Eric became a passive observer for the rest of our afternoon with Inge. She'd manoeuvred him flawlessly. If it weren't for the fact that she'd used me in the process, I'd have said I was real impressed. Let's face it, I was real impressed anyway. She'd had him bring me along on the pretence of a friendly visit and then she'd cornered him with something she wanted for the business that she knew he had planned to ignore. It was time sensitive, and he was too busy to put together a reasoned objection. She'd used Viktor as both the carrot and the stick all while keeping potential profit as her bottom line. Watching her in action had been arresting.
On top of everything with their business, she invited me to try a new restaurant with her on Tuesday and I somehow found that I'd agreed before I even stopped to consider if Eric would be okay with that. (It's not that I'd ever let him dictate my lunch dates in the general course, but he would have been entitled to voice an opinion on his girlfriend having lunch with his grandmother.) When I realized this and glanced over at him he just waved a hand dismissively as if in acknowledgement that either of us was completely powerless in the face of the force that was Inge Northman. I mean really, are you going to be rude to a little old lady in Easter dress? Of course you're not, and she knew it. Masterful!
My first hand experience had granted me a much clearer understanding of why Eric treated her like something to be avoided. It was all fine and smiles until she wanted something her way and then, by golly, she got it. Thankfully in this case it didn't appear to be anything that Eric was directly opposed to, but simply something he hadn't otherwise planned on doing. I don't think he would have resigned so quickly if he had a real opinion. He was more or less sulking by the time we got back to his car. I turned in my seat before buckling up and rubbed his arm.
"You alright?" I ask.
"Yes," he sighs. "You don't have to have lunch with her. You can call her tomorrow and cancel. She achieved her main objective. She likely won't be upset if you skip the other."
"Would you prefer I didn't go?"
"I have no preference. She seems to like you. She was very candid with you, and in your presence."
"Well, that certainly seems better than her not liking me."
"Yes," he agrees quickly. "And, I'm sure you'll hear from your agent tomorrow that Mrs. Batiment finally called her today."
My eyes widen. "Really? You think she'll nudge her friend now that she's pleased with you?"
He chuckles. "No. That's quite a bit kinder than what I'm thinking." I just look at him expectantly until he clarifies, "I think she was holding that card until I agreed to abide her wishes."
"Oh jeez Eric," I sigh. I can feel the pained expression on my face.
"I could be wrong," he offers.
"But you don't think you are."
"No." He shifts the car into gear, wrapping his arm around the back of my seat as he reverses out of the driveway and we head off back toward the hotel.
We didn't have anything to do with ourselves. It was too early to think about going out for dinner, and anyway we'd just come from lunch. It was also too late to go out and do anything else. I didn't feel like watching a movie or television so I just grabbed a book and settled on the couch. Eric had a book too but when he didn't come to join me right away I looked up over the back of the sofa to find him standing a few feet away with a torn expression. His dining table-desk was calling to him.
"Will it bother you if I work for a while?" he asks resignedly.
I frown. "Do you need me to go?" I ask.
"No. No, not at all. I just want to read through the rest of this. I told her I wouldn't have time to do the homework on this property but I... can't not. I can't show up at this meeting this week like the boy being dragged along by his granny. I need to go in there knowing what the fuck I'm talking about." he sighs. "I hate this." I watched as he drew a hand through his hair, angrily pulling it back, but lacking a tie to secure it. He seemed about halfway toward a very boyish temper tantrum. I set my book down and went over to him, taking away his own novel and putting it down on the table. I wrapped my arms around his back and stroked soothingly.
"It's not for much longer," I try to comfort, meaning, at least, that it's not much longer that he'll be strapped for time constantly. I can offer no consolation regarding Inge in general. He folds one arm around me, half-heartedly. I shook my head and lead him to his chair, sitting him down. He moved to lean forward to open his laptop but I put my hand down on his, shaking my head. "Just a minute," I tell him, and go to retrieve my brush and an elastic band from the bathroom.
I set these things down on the table and stood behind him and rubbed his shoulders. I kneaded the muscles across his upper back and stroked down his arms. When he finally seemed to relax against the chair after several minutes, I took up the brush and started on his hair. I drew long slow sweeps from the roots to the tips, holding my fingers above any tangles so it wouldn't pull as I worked them loose. Once that was done, I ran my fingers through it, lightly rubbing his scalp and then began to wind his hair into a French braid. It wasn't stellar hairdressing, but that was hardly the point. When I was finished I wound the elastic around the end and bent to kiss his exposed neck. He breathed a softer sigh so I let my fingers replace my lips as I withdrew, caressing across the tense tendons. I let my hands work across his shoulders and upper arms again, sometimes dropping to his chest. He let out the occasional low moan.
When I bent to kiss the crook of his neck again (I couldn't help myself really), he caught me and turned and kissed me, and I moved around and bent my head towards him so we could do that properly. I pulled away and told him to hold that thought and I went and got a cushion from the couch and set it on the floor in front of his chair. He grimaced as I lowered myself on to it. His expression was twisted in the bizarre amalgam of, "Woohoo, I'm going to get a blowjob," and "Sookie, You don't have to do that."
