When Lou looked, Bill’s wife stood too close, radiating musky perfume. “So how did the two of you meet?”
Before Lou could answer, Devlin turned toward them. “Elizabeth used to work at Giuseppe’s years ago.”
“They had a made-to-order-pasta station where people could sit and watch the chef,” Lou added, smiling at the memory.
“I was there for a lunch meeting, but they canceled last minute, so I sat at the counter in front of this cute little cook.” Devlin put an arm around her shoulders. “I came back every day that week.” Devlin looked down at Lou and smiled.
“On Friday, he left a single red rose and his business card with the tip.”
“She called the next day and soon she’ll be my beautiful bride.”
“Beautiful and she can cook,” Bill said. “No wonder you closed the deal.”
“I always close.” Devlin wrapped her arm around his and said, “Excuse us; I see Susan and I need to ask her about a deposition she did for me.” He guided Lou away, merging into the crowd and toward the French doors.
“I’m going to hit the restroom before dinner starts. I’ll meet you at the table?” Lou turned and eased open the six-paneled bathroom door with her gloved hand, letting the silence melt some of her tension.
• • • • •
In the tiny room doubling as a bathroom stall, Lou struggled, realigning her undergarments to their original positions, trying to get her emotions under control. Devlin didn’t understand what her restaurant meant to her. He seemed to think he was rescuing her from a life of hard labor, a life his mother endured as she worked two waitressing jobs to feed and clothe her academically gifted son. She touched her ring, a pristine rectangle like an ice cube that could melt into nothing. She tried to find comfort in Devlin’s symbol of love for her. She shimmied her hips to slither the dress into place, picked up her purse, and left the sanctuary. As she scrubbed her hands, a slender young blonde emerged from another stall and joined her at the sink.
Lou smiled at her in the mirror and said, “Don’t you hate having to use the ladies’ room in these outfits? I feel like the Incredible Hulk in Catwoman’s bodysuit.”#p#分页标题#e#
The fresh-faced girl looked startled and tilted her head to one side. She must’ve been a summer intern, eager, ambitious, and idealistic. She wore a simple black cocktail dress accented with a pearl necklace and matching earrings, the uniform of the young and preppy. There were a dozen like her at the party, all with chin-length hair, minimal makeup, clutching small bags containing lip gloss and too many business cards. Probably not a superhero fan.
“Are you Mr. Pontellier’s fiancée?” The young woman squinted her eyes, emphasizing her question.
“Yes, I’m Lou.” She extended her unclad hand toward the pretty girl.
“Oh, I thought your name was Elizabeth.”
“It is, but all my friends call me Lou. Devlin prefers Elizabeth.” Lou half smiled and shrugged her shoulders.
“I’m Megan.”
She shook Lou’s hand, but instead of releasing after the appropriate number of pumps, Megan pulled Lou’s hand closer, examining the skin. Lou looked at the shiny scars dotting her pale hands and forearms. It looked as if a makeup artist had been testing for the perfect shade of pinky-red.
“Occupational hazard.” Lou pulled her hand back.
“What do you do?” Megan’s face looked curious.
Lou rubbed the marks, feeling the smooth bumps.
“I’m a chef. My pastry chef says the more battle scars, the better the food.”
“You must be the best chef in the city. It must be nice to come to events like this and get waited on for a change.”
“You’d think.” Lou’s grin shook a little, the muscles tired from too much forced use. Her purse buzzed, and she almost sighed out loud with relief. “Excuse me.”
• • • • •
Lou rushed out of the bathroom, pulling her phone from the purse. Devlin waited in the hallway holding a wineglass. She held up a finger while answering the phone and walked outside, Devlin following her.
“What’s up?” she said.
“Need to be rescued?” said the confident voice of Sue, Lou’s sous chef and best friend. Lou looked up at Devlin, cringing as she observed his tapping foot and raised eyebrow.
“Not yet. Something wrong?”
“No, just checking in. I know how much you love those events. I thought we could fake a catastrophe if you wanted to get out.”
“I’ll survive. At least the company is good.”