Authors: Toni Kenyon
"So tell me, how do you know the brain-dead bimbo on reception? I saw you two talking."
"She's my best friend. We share an apartment."
He went as pale as the teapot Tamsen had just topped up her tea with.
"If it's any consolation, since the day she started at Harding & Kilpatrick she's been moaning about some arrogant prick she works with.
I figure that's you."
"So we're even then?"
He was regaining some of his color.
"I suppose you could say that.
Though she does want a full report when I get home tonight.
Should I give her your regards?"
He loosened the tie around his reddening neck and quickly undid the top button.
"For someone who works with living creatures you've got quite a cruel streak."
Awash in soothing chamomile tea, Tamsen couldn't help studying him over the rim of her cup. He gazed studiously into the pond as the fish frolicked near the surface. Small, dark chest hairs escaping from the open neck of his shirt brought on a flush of lust that made her blush.
"It really is beautiful here."
A vain attempt to change the subject and distract herself from mentally undressing him. "Do the kitchen staff use the herbs growing in the garden or are they just for show?"
His body slumped in relief.
"What herbs?"
"Those ones over there."
A small herb garden had been planted in the corner opposite where they sat.
Tamsen presumed, though it seemed some distance from the kitchen door, it had been placed for the best of the sunlight.
"What, the patch of weeds under that privet?"
She couldn't help laughing.
"You may know your fish, but you don't know your shrubbery, do you?"
"And you do?"
"I do."
"And how am I to know this?"
"Well, to begin your horticultural lesson, the tree is not privet, it's a bay tree."
"As in the brown dried leaves that come in packets from the supermarket?"
"Absolutely."
Matthew moved his chair backwards, thrust his long legs out in front of him and settled his hands across his solar-plexus - the classic "I'm totally relaxed and am about to interrogate the life out of you" lawyer pose, she thought.
"So, Miss Fish, tell me how you came about this knowledge on weeds?" He cocked his head a little to the left.
It doesn't have much to do with goldfish."
Great.
This was usually where she told some unsuspecting interested male that she'd been practicing witchcraft for years and they looked for the nearest cross and ran for the hills.
"I'm interested in natural healing."
"Weeds. For healing?" He sounded skeptical.
"They're not weeds - well, strictly speaking they are, but those ones over there are really just your usual selection of classic culinary herbs."
Her mouth began to run away with her and she was powerless to stem the flow.
"Having said that, most people don't realize a lot of culinary herbs can be used medicinally."
"Medicinally?"
He cocked an eyebrow at her as if she'd just suggested he lick the back of a frog to cure warts.
"Yes, like the parsley growing under the bay tree. You know what parsley looks like, don't you?"
"Yeah.
Real curly and green, but I don't see any over there."
"The plant in the corner, the one with the leaves that look like the tops of celery?"
He nodded.
"That's parsley, Italian parsley, the best one for cooking - it has the best flavor.
The other one, the one used for garnish..."
She waved her hand in a dismissive fashion. "That's merely a plastic imitation in my view. No culinary qualities whatsoever.
I don't even bother growing it."
"A gardener as well.
My, my, a woman of many talents."
"I try."
She couldn't help holding his gaze.
"Oh, I bet you do."
His tone set off alarm bells in her head. "So tell me, Miss Fish, how would you use parsley for healing?"
"It's a diuretic."
He looked puzzled.
"A tonic for the urinary tract. It was historically used for the treatment of kidney stones and fluid retention.
Legend has it that sprigs put in the water with ill fish will make them well."
"So it makes you pee heaps?"
"A crude analogy – but yes."
"Maybe you should put some in the tank back at the office. Pardon me,
display aquarium
. Then the fish might not shuffle off their mortal coils quite so quickly."
She giggled. "It might be worth a try."
"So what do you do, just grow it in your garden and put it in tea?"
He was humoring her, she felt certain.
"You don't have to pretend to be interested."
Matthew leaned forward in his chair, his gorgeous bulk moving in a fluid motion toward her.
"I'm not pretending.
I find both you and the subject matter fascinating."
Tamsen cleared her throat.
"Well, you could just drink the tea.
If your system was balanced and you only needed to nourish your body.
It could be argued that most of the food we put into our mouths has some kind of medicinal value, or it should have.
The problem we have these days is that we process the life out of our foods and we're basically left with bulk.
Next to no vitamins and minerals.
If I was going to use parsley medicinally though I'd use the root, which has to be harvested in the autumn of the second year of the plant's life -"
"Whoa there, this is getting complicated."
"It's not really, it's just a matter of knowing what part of the plant you want to use and making sure you collect it at the optimum time, when it's constituents are at their highest and you can benefit most from the minerals and nutrients it's mined from the earth."
"And you have to wait for a quarter moon, have your black cat pass twice across your path and kiss your sister's pet turtle, right?"
She kept a straight face.
"Not quite, but you're pretty close to the mark."
He looked mortified.
"You don't really believe in all that mumbo-jumbo, do you?
I mean, isn't it faster to just visit the doctor and get a pill for what ails you?"
"If that's what you're into, but sometimes I think that's using a sledgehammer to crack a peanut.
You know, you can do an awful lot of damage to your body just firing a quick-fix pill into it.
Sometimes it can be beneficial to look at the problem holistically and try to treat it that way."
