Irene hadn't seen Shannon in more than seven years, since before the girl had left the subsequently devastated Boone. She still wondered at the wisdom of the man at taking her back, and the seemingly limitless scope of his ability to forgive. It had been the fodder for office gossip for weeks after her return, as had so much about their truly bizarrely incident plagued lives.
She recalled the girl as she'd last seen her; windblown hair from a day at the beach, dressed in a tank top and shorts, the string of her bathing suit top visible and knotted at the back of her neck, a healthy glow on her face. They'd stopped by the office to drop something off for Sabrina, Shannon accompanying an adoring Boone, their equally adorable toddler snuggled protectively in his arms.
The polished and professional woman who swept into the office, offering an apology at keeping them waiting was about as far removed from the Shannon of her memory as a person could get. It left her speechless and gawping.
Reaching her guests, Shannon smiled. "Irene, it's such a pleasure to see you again." When the woman continued to stare at her blankly, Shannon frowned then reached around her, extending her hand to the other two who were present, "Shannon Rutherford."
The older man shook it, "Frank Jackson, and this is my daughter, Alicia." He nodded at the brunette to his left. Shannon guessed her age at slightly older than Boone and smiled warmly as the woman shook her hand as well.
Irene had managed to slough off her bemusement during the introductions. "Sorry Shannon, you're just a lot different than I remember."
"That's understandable," she dismissed the apology. "That was a lot of years and a lot of experiences ago."
She circled around to take her seat behind the desk, she'd cleared a bit of its clutter in preparation for the meeting, but it was still liberally littered with a kaleidoscope of coloured files and folders. She noted that Margie had already provided her three visitors with a company folder each, as well as providing their beverages of choice. She uncapped the bottle of water that had been left for her and took a sip.
Boone had recently decided that she was consuming too much coffee and had instructed Margie to replace the addictive caffeinated drink with water. Shannon had at first bristled at his interference, then relented when she realized that he only had her best interests at heart. She'd even begrudgingly acknowledged that she was feeling far less edgy and quick to take offence since his decree, though with Shannon it was hard to tell, her level of snark was always set to max.
"So," she started the meeting with a quick overview of the company, and then moved on to Boones' food philosophy. She made it very clear that he wouldn't compromise on his ethics and that if they had a problem with that, then CR Catering wasn't the company for them. She'd learned the hard way that he was completely unswerving on his principles when she'd told a client that of course he'd make them a roast beef dinner. It had been almost two days before he'd even spoken to her again. She'd had to crawl back to the customer, her tail between her legs, and refuse the contract.
"And he shops for the main ingredients the morning of the event," she continued. "He'll only buy what he thinks is the freshest, so if you were expecting Sole Florentine, you might just end up with Orange Roughy on a bed of Swiss Chard instead. And forget about the standard cream sauce, though I assure you what he's come up with as an alternative will blow you away."
"We've actually had his food," Alicia interjected. "We were at Bob London's retirement party with my mother and fiancée." Shannon looked interested and wondered what he'd served at that one. Alicia went on to provide the answer. "He made salmon with blood orange and ginger, it was amazing. And the sides and appetizers, all of it, it was delicious. None of us could believe it was actually all good for us too. What a refreshing change from roast chicken, mystery meat and mixed veg." Shannon imagined Boone thundering away from the horror of mystery meat like the proverbial elephant suddenly finding himself in a close encounter with a mouse. "That's when I decided who was going to cater my wedding."
Frank nodded in agreement and stole another glance at the pictures on Shannon's credenza. She'd noticed the man looking at the photos of her guys several times during the meeting and wondered about it. She wouldn't have found it odd if it had been Alicia, after all both of them were, in her opinion, drop dead gorgeous, or at least Boone already was and there was no doubt that Andrew would be too. But to have it be the man who was so obviously fascinated by them was a trifle unsettling.
Alicia went on with her own particular request for an entrée. It was something Boone had made for them at home, so she quickly agreed and added it to the notes she'd already accumulated in the folder that Margie had neatly labelled 'Jackson/Bolton.'
The meeting concluded shortly thereafter. Shannon advised Irene that Margie already knew to have someone follow her out to her car with a case of their company's folders. She'd received the woman's e-mail request for a supply of them for Carlyle Enterprises when they'd confirmed that day's appointment.
Standing and shaking each ones' hand in turn, Shannon assured them yet again that they made the right choice and ushered them to the door, bidding them goodbye and turning them over to Margie.