I want to though, so I simply whisper, "Please?" and he nods at me, his weak internal battle ending as I predicted it would. I push apart his legs and lean forward, kissing his chest while I pull his button and fly loose. He presses his hands into the arms of the chair and forces his hips up so I can pull his jeans away while he shifts forward. I stroke down his thighs and his calves while I free his legs and then lean in to tease him with soft wet kisses until he hardens. It takes no time at all. I wrap my fingers around his base and swirl my tongue across his tip, letting my saliva pool in my mouth, wetting my lips so that a moment later as I take him, I take him as fully as I can. I swallow involuntarily drawing his moan as I manage to take him just a little further. I can't help but hum in response as he makes his pleasure known. His hand comes to the nape of my neck, fisting around my hair at the roots in a way that lets him hold tight without hurting. I lean up a bit, giving myself a better angle over him before I start to move.
I pull my hands back and let my fingertips run feather light across his inner thighs, over his sac, feeling the skin wrinkle and tauten beneath my touch. I try to meet every buck of his hips with a moan until my pace quickens to the point where I can do no more than hollow my cheeks as I slide my tongue across him as I bob. I feel him spasm and know he is coming almost before he does and he cries out suddenly pulling my head down to meet his thrust and I swallow and gasp and swallow again until finally I feel the tension leave him all at once and his fingers go soft in my hair as he softens in my mouth. He groans as I pull away from him, but I wrap my arms around his waist and press the side of my face into his abdomen, just hugging him to me for a long moment.
Finally I sit back on my heels and look up at him to find his warm, glazed eyes meeting mine with that lazy adoration that always follows his orgasm. I smile faintly. "That is a much better look for you, than your angry face," I tell him.
"Thank you," he says. For the compliment, for the service, whatever.
I stood up and gave him a peck on the lips. I went to the mini-fridge and got out a bottle of juice for him. He had fluids to replenish. Then I shot him a coy little smirk and went and rinsed out my mouth with some mouthwash in the bathroom. I wasn't going to let him get out of work entirely, so as we wouldn't be continuing right this minute, I wasn't going to sit here for the next couple of hours with that taste in my mouth. I wasn't trying to be un-sexy or anything, it was just practical. When I returned moments later I found him standing. He'd put himself to rights and was just throwing the cushion back on the couch. He caught me up and gave me a wonderfully passionate kiss, dipping me back playfully, forcing me to cling to him out of instinct. I didn't think he'd drop me but my body wasn't taking any chances.
He pulled me up and tight against him again and kissed the crown of my head. "You're perfect," he said. Kiss.
"You're easy," I laugh at him. I pull back a little to look up at him. "And now you have work. At least ninety minutes of work," I scold him gently.
"Yes," he agrees. With that he scoops me up and I squeal and he carries me the few paces to the couch and sets me down. He hands me my book. "I will meet you back here in ninety minutes," he concludes, giving me a final kiss before leaving me to move all eight feet away.
I stretched myself out and got comfortable, taking time before I got to my book to reflect that that had gone quite well. I had been a little nervous that he'd be weird with me about sex stuff for a while, as Bill had been. I really wanted to stop comparing Eric to Bill, but I couldn't help it. Bill had more or less avoided me sexually for a couple of weeks after he'd wrenched my confession from me. That's how it had been, too. He'd demanded the details, and that made it so much worse. In the end, I'd had to seduce him quite wantonly before he'd been willing to touch me again. He'd been quite worked up when he finally gave in. He had said it was because he didn't want to further traumatize me, but really all he'd done was make me feel like more of a freak. Eric just let me be. He had said he understood, and just now, he had shown me that. I didn't want my bad experience to hang over me, or us, and he hadn't let it. I'm pretty sure I could be in love with him for that alone.
Eric worked for almost two hours before joining me on the couch, pulling my stockinged feet into his lap and rubbing them. I moaned in pleasure, closing my book and letting my head fall back. He threw in a little tickling when he deemed I was getting a bit too relaxed and nearly got kicked in the place I'd so worshipfully attended to a little while ago.
"Did you get your work done?" I ask him.
"Yes," he agrees. "Thank you."
I wiggle my toes in his now still hands. "You may keep thanking me if you want," I grin.
"Oh may I?" he inquires.
I nod. He pulls my socks off and goes back to massaging my feet, pressing his thumbs into a dozen different pressure points in ways that have me wondering if he's studied a reflexology chart at some point. At least two of the spots he's hitting seem to connect directly up my thighs in a very Hello Kitty kind of way. Mmm. I smile contentedly for a while as he continues before declaring myself appeased. I turn myself around so my head is laying in his lap, instead. I'm practically purring my contentment at this point, a very happy girl indeed. I hear his stomach growl and snicker.
"Hungry?" I ask.
"I want steak," he supplies after a moment's pondering. "I can go pick it up."
"Do you get tired of not having a kitchen?"
"Only occasionally."
"Well I do. When I'm here, that is. Don't you miss," I gesture expansively, at nothing in particular. "Groceries? A coffee pot? Soup?"
"I don't really keep groceries. Sometimes they bring them, I don't know. A lot of it spoils, I think. It's not like at your house where there's just food around you can make."
"Who's they?" I ask him.
"The housekeeping service. Sometimes Pam."
