by Amy Rose
He smiles politely at me, unaware of my internal argument. “Shall we head inside?” Knowing we were being watched by others, I make a bold decision, not giving myself even a second to reconsider my actions.
I lift my right hand and pat his chest, twice, then allowing it to rest there for a moment “Yes, we shall.” His smile enlarges at my act; a real smile now, not just a polite one that he gives everyone.
We enter the restaurant together. Surprisingly Elliot doesn’t let go of my hand. I admitted to myself that it felt nice. What wasn’t nice was the number of people who were staring at us from around the room. Once they caught a glimpse of us, they followed our movements. As we approached our table, a few others looked up from their meals. I know that it wasn’t me they were looking at. But still, it was no wonder they were staring. It was all due to this gorgeous man walking beside me. Believe you me, I would be gawking at him too. If I could’ve gotten away with it, that is. Instead, I set myself the task of leaving a smile on my face. I concentrated. It was a hard thing to do. The nerves were starting to kick in.
I am someone who hates being the center of attention at the best of times, let alone when I was accompanying such a handsome man who I was trying to impress. Then on top of that, I was wearing heels. I try to give my full attention to the floor, trying my best not to fall over my two left feet.
Once we arrive at our table, the maître d’ seats us. This was a cozy sized table just for the two of us.
I tried not to make it obvious that I was checking him out, however I was well aware that he hadn’t taken his eyes off me since sitting down. I was feeling a little self-conscious, what was he looking at? Maybe my reflection in the mirror had betrayed me earlier? Surely, he would say something if that was the case. Another possibility floats through my mind. Maybe, just maybe he thought I was beautiful. Several other men have told me I was beautiful before. Not for a long time though, and in that number I would guess that at least two of the three were relatives. Even so, it was possible for him to think that of me, wasn’t it? A girl could dream, after all.
I wrack my brain thinking of suitable small talk, needing to be somehow out from under his stare, I think about a couple of good conversation starters, and decide on one. Just as I am about to ask if he came to Nashville often, he jumped ahead of me “So, Miss White, I’d like to know what you have decided.”
Okay then, that’s how tonight was going to be: straight to the point. I should have known it would be this way. It was a business meeting after all, even though it was being held at a restaurant. There would be no idle chit chat, then. What should I say, yes or no?
~ Chapter Seven ~
I was so thankful that at the exact same moment that Elliot expected an answer, our server arrived with a bottle of sparkling water and two glasses. Once the glasses are placed in front of us, he continues to pour the water into the glassware for us. “My name is Sam, and I will be your server tonight. Would either of you like something else to drink?” This was good. Even though he didn’t know he was doing it, Sam was buying me a few more minutes before I had to answer. I could have reached up, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him.
“Angela, what would you like to drink?” Elliot’s voice rings clear, I am at a crossroads here. Do I choose something alcoholic like a glass of white, or stay on the safe side and choose a non-alcoholic beverage? These places always have soft drinks or orange juice. Argh, decisions, decisions.
“I’m okay with water for now, thank you Sam.” Best I be in a clear state of mind. If all goes well, I’ll order a glass of wine later as a celebration if he purchases the property. Yes, that sounds good. Later in the evening, after I have made it through the meal without making a fool of myself.
Sam nods in my direction. His pencil resting just above the notepad in his other hand, he turns his attention to Elliot, who is looking at the leather-bound wine menu. I’ll have a glass of this cabernet,” he says, pointing to what I can only assume is an expensive wine.
“Will do sir. Won’t be long for you” the server scribbles down the order before heading away from our table. I tentatively reach for my water glass and allow myself a small sip of the liquid, it was nice, cold and refreshing. I don’t tend to buy sparkling water, I mean why have water with bubbles. In this setting, though, it would be odd to have tap water.
With Sam’s arrival and his momentary distraction, I decide that I will do my best to try and capitalize on this and steer Elliot away from his earlier question and into safer, more generic waters. If I can get him talking about a completely different topic, then I can avoid answering his earlier question. “So how did the rest of your afternoon go, Mr. Sands?”
He too has his goblet of water in his hand and is reaching to put it back on the table in front of him, “it went well, thank you. Angela, please, call me Elliot” It is the invitation I had been waiting for; I could drop the formalities. I feel more comfortable addressing him by his first name now that I had given his permission.
“Thank you, Elliot,” and with that, the mission is accomplished, I have used his first name and even better, I have successfully changed the subject.
Maybe it is the lighting in the restaurant, or more than likely it’s my eyes playing tricks on me, but I can swear that for just a second I witness a flicker in his eyes when I address him by his first name. The way someone does when they like what they hear. I see it sometimes when I close a deal at work, when the seller hears the words “I’ve got an offer for you.” Their eyes light up with anticipation, they want to hear more. “How about you, did you have any other showings this afternoon?” luckily Elliot had hit me with another safe question. Relieved that we were still off topic, I was happy to answer.
“No, not this afternoon. Back into it again tomorrow, though.” Sam, the server, returned with Elliot’s wine and placed it on the table.
