“I’m pleased to hear it.”
“Are you seeing him later?”
“Your doctor?”
“No, your doctor, honey.” Glenys gave her a saucy wink and Harriet rolled her eyes.
“You’re worse than my sister.” And she was conscious that she had yet to tell Fliss what was happening. But what was happening exactly? She didn’t know, which was why she was avoiding the conversation. Fliss would turn it into more than it was and Harriet didn’t want that.
“We love you, that’s all. We want you to be happy. You’re like a granddaughter to me. If you didn’t already have a grandmother who loves you, I’d try and officially adopt you. Because of your chocolate chip cookies of course. Not for any other reason.”
Harriet stopped and hugged her. “I promise you a lifetime supply.”
“Have you cooked for that man of yours yet? Because if you have, he’s a goner. He’d soon give up all this ‘never getting married again’ nonsense if he knew the way you cooked.”
“I cooked a little when I was in his apartment, but everyday stuff. Nothing special.” After that painfully embarrassing incident on the first night, she’d kept the food simple. No one could read seduction into spaghetti with red sauce.
“What are you waiting for? Seduce his taste buds. Blow his mind.”
“Funny you should say that because tonight I’m really going all out to impress him.” She’d been planning the menu all week. It was ambitious and potentially full of things that could go wrong, but she wanted the evening to be special.
Ethan only had one more week in the city before he left for his ski trip and she wanted to make sure he went away thinking of her.
Back in her apartment she chopped, sautéed and did all the initial preparation for the meal.
Telling herself that she was just killing time, she went onto YouTube and watched an episode on life in the ER, with Ethan in the starring role. She could see why they’d decided to make a series. He was movie-star handsome, but not in an inaccessible movie-star way. He seemed human. Real. And he seemed cool and calm no matter what came through the doors of the ER. Drunks, knife wounds, gunshot wounds—he dealt with it all. It didn’t surprise her to discover he had a huge female fan base. Of course he did.
When the scenes on the screen became too graphic, she clicked off and then on impulse searched for the name of his ex-wife.
She clicked on a clip of Alison reporting from Africa. There she was in the dust and the heat looking cool and elegant in khaki and crisp white, her hair a sleek bob. Apparently neither the heat nor the pressure was allowed to affect her performance.
She spoke directly to the camera about the current political situation. She was poised and eloquent. Not a single um.
This woman had never stammered in her life. She spoke clearly and without pause, the words emerging with an almost musical fluency. Harriet watched, transfixed and dismayed. She wanted to switch it off, but she couldn’t stop watching. For her, the words, certain letters, could so easily be jammed. Trapped in her mouth. Sometimes she’d practice speaking in front of the mirror, but talking to herself didn’t present the same challenge as talking to a stranger. She’d learned that most people preferred to talk than to listen so she often stayed silent, even though she knew by doing so she’d be labeled quiet or shy. There had been so many times when Fliss and Daniel had leaped in, taking on the role of understudy when her brain and mouth had refused to perform as expected.
It made her feel vulnerable to know her tongue could still let her down. Speech was a fundamental part of a person. And maybe it was wrong, but people judged.
Having thoroughly depressed herself, she flipped her laptop shut and stood up.
Alison was lovely, and eloquent, but Ethan wasn’t with her anymore.
She wasn’t going to feel envy about a relationship that no longer existed.
If anything she felt sad for him. Because, personal feelings aside, anytime a marriage failed was sad.
She distracted herself by cooking the perfect meal.
Ethan had said he’d be home by seven, so she planned to eat at 7:30 to allow him time to be late.
She switched on the Christmas tree lights, lit two of her favorite cinnamon and orange scented candles.
Humming along to carols, she prepared the duck and slid it into the oven.
By seven thirty everything was ready but there was no sign of Ethan.
She stared at her phone. Should she call? No. If he wanted to call her, he’d call. He didn’t exactly have a nine to five job, did he?
She poured herself a glass of red wine and stood by the window.