I frown at that. I feel his hand come up to cradle my chin and his thumb trace over my lips. "Sometimes when you talk about your life, it seems very sad to me," I tell him. It's really the only thought in my head at the moment.
He laughs at that. "Because I don't have soup?"
"Because you don't seem to have a home. You just...live somewhere."
"I don't really see the distinction there."
"And that is also profoundly sad," I tell him, wistfully, catching his hand and giving his palm a kiss.
We stayed for a bit longer like that until Eric's hunger for man-food could not be ignored and he brought his laptop over to show me the menu for a restaurant he liked. It wasn't a take out menu, but he said they would do it anyway. I just took his word for it and chose the salmon. He phoned the restaurant and indeed, they were quite willing to pack an order for him to pick up there. He went to retrieve dinner and I called down to room service and asked them to bring us up some plates and knives and forks and a bottle of wine. They arrived just before Eric got back and we were actually managed to have something resembling a proper Sunday dinner. He even cleared the table, or at least, he closed his laptop and stacked all his papers neatly on top of it. We sat at the other end. It was fine.
We watched a little bit of television after that, but decided to make an early night of it. I didn't bother changing for bed, I just crawled in naked and he joined me in the same state. I fell asleep with him curled around me and my last peaceful thoughts were ones of resonant well-being. I was happy.
I woke early Monday morning to delightful discovery that he'd woken earlier than me. I shivered to realize both that the blankets had been pulled away from me and that Eric was nuzzling the inside of my thigh. He kissed lightly there, running his cheek and chin, scratchy with morning stubble, lightly across that sensitive skin. I gave a deep sigh of pleasure as my eyes opened, focusing on his. I stroked my fingertips lightly across his forehead and down to trace his jaw. I leaned forward and claimed a kiss before lying back again, to lose myself to bliss. His tongue on me was soft and languorous and it wasn't awfully long before he had me in a frenzy, twisting my hips, straining against his mouth, wanting more of him. It felt so good, and I was ready to come. I whimpered, and he slid his arm beneath me as my hips bucked up. He held me fast in place with a dull growl that warned me not to argue him and then resumed his slow attentions.
I fisted my hands into the sheets as my legs began to tremble and then I felt the wave rise in me as if sighted from a mile off shore. It rolled steady, steady towards me seeming to take forever. He licked and kissed and suckled my lips, my clit, across my entrance with the gentlest pressure and suddenly the wave was crashing to the shore, dragging me with it, and I cried out in honest ecstasy and was aware of nothing until I let my wet eyes open again to see him hovering above me. He kissed me deeply, pushed inside, ground against me, and I shook all over with a moan once again. I held my hand to his cheek and I couldn't look away from him. I watched his eyes dart from mine, to my breasts, to the point of our joining, and was mesmerized by their vibrant blue. My other arm traced up his side between us, grasping tighter as he began to quicken his pace. His eyes squeezed shut as he came with a mighty groan, letting his head drop to my breast. His arms came around me and he held some of his weight on them while his hips fell against me. I stroked his hair, his brow, his back. He shivered again as he withdrew from me. He rolled to his side and carried me with him.
When our breathing slowed he loosened his arms though neither of us moved to shift away.
"That was amazing," I breathed in hushed voice. Somehow I felt it would be almost blasphemous not to address the last half hour with some reverence.
"You're beautiful," is how he answered. "Even as you sleep..." he trailed off. I squeezed him tighter again.
It was only because we'd slept and risen early that we had that time, so it wasn't long before we had to get up and ready for the day. He headed into the bathroom and flipped on every light (there were actually four different switches, and then the fan). I was momentarily torn between being embarrassed after yesterday and finding it sweet, and decided to settle on the side of sweet. I considered briefly that maybe, if it stayed good between us, somewhere down the line we could try his 'in the dark' thing, if I was prepared for it. It could be good for me, maybe, to try. But not today, though.
His phone rang while he was drying his hair. It was Pam, and he gestured for me to answer it. I'd already finished doing my hair while he was shaving.
"Hello, Eric Northman's phone," I sang.
"Oh for God's sake Sookie. The weekend is over," she shot back instantly.
"Goor morning Pammy," I grinned. "Nice flight?"
"Where is Eric? Did you screw him to death?"
"He's drying his hair. Where are you?"
"Waiting for these oompah loompahs to make their magical conveyor work so I can get mine and Eric's things and get the hell out of humanity's cesspool." Baggage claim, got it.
"Should I get him, or do you want me to just let him know you're here?"
"Let him know I'll be there in an hour. And what about you? What is your schedule for today?" Pam demands. It must just be out of habit.
"I've got a faculty meeting this afternoon, my first one ever!" I gush. "And this morning I need to finish drafting my curriculum for tomorrow."
"Very good, what time is the meeting, and when does it end?"
"Uh, three-thirty and, I'm not sure how long they usually last. First one, like I said."
"Very well. Have lunch with me? Eric tells me you have been having more adventures in Hicksville and I want to hear all about it."
I smirk. "Sounds fine, Pam."
"What is that noise? Is he still on his hair?"
"Yes," I confirm.
"When are you going to make him cut it?"
I gasped, in earnest. "Pam! Bite your tongue!"
"Just checking," she quips.
