A Slow Boil (9 page)

“You mean a bribe, then.  Well, I’m going to think of
something I can do to pay you back," I said as I turned down to my purse
to secure the envelope in a side pocket.  When I looked back up, Mr.
Hunter was staring at my throat.  I held still as he reached out one
finger and touched my diamond pendant.  “Very pretty.”

“Thank you. It was a gift from my father.”  The diamond must
not have been visible under my dress.

“Very pretty indeed.”  His finger remained on my pendant
while his gaze swept over my blouse and hair, finally landing on my eyes. 
He started to say something but stopped, dropped his finger, and turned back to
his desk.

“Have a good time with Britt.  I’ll see you at four
tomorrow.”

“Good night, Mr. Hunter.”

“Good night, Miss Lane.”

I called Britt during my walk back to town.  We agreed to
meet at a favorite bar close to campus and she was already sitting at a table
sipping on a drink when I arrived.  There was another cocktail on the
table that she pushed over to me.  “I got you a vodka tonic.  That
okay?”

“Perfect.  Thanks.  Did you get some sleep?”

“I slept all afternoon.  Why does it sometimes feel like
they’re trying to kill us instead of educate us?”

I laughed.  “Only the strong shall survive, I guess.”

She raised her glass.  “Here's to our unbreakable inner
strength.”

We clinked glasses. “Guess what.”

“What?”

“I got a place to live today.”

“Yay!  That’s great!”  She reached over and gave me a
quick hug.  “I knew it would work out!  So tell me all about
it.  Do you like it?  Is it close to work?  Will you have a
roommate?”

“Um ... yes, very, and sort of.”

“Come on, girl, I want details here.”

“Mr. Hunter asked me to move in with him. 
Wait,
that
sounded wrong.  What I mean is he offered me one of his guest
rooms.”

“Really.”  Britt’s eyes were bugging.  “And you said
yes?”

“Yep.  I couldn’t think of any reason not to.”

“So you two get along, you aren’t having any of the problems my
aunt had?”

“No, he’s been a perfect gentleman.”  Cue the commencement of
the hedging.

“And he hasn’t tried to make a move on you or anything like that?”

“No.  Come on, Britt, I wouldn’t have said yes if I thought
he was going to jump me.”

“What’s he charging you for rent, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“He won’t let me pay him anything, that’s the only problem.” 
She gave me a look of pure skepticism.  “I know, Britt, but what can I
do?  He’s offered me free room and board, he won’t take a dime, he won’t
dock my pay, and he won’t increase my hours.  He says he just needs to
know that I’m safe at night.”

“That you’re safe at night.”

“That’s what he said.”

She pursed her lips together and moved her glass around in quick
circles.  “I don’t know, Sylvia, you hear about this kind of thing all the
time.  An older man gets his clutches on a younger girl, starts taking
control of her life, pretty soon she’s nothing but a zombie.”

I laughed.  “I don't think Mr. Hunter intends to turn me into
a zombie.  I really think he just likes me, and no, not in that way,” I
added hastily to response to her raised eyebrow.  I finished my drink and
could only blame the alcohol for what I said next.

“Okay, maybe he likes my hair that way.”

“Your hair?”

“He told me to wear it down while I’m on the clock.”

“What did you say?”

“I didn’t answer.  I was falling asleep.”

Britt’s jaw was almost on the table by this point.

“It was no big deal.  I was up almost all of Wednesday night
finishing my last paper and I actually fell asleep after dinner Thursday. 
Mr. Hunter let me spend the night in a guest room, the one that I’ll be moving
into tomorrow.”

“So let me get this straight.  He tells you how to wear your
hair and lets you sleep at his house, then he asks you to move in with him but
won’t let you pay rent.”  She was shaking her head.  I could tell she
was getting suspicious and if I let happen, I’d have to deal with it all
summer.

I got the waiter’s attention.  “I’d better start at the
beginning.  Next round’s on me.”

