the twins's christening. As he usually did, he popped in right before the ceremony was to start. He'd congratulated his sister and brother-in-law, said hello to a few guests who probably didn't remember who he was anymore, then took off back to Seattle. Of the famous (or infamous, depending on how you viewed the matter) Anya, people in Meryton knew very little. She'd never visited.
I checked on the chili and tried to picture Sam in my mind. I found that I couldn't. I frowned. All I saw in my mind was Sam smiling at his high school graduation, black mortarboard perched precariously on his head as he stood beside his parents. I remembered the smile more than anything.
The smiling teenage Sam was then replaced by the mysterious man who'd kissed me at Caroline's New Year's party, and I felt my face get hot.
I'd been trying to forget about that kiss, but as is always the case, the more I tried to forget, the more I remembered. I remembered how blue his eyes were and how they crinkled a bit at the corners when he smiled. I remembered the tenor of his voice. I remembered how his lips felt on mine.
I put a lid on the pot and turned away from the stove. I put the grated cheese in the refrigerator and took a few extra seconds to let my face cool down. I was grateful I didn't need Melanie for this one, because she'd have known in a second that something was up.
I cleaned my knife and got out the strawberries for the shortcake, feeling guilty. I hadn't told Melanie or anyone else about the kiss, and I wasn't entirely sure why. Even though I was certain he'd been drunk, the fact that anyone had kissed me qualified as `big news.' But I kept it to myself, a memento stored away to be reexamined when I was an old spinster with fifty cats living in my house.
"You officially need to get a life, Bennet," I mumbled to myself as I started in on the strawberries.
The meal was almost ready by six-forty five. Emma was still getting ready and George wasn't home, but I started setting the table anyway. I was putting the centerpiece in place when the doorbell rang. I ignored it since I expected Emma to get it. But after the third time it rang and no one came to answer it, I hurried to the door and opened it.
I knew it was Sam Lucas the moment I saw him. Charlotte had been exaggerating about her brother looking like her. There were some people in Meryton who speculated the reason Sam left town as he had was because he'd discovered Willie Lucas wasn't his real father. These were people who overlooked his nose, which was truly a Lucas nose----a bit too long and thin, with a small bump where he'd broken it playing basketball. Other than the nose, he looked just like his mother. He had dark brown hair, green eyes, and like I said, a smile that made many a high school girl forget he wasn't drop dead gorgeous.
Sam's smile became puzzled. He looked down at a piece of paper in his hand, then back up at me. "Mary? Mary Bennet?"
I smiled back at him. "Hi, Sam. I didn't think you'd remember me," I said before I could think about how that sounded. He might've thought I wanted him to remember me, which I did, but...
His eyes rose to a spot above my head. Then I realized that he was looking at my hair, which I'd spent an hour straightening until it lay in a tame ponytail. Great. Just why I wanted people to remember me. Maybe Caroline had a point about the color being too loud.
"I've never seen anyone with your hair," he said, "and I've seen some unique colors."
I reached up to tuck a nonexistent strand behind my right ear. "Yeah, I get that a lot. Too brassy, too loud, too whatever."
"I like it. It suits you."
"Ah...thanks." When I couldn't feel my face getting hot, I realized we were still standing in the doorway...and it was freezing outside. "Come on in. You're the first to arrive. Emma's getting ready and George isn't home yet." I moved out of his way and he walked into the house.
"I've got the right house, then? When I saw you, I wasn't sure. What are you doing here?"
"You're at the right place. I'm finishing up supper right now...in fact, I'll be right back." I hurried to the kitchen to make sure the chili wasn't scorched. Pleased to find it ready to go whenever the rest of the guests arrived, I was about to return to the living room and Sam when I heard Emma shriek, "Sammy!"
I felt the pinch of disappointment and went back to setting the table.
Catering Rule Number One: Never forget that you're the hired help. You are not a guest. Don't act like one.
I rarely wished to be a member of the events I catered. Since most of my jobs are for area businesses and Caroline's friends, it never occurred to me to want to join in. But on occasion, usually at a wedding, I longed to be enjoying the food instead of preparing it. Sometimes I dreamed of whirling around the floor in the arms of a handsome blond man with blue eyes...
I mentally shook my head, trying to dislodge him from my memory. I had a job to do.
