Chapter Thirty-seven Estera Roberts’ POV (Ten Years Before)

“Estera, before you leave can you take care of table ten,” my supervisor; Matilda, said as I exited the employees' changing room. I was startled to a stop, and her eyes wandered down my outfit. “Sorry, I need to make some calls,” she added, noting that I had already changed from my uniform and was ready to go. “You don’t have to change back, it’s Evan Sterling with some of his friends,” she said and turned away. The older woman probably imagined since I live with my aunt on the Sterlings' estate, I would be well acquainted with their son. Of course, she wouldn’t know that the last thing I wanted was to appear as ‘the help’ to Evan Sterling. It’s been close to three weeks since I last saw him when he came to drop off my clothes and since then it just seemed like he dropped off the face of the earth. It was a sheer struggle to not question my Aunt about him. For some reason, I felt a bit hurt that he had shipped me to a corner of his mind and moved on when I am still stuck on the event.
It was already 11:30 p.m. and the restaurant was officially closed. I suppose no business can actually have such an excuse when it comes to the Sterlings. And why he chose to come here of all places vexed me.
I went to the kitchen and saw that the chef was still slaving away. I let out a sigh, thinking of picking an apron to cover my fitted knee-length dress but changed my mind.
“Ah! She caught you,” the average height Italian man in an all-white uniform teased.
“Yup, she did,” I replied with a tired smile.
“Well, perhaps you can get a ride home…” he said and pointed at a pile of branded pamphlets stacked at the side of the shelf. “Don’t forget to go with at least three of those. I have a suspicion that’s one of the reasons he is a regular here, aside from my cooking, of course.” He grinned.
“He is a regular?” I asked, puzzled as I reached for one of the pamphlets – an ideology similar to the Chinese fortune telling slip embedded in cookies but instead of the small thin paper, this was a branded pictogram and graphic images of math questions. Customers mostly ignored it and I have always wondered why the restaurant kept the pile.
“Yes, he is. Funny he hasn’t been here since you started. I suppose the business is taking most of his time,” he chatted as he started to dish out a mouthwatering dish, a Matsusaka beef topped with foie gras and truffles with a few thin slabs of prime foie gras and duck fat in a freshly baked brioche bun. Then he deftly placed a bottle of 1975 Petrus with three glass cups on a separate silver tray.
“I take it we don’t need to get their order?”
“He called ahead. He just wants his regular,” he answered simply, “there you go…” he added, gesturing for me to take the dishes out. I nodded, placed three of the pamphlets on the side of the plates as he advised, and lifted it.
The doors that led from the kitchen to the restaurant were double swinging ones and it made it easy to push through.
I blinked as I walked inside the dimly lit room, trying to adjust from the full blast of light in the industrial kitchen to the restaurant’s dull hue. The lovely sound of the piano playing mingled with laughter coming from table ten. The rest of the tables were empty now, making the place feel serene.
“Good evening. Here are your orders,” I said as politely as I could muster, trying to act like Evan was not in the circle as I fixed my attention solely on arranging the food at the center of the large table.
“Thank you,” Evan replied in a curt, polite way like one would a complete stranger, that stung a little, but I didn’t spare him a glance as I slotted the wine inside the ice pocket. “That doesn’t belong there,” he added, reaching for the wine to take it from my hand and our fingers brushed. I flinched as if scalded and jerked my eyes to meet his. I almost stopped breathing as his beautiful eyes burrowed into mine. A giggle from the lady to his side made me look away, feeling embarrassed.
“Such ignorance… Are you new here?” she asked in a condescending tone.
“Apologies. I will get the rest of your orders,” I said, automatically, directing my eyes to the black-haired girl as she plastered her entire front to Evan’s side. I thought she looked pretty as expected. I bet the likes of her flock around him often or perhaps he was the faithful type. I swallowed as my eyes caught the expensive pieces of jewelry around her neck and wrist. Her skin tone was pure ivory and flawless, and her fingers were perfectly manicured, evidence of a person who has never had to get her hands dirty in her entire life. She was everything I was not. My heart tightened, making the insult sting more than necessary.
“Hello,” another voice from my right drew my attention and I directed my eyes in that direction. A handsome blonde smiled brightly at me and held out his hand. I was confused for about a second, wondering why he would want to shake me. “I’m Brian. I have never seen you here before,” he added.
“I’m new—” I said, gingerly raising my hand to place in his large one.
“Is that so? The evening suddenly doesn’t feel so dull,” he replied, his gray eyes twinkling with mischief. I almost smiled.
“Can you let her do her job, Brian?” Evan snapped.
“Stop being such a grouch, Evan, you must agree she is stunning,” Brian replied.
“Excuse me … please,” I said, tugging my hand from his light grip. He winked and let me go. It was a miracle I could walk away without tripping. I could feel Brian’s gaze on me as I walked away and wished I could look back but not to look at him, but to gauge Evan’s mood. He sounded angry and I was curious as to why. When I returned to bring them the last of their order, I saw Evan’s head was bent over the pamphlets; the three were placed side by side beside his plate and he was eating while scribbling on one, obviously solving the math.
The girl beside him grumbled, “You never take a break, Evan, even now with me.”
“I am here, Joyce. Don’t start,” Evan replied in a distracted tone.
“You know how he loves math. He is a weirdo -– Your weirdo now, deal with it. Perhaps you could learn to enjoy it with him,” Brian interjected with a chuckle, the last part sounded like mockery.
“What normal girl would like solving math problems as a pastime?” Joyce challenged rolling her eyes.
“A smart one?” Brian replied, openly laughing now. And I saw the corners of Evan's lips tweak as if he found that amusing. I felt sorry for the girl as I placed Brian’s dessert in front of him.
“Solve it,” Evan suddenly said, placing one of the pamphlets in the tray I carried. I froze, and then slowly raised my eyes to meet his emotionless ones. He held his hand out to offer me a gold-plated ball pen and I hesitated for a minute. There was something dark and challenging in his eyes. Is he trying to embarrass me more?