by Dalia Wright
“Wow, so you’re an artist.” Blake looked impressed, “That must be nice to be able to express yourself creatively. I don’t have an ounce of creativity in me.”
“I didn’t mean to imply I’m a professional artist or anything,” Chelsea added hastily not wanting to give him the wrong idea, “I just like sketching things I see.”
“Regardless, it still sounds impressive.” He extended his right hand towards her. “I’m Blake by the way.”
Chelsea grasped the proffered hand and shook it gently, “I’m Chelsea.”
“That’s a nice name,” he said while trying to find the right way of easing into asking her out. He didn’t want to scare her off by being too pushy.
“Are you here for long?”
“No, the tour leaves soon, I think,” she said, looking at her watch, “I should probably head back.”
“I meant in the city. Are you heading back home soon?”
“Oh. That really depends on my friend, I guess.” Chelsea knew her response was vague, but she didn’t want to explain to Blake about Rumpsringa and her Amish upbringing. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she didn’t want him to think of her as a freak. In her experience whenever anyone heard the word Amish, they immediately assumed the worst.
“You’re staying in San Francisco I assume? I hope somewhere nice.”
“Yes, the Pier Hotel is lovely. Anyways, I really should get going now. It was nice to meet you Mr…ummm Blake.”
“If I’m in the city in the next few days maybe I could give you a call and show you some parts of the city you might enjoy?”
Even as Chelsea felt thrilled at the idea of seeing him again, her inner instinct cautioned her against it. After all, she didn’t know anything about him expect that he was handsome and picked grapes at a vineyard. And handsome men only wanted one thing from women; it certainly wasn’t platonic companionship. Her mother had warned her time and time again about the perils of a handsome face in the city, so there was no way she would agree to meet him again, no matter how much she had enjoyed their conversation. So she politely declined the invitation.
“I’m afraid we won’t be in town for much longer. So I don’t think I’ll have the time. Thank you for the chat, Blake. Goodbye,” she added firmly before walking away in the direction of the main house.
Blake, who was usually used to women throwing themselves at him and who had certainly never been turned down for a date, was a little astounded at her clear rejection, especially when he was fairly certain she had enjoyed his company. But Blake wasn’t one to give up easily on anything, especially when it was something he wanted very much. As he watched her walk away he decided right then and there that Chelsea was someone he wanted to see again very much.
CHAPTER SIX:
Two days later a simple but elegant floral arrangement of lilies arrived at the Pier Hotel. Chelsea received the flowers and automatically handed them over to Agnes, never dreaming they were for her. Agnes read the attached card and looked at Chelsea in puzzlement.
“Chels, this is for you. Who’s Blake?”
“For me?! That can’t be right.”
She took the card from Agnes, feeling certain there was a mistake, and read the simple words.
For the lovely conversation – Blake
“How romantic!” Agnes said breathlessly before rounding on Chelsea with a wide grin, “You sly girl, carrying on a flirtation and not even telling me!”
“It’s hardly a flirtation,” Chelsea protested. “It was just one conversation at the vineyard with one of the workers.”
“Well you must be one hell of a conversationalist!”
“Agnes! Don’t use words like that.”
“What, hell? Stop being so prudish, it’s the way normal people talk.”
“Not good, God-fearing Christians,” Chelsea said primly. Absorbed in admiring her flowers, she missed Agnes’ eye roll.
“If you’re so hell-bent on propriety,” Agnes said deliberately emphasizing the offensive word, “better call him and thank him for the flowers.”
Chelsea ignored her and flipped the card over looking for a number or contact information, but there was none. She secretly felt relieved – this way she wouldn’t have to initiate any contact.
But mere minutes later the phone in their hotel room rang, startling both girls. Agnes picked it up and for the second time looked at Chelsea in puzzlement.
“It’s for you.”
Chelsea picked up the receiver, her heart thudding madly. When she heard the voice on the other end she felt no surprise. Somehow she had known it would be him.
“Did you like the flowers?”
“Yes, thank you. They’re very lovely.”
“I figured you would want to thank me so I thought I would save you the trouble and call you myself.”
Chelsea could tell from the tone of his voice he was teasing her again, and against her better judgement, she felt herself smiling at the absurdity of his comment.
“Well, that was very thoughtful of you.”
“Now if you would like to thank me in person you can come down to the lobby and take me out for some ice cream.”
His words knocked the breath out of Chelsea and she glanced over helplessly at Agnes, who was listening to Chelsea’s half of the conversation in absolute fascination.
He’s here! Chelsea mouthed to Agnes pointing at the ground below them.
“I’m not sure if I can come meet you because…” But she got no further because Agnes looked at her furiously and mouthed back, You’re going to meet him! Even if I have to drag you down myself! Tell him!
Feeling pressure on both ends, Chelsea found herself agreeing to come down. Agnes worked on her with quick fingers, making her put on a pretty maxi dress and plaiting her long blond hair in a fishtail over one shoulder. She swiped a few coats of dark mascara on her lashes and dabbed a pink gloss on her lips before spraying her with some perfume and pronouncing her just perfect.
