Page 115 of Prelude To You

“I’m sorry Isabel,” she said anxiously.

It’s fine, it’s me who should apologize, “I said, equally flustered. “I had no business going into the butler’s pantry. I was just looking for something to make my pasta sauce.”

Sophia smiled and relaxed. The man stuck his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m James Sheldon,” he said with an English brogue.

We both realized at the same time that the hand he stuck out was the same one that had been under Sophia’s dress not thirty seconds ago. To my relief, he quickly withdrew his hand with an embarrassed smile.

“Oh hello, I’m Isabel… Are you family of Mrs. Sheldon?” I asked.

“Yes, I’m her nephew,” James replied. “I do the general maintenance around here.”

“I’ll bet that’s quite a job,” I said unnecessarily, desperate to ease the awkwardness.

James laughed. “Let’s just say there’s never a dull moment. Are you the new reader?”

“I am. Hopefully I get to stay longer than the others did.”

He shook his head skeptically. “You’ve made it to the kitchen, which means you have a map. I’d say you’re here to stay for a bit.”

“You must come here to lunch with us every day,” Sophia said. “James make good cheese things.”

“Grilled cheese,” James gently corrected her. “But there’s also only so many times you can eat grilled cheese.”

Then it hit me that Sophia had spoken in English. “I thought earlier you couldn’t speak English, Sophia.”

“I speak a little bit,” she said shyly. “James teach me.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. I started for the main kitchen door, to leave the lovers in peace. “Okay, nice seeing you again. Until next time.”

There might be something in the staffroom to eat. I studied my map to see how to get there.

Sophia stopped me. “You have lunch with us. Sandwich and tea maybe?”

God no. Definitely not those soggy sandwiches.

What if there was no food in the staffroom? Since it was my lunch hour and I needed to get some food in me, I considered my options. “Tell you what,” I replied. “If you can show me where things are I can quickly make us a proper lunch. Like tomato-and-basil pasta.”

James and Sophia’s faces lit up like they’d rather eat anything but the sandwiches set out for lunch. I figured Nelson wasn’t the only one who objected to Mrs. Sheldon’s cuisine. Sophia showed me the different pantries and the walk-in fridge. And the more I saw of this kitchen, the more I fell in love.

Sophia happily helped by getting fresh basil from the herb garden and dicing the tomatoes. Fifteen minutes later the three of us were sitting in the staff dining room, eating tomato-and-basil pasta. Between bites, they told me their story.

They met in Italy, when James was backpacking through Europe, and it was love at first sight. Sophia’s father was outraged that she’d even consider going out with an Englishman, let alone one who lived in America. When she refused to break up with James, her father threw her out of the house and said she couldn’t come back until she’d grown some sense.

James begged Sophia to go to America with him. She had tears in her eyes when she told me how scared she was going to a strange country where she could hardly speak the language. James comforted her, and of course that took me right backinto the penthouse when Roman soothed me after Daphne and Pierre’s story ended with no closure.

“But now that she’s here, she’s happy,” James said. “One day we’ll convince her father she made the right choice.”

They told me they lived in a small apartment in the east wing’s staff quarters. Sophia was considered an entry-level staff member, and was assigned to general tasks for now.

“What would you like to do here, Sophia?” I asked.

“I want to be chef,” she replied. “But I can’t cook.”

James laughed. “My angel is a seamstress by trade. When she says she can’t cook, believe her. But neither can my aunt, and she’s been the cook here for five years.”

I was bursting with curiosity. Why would they hire someone who couldn’t cook properly? Perhaps because there was no one to really cook for. I kept my questions to myself. Who knew what NDA rules I might violate if I played domestic detective. Besides, the most important thing I should be concentrating on was keeping this job.

“Maybe she could pick up tips from you, Isabel” James said. “At least teach her how to cook pasta, she’s Italian for God’s sake.”

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