Checked for continuity, grammar, and spelling: May 3, 2011.
Chapter Eleven: Visions At Sunset
Sarah hopped off the streetcar and took a deep breath then checked her watch. She was about a block and a half away from the restaurant and it was nearly seven. She hoped Jareth would not mind if she was a few minutes late, and started to walk down the street as calmly as possible.
She need not have worried, for she arrived with a few minutes to spare. As she stood at the base of the steps leading to the entrance, though, she hesitated. Was she supposed to meet him inside? What if he already was seated? Would he have put a reservation under Jareth or under his last name, which she wasn't even sure he had?
"Waiting for someone?"
The quiet voice sent chills up her spine and she fought the urge to jump. Turning, she greeted Jareth with a smile. He was standing under a lamp, leaning against the post, arms crossed. A pair of sunglasses dangled from a gloved hand. He wore light slacks and what she thought was a dark colored dress shirt. However, under the black leather jacket it was difficult to tell. She was mildly surprised by the jacket. Not because it was black leather, but because it was not a full out duster. She would have expected him to go for as close to a cloak as possible rather than one cut just past the hips. Still she had to admit that he looked quite the picture, especially standing as he was just on the edge of the circle of light cast down from above. Her smile broadened.
"Do you always plan your entrances so as to make the fullest impact as possible in an attempt to throw whomever you meet off their guard?"
The warmth in her smile and the gentle teasing in her eyes convinced Jareth that all he had done to achieve this moment had been worthwhile. He knew, however, that it would not last. Yet. Which, he supposed, was just as well since this was only the beginning of his carefully laid plans. "Not always," he replied, coming toward her as she laughed. "You look lovely, Sarah."
She blushed, and then grinned cheekily. "You'll do."
"I am so glad you approve," he said with a wry grin, making her laugh all the more. Gesturing toward the door, he said, "Shall we?"
Sarah nodded, once again nearly jumping out of her skin when she felt his hand at the small of her back. Calm down, she thought, taking a deep breath. She had the distinct feeling that Jareth was fully aware of how nervous she was. Unfortunately, that only set her thinking about what else he might know, succeeding in making her even more tightly wound. Breathe. Remember to breathe.
When they reached the entrance, he opened the door and she preceded him through it. The maître d' stood in conversation with two other members of staff by a short counter. He looked up with a friendly smile. "Ah, good evening Sir, Madam."
"Good evening." As he spoke over her shoulder, Sarah refrained from shaking her head in amusement at the authority in his low voice, indicating someone obviously used to being obeyed. "Seven o'clock reservation for Jareth King."
"Yes of course, Mr. King." After a brief glance at the reservation book lying open on the counter, he continued. "This way, please." The maître d' picked up two menus and walked into the dining area.
"Jareth King?" she said to him under her breath as they followed close behind.
"Somehow I doubt I would have been taken seriously had I made the reservation under 'Jareth, King of the Goblins'," he replied.
She giggled. "No, probably not." I don't remember him as being this amusing, she thought. Of course, I suppose I had a bit of a grudge at the time.
They wound through a number of closely placed tables, and then went past a small fishpond. Water cascaded over the side into an indoor stream, which they crossed using a small bridge. On the other side were more secluded tables in sunken alcoves. Potted plants added between each alcove added to the privacy. Finally, they got to the table. Large windows overlooked the bay and, as it was a clear evening, mountains were seen in the distance. The maître d' took their coats and hung them on a nearby coat stand.
Sarah stepped down and surveyed the view. The sky was tinged a deep purple and the sun had not quite disappeared behind the mountains. A large bird of prey swooped down from the sky to fly low over the water, its wings skimming the surface. Delighted, she looked over her shoulder to ask Jareth if he had seen it. The words caught in her throat when she saw him, standing at the table, watching her with such intensity her heart began to race.
Jareth followed Sarah into the alcove, stopping at the table to pull out her chair. Looking up, he caught sight of her by the window. The sun reached a point where its glow reflected off the water and into the window, casting a gentle halo around her. Time seemed to slow as she turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder. As the sun slowly sank below the peaks of the mountain range in the distance, taking its glow with it, Jareth heard the maître d' exhale slowly and turned to him.