She'd gone to the rear of her office to stare at the pictures of her family that had so interested Mr. Jackson, and pulled the pins out of her hair, fluffing it slightly, stepping out of the wretched shoes at the same time.
"Ms. Rutherford?" There was a gentle knocking from the open door accompanying the sound of her name.
"Mr. Jackson," she hurriedly put her shoes back on, there was nothing she could do about her hair. "I thought you left, excuse me," she said turning.
Frank was stricken by how much more beautiful, feminine and younger she looked with her hair loose and tumbled about her shoulders. She was truly a fitting match for the good looking man he'd met briefly several years prior.
"Soon," he answered. "I wanted to speak to you, so your receptionist volunteered to take the ladies on a tour."
Shannon had asked them if they wanted one earlier, but they'd declined.
"I persuaded them to go." He finished.
Shannon made a metal note to give the girl a nice raise at her three month review. She'd turned out to be the treasure that Boone had been certain she'd be and far more. "I'm sure they'll find it interesting." She commented and waited to see what he wanted.
"I wondered if Mr. Carlyle was available. I'd like to renew my acquaintance."
"You know Boone?" That must have been why he'd been looking at the photos she realized.
"Yes, I met him several years ago, briefly, at your mother…"
"Step-mother," she cut in, a bit rudely she belatedly considered and then realized what other information she'd just divulged.
He smiled and chuckled a bit. "I was actually going to say mother-in-laws." Not reacting to her slip at all, surprisingly.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just a little touchy about it, mother-in-law, huh? I've never thought of Sabrina that way, but I guess you're right," she conceded and wondered why he didn't seem shocked.
"It must be odd, being married to your step-brother," was his only comment. He'd actually looked into Boone's background after meeting the uniquely gifted man and his even more gifted son. He was not only aware of the odd relationship between the man and his spouse, but had also received periodic updates on him, including the news of the establishment of CR Catering. It had been one of the reasons he'd convinced Alicia to delay her wedding reception a week so that they would accept the contract.
Shannon's eyes narrowed a bit. "From your reaction, or more correctly lack thereof, you already knew about Boone and me then?"
"As I said, I've met him before." While it was true, it wasn't why he knew.
Shannon found it a little odd that it was something Boone would introduce into a casual conversation with a man who had just admitted that they'd only met in passing, but let it go. "Well, we've only ever been married to each other, so I guess we don't know any different, though the reactions we get can pretty much cover the spectrum."
"Yes, I'm sure they can. So he's not available then?" Frank asked again, his eyes widening in astonishment as Shannon appeared to lose a little focus, he felt a slight buzz in his head.
"No he's not, I'm sorry." She slipped her mind quickly over Boone's and confirmed that he was in fact in his kitchen and completely gripped in the thrall of his creative process. She smiled a bit at the feeling of his all consuming contentment and shook her head at Frank.
"Well, then. I'd like to invite you for dinner in that case." How the hell is she psychic too, he was wondering? He'd assumed Andrew had inherited his ability from his father, but this woman was in no way blood related to Boone at all. He resolved that they'd definitely accept his dinner invitation.
Shannon smiled, but started shaking her head 'no' almost immediately. "That's very kind of you, but I'm afraid that Boone's a real home body. He already spends so much time away from our son because of the business as it is, and he's very particular about his food." And there was no way he'd drive two hours just for dinner, Shannon thought, assuming he was inviting them to his home in the city.
"I meant for you to bring Andrew too, of course." Frank assured her.
"You know Andrew also?"
"I met him the same night I met Boone. And as for his food, I have his guidelines right here." He held up the folder he still gripped in his right hand. "I'm sure my cook can prepare something that would meet with his approval."
"I don't know, I'd have to check with him, but…" Shannon continued to try and bow out graciously.
Frank had a sudden realization, "You wouldn't have to drive to L.A. for dinner. I'm sorry, I should have clarified. We're staying here at the county house until the wedding. It would also give you a chance to take a look at where we're holding the reception."
"You're very persuasive," Shannon considered for a second. "I'll ask him, but I can't give you an answer right now, and I have to check his schedule too. Can I get back to you on it after I speak to him?"
He gave her a business card, telling her to call his cell. Thanking her, and mentioning meaningfully that he looked forward to her favourable response he left.
After work, his duties in the kitchen concluded for the day, Boone flopped down in the guest chair across from her desk as had become his usual practice and tipped his head back, closing his eyes.
"Hey Baby, did you beat the ferocious man-eating cauliflower into submission?" She kidded.
"It was actually fennel, and it sure put up a valiant fight, but I managed to make it succumb in the end." He smiled widely, enjoying the jest. He loved verbally sparring with her.