George arrived with the last of the guests, a petite, listless woman I hardly recognized as Emma's friend Harriet. She'd lost fifteen pounds since I'd last seen her, and my heart went out to her. For a moment, I hoped Emma's matchmaking would be successful, because this girl clearly needed cheering up and Sam would be the perfect person to do it.
I reminded myself again that even Sam Lucas was entitled to change after ten years. He'd been through heartbreak himself. Just because he didn't look like suicide on a stick didn't mean he was over Anya Satterling.
With everyone assembled, I filled the glasses of ice and finished making iced tea as everyone lingered around the table. Emma announced that dinner was ready, and asked me to get her a glass of water since she wasn't allowed to have anything with caffeine.
I brought out the drinks just as the doorbell rang. I looked over at Emma, trying not to frown. She had a habit of inviting people at the last minute and not telling me until they showed up. But she looked puzzled herself, which got her off the hook. George stood up and said to Emma, "I'll get that, Em. You stay seated."
Emma opened her mouth to protest but by the time she found something to say, George was halfway to the door. "I hate it when he treats me like I'm an invalid. Just because my blood pressure was a little high at the last check-up, he thinks I shouldn't do anything beyond walking to the bathroom and back."
"I heard that."
Everyone laughed, which was abruptly cut off by a familiar voice calling, "Hello, George darling. Aren't you surprised to see us here?"
I froze, Emma's glass of water in my hand. Of all the people that could be at the front door, why did it have to be Caroline? And from her use of the word `us,' she'd no doubt brought Emma's father along. Not wanting to be witness to what would undoubtedly be a bad scene, I plunked the glass on the table, sloshing water over the side, and hurried into the kitchen. I wondered if I should dig up extra place settings. I wondered what she was doing here. I stirred the chili and waited to see what would happen next.
I didn't have long to wait. A furious Emma stormed into the kitchen, followed by a guilty but unrepentant Isabella.
"What the hell were you thinking, inviting her here without bothering to ask me if it was all right?" Emma asked in a low voice.
"I decided it was time you two got over your silliness and started being friends again," Isabella replied. "I know you weren't happy about her marrying Daddy----neither was I----but they're married and you've got to accept that. It would be for the best and you know it."
"How nice of you to decide you know what's best for me." Emma was practically nose-to-nose with her sister. "Maybe you'd feel a little differently if she'd been your best friend since kindergarten. I know Caroline Bingley, Isabella. I know how she operates. She's been mowing men down since we were fifteen----getting what she wanted and then dumping them. She married Jimmy Lucas because he was on his way up, then she married Walter Elliot because she thought he'd already made it. And when she realized he was on his way down, she set her sights on someone else. My father. And God only knows what she'll do to him when she's done with him! So don't go parading her in here and expect me to say that everything's okay, because it isn't."
Isabella took a step back and stared at Emma for a couple of moments. "Do you know how happy she makes him?" she asked softly. "He told me the other night that she takes special care of him. She makes sure he gets whatever he wants whenever he wants it. She..."
"Of course she does. If she ran around on him, he might divorce her and she'd lose out on all that money when he dies."
"I wish you'd quit talking about Daddy's death like it's a foregone conclusion!"
It was on the tip of my tongue to point out that death sort of was a foregone conclusion for everyone, but that would've drawn their attention to my presence in the kitchen, which it appeared they hadn't noticed.
"And as for Caroline getting Daddy's money, I'll have you know that he says she never mentions it at all. You're the one who's so worried about the whole deal, which makes me think..."
"I don't give a damn about his money!" Emma said, her voice raising. "I care that it's the only reason she married him! She doesn't see him for the wonderful person he is, but rather what he's worth at the bank." Emma took a breath and lowered her voice. "If I thought she really loved him, I would've been the first person to congratulate them when they got married. I would welcome her into this house and try not to be uncomfortable with the fact that my stepmother is four months younger than me. But I know Caroline."
"I know you do," Isabella said. "I just want you to think about Daddy. If, as you think, he's in his final years, then don't you want him to be happy?"
"Of course I do." Emma blinked back tears.
"Then why are you still so hostile to Caroline, if she's what makes him happy? Is he a fool for marrying her? Maybe. But she doesn't cheat on him. She takes care of him. And he loves her." When Emma shook her head, Isabella added, "How happy do you think he is about this situation between you and Caroline? How do you think it affects him?"