I finished up in the bathroom and left him there to get dressed. I wasn't going to fuss around later with a special outfit for my meeting. I put on a knee length skirt and a twin set and some flats, the sort of thing I'd wear to teach in. I got out my own laptop and work bag and set my things up at the proper desk in the front room, since Eric didn't use it. I'd asked him if he minded my working here and he didn't. My alternative was Amelia's kitchen table, so this was just as well. There was a knock on the door and I got up to get the breakfast only to discover David Threadgill standing there already dressed for the day's business and carrying his briefcase. I invite him in of course and go to tell Eric, closing the bedroom door behind me as I enter.
"Is the coffee here?" he asks looking up. He's all half-tucked without his cufflinks in so his sleeves are flaring out. His collar is up since while his tie is draped around his neck, it isn't yet tied. The Eric Northman scale of looks runs only from drop dead sexy to gosh darned adorable with no negative measurements. Right now he was registering as charming and cute. It nearly distracted me from telling him about his guest.
"No, it's David Threadgill," I supply.
"Ugh, he's early. How long until Pam gets here?"
"Probably forty-five minutes. Need me to vamoose?" I ask.
"No. No, I'll take him downstairs. Do you mind playing hostess for another minute, I'll be right out." I watched as he deftly wrapped his tie into a perfect Half Windsor and flipped his collar down. He paused in the mirror only to make sure it was straight.
"You'll miss breakfast," I pout.
"Save mine for Pam."
I head back out and spend an awkward few minutes offering David a bottle of juice from the mini-bar fridge and inquiring if he was well, and how warm and breezy the weather was expected to be today, and how tedious morning traffic was as a general rule. I wasn't particularly inclined to be nice to him, since he was, after all, among those directly responsible for trying to screw over Eric in his work, and making him totally stressed out all the time. Hopefully I did a good job of concealing my coolness. Eric reappeared just as the breakfast came up and he took time to have a single cup of coffee before I got a chaste kiss goodbye and a wish for good luck at my meeting and then he and David were gone.
I sipped my own coffee alone and watched the morning news until Pam turned up. She had a large suitcase and garment bag in tow, which I realized were full of Eric's things only once she walked right into the bedroom and started unpacking them for him. I told her that he had gone off with David Threadgill and left her breakfast but she wasn't interested in eating it. She was going down to the spa to be pampered for a couple of hours and wasn't expected to be at work until the afternoon. She'd apparently spent a lot of her weekend in Seattle tending to Eric's things. She'd be back for lunch. So I got to work on my own and there I stayed for a few hours until she returned.
My only interruption that morning was a call from Claudine. Margaret "Madge" Batiment had called her office first thing to inform her that my credit and background had checked out and she was ready to rent to me. Heh. My background indeed! I just needed to come down to her office and sign and present a check for my rent and the deposit, as well as Claudine's fee. I told her I'd stop in before my meeting. I sent Eric a text and he responded with a slightly more elegant version of I told you so. I had believed him, unfortunately, so it really wasn't necessary.
So I had that good news to share with Pam when she turned up for lunch. We went down and enjoyed a light repast while I filled her in on everything that had happened with Jason's house. She took it seriously and expressed due concern for their situation which I took kindly. It wasn't really the sort of thing where jibes at my redneck brother or our hillbilly town would have been appreciated in the slightest, and I was glad she realized it wasn't the time to tease. We weren't long, and went back together to the hotel, parting at the elevator as we went to retrieve our respective work things. I picked up my bag and headed for the bank to have them cut the checks and took them over to Claudine's office. I signed the lease and we called Madge to let her know that Claudine would drop it by along with my rent, forthwith. Madge would be happy to receive me in the morning to hand over the keys, since I didn't really have time to drive over there now.
My faculty meeting was interesting. They were preparing for the end of the school year and scheduling test dates in the main, so that part wasn't really pertinent to me, but I was glad to see that these things were done on a school-wide level. I had found in my couple of years with the Parish that I had to hunt down teachers in the other departments myself to ensure my students would have minimal conflicts on test days. I remembered how unpleasant that was - having multiple big tests on the same day. I was glad to find that Peterson was considerate of their students this way. In the end it probably helped their test scores, which would reflect well on the school as a whole. I got to mingle with the other math teachers which I enjoyed. They were all kind and welcoming. I also got the chance to speak to some of the other teachers involved in the summer program as well. As a rule, we were all fairly young, definitely under forty. That was probably appropriate to the general theme of summer fun, people closer to the students' ages. They all seemed great.
I got back to hotel in the evening and had another couple of hours to finish working on my curriculum. What I was technically asked to provide was an overview of the theme for each of the two programs, as well as sample classes for each session. Since I was trying very hard to make a good impression, I pulled some photographs up which I would include as either slides or hand-outs during the actual program. I'd have to stop by a print shop in the morning. There was a business office downstairs which I know Pam used sometimes, but I was planning to go a little overboard trying to impress people, so I'd have proper folders made up and everything. Worst case scenario, we all have a chuckle at my overzealous keen. Better to be over-prepared than under-prepared as Gran would have said.
