CHAPTER 3
My feet moved on their own accord to where Richard was seated. He was wearing a sharp black suit that made him look mysterious and younger than his age.
What's he doing here?
Don't be silly Marah.
This is a coffee shop. He came to get coffee.
"Mr Berlette. It's quite a surprise seeing you here." I paused. " Well, I mean it's not surprising that you are in a coffee shop obviously. It's just that you are here. At Gregory's.I rambled with a nervous chuckle.
"Pardon me for taking you by surprise," he said as he gave me an apologetic look.
"It's alright. Would you like me to get you anything?"
"A cup of espresso please."
"I'll be right back."
I charged to the kitchen to brew the coffee. It took me five minutes to do that. I carefully placed the mug on the table.
"Thank you. Please sit." He motioned to the chair facing him.
I positioned myself on the chair, stiff as a board. His eyes followed every move I made. I ran my sweaty palms on my dress and gulped in my saliva.
"What I want to talk to you about would probably take you off guard but it's nothing to worry about. I've seen you quite some times with my daughter and concluded that you are the perfect candidate for what I'm about to propose."
I gave him a quizzical look. "Mr Berlette_"
"Call me Richard" he chipped in.
The thought of calling him by his first name made me shudder. "A perfect candidate for a proposal? What could I offer in your world to make you think I'm a perfect candidate for a man like you? There is no link whatsoever." I retorted.
"You don't have to downplay yourself. I know what I see in you and that's all the convincing I need. I want you to be my wife."
I unintentionally choked on my saliva which made me cough furiously as I sat there and gaped at him wide-eyed.
Pretending to not hear him the first time. " Excuse me?"
"I want you to be my wife." He said again as he took a sip from his coffee and stared at me like he just asked me what my favorite food was instead of a marriage proposal.
I brought my hands to my mouth and guffawed loudly.
This is a joke. He is definitely kidding.
A look of puzzlement crossed his face. "Is this something to laugh about?"
"Yes. Because you are joking. Right? Did Abigail put you up to this?" I mentioned as I swayed my neck left and right in hopes of catching a glimpse of my best friend laughing at the corner.
His face showed no hint of humor. "Are you being serious? I'm your daughter's friend. Best-friend." I half yelled making sure I emphasized the word 'best friend'.
"Look, I'm not asking you to be my wife forever. It's only going to be a year. Nothing more, nothing less."
"This isn't right. You are my best friend's dad."
"Can you stop saying that?"
"But you are."
"Marah, you are a grown woman and I believe you can make decisions yourself without letting external factors dissuade you. It's a contract marriage," he uttered in a low voice. "And I require your assistance. If you haven't noticed I'm probably the oldest bachelor that makes it to York's Most Eligible Bachelor magazine.
He gave a sardonic look. "That list infuriates me."
He was right about being the oldest on the list of eligible bachelors. Some of his counterparts hadn't made it to that list. That was just how good-looking he was. I'd always wondered why he never got married.
There had been a moment when I wanted to ask Abigail about her mother but thought against it. She never talked about her and I didn't want to pry.
Random women throw themselves at him without a care in the world dreaming to go by his last name.
Which made me more suspicious of the reason why he thought I was the perfect candidate in the first place.
That's right. What about those other women? Huh, Richard.
Why does it have to be me?
An idea of why he proposed marriage to me never crossed my mind and I didn't want to know either.
But what I was sure of is that I would never accept such a proposal from him.
No! This wasn't about his age. At twenty-five years of age, I didn't think I had a problem getting with an older guy. It's just that it was too weird a thought to get with my best friend's father. Even if it was based on pretense.
"I'm sorry but I can't do what you are asking of me," I responded. My face held no ounce of sympathy.
"You don't have to give me an answer right away. Take your time."
"I don't think my answer will ever change," I said deadpan.
"You shouldn't be so sure about that." He said with a sinister smile plastered on his face.
"But I am sure."
"Just think about_" he was cut short by my sudden movement. "Where are you going?"
"To work. It's the busiest time of the day and customers are coming in. I have to make coffee."
I didn't want him to say anything else before I took off on my heels. The moment I entered the kitchen, I rested my weight on the wall for support. My feet were too wobbly to hold me still.
What just happened? Richard Barlette wants me to be his wife? Is he sick?
After I recollected myself, I went out of the kitchen. My eyes fell on Richard's frame but this time he wasn't alone.
I looked at the tall, black-clad figure of the man with Richard. He had a younger face than that of Richards.
He was holding a file that had the word "confidential" imprinted on it.
Probably his secretary.
I didn't register that my eyes were still on Richard until his head turned and his eyes captured mine. My eyes widened and I immediately pretended to be looking at the customers beside their table.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw Richard throw his head back stifling a laugh. He dropped a dollar bill and signaled for the man with him to follow him. They left the coffee shop soon after.
I walked up to the table he earlier occupied and screeched at the sight of the mint hundred-dollar bill carefully placed underneath the espresso cup.