Low blow, I thought.
With a small sniffle, Emma said, "Fine. She can stay, and I'll be as civil to her as I can be. But don't expect miracles, Izzy, okay? Caroline and I aren't going to be friends again."
Isabella smiled and hugged her sister. "That's all I'm asking." She went back into the dining room and announced, "Of course it's all right if you stay, Daddy! George, you've got an extra leaf for this table, right? Great. Francine, could you grab that centerpiece and slide it this way? Careful with those----oh. Sorry. Frances, then. Careful with those candles."
Emma stood in the kitchen for a minute, eyes closed, one hand covering her face. Her shoulders shook as she cried silently. This was part of the job I hated----the times when I caught a private moment I had no business seeing. I wished there were someplace I could go when something like this happened. I turned my attention back to the chili, which I'd taken off the burner and transferred into an elegant serving tureen. I stirred it unnecessarily.
"Mary?" Emma's voice barely quavered.
"Yes?" I asked, as though I'd just noticed her presence.
"My father and Caroline will be joining us tonight. Do you have enough chili for them?"
"Oh, sure." I almost winced at how cheerful I sounded. "Plenty to go around. The strawberry shortcake portions might be smaller than usual, though. The pound cake serves eight, so..."
Emma's smile was wry but bitter. "I don't think the dessert will be a problem."
I opened the cabinets to get out two more bowls and saucers. I poured two glasses of tea and brought all of this out to the dining room on a serving tray. Caroline had taken up residence at the head of the table where Emma had been sitting. Emma said nothing upon her return but took a seat to George's right. From their arm motions, I could tell he'd taken her hand under the table.
"Good evening, Mary," Caroline said. "I'm glad to see Emma hired you for the evening." She turned to Larry and spoke louder. "You remember Mary, right? She made the special wedding cake for us."
"That was a wonderful cake," Larry Woodhouse said. "Good for everyone. Wholesome."
"Caroline, could you pass the glass of water in front of you down to Emma?" I asked as I set bowls in front of her and Larry. "I'll get you a glass of tea in a moment."
Caroline's lip curled slightly. "Tea? Why not wine? George, I know your wine cellar is incomparable."
"We're in the mood for tea," Emma said. I gave her credit because she sounded civil. Barely.
"Emma, there's no need to deprive your guests of good wine just because you're pregnant." Caroline's diatribe continued as I retrieved the vegetables and dip from the refrigerator, then went back for the finger sandwiches. Emma preferred a casual atmosphere at her parties, having the guests serve themselves instead of having me set plates in front of them.
"Wine doesn't exactly go with chili," George was saying as I set the plates of sandwiches on the table.
"Chili, Emma?" Caroline asked disdainfully. "That surely can't be good for your baby."
John Knightley said, "I don't know about that. If it hadn't been for chili, our little Tara might not be here. Izzy lived off of chili with peanut butter crackers for months. Couldn't keep anything else down. Sounds strange, but it's true."
"Johnny," Isabella said, her cheeks flushing.
I refilled George's glass of tea, which had emptied quickly. He was probably wishing for wine right about now----or something stronger.
"Chili? Oh. Carrie, my dear, could you tell the nice girl that I can't have..."
"I will." Caroline snapped her fingers twice, which had me clenching my jaw. I knew what that meant. I heard it often enough when I catered for her. I overcame the temptation to ignore her summons.
"Yes?" I asked, all politeness.
"Mary, this won't do for Mr. Woodhouse. He needs something bland right away."
"Uh..." I looked over at Emma, who was locked in conversation with Isabella about food cravings in her efforts to ignore Caroline. No help from that corner. The look I got from George was noncommittal.
Caroline glared at me. "Now, Mary. My husband would like to eat with the rest of us, and he needs something now."
"I'm afraid we don't have anything but chili," I said, hating how nervous I sounded. Dammit, what was it about this woman that brought out the wimp in me?
"You didn't plan ahead and think of other guests' comfort?"
George finally stepped in to intervene. "This one's on me, Caroline. Emma told Mary that I wanted chili, so she said she'd make some. If Isabella had told us she was inviting you and your father, we would've arranged for Mary to bring something for him." He gave Isabella a look to indicate that he was no happier with her meddling than Emma was.
