“Not always. Isn’t it better just to enjoy the moment?”
Emily wasn’t sure how to take that statement. Was it evidence of his desire to leave this place? If the future wasn’t a good topic of conversation, was that because he had visions of future heartbreak?
“I suppose,” she said quietly. “But sometimes it’s impossible not to think ahead. It’s okay to make plans too, don’t you think?” She was trying to gently nudge Daniel, to make him give up just a sliver of information, anything that might make her feel steadier within their relationship.
“Not really,” he said. “I try really hard to keep my mind in the present. Don’t worry about the future. Don’t dwell on the past.”
Emily didn’t like the idea of him worrying about their future, and had to stop herself from demanding to know what exactly there was to worry about. Instead, she asked, “Is there a lot to dwell on?”
Daniel hadn’t revealed too much about his past. She knew he had moved around a lot, that his parents divorced and his dad drank, that he credited her own father for giving him a future.
“Oh yeah,” Daniel said. “A whole lot.”
He fell silent again. Emily wanted him to give more but could tell he wasn’t able to. She wondered if he knew how much she ached to be the person he opened up to.
But with Daniel it was all about patience. He would speak when he was ready, if he was ever ready.
And if that day ever did come, she hoped she’d still be around to listen.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next morning Emily woke early, determined not to miss the breakfast shift again. At seven sharp she heard the sound of the guest’s bedroom door opening and closing softly, then the patter of Mr. Kapowski’s footsteps as he descended the staircase. Emily stepped out from where she’d been loitering in the corridor and stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at him.
“Good morning, Mr. Kapowski,” she said confidently, a pleasant smile on her face.
Mr. Kapowski startled.
“Oh. Good morning. You’re awake.”
“Yes,” Emily said, maintaining her confident tone, though she felt anything but. “I wanted to apologize for yesterday, for not being available to make you breakfast. Did you sleep okay?” She noted the dark rings around his eyes.
Mr. Kapowski hesitated for a moment. He nervously shoved his hands into the pockets of his crumpled suit.
“Um…no, actually,” he finally replied.
“Oh no,” Emily said, concerned. “Not because of the bedroom, I hope?”
Mr. Kapowski seemed fidgety and awkward, rubbing his neck like he had more to say but didn’t know how to.
“Actually,” he finally managed, “the pillow was quite lumpy.”
“I’m so sorry about that,” Emily said, frustrated with herself for not having tested it.
“And um…the towels were scratchy.”
“They are?” Emily said, perturbed. “Why don’t you come and sit in the dining room,” she said, fighting to keep the panic from her voice, “and let me know your concerns.”
She guided him into the vast dining room and opened up the curtains, letting the pale morning light filter into the room, showing off her latest display of lilies from Raj, the smell of which permeated the room. The surface of the long mahogany banquet style table glistened. Emily loved this room; it was so opulent, so fancy and ornate. It had been the perfect room to showcase some of her father’s antique crockery, and they were kept in a display case made of the same deep mahogany wood as the table.
“That’s better,” she said, her tone remaining bright and breezy. “Now, would you like to let me know about your room so we can fix it?”
Mr. Kapowski looked uncomfortable, as though he really didn’t want to speak.
“It’s nothing really. Just the pillow and towels. And also maybe the mattress was very firm and um…a bit on the thin side.”
Emily nodded, acting like his words weren’t striking a chord of anguish in her heart.
“But really, it’s fine,” Mr. Kapowski added. “I’m a light sleeper.”
“Well, okay,” Emily said, realizing that making him speak was a worse course of action than leaving him unsatisfied with his room. “Well, what can I get you for breakfast?”
“Eggs and bacon, if that’s not too much trouble,” Mr. Kapowski said. “Fried. And toast. With mushrooms. And tomatoes.”
“No problem,” Emily said, worrying she didn’t have all the ingredients he’d listed.
Emily hurried into the kitchen, awakening Mogsy and Rain immediately. Both dogs began yapping for their breakfast, but she ignored their whines as she raced over to the fridge and checked what was inside. She was relieved to see that she had bacon, although there were no mushrooms or tomatoes. At least there was bread in the bread bin, a surplus Karen from the general store had dropped around the other day, and eggs she could source thanks to Lola and Lolly.
Regretting her choice of footwear, Emily rushed out the back door, across the dewy grass, and to the chicken coop. Lola and Lolly were strutting about their pen. They both tipped their heads to the side at the sound of her approaching footsteps, expecting her to supply them with fresh corn.
“Not yet, little chickadees,” she said. “Mr. Kapowski comes first.”
They pecked their frustration at her as Emily rushed over to the hen house where they laid their eggs.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered as she looked inside to discover nothing there. She turned her face down to the chickens, hands on hips. “Of all the days for you two not to lay eggs, you choose today!”
Then she remembered all the poached egg practice she’d undertaken yesterday. She must have used at least five! She threw her hands up in the air. Why did Daniel make me worry about poaching eggs? she thought with frustration.
Emily headed back inside, disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to provide the breakfast Mr. Kapowski wanted today either, and began grilling the bacon. Whether it was due to her anxiety or her lack of experience, Emily seemed unable to perform even the most simple of tasks. She spilled coffee all over the counter, then left the bacon under the grill too long so that the edges were crisp and black. The new toaster – a replacement for the one that blew up and ruined the kitchen – seemed to have much more sensitive settings than the last one, and she managed to burn the toast as well.
When she looked at what she’d produced, the final breakfast on the plate, Emily was less than satisfied. She couldn’t serve that mess of a meal. So she went to the utility room and scraped the whole thing into the dogs’ bowls. At least with the dogs fed that was one thing ticked off her to-do list.
Back in the kitchen, Emily tried once again to create the meal that Mr. Kapowski had ordered. This time, it came together better. The bacon wasn’t overdone. The toast wasn’t burned. She just hoped he’d forgive her for the missing ingredients.
She
