“Doesn’t it?” Marguerite agreed cheerfully. “I did tell you he was wonderful.”
“Yes, you did,” Nicole said faintly, following Jake to the kitchen table in the corner. Really she was following the two plates of omelet, not Jake; he just happened to be carrying them.
Her gaze slid over the table, noting the tablecloth, which she rarely bothered with, and the place mats with perfect place settings. Jake had even set out salt and pepper, ketchup, and A.1. sauce, and milk and sugar . . . which reminded her of the coffee she held in hand that still needed doctoring.
“Sit,” Jake ordered and then added, “You too, Marguerite. Dig in before it gets cold and I’ll grab mine and the toast.”
Nicole sat at the table and quickly added cream and sugar to her coffee, but her gaze was on the omelet. She was not good at making omelets. Hers always came out as messy scrambled eggs, but these looked perfect. Light, fluffy, and oozing with yummy stuff. She actually found herself swallowing repeatedly as saliva built up in her mouth and was glad to be done with the coffee business so that she could try the omelet.
Fortunately, Jake returned to the table just as she set her coffee aside to take up her fork and knife. Nicole had been raised that it was only polite not to eat until the cook had finished and joined the table. The cook being her mom when she was taught this notwithstanding, Nicole would have felt terribly guilty for digging in before Jake was seated. But she would have done it. Now it wasn’t an issue.
“Mmmm,” Nicole murmured, once she’d popped the first bite into her mouth. It really was good. If the man made omelets for her every morning she’d be happy to get up to eat them, morning person or not. And if all of his cooking was this good, the man deserved a raise, she thought, which reminded her that they hadn’t discussed his wages yet. Or anything. She supposed they’d have to sit down and hammer things out after Marguerite left. What pay he expected, what his job description included, and what he expected from her too, because, seriously, he was already looking too good to be true. Nicole didn’t want the trial two-week period to end with her wanting him and his culinary skills to stay, and him unhappy with her as a boss and wanting to leave.
“I realized last night after I went to bed that I forgot to tell you what arrangement I’d come to with Jake for you,” Marguerite said suddenly.
Nicole swallowed and lifted her head, curious to hear this.
“Jake has agreed to the standard rate for the two-week trial,” Marguerite announced.
Nicole tilted her head. She had no clue what that meant. Was there a standard rate for cook/housekeepers? She’d have thought it varied with different employers and their expectations.
“We also worked out what tasks he’s willing to take on. But you can worry about that after we eat. I wrote it all up and left it on the dresser in my room. You can look it over and talk to Jake about it later,” Marguerite added.
“Oh. Okay.” Nicole nodded and began to eat again, but her mind was now on the paper in Marguerite’s room and she was curious to read it. She was also curious about the glass in her walk-in closet, and said, “Thank you for cleaning up the glass in my walk-in closet. It was a nice surprise.”
She had no idea who she was thanking, so Nicole addressed the comment to her omelet as she cut the next piece.
“You’re welcome,” Jake answered.
Relaxing, Nicole smiled at him. “I really appreciate it. Especially since you didn’t officially start until today.”
Jake shrugged. “It was no trouble.”
They all fell silent, their attention on their food after that, until Marguerite suddenly popped up off her chair. “My ride’s here.”
“Oh.” Nicole glanced out the window to see a town car pulling into the driveway and stood up. “What about the rental car you had yesterday?”
“I dropped it off last night before returning with Jake,” Marguerite said breezily as she headed out of the room. “He followed me and brought me back here. It just seemed easier than fussing today.”
“Well, you didn’t have to do that. Jake or I could have driven you to the airport today,” Nicole said, scraping up her last bite of omelet and popping it in her mouth before chasing after Marguerite with Jake on her heels.
“Don’t be silly. I knew you’d both be working today.” Marguerite collected her purse off the dining-room table on her way to the stairs. “This is easier all the way around.”
Still chewing and swallowing, Nicole merely grunted as she followed her downstairs. She pulled up short though when they reached the entry and Marguerite suddenly paused and turned back. In the next moment, Nicole was enveloped in expensive perfume that smelled really, really good as Marguerite hugged her.
“Thank you, Nicole. You are a dear. I’ve always thought so. You and Pierina are both sweeties. I appreciate your putting me up last night so I didn’t have to fly right back. And thank you for setting right to work on the portrait, but I really wish you’d give yourself a break. We don’t mind waiting and I worry about you.”
“Nothing to worry about,” Nicole said, hugging her back. “Once I get these three portraits finished I can slow down a little. Besides, with Jake here, life should be much easier. Thank you, for that,” she added, giving her an extra squeeze. “I was worried about having a stranger in my home. This way, with Jake being family to you, I feel much better.”
“Jake is a wonder. He’ll take care of everything. It will all work out,” Marguerite assured her and Nicole nodded, though she got the feeling Marguerite was referring to more than just her kitchen and home. There was no time to question her on it though, because the doorbell rang then and Marguerite released her.
Leaving Marguerite to say good-bye to Jake, Nicole stepped around her to open the door and smiled in greeting at the suited man waiting patiently on the step.
“Hello,” he said politely, his gaze sliding past her to Marguerite and then moving to the suitcase next to the door. “Is that going?”
“Oh, yes,” Nicole said recognizing Marguerite’s small case on wheels. The woman must have set it by the door before coming upstairs, she realized and grabbed it. But she’d barely slid it a foot closer to the door before the driver stepped in and took it.
“I’ll take care of that,” he assured her politely. “Is this it?”