"Well, she should've known. She's only been catering my parties for the past four years."
You've only been married to Larry for one of them. It was on the tip of my tongue, I was going to say it. "I...I didn't..." Was I ever going to get a coherent sentence out?
Sam came to my rescue. He was seated in the middle of the table, directly across from Harriet. "So she was supposed to know Larry was going to be here when even the hosts didn't know? I don't think Mary includes ESP among her services. And even if she had known, it's not like they would ask her to whip something up for each individual person. That would take too long and be too expensive."
Emma smiled apologetically at her father. "I'm sorry, Dad. We can make you something else if you'd like."
"Well, Emma dear, you know I'm not too particular. I can't have spicy food, and tomatoes and oranges have acid and that plays havoc with my ulcer. And oh, can't forget my diabetes. Nothing too sweet."
Hell, there goes dessert. Guess Emma knew what she was talking about when she said dessert won't be a problem, since Caroline won't eat it, either.
Before Larry could continue listing what he couldn't eat, I asked, "What would you like to have?"
He hesitated. I expected him to look at Caroline for permission, but he said, "I like oatmeal with just a bit of milk."
Before I could agree to make oatmeal, Emma dashed my hopes. "We don't have oatmeal here." She looked rueful. "We normally would, but the smell was making me sick. After the third straight morning, George threw it all out."
"There's a grocery store not far away. Mary can run out and get some more," Caroline said.
"In this weather? We've got to have something in this house that Dad can eat," Emma said, giving Caroline a look I wished I could've gotten away with.
"Grilled cheese?" I suggested in desperation, knowing that I could count on bread, cheese, and butter being available.
"That's the best you can come up with?" Caroline asked with a sneer.
I was on the verge or snapping that if she didn't like what I had to offer, she could make him something herself, but then Larry smiled and said, "I haven't had that in years, but it sounds good. Only I don't like Velveeta or anything artificial. I don't suppose you have a good cheddar lying around?"
"I do," I said. "If you'll give me a few minutes, I'll have a sandwich ready for you." I finished serving the other guests, resisting the urge to accidentally spill chili all over Caroline, and beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen. I grabbed the pan I'd cleaned of hamburger grease and collected the bread, butter, and cheese I would need to make the sandwich.
Emma came back two minutes later to apologize to me. "Caroline can be...well..."
A bit of a witch? "Difficult," I said, mustering all the diplomacy I could.
"Yes! And if I'd known Isabella was going to invite Dad, I wouldn't have asked you to make chili because he's got special needs because he's so..."
Old? "Fragile of stomach," I suggested.
Emma smiled. "You understand everything."
No. If I understood everything, I'd understand why we're not in here cutting Caroline up because I know you hate her now as much as I always have. And I'd understand why Larry married her. And I'd know the answer to life, the universe, and everything, which is not forty-two as Douglas Adams supposed.
"Don't worry. It won't take me but a couple of minutes to have something for..."
Caroline walked into the room before I could finish my sentence. "Emma, your husband suggested that I could find a corkscrew in here. We took a vote and several of us preferred wine to that nasty tea----which, by the way, Mary, you might've warned me had sugar in it. Didn't you hear Larry mention his diabetes?"
Emma looked like she'd rather skewer Caroline with the corkscrew she unearthed in a drawer, but she gave it to her nonetheless.
Needless to say, Emma's dinner party was a disaster all around. Emma was sullen and barely said two words to anyone, but did manage not to say anything cutting to Caroline. George made a heroic effort to save the evening, but talking business didn't interest with Henry and Sam didn't interest the women. Larry talked about his health a lot, and Caroline fussed over every imagined fluttering of his heart or slight ache in his joints. Frances tried talking to Emma about the baby, but as I said, Emma wasn't talking. Frances had better luck talking to Harriet, who also had a brief conversation with Sam that seemed to bring her to life. Isabella and Caroline had a conversation about fashion which amounted to Caroline talking about going to the spring shows in Italy and Isabella hanging on her every word. This conversation took place between the well-aimed barbs Caroline shot my way because she ended up with nothing to eat but vegetables and a fat-free yogurt I managed to find in Emma's refrigerator.
