Chapter 7: Seating Arrangements
They had returned to the house as the last of the color of day had drained into gray, and the distinct shapes of the landscape were melting into each other. Christine was as deep in thought as Dan seemed to be, and they didn't talk very much at the top of the hill or on their journey back. Since their first crossing of the bridge, their wager had sat on the top of her mind like oil on water: it refused to settle back down into obscurity, and was an especially prominent thought as they crossed back over the bridge. She still had to cling to Dan for dear life, but this time was acutely aware of their close proximity. She was better composed by the time they reached the other side, however, to the mixed feelings of both parties: of relief that no stabilizing embrace was needed, and letdown that, well, no stabilizing embrace was needed.
Christine was at a loss for even questions, partly because she didn't know where to begin as she was still processing the incongruity of the Dan she knew at work and the Dan she didn't even know existed in a town she didn't even know existed before today. The other part was because Dan seemed to become put out with very little prodding into his personal life, but it never seemed to be a good time to broach the subject, precisely because it seemed a shame to waste the rare phenomenon of having a genuinely good time with him.
Like Christine, Dan couldn't shake that bet from his mind, and not even the glorious sunset could stifle the glaring impetus for this entire day. His plan to induce her to kiss him by taking her into the most private experience he owned was proving more than he could bear. He had the unshakable feeling that she was actually doing what he hoped she would do: like him. And he hated himself for it. He wanted to be Dan the Ladies' Man once more, impervious to deep reflection and feeling, which he had done more of today than he had done since he moved to New York so many years before. He could tolerate being known by nanna and papa Garie as sweet, helpful Daniel, because that's what he chose for them to believe, no more, no less. And as long as he could control that, he would continue to do so. But now that Christine had seen both sides of the coin to an extent beyond that control, he wanted out. Why she didn't get into the prosecution side of law, he wondered shrewdly, was beyond him. She was good at sleuthing out the good, the bad and the ugly.
Dan rubbed his temples and furrowed his brow.
"Daniel, avez-toi headache? Sit down and I'll get you something for it," nanna Garie patted his back as she walked into the sitting room they had just entered themselves.
"No, it's nothing, really. Just too much fresh air," Dan assured her, and he began to take off his coat to hang it up.
"Voila, that other job is doing you in! Sit down and I'll fix you up." Nanna Garie bustled away before Dan could stop her. He shrugged at Christine: that was just nanna Garie's way. They came nearer to the hearth, the fire kindled up for the evening, and standing with a little distance between them, warmed their chilled faces and hands.
"So, I was figuring we should probably get going right after dinner, it's a long drive and I don't want to keep you up past your bedtime," said Dan to Christine, who would have left right then and there if he wasn't mortally afraid of the consequences of shirking nanna Garie's cooking.
"Oh—right," replied Christine who, up until that point, hadn't really thought about after dinner. She guessed he was just being reasonable, though she had just assumed they'd be staying until midnight, she reasoned, because of the time rules of the bet.
Nanna Garie came back shortly and offered Dan a small crystal cut glass with a deep amber color liquid in it. "Voila—from papa's brandy stash."
"Nanna Garie, you really didn't need to—,"
"—Just sit down and drink up," and her stout frame seemed to grow as she bossed Dan's imposing 6'4" frame down to a sitting position in a nearby tufted armchair. Christine took satisfaction from the sight of it. "Christine," she said, turning around to her, "follow me into the kitchen. I've got some tea on, and we'll have that tour I promised." Christine obeyed the matronly woman and down the hall they went. They exited back out shortly, Christine with tea cup and saucer in hand, as they made their way through the generously proportioned farmhouse, where nanna Garie explained the significance of the details of each room. Many pictures hung on the walls: original art on the walls of the rooms, with a story behind each; to photos of people and places lining the hallways. She pointed out to Christine her favorites: of she and her husband when they were first married, her time at culinary school in Paris, and friends dear to them. "Now this," she said, slowing to one photo in a dark wood frame, "I'm sure toi comprends." Christine looked closely at the image of a handsome young man with exceptionally dark hair planting a big kiss on the cheek of a plump, familiar-looking lady who looked like she was in the throws of a good laugh.
"You," Christine guessed, "and Dan?"