Noticing that our menus hadn’t been opened, he said, “Take your time and give me a signal when you’re ready to order.” He had recited the specials before taking our drink orders.
I hadn’t even given the menu a single thought since we had sat down, I reflexively grabbed the leather bound folder from the table and lifted it from its resting place to have a quick look, knowing that we weren’t ready. I hear Elliot’s voice say “A few more minutes would be beneficial.”
“Of course” I hear the waiters footsteps as he leaves our table, I raise my gaze over the top of the menu to see that Elliot’s gaze still hadn’t left my face. I felt as though he might find me beautiful. That was the impression that his eyes were giving me. Those eyes were looking at me!
I feel my subconscious smile at the thought that this gorgeous man was sitting across the table from me and not looking away. For the next couple of hours of this evening, this man was mine and his full attention was on me. This will do well for my self-confidence.
“Thank you for getting us a little more time Elliot, I’m sorry but I haven’t eaten here before, I couldn’t even tell you what’s on the menu” I look him directly in the eyes and provide him with my best shy smile,
“That surprises me, actually.”
“What surprises you?”
“That you haven’t eaten here before Angela. Especially when you are a Nashville local. Since it’s also my first time here, I must confess that I don’t know what’s listed on this menu either. But, I want you to choose anything on the menu, anything at all that takes your fancy. Tonight is my treat.” He collects his own menu at this time. No, no, no, no, no, he couldn’t pay for this dinner, could he?
I mean it’s not as though he can’t afford it, but still, I really should pay for my own. I mean just how much would a Chicken Caesar salad cost anyway. I locate the salad section of the menu, quickly scanning I find the price and almost stop breathing, $35.00 for a salad, salad whose ingredients can nearly be counted on one hand: lettuce, bacon, chicken, egg, parmesan cheese and croutons, Sheesh, I had just under $200 left in my everyday bank account and that had to last
me for another ten days, that was when I would receive my next pay. There was another option, there was always my savings account, the one I didn’t touch, if I’m not going to break into that to purchase a house, I’m not going to for a dinner that Elliot is offering to pay for, maybe I should just let him pay for dinner? After all he was the one who advised he would be paying, I don’t want to offend him now do I? And it would be disrespectful to argue with him, anyway I can order him a glass of champagne to toast with if he purchases the property.
“Do you see anything you like?” He asks innocently, interrupting my battling thoughts. At the sound of his voice, my mind goes in a completely different direction, not thinking about food any longer.
I almost blurt out “do you count?” Luckily for me that thought stays where it belongs, in my head. “A few things,” I said, and truer words have never been spoken. Not all of them were on the menu, might I add. I am looking at his handsome face when he looks up and catches me. I quickly lower my eyes, landing on the menu, embarrassed that he caught me. I feel the unwelcome flush across my cheeks giving me away. I swear that I can hear him quietly chuckling.
Sam, our server, returns a short time later and takes our order. A chicken and avocado dish for Elliot, and steak with mushroom dish for me. Once Sam has wandered away from us Elliot looks at me for a moment and then opens his mouth to speak “Angela, have you thought about my proposal? Given it any consideration at all this afternoon?” So, there we have it, we were back to the original question from when we first sat down, I should be grateful for all of the other distractions so far this evening. They have given me at least a few more minutes to think of what I should say.
I had indeed thought about it, quite a lot this afternoon. I had some questions that I want answered first though. So I figured I would just come out with them and see where the chips lie afterwards. Mentally preparing myself, I bring my first question to mind, inhaling an inconspicuous breath. Here goes nothing, “Elliot” that same flicker in the eyes was there, so that confirms that I wasn’t seeing things earlier. A warm and fuzzy feeling forms in my belly. “I have considered your proposal but there are a few things I wanted to clarify before making my final decision.”
He brings his arms up above the table, placing his elbows on the surface and steeples his hands in front of his chest, “Of course, I expected nothing less.” He waves one of his hands palm up and then curves his fingers to his chest, as though he is signaling for me to bring it on, lay it on him, he continues. “Please Angela, ask me anything.”
I take a deep breath, not bothering to hide it this time. The moment had arrived and it was time to put it out there. Here goes nothing.
“Okay then. First I need to know how much contact you would require from me? I’m very busy with work, especially at the moment, and that doesn’t allow a lot of spare time for anything else really. Sunday is my only free day, and as you saw today, sometimes it even involves work, so I would need to attend the house more than likely on a Sunday or possibly late Saturday afternoons. And that’s only if I don’t have any late showings. This however, will end up being when the trades persons are not working, so who would I be speaking to regarding these progress reports that I would need to compile for you? A foreman possibly?”
He looks at me passively, his face not betraying any emotion, I do however catch him taking a small breath, “I understand that you are a busy woman, Angela, I myself know that feeling. I generally work sixty plus hours a week and that, more often than not, includes the weekend. You would be able to attend the property at any time due to the fact that I would give you a key. This way you could access it any day and any time that suits you. It won’t matter whether my contractors are there or not.”