She would have come down with Chelsea too, but Chelsea would have none of it and told her very firmly that she could do this on her own. When she caught sight of Blake dressed in dark jeans and a t-shirt, he looked even more rakish and handsome then the day at the vineyard. When she got closer, she caught a whiff of his subtle cologne and she went weak at the knees. He smelled woodsy and strong.
“Hello,” she said shyly.
“Thank you for meeting me. I’m ready for that ice cream now.”
The ice cream turned into an endlessly long date complete with a leisurely dinner at a tiny Italian restaurant tucked away near Fisherman’s Wharf. Chelsea, who had yet to visit Pier 39, fell in love with everything about the place, from the sea lions lazily sunning on the docks to the boats bobbing merrily on the water to the quaint shops and twisting pathways. This was Chelsea’s first experience of a real date, and it surprised her a great deal that she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
They talked for hours about almost everything and conversation flowed between them easily. Blake spoke with such passion about the vineyard and the wine making process that Chelsea couldn’t help but say,
“It’s wonderful to see someone be so dedicated and feel so passionately about their job. I hope your employers appreciate you.”
He coughed at her comment and mumbled something about them appreciating him enough before changing the subject. He in turn asked her lots of questions about growing up in the countryside and what she liked best about it.
“Honestly, I love the fact that everyone knows everyone else and you always feel so secure. It’s a more simple way of living without unwanted stress and headaches. I love breathing in fresh air, the smell of the flowers, freshly mowed grass, Sunday mornings at the church… All of those things and so much more.”
“Do you go to church every Sunday?”
“Without fail,” Chelsea answered. “Well except for the last few weeks, Agnes refuses to be dragged out of bed on Sunday mornings during our vacation. What about you?”
>
“I’m not very religious in that way, I’m afraid. Unless it’s with family for Christmas, Easter…someone’s baptism, that kind of stuff.”
“Oh.” To Chelsea, whose entire life was centred around the principles of God and church, this was an almost unheard of thing, and she felt her first prickle of disappointment towards Blake. Which she knew was somewhat illogical on her part.
Somehow sensing that some further explanation was needed, Blake added, “That’s not to say I don’t believe in God; I just don’t think I need to show my devotion in church. I think it’s more important to set an example by trying to be a good person. Don’t you think it’s better to be an honest man who never goes to church than a thief who’s there all the time?”
Put in such a simple way, Chelsea was forced to agree it did make sense and her mind drifted to an elder in their community who she disliked intensely; he lived and breathed for the church but when it came down to it, he wasn’t the nicest person and had a very cruel heart.
Blake looked at his watch; it was just past 10:00 p.m. Knowing how simple and straightforward she was, he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about anything so he said, “As much as I don’t want to let you go, I think I should drop you off at the hotel now.”
Chelsea, not realizing that he was doing this for her benefit, felt another stab of disappointment. Why is he trying to get rid of me? She thought to herself. But she smiled at him brilliantly instead and nodded,
“Yes, I should be heading back now. I don’t want Agnes to worry.”
They grabbed a cab and said their goodbyes on the street in front of the hotel. He wanted to walk her to her room but she insisted it wasn’t necessary. She unconsciously braced herself for a kiss, having heard enough stories about city boys to know it was the norm after a date to except kisses and sometimes more. In Blake’s case she didn’t expect more, but she prepared herself for a kiss.
Blake gazed at her under hooded eyes, itching to pull this exquisite girl into his arms and kiss her – but he restrained himself. After their date tonight, he had come to the conclusion that he wanted to see a lot more of her, and he also realized she was unlike any other girl he had ever known. He had no wish to practice his flirtatious techniques on her. There was something so honest about her; he wanted to be nothing but honest with her himself. So instead of pulling her into a kiss, he gently pressed her hand and thanked her for a wonderful evening.
When she realized no kiss was coming her way, Chelsea fought down her third bout of disappointment and tried to be relieved instead. But it was clear to her now she had bored him.
“Thank you for a lovely evening as well,” she parroted back politely before turning to walk into the hotel.
“Umm…Chelsea?”
She turned.“Yes?”
“Would it be okay if I came by tomorrow? I thought we could maybe do lunch.”
Not trusting herself to speak in case her voice betrayed how happy she was at the prospect, she nodded before disappearing through the revolving doors.
When she walked into the hotel room, Agnes, who was anxiously pacing the floors, pounced on her immediately.
“Tell me EVERYTHING!”
While Chelsea gave Agnes a detailed account of her evening with Blake, he was headed to Pacific Heights to his penthouse thinking of Chelsea. He felt guilty for letting her think he was nothing more than a common labourer. He strengthened his earlier resolve about wanting to be honest with her.
I’ll tell her tomorrow at lunch who I really am, he said to himself hoping that his wealth wouldn’t be a problem for her. The thought made him chuckle. He couldn’t remember too much money ever being a problem in winning over a girl’s heart.