"Mais oui," nanna Garie chuckled, and tapped the bottom of the frame affectionately. She sighed. "He's such a good boy. Always makes me laugh 'til my sides hurt! And always such a good help." Her smile faded a little. "I know his other job makes him tired—always trying too hard—but that's just his way. Mais," she turned to Christine then and looked her in the eyes, as if studying her, "toi est bien for Daniel. Je comprends. It's good to see him find someone, finally!" She took Christine's hand in hers and patted it warmly, smiling.
"What?" Christine was trying to "comprends" what nanna Garie was saying. "Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no," Christine smiled, mortified by the misunderstanding, "we're just friends."
Nanna Garie laughed. "Is that what they call it nowadays? D'accord."
"No, no 'd'accord'," Christine persisted, the smile on her face a little strained. The woman patted her arm as if she thought Christine was sweet but a little dull.
"Daniel's had plenty of chances to bring women up here, but you're the first. Why do you think that is?" She explained to Christine as if it were very obvious.
"Really, we're just friends." Christine repeated, now a little annoyed. "And what do you mean by 'plenty of chances'? I thought Dan—," but she stopped short, not knowing how much to divulge to this woman whom Dan said knew nothing about his sordid lifestyle, but who appeared to know more about the matter than Dan was aware of.
"Well, you work with him, you would know better than anyone, no?"
"But Dan...he told me...you didn't know he...," Christine sounded like a record player going over speed bumps.
"He does have quite the reputation in the state of New York, no?" nanna Garie shook her head and sighed as if she felt sorry for him.
"But the way you treat him so...nice. And he still thinks you don't know," Christine was trying to make sense of it all.
"Oui, but we prefer to keep him in the dark. He feels comfortable here, feels he can be himself here. We don't know where else he has to go. But we're happy you're here now." She squeezed Christine's arm, much to Christine's dismay. She didn't like this conversation in the least bit.
"Nanna Garie—,"
"—And here is the last room. You'll be staying in this one," nanna Garie had cut her off.
"Oh, well, we were actually planning on leaving right after dinner—get home at a decent hour, you know." Christine was wondering if she should think the woman had presumed them to be staying overnight was the case, or if Dan had reserved the room. She decided she would find out those details before she killed him.
Nanna Garie paused for a moment before speaking, "Well, then, you can use this room to rest and freshen up before dinner, if you'd like," she welcomed her in the tidy little room with the same lace in the windows as downstairs, toile wallpaper and a bed with brass head and foot railings. "Speaking of which, I best get to it. Dinner's at eight, but you're welcome to be anywhere you please until then."
"Thank you, and thanks for the tour. I'll be down in just a minute," said Christine, and the woman smiled at her and went.
Christine set down her tea cup on a small writing desk and stared out of the darkened windows, running over the day in her mind. She thought about nanna Garie, who was quite formidable and shrewd underneath the southern hospitality. Dan was right, they were different, she thought to herself. The picture she saw of a younger Dan came to mind, and she wondered at the transformation of a man with such bright outlook on life, to his present cynicism combined with such want in scruples.
She sighed. "Dammit, Dan." She felt bad for him on the one hand, but angry on the other, because she couldn't let go of the idea of how much more good he could do in the world if he only he dropped the act and abandoned the vices. Yes, that was what she kept telling herself, how good he would be for other people, but the image of him gazing into her eyes and bending down to kiss her at the bridge kept interrupting her philanthropic thoughts. Stop it, Christine, you're being crazy, she tried to pep talk herself out of the highly irrational desire popping into her mind. But as soon as she conquered that one, she thought of how sincere and determined he looked when he was talking about the extents he would go to to ensure that no one would ever fall victim to a foul verdict if he could help it. She wanted to be caught up in that pursuit, that purpose, that energy; but as soon as she determined that that was a harmless desire in and of itself, she saw herself caught up not in her own efforts, but together with Dan, in all facets of his life, and she was immediately overcome by the vision of him focusing his purpose and energy in pursuing her. Christine drew in a quick breath, shaking herself out of her reverie. She sat down on the bed, just then feeling the effects of the day settle into her bones. She put her head down on the pillow, letting out an exhausted sigh, and closed her eyes.
