CATHERINE GEORGE - Bargaining With The Boss

The table was against the window in the far comer of the café, and seated at it, reading a newspaper, was James Kincaid. Eleri’s heart turned a somersault under her dark red sweater, but her hand was steady as she set a beautifully garnished sandwich in front of him. He put the paper down and jumped to his feet, smiling in a way which did nothing to slow her heartbeat.

‘Eleri—thank you. I hoped you’d spare me a minute. Won’t you join me?’

She smiled politely. ‘I’m afraid not. This is our busy time. Do sit down again.’

‘I can’t if you don’t.’

Eleri cast a swift glance towards the counter, where her two assistants were trying to hide their curiosity while they worked. For the moment the café was only half full, and it was obvious they could cope.

‘Mr Kincaid—’ she began, seating herself.

‘Now we’re on your territory couldn’t you make it James?’ He bit into the sandwich with appreciation. ‘Mmm, this is good. Where do you get the salmon?’

‘From the market. We buy all our produce there.’ She sat, composed, waiting for him to explain his presence. He looked very different in sweater and heavy tweed trousers, a waxed jacket slung over the back of his chair. The mere sight of him gave Eleri a sharp pang of longing for Northwold, her job—and James.

‘How are you?’ he asked.

‘I’m fine,’ she assured him, knowing she sounded cold in her effort to hide her pleasure at the sight of him.

‘It took some detective work to find out where you were. This, I take it, was the job waiting for you whenever you said the word?’

Eleri nodded. ‘My parents were shocked by my resignation from Northwold, of course, but otherwise they were delighted to welcome the prodigal back to the fold.’

‘Which brings me to my reason for coming here,’ he said, leaning forward.

‘Excuse me, Eleri,’ interrupted a diffident voice. ‘The bakery’s on the phone.’

‘Right, Gianni.’ Eleri got up, smiling at James in rueful apology.

‘Excuse me.’

The phone call was lengthy, involving confirmation of extra supplies for the wedding party they were catering for next day. By the time Eleri was free every table in the café was full, and James Kincaid was on his feet, dressed ready for the street as he handed her the bill and money for his lunch.

‘I won’t hold you up any longer,’ he said as she gave him his change.

‘Sorry. We’re always busy on Saturdays.’

‘I called in last night, but you’d already gone.’ He paused. ‘Do you work in the evenings?’

She shook her head. ‘Only in emergencies—like tomorrow, when there’s a wedding party. Otherwise I work an eight-hour day, six days a week.’

‘No sinecure then—longer hours than Northwold,’ he commented, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Which brings me once more to the reason for my visit. I’d like a talk with you. It’s short notice, I know, but would you have dinner with me tonight?’

Eleri stared at him in astonishment, and only managed to control instant, rapturous consent by turning. away to deal with a customer waiting to pay for lunch. She made the transaction, exchanging a few pleasantries, glad of the respite to gather her wits together, very conscious of the tall man studying the family photographs on the wall in the little foyer between the coffee-shop and the restaurant. When she was free he turned back to her.

‘I suppose it was too much to hope for on a Saturday night.’

That wasn’t the point, she thought, knowing perfectly well she ought to refuse. She was doing her utmost to get over James Kincaid. A dinner date was hardly the way to go about it. ‘It’s very kind of you—’ she began.

‘Not in the least,’ he interrupted. ‘You’d be doing me a kindness if you would.’

Why? she wondered. Perhaps he was at a loose end because Camilla Tennent was skiing in Gstaad or sunning in the Bahamas or wherever. ‘I’m afraid—’

‘Don’t say no,’ he said swiftly. ‘Look on it as a business appointment.’

Aware that Luisa and Gianni were in a frenzy, trying to cope with the lunchtime rush, Eleri gave in. To James and herself. ‘Oh, very well—’ She broke off to smile at a customer. ‘Just one moment, sir, I’ll be with you directly.’

‘What time shall I pick you up?’ asked James, and handed her a banknote. ‘Give this to your staff.’

‘How kind, thank you. But don’t come for me. I’ll meet you somewhere.’

‘The Mitre about eight?’

‘Yes. Right. Now I really must go.’ She turned away and plunged back into the business of heating pizzas and pouring coffees, and anything else necessary to relieve the beleaguered young pair who worked so willingly for her.

‘You’re going out?’ said her mother in surprise when a very weary Eleri went home later that evening.

‘Yes. Not that I feel like it. I’m done in.’

‘They why go?’

‘Curiosity, I suppose.’

Catrin Conti eyed her daughter warily. ‘It’s not with that Toby, I hope.’

‘What would you do if I said yes?’

‘Worry my head off.’

Eleri relented, giving her mother a hug. ‘Don’t, it’s not Toby. Though you’ll never guess who. I can’t believe it myself. The person asking for me last night was James Kincaid.’

‘Your boss at Northwold?’ said her mother, astonished. ‘Never!’

‘He came to the coffee-shop lunchtime, but I was too busy to talk to him much, so he asked me out for a meal tonight. Said it was business.’ Eleri thrust her hands through her hair, then looked at her watch. ‘Heavens, it’s later than I thought—better get my skates on.’

‘Business, is it! Where’s he taking you?’

‘The Mitre.’

Catrin sniffed. ‘You’d eat better here.’

‘Very possibly. But not with the same privacy, Mamma mia,’ said her daughter mockingly. ‘Where’s Nico?’

‘Gone to the pictures with the usual gang.’ Catrin smiled. ‘He’s helping out with the wedding party tomorrow night, by the way, to earn extra pocket money.’

‘New football boots, I suppose.’ Eleri laughed and went upstairs for a bath, more excited than she cared to admit, even to herself, about the forthcoming evening with James Kincaid.

She took enormous care with her hair and face, then went downstairs to find her father still at home.

‘Pops, my car sounds a bit funny. I think I’d better take a taxi.’

Her father’s eagle eye took in her wool tunic and long, clinging skirt, the soft kid boots and heavy gold earrings.

‘Lady in black—bellissima,’ he said, eyes narrowed. ‘All this for the man who fired you from Northwold?’

Ouch, thought Eleri. ‘He didn’t fire me. I resigned. I’m curious to know what he wants, that’s all. He said it was business.’

‘A man takes out a woman who looks like you, he does not think only of business,’ declared her father wryly. ‘Not if he has blood in his veins.’

‘Don’t judge all men by yourself, Pa!’ she said.

He laughed, and kissed her. ‘I’ll ask Luigi to look at the car in the morning.’

‘Come on, Mario,’ said Catrin. ‘We’re needed in the restaurant. Enjoy yourself, Eleri!’ She kissed her daughter’s smooth olive cheek. ‘You look gorgeous, love.’

Eleri waved them off, knowing she looked her best. The tiredness of the day had vanished after her leisurely bath. She’d left her hair loose to skim her shoulders, added a touch more emphasis to her eyes than usual and, best tonic of all, she was spending the evening with James Kincaid. She grinned at her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘You’ll do, Conti. Ring for a taxi.’

When Eleri arrived at the Mitre James was waiting for her in the courtyard, and had paid off her driver before she had time to ask the fare.