Pam had called to let me know they were going to be quite late and I didn't mind. I wondered vaguely whether she had done that on her own, or if Eric had asked her to. It was nice to be informed, either way. I thought briefly about men who didn't call their wives to tell them they'd miss dinner from working late. Clearly everyone needs their own Pam. After I'd finished everything I could do here in the room in preparation for tomorrow, I phoned Amelia to let her know that I had gotten my rental of choice. She sounded more pleased and relieved than I'd expected. I guess I hadn't done a very good job of downplaying my anxiousness last week.
When Eric finally did turn up he was in an excellent mood, which was contagious. I was glad to see it since I imagined his day had not started off very well considering our early morning caller. We watched a movie and then decided to take a bath before bed. He was being particularly playful with a bar of heavenly scented soap. He had me squirming and splashing.
"So," he says, finally letting me settle back against his chest. This is a really great place to be, by the way. "Tomorrow you get your keys, and see Fahma, and then your big presentation in the afternoon?"
"Yup," I agree.
"And then you go back to Bon Temps to start packing?"
"That, or I will go Wednesday morning if you don't mind me for another night."
"Actually I had an alternative thought on that subject," he says, and I tilt my head back to look at him, letting him know to continue. "I've taken the day on Friday. I'll have my meeting with the Northman Group in the morning, and after that I'm free. I propose you stay until then, and we can get one of these moving trucks and drive up and pack you up on Saturday, then drive back Sunday morning and unload everything."
"Wow, really?" I ask. That's a really generous offer.
"Correct me if I am wrong, but helping your girlfriend move seems like a particularly boyfriendy thing to do. Am I getting that usage correct? The phrase is still new to me."
"You are getting everything correct," I say, still fairly astonished. "Are you sure you wouldn't mind though? I mean it's a lot of driving and hauling things around and as near as Claudine and I figured it's going to be a bit of a jigsaw puzzle getting my new bed to fit through the hall."
"I'm sure we'll manage."
"Well then yes! I mean, that's amazingly kind of you to offer."
"Not really. By doing it this way, I will get you for three or four extra nights. And of course after this, I will be losing my excuse to have you stay with me here, so I must make the best of it for now."
"Well hopefully you will stay over at my place now sometimes," I say. Actually my voice went up a bit at the end there, so it's a half say, half ask.
"That will be nice. Perhaps I can keep a toothbrush in the little holder." I'd told him all about the bathroom.
"Of course," I say smiling. I grab his arms and pull them tighter around me.
When I turned up at Madge Batiment's house the following morning, she was gracious as anything and we talked a bit about the particulars of how she wanted to receive the rent (by check, in person, before the first of the month when she was in town, or by mail, to their summer house, postmarked by the last day of the month, when she was out of town). She gave me a brief tour of her house and the property. I was delighted to discover that their "patio" included an irregularly shaped pool with a little stone waterfall. Her landscaping was stunning.
"We've hardly used the pool since the kids left," she comments. "So feel free. It would be nice if somebody used it again!" she laughs. Well thank you Madge, won't mind if I will. Actually I would probably be a little ill at ease if I knew they were at home, but I would certainly be tempted to avail myself when they were out of town.
She told me which company they used for the pool service, and their housekeeper who came once a week while they were out of town, and three times a week when they weren't. She told me who they used for their lawn service. She gave me a little card she written out with all of this information, as well as contacts for the security company, the utilities, the local police precinct and fire station. I briefly scanned down the list expecting to see poison and animal control, it was that thorough! After we'd finished in front she walked me back to the house which was separated from the rest of the property by trees and a hedgerow and a little path of slate stepping stones through the grass. You could still see the house of course, but likely not directly into the windows. She handed over two sets of keys, letting me know that she kept a spare as well, for emergencies. And of course because she owned the property, I'd thought. It was expected that she'd have a key.
We exchanged cell phone numbers. She assured me I'd almost never hear from her, but from all we'd chatted about, the many things I just had to see and she wanted to show me, I had a feeling that she was going to treat me very much like a neighbour. I found I didn't mind that at all. Madge let me know that she and her husband would be in town through the following week, and encouraged me to stop over in the evening at some point so that I could meet him as well. So that I wouldn't assume he was some stranger if I saw him "skulking about the place." I chuckled when she said that. It was his place!
"My boyfriend is actually going to help me move my stuff in on Sunday, so I'll be sure to stop by when we get in."
"Oh, Eric Northman, yes? I know Inge of course. She is on the board with me at one of my charities. She is so thrilled to have him back home all the time, she talks about him endlessly."
I nod politely as she says this. It's a sticky subject, but a polite nod will not go amiss.
"When she told me he was dating a lovely girl named Sookie, I thought it was the most odd coincidence after we'd met, so I asked her, 'Stackhouse?' and she said 'Yes!' and then we realized you were one in the same!"
"That we are. I'm actually meeting her for lunch today," I agree. She may or may not be omitting a whole big chunk of that conversation, but it's by the by. I've signed the lease. It's a happy ending.
"Oh that will be lovely. She's such a firecracker, that one. Whenever we need to get tough with someone, it's always 'Get Inge on it!'" she laughs. I cannot imagine what kind of charity work requires you to 'get tough' with people, but I absolutely believe that she can command any situation, and that's what I tell her.
"I believe it," I grin.
