"I hope that Mary hasn't devoured you yet….?" Edith gazed at him with puppy dog eyes, aware that her sister was more of the pit bull kind.
"She is keeping me on my toes." Matthew fidgeted with the new set of keys he had been graced with.
"Yes- she has that way with people." Her tone implied Edith's resentment that Mary kept them all toeing the line, as she remembers that not that long ago Mary was the one completely disregarding the rules.
"I hope that you can keep up with all the information that we will be flinging at you as you settle in?"
"It seems quite straight forward. A few passwords to remember, the combination to the safe, where the light switches are, most of the other systems in place I am familiar with."
"Well, you can always call me if you need anything at all. Any time, day or night."
"If any problems occur they always happen at 2am." Matthew chuckles with the knowledge of previous experience, "And Mary is always here, I'm sure if I have any questions that she will accommodate."
"Don't be too sure of that. Mary can be a tad too ridged with offering help." Her tone caused Matthew to look closer at her as she spoke. "Unless of course she wants something in return." She griped under her breath, turning however her most sanguine smile towards Matthew, continuing.
"I will make sure that we meet on a regular basis to brief you on functions for the Private Dining Room. We have some big players lined up, and with the Grand Prix arriving soon, we have in the past hosted many of the teams over the week that they are in the city. They eat well and drink big, and often their entourage includes celebrities that bring out the paparazzi."
"Which means free press for the restaurant?"
"I see you are familiar with one of hospitality's best marketing tools."
"In as so much that it can be a by-product of creating a safe and comfortable establishment for the rich and famous. I would hope that we don't associate with the press within the building?"
"No paps inside. But Sybil has her favourites who she works with to get good shots outside the terrace. And she has most of the good rags under her spell, so it works in our favour if we play nice once in a while. Mary on the other hand detests all of them, no matter who they are, so she regularly uses the secret passage to help drunken clients to escape."
He turned a quizzical eye upward to her in question.
"But you'll have to get her to show you that piece of architecture; Mary is full of dark corners and passages! I must dash though, calls and all. Welcome to the inner circle Matthew. And good luck with managing my sister!"
"Thanks Edith, but I have no doubt Mary will prove my equal in every way." Edith was too blinded by her years of sisterly bitterness to catch his slight smirk and the soft shake of his head. Had she seen him through Mary's eyes she would have glimpsed the bashful admition that had as much meaning in relation to work as to the personalities outside of it. Had she been the other sister, she would have understood the hint of a partnership, the equal landscape of a future and how so quickly one could know these things.
Luckily for Matthew, Edith was not like her sister, and was grateful that she could not read him like a book, as he felt more vulnerable as it stood already.
The day proved to be clear and fine, the bright light streaming in through the cathedral sized windows to play with sparkles on glass that contrasted dramatically to that of night.
There was an airiness, a softness of hope that lifted the atmosphere, and the melody of lunch proved to be a different rhythm that they danced.
As on such days, the terrace filled first, with laughter and the chink of cutlery doing little to disparage the birds in nearby trees. The leaves oscillated in time to the wafts of wind, just as the loose hairs on the back of Mary's neck ghosted like a caress.
It seemed like such a new feeling to her now. As though her body were learning sensations for the first time, the unconscious reminder that her being in solid mass and texture had indeed been frozen for a long time. The thaw melt slipped through her fingers, running like tears down her arms to escape beyond her feet. Her lithe form loosened and she felt lifted and freer, light and amble.
Her flushed flesh tingled with the contrast of the breeze. Was it the breeze? Or could she really feel eyes watching her as she floated between tables, lingered to refold napkins cast aside, or extend across seated bodies to place and remove plates.
She paused at the edge of the terrace, clearing a table emptied by guests, and her eyes were caught by the frolicking flights of two small birds. Twisting and leaping, spinning an acrobatic mid-air dance, filling the air with the romance of playful chirping. The sun broke from the constraint of misguided clouds and suddenly her vision filled with shafting light.
Mary turned her head, a smile creeping across her lips at the simple sight of nature in all her hope and glory. Hope seemed such a distant and muddied feeling to her now. How young and naïve she had been when she could last pinpoint how golden and glorious life had looked before her.
She pushed her breath out, along with the thoughts from her past. In doing so she raised her head to come back to the present, locking eyes across the heads of guests to ones the shade of the clear sky behind her.
Matthew tilted his head in question and he asked her across the space with searching written in his features. The wine bottle paused in his broad hands in between refilling glasses. The seated guests conversing happily around them, unaware that Matthew and Mary talked in their own language.
A look can say a thousand things, and they spoke in milliseconds.
He had read her wonder and then the flicker of discontent, and he pondered what could have troubled her.
And he didn't miss the slightest flicker of dismissal in her face either.
She intrigued him with the promise of a mystery, the thought tugged at the bottom of his consciousness to unfurl the petals and cast probing eyes deep within.
Matthew knew that to know her was his job. To get to know her was his perogative. But to understand her, was his quest.
They brushed past each other barely avoiding touching as they weaved between tables.
The hairs on the back of her neck felt the air movement. His hand felt her warmth.
Their eyes, quick and all seeing and taking note.
He noted her bare calf muscles flex in her heels as she leaned across the table to rearrange wine glasses, and how as she tipped, her foot raised in the air. He wondered how easily it would be to pull her shoes off and caress her feet. The thought made him smile at how utterly inappropriate that line of thinking was, here and now. And his smile grew even wider as he caught himself at how he had given himself permission to then think of her later.
"Don't let Mrs Patmore see you enjoying yourself. She is ropable after one-O-two just sent back four salmons to be cooked dry. When she is not happy then no one else is allowed to be happy." Mary hovered a hairs breath from him as she gathered side plates and cutlery for resetting. Matthew's fingers punched the drink order into the micros, his smile never faltering.
"Perhaps she needs reminding that there are people who have an innate ability to cheer others up?"
"I realise that you haven't been here long. But surely, now that you have met her, she is not far off the mould of most head chefs."
"Mrs Patmore is not like most chefs!"
"Then how do you intend to placate her ferocious bark?"
"I'm not completely the dull boy," he flashed Mary a crooked grin as he made towards the kitchen. 'I have a small amount of charm, which used in the right manner, can produce pleasant results for both parties."
Mary saw him approach the pass, and if her manners had not been instilled from such a young age, she may have even gawked at what instantly took place. Instead her eyebrows rose a foot at the sight of Matthew schmoozing Mrs Patmore and the unmistakable motion of the Head chef's eyelashes batting up at the taller man.