Page 32 of Prelude To You

After giving it more thought I decided Meg only needed to know the basics. The most important thing here was that I had a well-paid job and the chances of getting fired were slim to none. And that nothing short of a major catastrophe could be the cause of said dismissal.

I sighed, and when the windows turned black my stray thoughts about last night once again assembled in disorderly fashion, ready to torture me.

What I wouldn’t give to know whether Stranger had given me a single thought since our parting. Two would be even better. I was definitely not silly enough to think that he could be half as tormented by me as I was by him.

9

ISABEL

“He doesn’t talk, he’s fed through a tube and he sleeps the whole time,” Meg chattered away as she applied her makeup in a cracked hand mirror. “You up and quit, I want that job.”

She sat on the couch, facing our small kitchen, where I was making chocolate éclairs in my next attempt to win over the mansion staff. The macarons for Nelson were already cooling off.

“It’s kind of sad,” I said. “All that money and there he is. Doesn’t look like he’s got family and don’t get me started on how isolated that big place feels inside.”

“Well, seeing as how you screwed up all chances of getting the man of your dreams, here’s your chance to land one who’s super rich.”

“Geez Meg, maybe you didn’t hear the part where he’s in a coma and has no one who seems to care about him except Miss Leyland. This is not a dating opportunity, it’s someone’s life.”

Meg groaned. “Just saying it could help with your healing process. Getting over You-Know-Who.”

“Stop with that, there’s nothing to get over.” I took the éclairs from the oven and used a sharp paring knife to make two small holes in each of the eight pastries to let the steam out, burning my fingers in the process.

Now the éclairs had to cool down until they were ready for me to infuse the pastry cream.

Meg strolled into the kitchen. “Hey it’s your life, not mine. The last thing I want to do is interfere. So how do I look?”

She twirled and I inspected her from tip to toe. “Gorgeous as always!” I said. “But the cherry lipstick doesn’t go with the red top. You need a softer color on your lips.”

“I don’t do soft colors,” Meg whined. “You know me. I go big or I go home… Okay, what do you mean by soft color?”

“I have a nude lipstick you can try. If you don’t like it, switch back.”

Meg swiped a finger through the pastry cream and tasted it. “Is there any way you can feed this to the old guy? If anything can wake him up, it’s your pastries. On the other hand, you don’t want him to wake up because then you lose your job, right?”

“Jesus Meg, you missed your calling as a humanitarian—”

“Admit it, I’m right,” Meg insisted. “The longer he stays asleep, the longer you keep your job.”

“Whatever, could we please move on from discussing this poor guy?”

“Fine, so where’s this nude lipstick you say will make me look good.”

“Check my black bag,” I said. “It’s somewhere in there.”

I melted some Belgian chocolate for the glaze while Meg rooted through my bag, digging like she was looking for gold.

I wasn’t one for a lot of makeup, so what I had was just thrown loosely in the bag. I made a mental note to get a makeup bag. Miss Leyland looked like she would have a makeup bag. Icould definitely pick up a few style tips from her. I’d have to make sure she never saw my coat.

“Uhm… Excuse me?” Meg howled. “What the hell is this?”

I waved the question away. “I can’t look now, I’m busy with—”

“What are you doing with an invite to an auction?” Meg interrupted. “At the fancy Belmont Hotel no less?”

“Oh that,” I mumbled. “The guy left it behind inside the bookshop in his big rush to get away from me.”

I didn’t mention the handkerchief because that would put Meg in a total headspin. And then I’d have to admit that last night I’d carefully folded his monogrammed handkerchief into a neat square and put it in my underwear drawer, wrapped in the only set of French silk underwear I owned.

---