She showed me a few more things about the apartment before we left, where the jacks and outlets were, which switches were for the fans. It was very comprehensive morning, in all. We locked up and she reminded me always to flip the deadbolt. They had never had any problems but her neighbour two streets over had been robbed one summer, and I shouldn't take any chances. I wouldn't. It's not like city-living was new to me. I knew it wasn't like Bon Temps were locking the door seemed almost silly most of the time. We said goodbye after that and I stopped over at the print shop to get my stuff ready for the meeting then hastened back to the hotel to change and freshen up. Yes, I was primping a little bit in preparation for meeting Inge. There's nothing wrong with wanting to maintain a good impression with your boyfriend's relations.
I met Inge at a restaurant in the Garden District not far from her house. Though they had outdoor dining, and though it was plenty warm enough, we sat inside. I ordered a sweet tea and she ordered an unsweetened one. To each her own. I wasn't entirely sure what we should talk about, so when given the opportunity I took to explaining to her about my summer program and teaching in general. It was a very safe topic, one that was distinctly not "Eric." That lasted a good fifteen minutes, allowing for her interested questions, but it did not last the whole lunch.
"I must tell you Sookie, it is so nice to see my Eric starting to settle down with such a nice young woman."
I smile at that. "Oh, it's a bit soon to say we're settling down I think but we're certainly happy for right now."
"Nonsense," she objects. "You may not have noticed this of course, but Eric does not like to see a lot of his family." She looks me directly in the eye, and for the life of me I cannot discern whether or not she is being facetious. After a beat she continues, "And the fact that he has been so willing to let us see you of course is quite telling. I cannot recall having ever met one of Eric's girls before, except in passing."
And what does one say to that, really? "Well I... am very fond of Eric," I say.
"And he of you, I am quite certain. If I may say so, I believe he would have fought a lot harder against taking up the mantle at NG if he did not have something else important to him here in New Orleans."
"I love that you call it NG!" I blurt out. "It seems so weird to call it the full company name, when it's your last name," I explain.
She gives me a wan smile. "Yes, and these acronyms make it sound very modern and big, don't they?" I nod. "When really, it is just a family business that my father and Sten's started way long ago." She says it fondly, obviously quite proud.
"Is it?" I ask. I hadn't known that. I'd assumed that Sten had started it.
"Well, in a way, I suppose. My father bought his first hotel when I was very young, about a year after the Great Crash. He got it for a steal, as the previous owner had lost a large part of his fortune, and of course, most people were not going on holiday at that time."
I nod again, very interested. "And he worked very hard with it. Well, we all did really. I had two sisters, and we all worked as assistant maids, and eventually maids ourselves for a time, and my mother was the head of housekeeping in the beginning. My father was the manager, and he used what money he had left over, and everything that came our way, to make improvements, always making improvements. He would hire the men out of work, local fellows, you know, right off the work lines," she recalls.
"And my mother thought he was mad at first, I mean, he was working toward refurbishing it as a luxury establishment, in the middle of the Great Depression, can you imagine? Their friends all thought they were mad, I'll tell you that. But of course what my father knew is that the truly wealthy were largely untouched by such minor events as the mere economy, and so we began to make a name for ourselves, and then, as the New Deal started coming through, and things were began to get better, business was booming as they say. You know Franklin Roosevelt actually stayed at our hotel twice. He actually shook my father's hand once," she says proudly.
"That's amazing!" I exlaim.
"Yes," she agrees. "He was what you would call a self-made man. And my sisters were both able to marry well, which of course was very important in those days. More so than now," she says, with a glance at me. "But I did not have the suitors they did, so I stayed on. We were able to afford my education, and when I finished I came back and was my father's, well, the hotel's, accountant, and I would help him with the business part of things, while my mother continued to manage the staff."
I smile at that, because so many women of her era were not classically educated, and somehow it made me think a little better of her, that she had concerned herself with becoming so, when she didn't have to be. It wasn't necessarily expected back then, certainly not like now.
"And that is how I met Sten, because one day he and his father came into our hotel, and tried to buy it out. They had owned two hotels then, and were looking to expand their business. They had done much the same as we, making great profit off of those who were still spending money during the bad years. And they were very relentless. They played on all the similarities trying to win my father over. Sten's father had three sons to my father's three daughters, and both ran family businesses. They both worked very hard. Even their mothers had the same name, they were both called Ingrid. Our families had both emigrated here from Norway around the same time, and they were both fluent, as we were, and is Eric is, and they would negotiate and argue in the old language," she continues. Huh. I didn't know that, about Eric. And also, my heart panged a little as she said 'we are,' referring to her and Sten.
"But in the end my father was too stubborn, and he would not sell, but after that, Sten and I had gotten to know each other very well over the weeks and months and we were married about a year later, and even at the wedding party his father tried to offer to buy the hotel as a joke when he made his speech to toast us. Sten ended up taking over for his father not very long after that, and when my father passed he left his hotel to me, and that is how we started the Northman Group."
"That's an amazing story, and so sweet, how you two met," I smile. "I hope your fathers were not such rivals that there was trouble?"
"Oh, no. They became good friends after a time. Once it became very clear that my father wasn't going to budge, I think they only persisted in meeting to negotiate so that Sten and I might have the excuse to forward our courtship," she says fondly.
