“Oh. Nate’s credit card. He gave it to me. To treat both of us to a nice lunch.”
Kim’s eyes widen. “Wow. He gave you a Centurion Card.”
“Eh, he’s done it before.”
“Yeah, to get you to buy clothes to go bid on him, not to treat yourself to lunch.” She grins. “You know what this means. We should go to the bistro in the Aylster. I’ve always wanted to have lunch there, and I have the rest of the day off, so we can take our time and enjoy it. You don’t have to get back early or anything, do you?”
“No. I have the rest of the day off too,” I say. The hotel’s probably on the pricey side, but Nate said we could treat ourselves. Plus, Kim and I haven’t gone out
like this in a while, and she was instrumental in my getting a job with Nate. Basically, if it hadn’t been for her, Nate and I wouldn’t be together now.
“So. What’s your mom doing now that you’re both at work?” Kim asks as she pulls out.
“She actually left yesterday. Got some stuff going on back home.”
Even though I know she had to return to Dillington for a good reason, it does make me a bit wistful and sad that she isn’t around. I don’t know why I feel so down about it, because it isn’t like I’ve been depressed the last ten months or so I’ve been in L.A. Maybe it’s because I thought I’d get to spend more time with her, talk to her, catch up and see how she’s doing. I also want to know if there’s a way I can help her financially. The school janitorial staff doesn’t exactly pay well, and I know she’s gone without for a long time. When I told her I needed to leave town and start over, she didn’t hesitate. She only asked how much I needed, then wrote me a check without a blink. I don’t know how she was able to save up three thousand dollars, but that money didn’t come easy. I want to do something nice for her to let her know I appreciate what she’s done, although I’m not sure exactly what yet.
Kim pats my hand. “Maybe you can go home this Christmas. It’ll be nice, you know?”
“Yeah… I don’t know.” I think back on her tiny one-bedroom apartment. Is Nate going to want to spend time there when he could be jet-setting around Europe instead? I know he went to Bora Bora last Christmas. I heard some of my coworkers gossip about it.
“Why not? You’ll be a free woman by then.”
I shake my head. How things have changed over one weekend. “It’s complicated. Just park the car,” I say, since we’re pulling into the hotel. “I’ll tell you inside.”
Kim hands her key to the valet, and we walk inside together. The hotel feels very different, now that I’m not here to bid on my boss. The lobby feels brighter, more relaxed. Even the doormen seem friendlier.
The bistro is named Nieve. The place is white, but not in an ugly, sterile way. I don’t know exactly what the interior designer did, but the place looks wonderfully beautiful, like a proverbial winter wonderland. Or the North Pole in springtime, like I saw in a documentary once.
The maître d’, crisp in a white uniform, comes over. “Hello, Kim. We haven’t seen you in ages.”
“I know. I’ve been busy, trying to please my boss.” She grins. “Can you manage a table for me and my friend here?”
“Not for Salazar and Ceinlys?”
“Not this time. It’s finally just me and my friend. I’ve always wanted to actually eat here, you know.”
The man looks at me, and recognition flickers in his eyes. “We always have a table for you and Mrs. Sterling. This way.” He leads us into the restaurant.
My mouth forms an O. “How did he know me like that?” I whisper in Kim’s ear.
“It’s his job to know.”
“Sorta creepy…”
“Hey, price you pay for marrying a man like Nate Sterling. Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
I’m dubious. I’m not so crazy about people recognizing me this easily. It probably means I won’t even be able to use a public bathroom, ever, especially if I’m feeling extra gassy. I should also find a way to pee silently. Otherwise who knows what’s going to make it into the tabloids?
The man takes us to a beautifully set table for two. A slim vase of two white orchids with the lightest hint of pink on the ends of the petals sits in the center. Another person comes out to pull out my chair as the maître d’ does the same for Kim.
“If you need anything, just let your server know. Enjoy,” the maître d’ says, then leaves.
I pick up the ivory leather-bound menu. As I read the lunch options, I can sense hives breaking out over me. “The cheapest lunch here costs, like, a billion dollars,” I say, squirming at the idea of spending that kind of money. Nate’s money. Technically I guess it could be called our money, because we’re married, but it just feels really awkward.
“Only a hundred, including two mimosas per person.” Kim’s tone contains a shrug.
“Um. Wasted on me.”