The next thing she discerned was a light knock at the door, followed by a gentle opening and closing sound, though she didn't yet stir or open her eyes. She still had fragments of a dream running through her mind, involving herself dressed in a French maid's uniform, feather dusting all of Dan's law books, and being quite happy about it. The image struck her as very odd, because instead of waking out of such a dream with the disgust it should have rendered, she woke still and peaceful and refreshed. She felt the bed sink down a little to her side, the box springs squeaking under pressure.
"Oh, Sleeping Beauty," a low, quiet voice said. She opened her eyes, noticing the close proximity from where it came, and found Dan sitting beside her, watching her wake. "I'd let you sleep, but dinner's going to be ready in about ten minutes, and I didn't think you'd want to miss it after having come all the way out here."
Christine merely watched him speak, her eyes focused on him, still thinking about her dream and how it had left her feeling.
"Hellooo?" Dan said, waving the back of his hand up and down at her. She must have had a peculiar expression on her face.
"Dan?" Christine said in the wistful voice of someone who had just woken up. "Where am I?"
"Well, you're not in Kansas, but you may as well be. Auntie Em's downstairs putting the finishing touches on a tarte aux pommes—that's apple pie to you and me."
Christine was slowly assimilating where she was. It was New Year's Eve, she was in Liberte, New York at the bed and breakfast ran by Dan's godparents. She touched his arm and closed her eyes again, took a deep breath and exhaled. Dan liked watching her wake up, he thought she looked cute when she was out of it. He put his hand on hers and continued to gaze down at her. When she opened her eyes again, she found him with a gentle expression on his face.
"What time is it?" She had just noticed the light blanket that had been draped over her.
"Quarter to eight," replied Dan, unconsciously stroking the back of her hand with his thumb.
"Eight o clock!" She sat up quickly, dropping her hand from his.
"Guess you must've needed the nap. But then I do have that effect on women."
"From boredom, I'm sure," replied Christine wryly.
"Think what you will. But now that you're up, I'll leave you be, and you can come down when you've got your land legs. Unless you want scoot over and we can just stay here?" he smirked.
"I'll come down, thanks," said Christine, noticing that Dan seemed to have recovered some of his pluck since she last saw him. She figured the brandy nanna Garie gave him had helped. As he closed the door behind him, she got up and brushed the wrinkles out of her white sweater. Her purse was placed in the room while she slept, so she took it in with her to the bathroom and tried to undo the effects of a two-hour nap as best as she could with its contents.
As she came downstairs, the first thing she noticed was the mouthwatering aroma of spices, sauces, and roasts wafting through the hallway from the kitchen. She realized just then how hungry she was, and was, for the first time that day, very glad to be there. She found Dan standing by the fireplace just as before, with a refreshed drink in his hand. She saw him brighten when he saw her, which made her feel light and good. The effects of the dream still lingered on her and she didn't bother to reason them away. She joined him there in front of the glowing hearth. The room was busier now. The two couples they had seen upon their arrival were there, along with another new couple. It was evident these people all had the same idea about celebrating New Year: get away from the city, keep it low key, fill it with good food, and the all-around hospitality of Maison d'or.
"So what did you do while I was passed out?" Christine asked Dan, with a bit of an apologetic tone. She didn't mean to abandon him for two hours, but Dan didn't seem to mind.
"Played chess with papa Garie. Well, more like got an ass-whoopin' from papa Garie," Dan shook his head, baffled that he'd never once won a match with him in all the years they'd known each other. Nanna Garie then came out to usher her guests into the dining room. As Christine and Dan entered, nanna Garie nudged them back out.
"Non, follow me, I'll show you where to sit," nanna Garie said as she headed for the staircase. They looked at each other with clueless expressions as to where she was taking them. The woman opened a door at the end of the hall and led them in. Both Dan and Christine's eyes widened at the site of their seating arrangements. They had been placed in the small but elegant library. Petite white Christmas lights were strung up, criss-crossed in every direction over the entire ceiling. The gold lettering on the bookspines in the floor-to-ceiling shelves glittered in the diffused light. The mahogany desk that normally sat in the center of the room had been pushed to the side, replaced by a small round table draped with a long white tablecloth and topped with a single glowing votive candle and sparkling place settings. All of the courses along with their coordinating bottles of wine were already brought up and ready to be served. The playing of a cello concerto recording was discernible only in the absence of talking. Nanna Garie had her ideas about how their evening should go, and so she planned accordingly.