When Jareth finally dropped his gaze, Sarah turned back to the window and let out the breath she had not realized she was holding. What was that? Feeling awkward, she moved over to a blooming plant, fingering the leaves and inhaling the scent of the flowers. As she took a moment to recompose herself, she was unaware she was the topic of a quiet conversation behind her.
"She is a vision, Sir," the maître d' commented
Returning his gaze to Sarah, Jareth nodded. "Indeed she is."
Glancing out of the corner of his eye, the maître d' felt compelled to ask, "Your wife?"
"Not yet."
"Yet? Well, congratulations. You are a lucky man. Have you set a date?"
"Have we..." Jareth turned back to the maître d', then let out a low chuckle. "No, you misunderstand me. We are not yet engaged."
He looked mildly horrified at his error. "Oh. Please, forgive my presumption, Sir. I-"
Jareth forestalled him with a raised hand. "No need to apologize. I answered before without thinking of how it would sound. In truth, my intentions lead to that end, though I very much doubt she is aware of it."
"Ah. Then I wish you the best of luck and hope to congratulate you in the future, Sir."
"Luck?" Jareth chuckled again. "Hm. I just might need that. She can be exceptionally vivacious, with a wild and untamed spirit like a fire that blazes out of control." Once again, he looked at the woman standing before them, this time the intense, but unreadable, expression softened into one of pure adoration. "And I would have her no other way," he murmured.
The maître d' regarded the man standing beside him. Perhaps she is lucky as well, to have such a suitor. He followed Jareth's gaze to the young woman, noting the nervousness she tried to conceal and the heightened color on her cheeks. And perhaps, deep down, she is more aware than she appears. Clearing his throat, he leaned closer to Jareth. "If I may be so bold, Sir, Clancy's is well suited for many types of romantic moments. And, should you need assistance of any sort, the rest of the staff and I are at your disposal. At any time."
Jareth caught the not-so-subtle invitation to return to the restaurant in the future and could not stop his laughter, quickly joined by the maître d'. The sound brought Sarah back to the present. Suddenly aware of her surroundings, she looked back at the table and could not help smiling at the sight. She approached them and looked at Jareth, curiosity on her face.
He smiled in return, secretive and with a slightly mischievous glint in his eyes. Moving the chair slightly, he invited her to sit. She did so and as Jareth seated himself, she looked between the two of them. "Should I be worried, I wonder?"
"Do you have cause, Madam?" asked the maître d' as he placed their napkins in their laps and menus in front of them.
She focused on Jareth. "I have come to the realization that, whatever I think I know about this man, I never truly know what to expect of him." Tilting her head, she went on. "He continues to prove me wrong at every turn, and I find myself questioning my own thoughts and actions." She looked at him with wonder, which he returned in kind with a smile gently tugging at his lips.
"I will give you a few minutes," the maître d' said. He gave a small bow that went unnoticed to the couple then returned the way he came. His thoughts stayed on them as he went. I have been in this business for more than thirty years, he thought, and I have seen many couples come through in various stages of love. But this... this is something spectacular. It is as though the two of them are... are... He trailed off in his mind as he reached the reception area. There, he stopped short, staring off into space. Even if they never return to this restaurant, tonight must be special. It must make an impact. Plans began forming in his mind.
The two waiters standing there exchanged looks. One of them opened his mouth to find out if their boss was all right, but he was prevented from speaking when the man in question turned abruptly and pointed at them. "You two can handle the door on your own, yes?" Without waiting for an answer, he rushed on. "I must speak with the head chef. Carry on." With a wave of his hand, he disappeared around the corner and into the kitchens.
The two left behind exchanged looks again then shook their heads. "Mental that one, wouldn't you say?" said one.
"Yeah. But he must know what he's doing, considering," replied the other.
"True. I'll never figure out why he still insists on being a waiter, though. If I owned a restaurant, I'd just sit back and relax."
The second waiter shrugged. "Who knows," he said as they turned to the small party that had just entered the restaurant.