"I can see why it is so important to you to continue the family tradition," I say, honestly.
"Yes. It has always been important to both me and to Sten. Our son Viktor, you have met. He began working for Sten and this lasted a few years, but he had very different ideas on how the business should be run. He is in casinos now."
I nodded. "I gathered," I answer. "Being out in Vegas and all."
"Yes, that is where people gamble away their fortunes, to my son's profit. He does very well at it, but this is not a sphere that ever interested us. We are children of the Great Depression after all, and the idea of seeing great sums of money come and go in a blink is not one that has ever appealed."
"I can understand that. My gran was the same way. She never wanted to go with her church group when they'd go over to Bosier City on trips and the like." Because nickle-slots totally compare to Las Vegas gambling, or owning a casino.
"It is a filthy habit really," Inge agrees, soundly. We paused a bit and ate our food for a while. As she had been talking she'd had my rapt attention and apart from a few sips of tea, I hadn't touched my meal.
"I understand you were an orphan?" she asks me after at time.
"Er, yes, I suppose, technically," I answer, slightly taken aback. "My parents died in a car crash when I was very young. My brother and I were raised by our grandmother, who died last year."
"Mm," she sounds, as if all I'd done was confirm what she already knew, which, by the sound of it, was exactly what had happened. I'd think about how another time. Maybe Madge had shared my background check with her. I highly doubted Eric would have disclosed all that. "Are you and he close?" she asks of my brother and I.
"I think we are," I reply, once I've taken a moment to ponder. "Perhaps not in the sense that we share all the small details of our lives. We're not very similar people really, but I do love him fiercely. He's about to be married, so I'll have a sister-in-law as well, soon," I finish with a smile.
"It's fair to say that family is important to you, then," she surmises.
"It is," I state plainly.
"To me as well," she concurs. "I do not think this is a view shared by my grandson. He was too much separated from his parents when he was younger."
"I know he was at boarding school for a time," I offer.
"Hmph. From age seven, yes."
I winced. "I hadn't realized," I say. Not that he had started that young, anyway.
"Yes, that mother of his," she says with disdain. "Always a very pretty girl of course, but only on the outside if you take my meaning," she says plainly.
"Eric hasn't talked about her at all," I say quickly. And I don't know that I want to hear it from you, I think. It's a little rude to actually say that out loud though.
"No, they don't speak. I don't believe she's even living in the country anymore."
"That's her loss then," I stay stoutly. "Her son is a wonderful person."
"And no thanks to her. Sookie, if I may be so bold, I'd like to make a request of you," she says as she pats at her mouth daintily with her napkin.
"Pardon?" I ask, my tone uncertain.
"We both love my grandson," she begins, then, she must have caught the look on my face which had to be in the range of hesitant. "Well, if you are not ready to admit it yet, that is fine. We both care for my grandson, greatly."
I nod. That was certainly true.
"I would like to see more of him. At my time of life, in my situation... I am certain that you can understand that I want what time with him that I can get, and I would greatly appreciate your help in facilitating this."
"Inge..." She'd told me to call her Inge, as opposed to Mrs. Northman.
"I am not asking for the moon of course, but already in the past couple of months I have seen more of him, and it has been because of you. I would love it if you could continue to help me to see him. Perhaps you will attend some of our lunches and pull him along, or, there are many events that you could ask him to bring you to..."
"Inge," I say again, interrupting her, as she felt free to interrupt me. "If I may be so bold, Eric does not like to be manipulated, and I won't do that to him." Her kind, imploring look hardens almost instantly in response to my words and my cool tone. I go on, "You are absolutely right. Family is important to me. And you are right as well, that I wish Eric would realize this for himself." I pause briefly taking a moment to breath and gather my thoughts, and when I speak again, my voice is far more tender. "If you are asking for my help, then I can only offer it in the form of advice. Tell him these things. Eric is a grown man, and not a cruel one. You can be honest with him. What he resents is when people are not. He won't throw it back in your face if you tell him you love him and wish he'd visit more often for Sunday dinners."
I took another forkful of what was left of my duck and spinach salad. I'd ordered it because it sounded delicious, not because it was a salad. It was a deliberately large bite, so I could take an extra long time to chew, both to let my words sink in, and to prevent myself from overstepping any further, if I had done so. I wasn't sure. She paused and took another bite of her food as well. She had some sort of cold pasta with sun-dried tomatoes.
"Do you think that you and he would like to come for dinner on Sunday?" she asks softly.
"Eric has offered to help me move this weekend, and on Sunday we'll be up to our elbows in boxes, but why don't you call him and invite him for next week? Or ask him on Friday," I suggest.
She gives a tremulous little nod.
"And Inge?" I say, slightly emboldened by her seeming acquiescence.
"Yes?"
"Grown men do not coo Fahma's the way he does except out of endearment. Maybe he is distant, but it is clear he loves you very much."
She smiles at that. "Do you know where that comes from?"
I shake my head, and she goes on, "When he was very little, he asked me how he could tell me apart from his other grandmother, because he did not like that we were both called grandma. So I told him that I had called my grandmother farmor, which literally means father's mother in our language. But he had trouble with his r's for a couple of years after he started talking, and so I became, and stayed, Fahma. He tried adopting a very formal 'grandmother' for a few weeks one summer when he was a teenager, but it did not stick."
