the best course of action was to ignore his tantrums. Luckily, or maybe not, I’d also seen his softer side in Nantucket. And in the dining room, over port, I thought, my knees going a little weak.
“About the shopping list,” I explained in the manner of a preschool teacher, “we buy orange juice in a carton to baste the hams. You’re always telling guests that there’s no ham more juicy or rich than the ones served at The Hall.” I kept my voice steady during this teeny tiny fib. Butter, as Rose was fond of saying, would have melted in my mouth.
“Oh. Yeah…O.K. He plonked a cardboard box on to the table and motioned for me to open it. Inside, wrapped in sturdy parchment and silver foil, was a truffle the size of a softball. “Ha! Show that to Edward. I want you to tell him to shave it finely over the scrambled eggs. I won it at auction last week. Charity benefit at Ambridge Dairy…my wife thought I should let it go, but I goddamn won it…sixteen hundred pounds I paid for it! Where is Edward, anyway?”
“We agreed I’d start the day, then he’d go late,” I said, covering. The truth was I didn’t know why Edward wasn’t in the kitchen yet. I’d left him in the shower, and told him to go back to bed if he was tired, that I could take the early shift. Must have needed his rest, I smirked inwardly. “I have everything perfectly under control, Sir.” As if.
I fired up the Nespresso machine and made myself a cappuccino. My nerves were already wired, but I thought I needed a jolt to keep me on track.
He scanned the list again, stood up, and walked over toward the range. I had my eye on the clock. I had not yet begun the batter for the buttermilk and blueberry waffles, which had to be cooked to order, on demand from the guests. This task required the use of an ancient stove-top waffle iron as opposed to a plug-in, because Mr. Roth liked the pattern it imprinted. He may be a spoiled snob, but he does smell really nice, I thought, inhaling deeply. Focus, Juliet! I had to pull out the food processor, prepare the strawberry butter, and grate nutmeg. I got to work, measuring ingredients into a large, earthenware bowl. As Mr. Roth peered over my shoulder, I did yoga breathing and tried to appear normal. On the inside, I felt anything but.
“Did Barry run to the fishmonger and get the lump crabmeat?”
“That’s my next project,” I said evasively. I had no idea what was in the fridge or who was supposed to do what, as Edward was the number one on this job. I hated being in the dark, but I guessed I’d have to improvise till he showed up this morning. It was a small price to pay.
Roth hovered behind me. “I’m gonna go get showered. Send me up a misto, will you, and send a filter coffee for Lady Penelope. If she whines for instant, tell her I ordered the coffee and just leave it. She doesn’t get it. Coffee, I mean. The English don’t know anything about coffee.” He glanced at my coffee mug. “Not like we do, right?” That “we” tipped me off balance. For half a second, I envisioned the two of us sitting at a foggy, outdoor Seattle café, sipping lattes and reading novels together. Edward, Juliet! You’d be drinking coffee with Edward. I forced myself to take cups down from the cabinet. I felt like a puppet in my own body, like I couldn’t predict what crazy act I might commit next.
“I certainly will,” I declared, trying to sound normal. There was a pause and I could feel him standing there, waiting for something. I stood still, my hands clutching the china cups. That sounded weird, I thought to myself. He knows everything.
“Hey, Juliet,” he said, in a softer tone of voice. “About last night…”
Here it comes, I thought. He’s going to fire me for sleeping with Edward. I cut him off, saying, “I can explain … ”
“No I want to explain,” he said. “I botched that conversation. I wanted to talk to you about what happened in Nantucket, and more to the point, what happened here in the drawing room, well…it meant something to me. I know I’m…I’m married. At the moment, but … ” He walked up behind me and put his hand on the small of my back. Just then, Barry, the gardener came in through the back door of the pantry, his arms laden with boughs and boughs of holly branches. Mr. Roth turned and strode out the swinging oak door, leaving it flapping on its hinges. I watched the door close, then turned back to my Aga. I heard creepy Barry laughing with a nasty cough as he walked through.
Did Jasper just say “at the moment”? I wondered, turning my attention back to my pot. After last night, pretending nothing had ever happened. Or, oh my God, was he going to confess something? Surely not. After all, he was married, and that made him the bad guy. But maybe he was. Or maybe that’s all in your head, Juliet. I chided myself. You’ve been attracted to him since that night at the Aquarium. Oh shut up! I told myself, but my body was remembering how dynamic Jasper Roth had been the night I’d met him. The night I’d also met Ben.
****
Back while I was still working at The Ivy, Posy had whisked me to a benefit for the London Aquarium, an event with a capital E…surprisingly well attended by nobility, glitterati and money men, and for that night only, I let loose and practically hosed myself down in the free champagne. Posy dolled me up in a shimmery, form-skimming Zac Posen gown that looked alternately silver or aqua depending how the light hit (“It’s like the ocean,” she’d squealed, jumping up and down and clapping her hands at the sight of me emerging from her en-suite dressing room). Posy was done up in a pale, seafoam green gown concocted from a fabric that made it look painted on. On her head, she wore a tiara with a trident, suggesting that she was the daughter of Neptune himself. On anyone else, it would have looked like a cheap costume. On Posy, it was the perfect marriage of fantasy and royalty.
“You’re gorgeous,” I told her in the car. She’d brought a bottle of wine and two plastic glasses. It was like surfing, trying to balance the glasses, walk in heels and not spill anything on my dress.
“We’re practically twins. If I am, you are.” The wine and the cheerleading made me feel a tiny bit sultry. At first I’d been self-conscious in the tight dress, but I soon found myself mimicking Posy’s flirty confidence.
Her father’s driver dropped us at the door and we (or should I say she?) got a lot of attention with our entrance. We walked into a lavishly staged room filled with tanks of various sea life, giant screens projecting live feeds from the Aquarium itself and wave-like lighting designed to make us feel underwater. That was where I first laid eyes on Jasper Roth.
One of my favorite things about a do like this was checking out the food. Tonight’s theme was Miniature Feasts, which meant that the food was all hors d’oeuvres and canapés, with everything cleverly served in shot glasses, on endive leaves or as “lollipops” on sticks. Often, you’d also find bite-sized delectables served on oyster or scallop shells, but since this was an Aquarium event, I noticed that catering seemed to be a “no fish zone.” I would have been more comfortable in the kitchen than out on the floor. In fact, I was dying to sneak a peek behind the double doors to see how they pulled all this off from behind the scenes. This was without a doubt the fanciest party I’d ever been to. I just kept repeating to myself, You were invited. You belong here. You’re a guest.
As I wobbled tipsily over to a canapé station on Posy’s absurdly elevated and spiky Jimmy Choos (she cannot understand why I wear Dansko clogs in the kitchen) to check out what was being offered in order to mentally file away and steal recipes and presentations, I overheard a low, growly voice saying “…Andover, then Yale, then Harvard.” The deep, rich tone of it sent a little shiver up my spine. I only saw the back of the man speaking. He had a full head of thick, curly dark hair, and a compact but solid and proportionate body. It was the classic upside-down triangle shape of broad shoulders, trim waist and tight bottom. He was clad in an unparalleled navy blue wool suit
