“You must be exhausted.” Lucie’s mother followed her into her bedroom after her shift at the restaurant.
“You, too, Mom.” Her mother had worked nearly as many hours as Lucie despite her medical condition. Thankfully Aren had been able to help with the serving earlier in the day. He’d been wonderful, really wonderful. He wouldn’t allow either of them to lift anything and had carted all the heavy pots and serving dishes back and forth. As soon as he had arrived, Aren had dug right in, lending a helping hand.
It was far more than his willingness to serve that touched her heart. Aren had been terrific with the men and women, chatting with them, making them feel welcome, asking questions, making conversation. He’d been willing to listen when so many others had looked the other way, and he’d been great with the children, too.
“I am tired, but I wasn’t the one slaving over a hot stove all night.”
“Mom, I love what I do.”
Her mother hugged her and then went off to her own bedroom. Sammy remained patiently at Lucie’s side, waiting for her and willing to follow wherever she led.
Lucie took a long hot shower and dressed for bed. Sunday afternoon she’d cook dinner for Aren and she planned to make it a meal he would long remember. Years ago her mother had told her the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. She wanted Aren’s heart. Despite all the demands on her time, the responsibility of making the restaurant a success, Lucie couldn’t help falling in love with Aren. He was easy to love. Her head and her heart were full as she drifted off to sleep.
Her dreams that night were filled with Aren. She woke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Wendy said when Lucie staggered into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
Automatically her mother poured Lucie a cup of coffee. “We’ve got an hour before church this morning. Advent is my favorite time of year. I just love singing Christmas carols.”
“Me too.” With so much to do on her day off, Lucie was tempted to skip worship service. It would be easy to offer her mother an excuse. She didn’t and was glad because the service was inspiring.
If she lacked Christmas spirit, working with the homeless at the Salvation Army and attending church had given her more than an ample supply.
After church, Lucie and Wendy dragged out the Christmas tree decorations from the storage space in the apartment basement. She hoped Aren wouldn’t mind helping her set up the tree later. It would be fun and romantic.
Before Lucie made one final trip to the basement for the last load of decorations, her mother announced she had made plans for the afternoon. She was going shopping with a friend and they might take in a movie afterward. Lucie wasn’t fooled. This was a gift of time alone with Aren.
On the way up the stairs, Lucie ran into her neighbor. “Merry Christmas, Mrs. Sullivan,” she said cheerfully. Her mood was high, filled with happy anticipation for her afternoon with Aren.
“Merry Christmas, Lucie.” Her elderly neighbor was hauling a box of trash to the recycling bin.
“Oh, is that Saturday’s newspaper?” she asked, eyeing the date on the paper on the very top of the box.
“It is.”
“Would you mind if I read it?”
“Be my guest.”
Lucie grabbed the newspaper and stuffed it under her arm as she raced up the stairs. She was anxious to look for Aren’s name. He’d asked her to wait to read it, which seemed a little silly. It would be the first time he had a byline and she was proud of him.
“I got Saturday’s newspaper,” Lucie called out as soon as she returned to the apartment. Setting down the last box of ornaments, she pulled out a kitchen chair and spread out the newspaper. After going through every section twice she couldn’t find Aren’s name anywhere.
“It’s not here,” she said, disappointment coating her words. “Not the way I expected, at least.”
“How do you mean?” her mother asked.
“Well, he mentioned that he wrote a short piece about the play we saw and what happened but there’s no real byline there, just a note to check out the restaurant review, but that doesn’t make any sense.”
“Did you read the restaurant review?” Her mother sounded as disappointed as Lucie.
“No,” Lucie admitted.
“Does he write for sports?” her mother asked, as if Lucie had reached for the wrong section.
“No … actually, he’s never mentioned what he writes.” In fact, now that she thought about it, Aren had always been rather secretive about what he did for the newspaper.
“Well, check out the restaurant review,” her mother suggested.
As it was, Lucie was confused. “He couldn’t have anything to do with that. The review is written by Eaton Well.”
“Then don’t read it,” her mother said, shaking her head. “Every time you even glance at his column you get upset.”
“And rightly so. The man is an idiot.”
“Lucie, you shouldn’t say that.”
“I can’t help it, Mom. Eaton Well nearly ruined us. Oh, and look,” she said, pointing to the column. “Sure enough he’s reviewing the same restaurant where Aren and I had dinner last Thursday night.” She picked up the paper and skimmed through the article. Not more than two inches into the column and her fingers tightened, crumpling the edges of the newspaper.
“Lucie, I told you not to read his review. It upsets you every time.”