Imagining Eric as a barely vocal boy stumbling over his consonants was like tiny bunnies snuggling against the belly of an infant panda. Cutest thing ever.
And after that, our conversation lightened again considerably. I got to hear a few more choice Eric tidbits of the embarrassing family variety, including the time that he had fallen out of a sailboat in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico (he had been wearing a life-vest and was scooped out right away, but he still hated boats), and the time he and another boy had managed to tip over the punch bowl at a formal luncheon, and then tried to flatly deny it, all the while being practically covered head to toe in bright tangerine stains. We ended up staying for coffee well after our plates had been cleared away, not parting until I really did have to go and get ready for my meeting.
I sent Eric a message letting him know that lunch was nice, and I'd tell him all about it tonight. He replied that he'd be around by seven. My meeting went well. The camp directors were two men and one woman. The men were both tenured teachers, one from the upper and one from the lower school, and the woman was an administrator. We talked briefly about the fact that I was both new to the school and new to the summer program, and they were actually encouraging about this. Apparently it was quite common for freshmen new to the school, that is, those coming from outside schools and not the Peterson Lower School, to be guided towards the summer program. It gave them a chance to get to know other students as well as some teachers, before the school year. Many of us would be new together, then, and that was deemed useful, in their eyes.
They were politely impressed with the manner of my presentation, that is, giving them my outlines and handouts, both for the overview and for the specific class. I lead them through it, answering their questions and taking the notes they gave me in my own notepad. On the whole, they were very positive. They gave me the contact information of the teacher who would be working the history program and encouraged me to get together with him and consider some joint sessions, which I thought sounded great, and was eager to hear that encouraged. They warned me that I needed to be very sensitive about dealing with certain things, such as the religious nature of certain historical sites, or focusing too strongly on the fact that many had likely been constructed by a slave labour force, however many hundreds or thousands of years ago.
"Always keep it light," the woman, Janine, had advised me. I nodded. I had not intended on focusing on either aspect in any special detail. I made the notes.
We agreed to meet again in two weeks. At that time I was to present the formal and finalized plan for both sessions on two separate days, and then attend the general meetings for the whole program, and the upper school program specifically, and then if they deemed it necessary, we'd meet a final time before the program officially began to cover any revisions. Serious business. Next week would be June already. It was coming up quickly, and I can't say I minded. They made sure they had me on their email list, and I went ahead and let them know about my change of address. Janine reminded me to stop into the administration building and update my records with the school properly, as well. I'd do that tomorrow, since they were closed up for the day by now, I was sure. I had the impulse to check my phone to see what time it was, but I thought it would be rude to take it out. Ah Amelia. Very well, I concede. Sometimes a watch would be very handy.
When I left to return to my car I saw that it was five o'clock. I drove back to the hotel and found to my dismay that the dining table was covered with dirty plates and glasses and a room service cart was still stationed nearby. I started to tidy up but I realized I had nothing to wipe down the table with, or sweep away the crumbs. I picked up the phone and called downstairs, oafishly requesting "Uh, maid service," for the room. Pam and Eric and, from the look of it, two others, had obviously been back here after the maids had come in earlier in the day to change the towels and make up the bed.
After being assured "Right away, Miss Stackhouse," I suddenly flushed with the idea of coming face to face with someone whose job it was to regularly change my sex sheets and cowardly, I hid in the bedroom. That is, until I heard the knock on the door, and realized that I was going to have to answer it, since whoever was on the other side knew darned well that I was here, since I had just called for them to come. An older woman came in with a basket of cleaning supplies and I gave her a completely manic smile and gestured to the table, rambling endlessly on about the fact that evidently Eric had had lunch in here with guests and forgot to let anyone know it needed tidying. I apologized profusely for having to bother her, despite the fact that it was her job, and then thanked her several times once she had cleared everything onto the cart, wiped the table and brushed the floor and was wheeling it all away. Yeah. I was so ready for the privacy of being in my own home.
I plugged in my computer and set about incorporating some of the notes I'd received at my meeting and that's how Eric found me when he returned. He used his super tall guy stride to catch me in the chair before I could stand up and teased me about him being the one who was supposed to work late. I smiled and stood and hugged and kissed him. After that, we settled down on the couch and I told him all about my very full day. I left out some bits of my conversation with Inge, simply saying that she'd expressed a real desire to spend more time with him. Whether he knew her well enough to take more meaning from that than I had offered, I didn't know.
He told me that he'd seen Tara again that afternoon, and she had asked him to tell me hello. I frowned a bit at that. Just like with David, I couldn't really help the fact that I resented her role in both Eric's and Pam's for that matter, constant state of frenzy these last weeks. I still wasn't really talking to her. I felt ever so slightly guilty about being a bad friend, but I did tell myself that once Eric was through with Area Five, we could make our amends to our friendship.
I slept very peacefully that night, dozing off with a head full of all the things I wanted to do for my new place. I'd have plenty of time in the next two days to get it ready for me to move in over the weekend. I thought about green curtains for the bedroom. Maybe a floral pattern. Oh goodie. Tomorrow I'd get to buy finials.