A hundred-dollar bill! He left too much tip for the coffee.
Later that morning, I stationed myself in the kitchen. Most of our early customers already left and it was an opportunity to clean up the dishes. I've always found washing dishes calming. For as long as I can remember, even during the most painful span of my life, the tactile experience of handling soapy water and dishes has created a serene and therapeutic environment for me.
But the conversation I had with Richard kept replaying in my mind making my insides hot. I run my hands through my hair and let out a distressed sigh.
The creak of the kitchen door made me jump backward. Betty's round-shaped face peered behind the door. "There's someone here to see you."
My eyes narrowed "Who is it this time?
"I don't know." She shrugged. "This feels like deja vu." She said as she slammed the door on my face.
I grabbed a kitchen towel mounted at the back of a cabinet door and used it to dry my hands and I stepped out of the kitchen expecting to see Richard again.
I was welcomed with Edward's twinkling eyes. His smile was like a sudden beam of sunlight illuminating the darkest corners of the room. My heart leaped for joy at the sight of him.
"Edward!" I beamed at him.
"Marah!" he hollered, imitating my enthusiasm.
"I didn't think you would come today."
"I couldn't wait. I should have been here earlier but I was caught up with something at work." his eyes scoured the shop "Where should we sit?"
"Over there," I said as I motioned to an empty table at the corner of the shop. "What would you like me to make you?"
"Umm, a cappuccino. Thank you," he said as he sat.
"Just give me a moment. I'll be back shortly."
I returned with a cup of steaming coffee and served it to him.
"Here you go."
"Hmm. Love the artwork."
"Thank you."
He took a sip of the coffee and his eyes slightly widened. "This is good. This is really good."
I grinned so much that my cheeks began to hurt. "Thank you."
"This is like the best coffee ever," he said as he took another sip.
I fake clutched my chest. "Oh, you flatter me."
"Seeing you makes me feel much better."
I narrowed my eyes. "How so?"
"You know. Just because," he muttered in a voice lower than usual.
"Is something wrong?" I uttered as I leaned forward to study his expression.
I've only known Edward for less than a day but I already care for him as a friend even if he doesn't know it yet. It might seem pathetic that I have no criteria for choosing a friend. The truth is, ever since I was a kid I never had anyone to call a friend. Believe it or not, not that the foster home either.
There has been someone I considered a friend but apparently wasn't. So right now at my age, I can only count my friends with two fingers.
He scrunched his nose as he placed the cup on the table. "Nothing too serious. It's just work. It can be overwhelming sometimes."
"I have been meaning to ask. Which company do you work for? I paused. "Or own?"
"I thought my last name would ring a bell. I guess I'm not as famous as I thought." he joked. A faint smile danced on his lips.
I pressed a finger on my chest playfully. "I'm just the ignorant one."
"Brown ventures?" He paused as if waiting for a reply. "The investment company that establishes startups? Nothing comes to mind?"
"I'm sorry." I stifled a laugh. "Nothing comes to mind."
"Tsk tsk tsk. I don't know whether to be happy or sad. But I think more of the former.
He rubbed the nape of his neck. His eyes burned dryly from sleeplessness.
"Lately, I've been engrossed in making strategic plans and organizational setup for the new start-up company in New Zealand. The problem is the majority of the board of directors is hesitating to bid on it. They are scared of losing investments. It's taking a toll on me. Sorry, I'm boring you with this work talk."
"No. It's fine." I assured him.
He forced a smile that didn't reach his eyes. I felt sorry for him and wished I could do anything to make him feel better.
Quit dreaming. You have no influence whatsoever to help him.
I groaned inwardly not wanting Edward to notice my displeasure.
"What about your dad?"
The question seemed to have thrown him off. His mouth downturned.
" I haven't heard that question for five years now."
I put my hands over my mouth as cognizance hit me.
"Edward, I am so sorry. I didn't know_"
"You couldn't have. It was all over the news though." He forced a smile.
"Which makes it worse. If only I'd been current. I really should have." I rambled on.
"How did it happen?"
"Car crash. Head on collision." He mumbled, staring into space.
I lost my parents when I was just ten years old and my mind couldn't exactly process what happened. I didn't feel a sense of loss as much as a teenager or adult would feel losing a loved one. All I knew was the comfort of their hugs and smiles. I didn't know their mind, likes and dislikes, and theories about life, all the things impossible for a child to comprehend.
Presently, I didn't perceive the loss of intricate humans who I could have conversations and spend time with.
I grieved humans I could have known and felt cheated out of the opportunity of truly knowing them.
The grief I felt for my parents is different from that of Edwards towards his dad. He knew his dad, he grew up watching his dad and at such a very knowing age he lost his dad. That makes it harder for him.
I bowed my head trying to avoid eye contact. The embarrassment I felt wouldn't let me look at him. I felt his gaze upon me.
" Marah."
"Y-yeah."
"Would you like to go on a date with me?"