CHAPTER SEVEN:
Knowing he had a delicate conversation ahead of him, Blake asked his cook to prepare a picnic lunch for him. He decided Chelsea would probably appreciate that more. When he arrived at the hotel, Chelsea was already waiting for him at the lobby, dressed in a simple summer dress with her hair hanging in loose waves down her back, framing her heart-shaped face.
“You look beautiful.” The words slipped out impulsively before he could help himself, but she seemed pleased by the compliment and he could have sworn her eyes sparkled a little brighter.
In the spirit of being honest he had come to the hotel in his Mercedes, driven by his personal chauffeur, Max. He opened the door for her.
“This?”
“Yes, I’ll explain later. I thought it might be more comfortable than taking a cab.”
She looked at him a little doubtfully but slid in without complaint. Blake settled down next to her and Max wordlessly peeled away and headed to their pre-determined destination.
“Where are we going?” Chelsea asked curiously when she noticed they were leaving the outskirts of the city.
“We’re going on a picnic. There’s a spot I know in the Yosemite Park, I thought you might enjoy that more than a bistro or a restaurant.”
Chelsea clapped her hands delighted at the plan.
“That sounds positively wonderful!”
A short while later Max had dropped them off and Blake had set up a charming picnic complete with a red-and-white checkered blanket. He had decided earlier it would be best to get the awkward conversation done with right away, so without any warning he dove right into the heart of the matter.
“Chelsea, there’s something I need to tell you.”
At once Chelsea felt wary; it occurred to her she was in a very remote location with someone who was a total stranger. He could do anything he wanted to her and nobody would ever know.
She tried not to betray the nervousness she felt. “Yes?”
“You know how I told you I work at the vineyard?”
“Yes, as a grape picker.”
“Well I wasn’t entirely honest with you.”
“You mean you don’t actually work there?” An appalling thought occurred to her.“Please tell me you weren’t at the vineyard stealing grapes!”
He tried to lighten the mood with some humour.
“No, not at all! Unless eating a few here and there count as stealing.”
She smiled at the joke, but it was a stiff one.
“I do work at the vineyard, I wasn’t stealing but I’m not a grape picker…You see, I’m the owner.”
The words gushed out quickly before he could change his mind and he waited for their meaning to sink in.
As Blake dropped his bombshell on he,r Chelsea wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to react. She certainly couldn’t be angry with him because he technically hadn’t lied to her, no more than she had lied to him by keeping her Amish background to herself. But this nonetheless changed everything. Snippets of things Agnes had told her on their way back from the vineyard was coming back to her now.
“It’s a family-owned business run by the son… he’s worth billions of dollars…have offices all over the world….listed as one of the richest and most eligible bachelors….seems a bit of a playboy if you ask me based on his pictures but God he’s dreamy….”
Agnes had discovered all this during the tour, but Chelsea hadn’t paid much attention to her chatter. Now everything was falling into place. Blake was the heir, the eligible bachelor worth millions – no wait, billions of dollars. Chelsea felt sick to her stomach. The gulf between them widened even more. Being with a grape picker who lived in a farm hadn’t seem that big of a stretch for her, but being with a jet-setting billionaire playboy? The distance between them was insurmountable. And that made her feel very sad, because she realized in that moment how much she had started to like him.
The silence seemed to stretch out between them, growing more tense by the minute. Blake reached out and took her hands in his,
“I’m really sorry for not telling you before I just didn’t want to scare you off or think I was some rich guy playing with your emotions.”
Chelsea laughed, a dry brittle laugh – because that’s exactly what she was thinking about him right now.
“That’s not what this is I swear to you. I really, really like you and I want to get to know you better. On your terms.” He added, “I don’t want you to feel any pressure for anything. I really respect and admire you.”
The moment of truth had arrived for Chelsea. She had to respect how truthful he was being and she knew she had to do the same. She pulled her hands away from his and stared at him sadly,
“Thank you for telling me the truth Blake. I admit it was easier for me when I thought you were just like me… Or at least somewhat like me. But you have nothing to be sorry for because you see I haven’t been entirely honest with you either.”
She waited for the briefest of pauses before continuing,
“When I told you I was here on a vacation with my friend, what I didn’t mention is that it’s for Rumpsringa…I didn’t just grow up in the countryside, I’m…”
“Amish.” He finished the sentence for her.
She expected him to turn away in disgust or start packing up the picnic basket but he looked at her with a puzzled frown on his face and said coolly, “So what?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“So what if you’re Amish? What difference does that make?”
“Blake! How can you not see how it matters? We come from two completely different worlds. You’re a jet-setting billionaire who’s apparently the most eligible bachelor around and I’m just a simple Amish girl who’s never had a first kiss.”
Blake threw back his head and hooted with laughter,
“Eligible bachelor? Where did you get that?”
“Something Agnes said – oh never mind.” Chelsea felt a little irritated by his cavalier attitude and inability to understand just how different their worlds were.
“Look,” Blake said reasonably. “We both divulged the truth about ourselves and maybe it’s not the ideal situation for either one of us, but the truth is I really like you and I think it would be silly to give up before we even got started. The question is, do you like me?”