She swallowed hard, closed her eyes, and set the newspaper back down on the table. Slowly she came to her feet as a tight knot formed in her throat.
“Was it another negative review?” her mother asked.
“It was fair,” she said, her voice cracking slightly as the realization hit her. Aren was Eaton Well. This was the reason he hadn’t wanted her to read the paper until after they spoke. He intended on telling her that he’d been the one who wrote that horrible review of Heavenly Delights. He hadn’t known at the time that she was the chef who’d prepared his meal. The sole had been one of her signature dishes, one she was most proud to add to the menu. And he’d panned it with language so harsh the sting lingered in her mind even now, all these weeks later.
“Lucie, are you all right?” Wendy asked.
“Yes, Mom.” She was on her feet, although she didn’t know what she intended to do or where she thought she would go. It felt as if the room had suddenly shrunk to half its size, as though the walls were closing in on her. She had nowhere to hide; nowhere to run.
“What time will Aren be here?” her mother asked.
“Ah … I don’t recall.” Her head started to spin. Aren would be at the apartment soon. It would be impossible to look at him now, knowing what she did.
“Janice is stopping by to pick me up in an hour. Are you sure you don’t want any help decorating the tree?”
The tree. Lucie had completely forgotten she’d agreed to decorate the Christmas tree. A task she’d been looking forward to doing with Aren. Now it would be impossible. “I’ll get the tree up, Mom, no problem.”
“If Aren has something else in mind, then don’t bother, okay?”
“Sure.” She walked to one end of the kitchen and then back, lost in a fog that refused to clear. What she needed to do was think and that would be out of the question if Aren was with her.
Aren. Aren was Eaton Well.
Lucie had trouble wrapping her mind around what she should have figured out long ago.
“Lucie, are you all right? You’ve gone quite pale. Are you sure you’re feeling okay? I could stay home, if you wanted.”
“No … I’m fine. Go and have fun … enjoy your day.”
“I will.” Her mother hummed as she buzzed about the room, sorting out the stacks on the kitchen countertop and then addressing a few Christmas cards while she waited for her friend to arrive.
Lucie bided her time until her mother left. Then, gathering her resolve, she reached for her phone. Of primary importance was to find an excuse to keep Aren away. She needed to think, to absorb what she’d learned, figure out what to do.
Aren answered on the first ring and when he found out it was her, he said, “Hello. I was just on my way out the door.”
“I’m glad I caught you, then.” Lucie did her best to sound as though nothing was wrong.
“What’s up?”
In a flash, it came to her what to do. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”
Something in her voice must have betrayed her feelings because Aren suddenly went quiet. Lucie could hear the background noise. The sound of an elevator opening. The rushing sound of the doors closing and then nothing.
“Thinking about what?” he asked, sounding strained and uncertain, as though testing her.
“Us. When we met all those months ago, I told you that my life was crazy busy with the restaurant and all. The timing to get involved with someone couldn’t be worse for me. I realize now that nothing has really changed.”
“In other words you want to cool it.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time and then in a soft voice, he asked, “You saw the article, didn’t you?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t going to lie to him.
“And now you hate me?”
“No.” Lucie could never hate Aren. “I … need to take a step back and reevaluate our relationship. You aren’t the person I thought you were.”
“You’re wrong, Lucie.”
“You were cruel and mean in the review you wrote about Heavenly Delights. Eaton Well isn’t a kind person … he thinks he’s being clever and he isn’t. He uses words to cut people down … what you wrote about Heavenly Delights was unjustifiable and—”
“I was honest,” he said, cutting into her short tirade.
“My cooking is that bad? You’re telling me that the effort and investment my mother and I put into this restaurant was a waste of time and that we deserve to fail?”
“I didn’t write anything even close to that.”
“You might as well have.”
He didn’t respond, which was just as well. Arguing the point would do no good.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she continued. “Tell me now and be truthful. Did the sole actually taste that bad?”
Again Aren hesitated as if looking for a way around the truth, his truth. “Everyone has an off day now and again.”
“That bad?” she repeated, louder this time, more insistent.
A heartbeat passed before he answered. “Yes, that bad.”
“I see,” she choked out. “That tells me everything.”
“Lucie, you’re being unreasonable and unfair.”
“I’m being unfair? Well, if that isn’t calling the kettle black I don’t know what is.”
“Okay, fine, if you don’t want to see me again—”
“You should have told me who you really are long before now,” she argued.
“I couldn’t. My contract doesn’t allow me to tell you outright, so I did the best I could. I was as honest as possible. I told you the only way I could by quoting you in my column. I knew the minute you read the review you would know. You can’t fault me for misleading you.”