"You're a modern hippy, aren't you?"
"No, I don't think so."
"I'll bet you hug trees and talk to pot plants too."
If only he knew, she thought.
How would a solicitor who spent his days knee deep in slices of dead tree cope with an unabashed tree hugger?
"It's been really great talking to you, you know - furthering your herbal education and all - but I've a couple of things that need tidying up this afternoon."
"So you need to get on your way, right?"
"Yes.
What part of the contract did you want to go over?" She should have stuck to business instead of getting sidetracked and lecturing him on food and herbs.
"Contract?"
He looked confused.
"The reason we came for coffee."
"Oh, right.
The contract."
The words hung in the air, like the delicate purple blooms on the heads of the chive plants.
She suddenly realized there was nothing to discuss in the contract.
"Look..." He fidgeted with his tie, those chest hairs enticing her again; it took all her self-will to look him in the eyes. "I'd really like to see you again.
Is there any chance we could, say, meet here for lunch tomorrow?"
Joy, he wanted to see her.
"Yeah, sure."
She tried not to sound too enthusiastic even if her soul was somersaulting.
"Would one o'clock suit you?"
He smiled.
She melted.
"That'd be great," he said.
"Come on, I'll walk you at least as far as the lobby."
"I can't believe you've agreed to see him again."
Gina's voice rang from the kitchen of their beachside apartment.
"Believe it."
Tamsen continued to harvest chives and Italian parsley from the small garden she lovingly tended on the terrace.
One day she was determined to have a proper kitchen garden, twice the size of the one she'd secretly lusted over at Armadillo's this afternoon with Matthew.
But first she knew she had to get her aquarium business off the ground; then she'd be able to look at her plans to create her perfect retreat.
"Have you got those herbs yet, or are you still apologizing for our desperate need to eat them?"
"Don't listen to her," Tamsen whispered to the parsley plant. "Thank you for your contribution - it's much appreciated."
Traversing the loft-like room that serviced their immediate living and dining needs and heading for the galley kitchen beyond, Tamsen carried a sense of gratitude for her day.
"Great. Can you chop them up and throw them in the marinara?" Gina, busy draining pasta, spoke through the clouds of steam that billowed out the picture window overlooking the communal courtyard and swimming pool below.
Tamsen tossed the chopped herbs through the seafood sauce.
She'd stopped on her way home at the fish market to pick up fresh mussels, shrimps and fish for their Tuesday night feast.
It was the only night of the week she and Gina ate together and they always liked to have seafood of some description.
It was a ritual they'd enjoyed for almost three years now.
Men came and went, but Tuesday night was a commitment to their relationship.
"So, does he know you're a regular Dr Dolittle, talking to the animals and the plants?"
"No, and I'll thank you not to tell him, Miss You-think-you-know-what's-good-for-me."
"I keep telling you I'm good for you."
Gina cupped her friend's face, placing a full, tender kiss on her lips.
"But you will have your fancy men."
They seated themselves at the ornate wrought-iron table-and-chair set that served as a dining table, a legacy of one of Gina's past passionate flings.
For a few months it had looked like it could be serious enough to set up house, but no agreement could be reached on the simple things, such as which dining room suite to acquire, so they’d purchased one each - the beginning of the ugly end.
"Aw, come on, Tams, it's not like you two have got anything in common.
I mean, he's a corporate lawyer and you're a free spirit who babysits goldfish for a living."
"It's a viable business opportunity."
Tamsen scooped a steaming spoonful of the marinara mix onto her plate.
"Balderdash.
We've been through this a thousand times.
It might be a viable business opportunity but it's just not you.
When will you accept that your dream is building that retreat up north that you've been warbling on about for years and you're only doing this because your mad mother and father insisted that no daughter of theirs is going to be head of some hippy outfit in the sticks?"
"Gina-"
"Don't give me that look.
I know they've financed you into fish, but why in hell couldn't you have put a business plan together and gone and found some other backer for the thing you're really passionate about?"
Tamsen sighed.
It was utterly useless trying to have a discussion with Gina when she was in this kind of mood.
"Is it that time of the month by any chance?"
Gina threw a despairing look at her. "That's always your comeback when you know I've got you on the ropes."
"True." Tamsen smiled sweetly at her friend.
At least she'd forgotten about Matthew - that had to be a good sign, she thought.
"But you still haven't answered my question."
Thought too soon.
"What question?"
"Why you think there's any good reason you should start seeing Matthew Solomon."
"You're jealous."
"You're a sick woman.
He's a prick, I told you.
Argumentative, stroppy, pedantic, meticulous, demanding-"
"Stunningly good looking, rich, successful in his field, body to die for, sense of humor, warm nature, articulate, intelligent, thoughtful, director of a number of investment companies that have small holdings all over the city.
Did I mention he's as sexy as hell?"
Gina looked appalled.
"He told you all this over a coffee?
Arrogant bastard."
"No, he told me he likes goldfish."
"Anyone can say that - you're too trusting."
"He knows his species, Gina."
"What about the rest?
I've worked with the man for nearly twelve months and I didn't know any of that other stuff."
"Well, maybe you should do some research, dear." Tamsen helped herself to seconds; marinara was one of her favorites.
"Have you been cyber-sleuthing again?"
"Who me, would I?"