He peeled the sweat bands off his wrists and stuffed them in his right pants' pocket, then lifted his hips so he could pull his bracelet out of his left. She'd tried to get him to wear a chef's coat in the kitchen, but he'd refused, preferring to wear something from his considerable collection of short sleeved tees instead. He felt like the fashion or culinary police would show up and call him out for the impostor he still considered himself to be if he wore the more traditional long sleeved cotton coat he didn't think he'd earned the right to, though she had brow beaten him into wearing one when he represented the company at an event. He'd come up with the idea of the sweat bands still being understandably self conscious, not so much about the tattoo, but more about the scars. He spent a lot of time with the rapt attention of his kitchen staff focused on his hands as he demonstrated different dishes and presentations.
Boone rolled his head to the right. Andrew's abandoned schoolbooks were scattered over the surface of the small meeting table that was similar to his own in size, but just as different in style as the rest of the furniture, situated in front of the window.
"Where's number one son?" He asked. Shannon had picked the boy up at school at four and brought him back to the office, she still had a bit of work to complete.
"Number one? You have more than one? You told me you hadn't had sex with anyone but me since we got married, so I guess you just revealed a deep dark secret from your wild teen years." She figured the wildest Boone ever got in his teens was probably skipping last period to watch a National Geographic special on the Bantu.
"Damn, you found me out." Boone said with a tone of regret.
Shannon laughed, "He found a tennis ball in his back pack and said something about playing wall ball out in the parking lot." Boone raised his head off the back of the chair, his mouth starting to form a question. "Yes Boone! I checked to make sure he'd finished his homework. He's got a short chapter to read for English, but he's going to do that outside after dinner." They both knew that Andrew was just as conscientious as Boone had been about his studies, so she figured it was just a knee jerk, general parental urge on Boone's part to ask.
Searching for something in the mess on her desk, she noticed Frank's business card, propped up against the screen of her laptop. Picking it up, she told him about the meeting, and more specifically about the after meeting discussion she'd had with Frank.
"He said he met Andrew and me?" frowning as he tried to place the name and attach a face to it, "Doesn't found familiar." He leaned forward and took the small rectangle of cardboard from her outstretched hand, staring at it intently as if the simple act of focusing on the slightly raised black lettering would retrieve the information from his memory. He shook his head after a few seconds, and handed the card back.
"Maybe Andrew would remember him?" she suggested.
"If it was several years ago, he was just a kid," Sometimes they both forgot, given the level of his maturity, the fact that the boy still was a child. "I seriously doubt that he would."
She shrugged, he was probably right. "So his dinner invitation, I told him I'd have to check with you."
Boone looked a little hesitant. She'd sensed something different about the man, and really wanted them to go. Just as she was about to employ the same persuasive arguments as Frank had with her, he shrugged and, much to her amazement, agreed.
"I'm curious I guess." He read her surprise and addressed it.
When she asked him when he wanted to set the date for, he reminded her that their schedule was even more available to her than to him at that moment and pointed at her laptop. As he crossed the room to gather Andrews' stuff, she pulled the device towards her and brought up the data base with their calendar that every one in the company had read only access to, and to which a few had full rights. It made it so much simpler that way for every one, Margie and Kevin could update the schedules, as could Shannon and Boone, and they all knew instantly what anyone was booked in to do at any time.
Watching him leave the room, Andrew's backpack over one shoulder on his way to corral their kid and head home, she found an available evening and reached for her desk phone, contacting Frank on his cell as he had requested. He greeted the news of their acceptance with enthusiasm.
By the time Boone put her dinner down in front of her she'd forgotten all about asking Andrew if he remembered Frank Jackson.
They sat in the back yard after dinner. Boone made up a fruit tray with a couple of different dipping sauces and they munched and nibbled as they all read into the twilight.
After Andrew went to bed, Shannon tired of her book and stuck her ear buds in, turning her music on low as she reclined in the lounge chair. A few tunes in, her favourite slow song inspired her.
Asking Boone if he'd dance with her, she pulled him to his feet and gave him one of the tiny speakers. He stuck it in his ear and pulled her close, their cheeks pressed together, restricted by the short cord that connected the left to the right. She slid her arms sensuously over his shoulders, and moved sinuously against him, his hands kneading the small of her back. Pulling her head back slightly, her lips hungrily quested for his and found them easily, the kiss driving them to grind against each other.
Clothes were shed quickly, the PMD tossed aside to provide faint background music as a soundtrack to their passion.