He continues to look at me, “In regard to the first part of your question, concerning contact, I would prefer weekly updates. Sundays are fine with me. However, if for some reason you know that it is going a couple of days late and you have let me know in advance then I could deal with that. How does that sound to you?” With his speech finished he takes his wine glass in hand, swirling the wine gently, he raises it to his nose to smell it quickly, before lowering the glass to his lips and tipping the glass up, allowing himself a taste.
“That sounds reasonable,” I reply. It was true, he was flexible with his answer. That could work for me. Next question. This one can go two different ways, this is mainly due to my intuition, he wants reports and knowledge of the process, more than likely wanting to see the progress, which means photographs, I have a camera at home, I use it to take all of my landscape photos, but it’s certainly not new, I hope he doesn’t see this next comment as trying to get freebies, I’m certainly not that kind of person, I don’t want to tell him that I don’t have the money required to outlay on these items, “my second question is more of a combined statement/question.”
He smiles, “Okay, shoot.”
“I’m not a very technologically savvy person Elliot. I generally use the camera on my phone, would that be sufficient for the photographs you would no doubt want sent through with the updates?”
He seems to think about my request for a moment. “That’s okay, Angela. I have a camera and laptop set aside for projects like this, which my design assistant would normally take with her to these projects. I am happy to lend them to you for the duration of the project if you would like?” I am so glad that he didn’t make fun of me for not having a camera. “Since you call yourself a non-technological person, I am happy to teach you how to use the camera, if that helps?”
He would teach me, which would give him another reason to come to Nashville and see me. No brainer that one. “That would be helpful, thank you Mr. Sands. Ah, I mean, Elliot,” I quickly correct myself. He smiles.
I have one more question on my mind. The issue was if I was daring enough to ask it. Would he know I was asking this for me personally, rather than for the project? “Okay, last question, I promise.” I giggle a little bit, nerves are coursing through my body right now, threatening to overflow. If I’m going to do it, ask this question, then I’ve got to do it now.
“Sure, go on,” he answers. He was serious now, looking at me, waiting on my final request. Well, here goes nothing.
“Well if I do this for you, you mentioned that you would need me to be your person in Nashville, which is fine. However, I want to know if you would still come look over the house too, mainly if something needed your approval, say on a big ticket item or maybe an unexpected find. You know these old houses.”
He smiles then, possibly relief shows across his incredibly handsome features, I think maybe he was expecting this question. “Angela, if you think you need me, send me a message, an email or call me, anytime of the day or night. If I am unable to talk to you at that moment, rest assured that I will get back to you. I can guarantee you that if I’m needed here in Nashville to oversee any part of the restoration, I will come as soon as I can. I will be taking a few days off from work sporadically throughout the project to be stationed here. I always do with all of my projects, so I can promise you that I will more than likely be around, especially when some of the big items are happening.” he places his hands under his chin. “I like to be involved in all aspects of the job. I have done so since the very first house I renovated. It’s what I do. It’s why I have my business.”
I look at him, eyes all glassy, large and open. I think this is what women sometimes refer to as doe eyes. I’m sure of it, here I was, hanging off every single word he was saying. This man intrigued me like no other. He was getting under my skin. I was starting to feel comfortable in his company.
Just as I am about to say something incredibly stupid along the lines of “I’d love being involved with you,” Sam reappears with our food. I was so glad to see him, he seemed to have this uncanny ability to turn up when I needed him, needed reminding that this was not the time or place and definitely not the person to be getting mushy over. When he retreats, leaving us with our delicious looking plates, �
��Bon appetite” I look at Elliot before grabbing my utensils and cut into my steak. As soon as I have taken my first bite, I realize just how hungry I am. The steak is mouth-wateringly good, cooked absolutely perfectly. I remind myself that the next time I see Sam I should ask him to pass on my compliments to the chef.
Elliot takes me by surprise, interrupting my meal. “Have I answered all of your questions, Angela?”
I finish chewing and then swallow my mouthful of broccolini and have a quick sip of water. “Yes, you have, thank you, Mr. Sands.” Not wanting to answer any more questions right now, I pop another mouthful of steak into my mouth savoring the taste of the beef with mushrooms in a creamy sauce. It makes a delectable combination.
“That’s good. Now, I have a couple of questions for you.” Oh crap. I hadn’t planned on him having questions for me. What on earth could he want to know? Please God, don’t let it be anything personal.
“I would like for you to come to my office in New York to collect the laptop and camera. This will also be a great chance for us to go over the designs for the house. That way you are aware of what I am after, specifically. Also, I can introduce you to some of the crew who will be working on the restoration. When would you be available to do that? When the house closes, possibly?”
He begins to cut into his chicken, no longer looking at me. New York. He wanted me to go to damn New York. I can’t afford to just hop on a plane and fly out to his business. Why the hell couldn’t he just bring everything to me? I knew why, it would be too hard to bring all of that here, when just one person needed to go to him, and that one person is me. How should I phrase this? Maybe I could suggest he bring those items with him when he collects the keys to the property at the closing? I wouldn’t get to meet the tradesmen, but that’s okay with me, it would save me the trip. Aha the sale, that’s it, focus on the sale Angela! “Does this mean you’re purchasing the home, Mr. Sands?”