A couple of hours and drinks later, I’d told Britt almost
everything about the interactions I’d had with Mr. Hunter over the last two
weeks.  I left out that he’d asked me kneel next to him last night and
that I’d found my apron under his bed this afternoon. I wasn’t entirely sure
why I was holding those things back as I’d always been completely open with
Britt, but I knew they wouldn’t sit well with her, and why should they? 
Mr. Hunter might not think his actions required explaining, but I knew Britt
would want one and I just didn’t know what to say about that side of Mr. Hunter
yet.  I hadn’t had the time or energy to figure it out for myself, and
based on what he’d said when he asked me to move in, I doubted I’d see that
side of him again anyway.

When I was done, she had a much better opinion of Mr. Hunter, and
even said it quite gallant of him to drive me to the south end this
morning.  We were gathering up our things to leave when she asked me one
last question.

“
Syl
, do you like Mr. Hunter?  I
mean, as a person?  Would you be friends with him if you met in other
circumstances?”

“Yeah.  I do like him.  He’s very reserved, but I got to
know him better this week.”

“Okay, then, that's good enough for me.”

I sighed.  “Britt, really.  He’s a nice person.”  I
got an idea.  “Listen, he’s picking me up at four tomorrow to move my
stuff.  Come over around three to help me pack and you can meet him for
yourself.”

“I will do just that,” she agreed, nodding once for emphasis.

I slept in the next morning until ten, then started my
laundry.  It was amazing how quickly it went with the dorm almost empty
and all the machines free.  In fact, I was the only one down in the laundry
room that morning.  All the other students were probably hauling duffel
bags full of dirty clothes home to their grateful mothers.

“Which box do you want this in?”  Britt was cleaning out my
desk for me as I packed my suitcase.  She held up a coffee mug I’d totally
forgotten I had.

“Hmm.  That one, I guess.”  I pointed to the box that
held my hair dryer and toiletries.  It was quarter to four and we were
almost done.

“So, do you want to go to a movie or something tonight?”

“I don't know.  I kind of want to get settled in a bit first,
but I’ll call you later and let you know for sure.”

“Okay.”

“Otherwise, I’m free all day tomorrow.  I don’t have to start
work again until Monday afternoon.”

“What exactly do you do for Mr. Hunter?”

“Well, Monday I get to dust the entire house.”

“Fun.”

“Actually, it’s not that bad.  Mindless work is kind of
refreshing to me right now.  And besides, you would die if you saw his
library – it’s huge.”

“Huge is good until you have to dust it.”

“It’s not that bad, I keep telling you.  Besides, dusting the
books is a great way to see everything he’s got.  He told me I could
borrow whatever I wanted to read this summer, and my list is already like
twenty books long.  Oh, and there’s a piano, and you should see the
windows.”

“Okay, I get it.  It’s awesome.  Maybe I’ll have to come
visit you sometime and see for myself.”

“Yeah, you should.  Mr. Hunter said no overnight guests but
during the day should be fine.”

“No overnight guests?  No boyfriends is what he meant.”

“He’s never asked me so he wouldn’t know one way or the
other.  But obviously that’s not a problem.  No slumber parties is
all he has to worry about.”

“How come you never went out with anyone this year?  Lots of
guys were interested in you.”

“I did go out a couple times last fall, but none of them were
really my type, I guess.”

“And what is your type?”

My phone rang and this time I recognized Mr. Hunter’s
number.  I gave Britt a knowing smile.  “You’re about to find out.”

I opened my phone.  “Hi, Mr. Hunter.”

“Hello, Miss Lane.  I’m parking in front of your
building.  Do you want me to come up and help carry things down or shall I
wait down here?”

I assessed my pile of worldly possessions: three boxes, a
suitcase, and a laptop.  “We could use a hand.  Maybe we can make it
in one trip.  I’m in room three-oh-two, right at the top of the stairs on
the third floor.”

“See you in a minute.”

“Bye.”

I had propped my door open so I watched him come up the stairs. 
He was wearing jeans and a patterned button-down shirt.  He looked
good.  Damn good, as usual.

I waved him into my room and introduced him to Britt.  She
seemed a little more tongue-tied than usual, answering his polite questions in
monosyllables.  Mr. Hunter insisted on taking two boxes, the two heaviest
ones that had my books and notebooks in them.  I took the third box and
Britt grabbed my suitcase and computer.

“Bye, room,” I said as I closed the door behind me for the last
time.

“Will you miss it here?”  Mr. Hunter asked me.