"I could kill that woman," I muttered under my breath as I stuck the last of the Knightleys' dishes in the dishwasher. "`We need this, Mary. We need that, Mary. This chili's gone cold because I piddled around complaining that you didn't have anything for my old fart of a husband, Mary. Oh, you brought me a new, hot bowl? Well, it's too fattening for me, Mary. Bring me a carrot stick and bottled water. No bottled water? Don't caterers provide the drinks as well? Emma, you're not drinking tap water, are you? That can't be good for the baby, not that I give a damn because it might actually detract Larry's attention from me, me, me.'"
I froze when I heard a muffled laugh from behind me. My cheeks felt flushed. I shouldn't have said anything, but I couldn't help myself.
"I see Caroline hasn't changed since she was married to my brother."
And just when I thought I couldn't get more embarrassed, I turned out to be wrong. The last thing I wanted to do was turn around and face Sam, but I had to do it.
"That's not true," I said. "She used to prefer younger men to older ones."
Sam was leaning against the entrance connecting the dining room and kitchen. "Then she realized that older men were more likely to die and leave her a rich widow, rather than dealing with paltry divorce settlements?"
"Pretty much." I smiled sheepishly. "I shouldn't say something like that. She's Emma's stepmother, and both of them hire me on a regular basis, but..."
"I would imagine that Caroline can be difficult to work for. Your secret's safe with me." He gave me a wink.
Before my face could get any more red, I turned around and started the dishwasher.
"I didn't want to seem ignorant about everything, but I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about tonight."
"Fire away. No question will seem ignorant to me."
"Good. In all the...uh, excitement over Caroline's arrival, I was never got the name to the woman sitting across from me at the table. The blonde?"
My heart sank. That would be the first question he asked me. He'd obviously not wanted to arouse suspicion with Emma by asking her the question. The caterer was a safer option. "Harriet Smith," I said. "She's a friend of Emma's."
"Ah." Sam paused. "I suppose she's got a broken heart story to equal mine, which was why we were the only unattached people at the table tonight."
My lips quivered in amusement. I got myself under control and said, "Recent breakup. And before that, a really bad breakup involving the music director at Bud and Charlotte's church."
"Ah."
"So what did you think of her?"
Sam paused. "She seems nice. It's hard to get to know someone on a night like this, and under the circumstances. It screamed `set-up,' which made things worse. Not that they could've been much worse..."
I stacked my dirty dishes in the boxes I'd brought into the house. I would wash them when I got home. "Right." I paused before putting the cake pan in the box. "I'm sorry about Anya. Charlotte said it was rough."
"Thanks. I'm over the worst of it...I think." We both laughed. "Need any help?"
"Ah, no. I should be fine. I just have to get this stuff to my van, get my money from Emma or George, then head home."
Sam looked around the now-spotless kitchen. "So, do you like what you're doing now? Charlotte told me you were working for a restaurant for a while."
"Oh, this is so much better than working at a restaurant," I said. "I love cooking other things besides fried chicken and hamburgers, for one thing. I love working from my house. And most of the time, the jobs don't have nearly as much drama as this one." I lifted one of the heavy boxes from the counter, only to have Sam take it from me. "I can get it, really..."
"You've had a long night standing around doing things and dealing with Caroline. Just tell me where to put it."
I opened the kitchen door and unlocked the back of the van for him. "So, Charlotte says you're back in town for good," I said as we went back inside.
"I don't know about that. In town for the next few months, at least. George has plans for me to help his company get online with new software systems, but I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to accept his offer of a permanent position."
"Is Seattle that great a place?"
He smiled. "Yes. I love it. I knew I would the minute I arrived. But right now...too many memories. I figure in a few months, it'll be safe to return there."
"Maybe you'll have someone to make new memories with you," I said. I was ready to scream, because my tongue just had to choose that moment to run off without my brain.
He just smiled at me...the smile I remembered so well from my teen years. "Maybe I will," he said. He glanced back into the dining room, probably thinking of Harriet Smith. "Maybe I will."
When he wandered away to say good night to his hosts, I sighed and tried not to feel too disappointed. Honestly, daydreaming about one man was bad enough. I didn't need to start thinking about another one.
Especially when it was clear I didn't stand a chance with either of them.
Chapter Four
Emma and George Knightley's
Dinner Party for Eight Ten