He was right, and while she wanted to argue with him, she couldn’t. That didn’t change the fact that he was the man who’d been willing to ruin her and her mother’s investment. Lucie couldn’t overlook that.
“I understand that you did your best not to deceive me …” she began. That was key to him, she realized, because he’d been deceived by his wife. Nevertheless it didn’t alter the fact that he was who he was.
“But …” He said it before she had the chance.
“But it isn’t working, Aren. It just isn’t working.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Excuse me?” she flared. Lucie hadn’t expected this to be easy. What she found difficult was the way he challenged her. She anticipated Aren would respond with angry pride and defend his actions. Instead he sounded reasonable and unruffled, making it all the harder to do what needed to be done.
“You heard me loud and clear. Our relationship is working and that frightens you. You’ve come to trust me and when I found fault with your cooking you couldn’t take the criticism.”
“You’re so off base it isn’t even funny.” This wasn’t about pride. The problem was she was falling for Aren and falling hard. The man she didn’t feel she could trust was Eaton Well and to discover they were one and the same made it necessary to reassess their relationship.
“I doubt I’m that far off base,” he returned, sounding completely unruffled. “You’re afraid.”
“Okay, I’m afraid. I’ll admit it.”
He paused as if he hadn’t expected her to own up to her own fears.
“What are you really saying, Lucie? Do you want to take a breather or do you want to cut off our relationship entirely?”
“I … think it would be best if we didn’t see each other.”
“Ever again?”
Lucie closed her eyes and tightened her hold on her cellphone. Already it was pressed against her ear so hard it would leave an indentation. “I … don’t know.” Now wasn’t the time to make that kind of decision.
“Leaving me dangling seems rather unfair, don’t you think?”
“Yes,” she had to agree.
“Then decide. If you want to take a break then let’s do it. We can meet again in a month or two and talk then.”
“I … need longer.”
“Three months?”
“I don’t know.” She closed her eyes.
Aren chuckled softly and without humor. “I believe I’m getting the message. You want me completely out of your life but you don’t have the courage to say it.”
Lucie didn’t know if that was true or not. “I … don’t know what to say. I need time.”
“Then take all the time you need. But I’m sticking by my review. I don’t know what happened that night with the sole, but in my opinion it should never have been served.
“You had over three hundred patrons who strongly disagreed with me and I had the opportunity to dine a second time at Heavenly Delights, and I was glad I did because the meal was wonderful. I wrote a rave review. I gave you another chance.”
“I know,” she whispered, feeling dreadful. He had written a positive review but that was after he knew she was the chef.
“It’s a shame you’re unwilling to do the same for me.”
Before she could say another word, Aren whispered, “Good-bye, Lucie,” and hung up.
“How did Lucie get that newspaper?” Mercy cried, watching events unfold from the Brooklyn skyline above Lucie’s apartment. “Who was assigned to watch her?”
Will reluctantly raised his hand. “She was in the basement. I didn’t even see who gave it to her. I’m so sorry … and now everything is ruined, and once again it’s all my fault.”
Gabriel appeared beside them, arriving unexpectedly and with little fanfare. “So how is the romance developing between Lucie and Aren?” he asked, although Mercy strongly suspected he already knew the answer.
No one seemed inclined to respond.
“She just told him she doesn’t want to see him,” Shirley muttered. “And it’s all our fault.”
“We messed with her sauce for the fish and that upset God’s plan,” Will admitted.
“That’s the problem,” Gabriel said and folded his arms over his massive chest. “And it’s a big one. There’s a very good reason Prayer Ambassadors are asked not to get involved with matters on Earth. When you do, things can get messy.”
“Real messy,” Shirley agreed. “And I’m to blame.”
“I’m at fault, too,” Goodness confessed.
“We’re all guilty,” Mercy chimed in, and the worst of it was they’d led young Will astray as well.
“Can we fix it?” Will asked eagerly.
Gabriel looked from one to the other. “I think it might be best if you left it alone and let Lucie and Aren sort this out for themselves,” he suggested.
“But will they?” Mercy pleaded, needing to know. It grieved her that two people who seemed so right together would allow this to stand between them. She wanted to help but knew she dared not.
“What happens is up to them,” Gabriel said, and then he did something completely out of character. Gabriel gently patted Mercy’s shoulder. “We aren’t meant to understand why humans make the decisions they do. It’s all about free will.”
“But Aren and Lucie are so right for each other,” Will argued.
“Are they?” Gabriel posed the question.
Unfortunately the answer was one Shirley, Goodness, Mercy, and Will didn’t know.