“Not at all.  Can you believe the university thinks it’s
humane to squeeze three people into a room that size?  Animal shelters
probably have stricter guidelines.  I just always say 'bye' when I’m
leaving a place for good, I don't know why.”

We piled my things into Mr. Hunter’s trunk.  I gave Britt a
quick hug and thanked her for helping me.  “I'll call you tonight, but
like I said, don’t count on me until tomorrow.”

“I won’t.  Either way’s fine.”

“Good bye, Miss Sheridan.  It was a pleasure meeting
you.  Say hello to your aunt for me and tell her I miss her cornbread
muffins.”  Mr. Hunter stretched his hand out to Britt, and they shook
quickly.  Britt doesn’t blush like I do, but I swear she turned a darker
shade of white.

She watched as Mr. Hunter opened my door and helped me in.  I
gave her one last goodbye wave out the car window, but she was looking down,
pulling her phone out of her pocket.

Mr. Hunter got in next to me.  “Ready?”

“Yep. Let’s go.”

He had just gotten onto the main road out of town when my phone
buzzed.  I pulled it out of my pocket and was surprised that Britt had
texted me already.  “I get it now,” was all she wrote.  I chuckled
and put the phone back in my pocket.

“Something funny, Miss Lane?”

“Britt.  Britt is funny.”  Before he could ask for any
specifics, I changed the subject.  “So do you really
miss
Mrs. Sheridan’s cornbread muffins?  Is that something I should make for
you?”

“No, I don’t miss them.  I could tell she thought I liked
them more than I did.  Don’t worry, Miss Lane.  Her cooking didn’t
hold a candle to yours.”

“It’s not that.  I just want to make things you like. 
And are you ever going to start calling me Sylvia?”

“I don’t know.  Maybe.  We’ll just have to see.”

We settled into a comfortable silence for the rest of the
drive.  When we got to the house, Mr. Hunter insisted on carrying the
heavier boxes upstairs while I took the suitcase and laptop.  My room
looked different and it took me a minute to figure what had changed. 
First, there was a desk and chair in the corner that hadn’t been here
before.  Next to them was an empty bookcase, and on the dresser was a
large vase of fresh tulips.  I was still taking it all in when Mr. Hunter
came in with my last box.  He put it down by the others.

“I added a few things this morning.  Nothing has to stay.”

“It’s perfect.  I love it.”

“Good.”

“I may never leave this room.”  I moved closer to the vase of
tulips and held one up to my nose.  It had no scent but the color was exquisite
and it felt like cool satin under my fingers.

“I don’t want you to feel that I expect you stay in here. 
The rest of the house is yours to enjoy.  I just thought you’d like your
own space.”

He sounded a bit agitated.  I turned to look at him as he continued. 
“I mean, I could run a cable up here and have a TV put in, if you’d like, but
you’re welcome to use the one downstairs.  The bathroom across the hall is
yours to use, although you’ll have to share when I have company.  Also, feel
free to cook your own meals.”

I realized that what I’d taken for agitation was actually
nervousness.  Mr. Hunter was nervous about me moving in.  “Mr.
Hunter, this room is nicer than anything I’d hoped to find for the summer, but
I promise to make myself comfortable in the rest of the house, too, especially
the library.  You’ll probably regret asking me to move in once you see
what a mess I can make in the kitchen,” I assured him. “Okay?”

He visibly relaxed.  “Okay. I do want you to be happy here,
not just safe.”

“I will be.  I can tell already.”

“Good.  I brought home some take-out tonight unless you have
other plans?”  I shook my head.  “Meet me in the dining room then at
six.  That should give you time to unpack.”

Twenty minutes later, I’d set up my computer on the desk, shoved
my books into the bookcase, sorted out my clothes into the dresser and stowed
my toiletries in the bathroom across the hall.  When I was finished, it
was only five-fifteen. Forty-five minutes to kill … what should I do?  I
laid down on my bed but I wasn’t tired.  I turned on my computer and
connected to Mr. Hunter’s wireless network.  The man didn’t have a
password?  For crying out loud, I thought in outrage as I quickly shuffled
through my favorite websites.  Nothing new.  I decided to hit the library
and that’s where Mr. Hunter found me at six, curled up in a chair, engrossed in
a novel.