thing that had come out of the decimation of the kitchen staff was that Elena found herself leading a kitchen with a much higher than average percentage of women. She and Tansy; Hector’s sister Alma on dishes; the line-cook-in-training—i.e., kitchen slave—Katya, who had come to them through the party at Julian’s; and another slave Ivan had unearthed somewhere, a squat girl with mean eyes who didn’t talk much but could wield a knife like nobody’s business.
The only real challenge was her body. Which was falling apart, slowly but surely. The hot tub helped, and she had found a second massage therapist to work on her twice a week in addition to Candy. She walked on a treadmill for an hour every day, since long walks around town were impossible with the banks of snow, some up to ten or twelve feet deep.
Nothing really worked. She was in almost constant pain, in her back, in her hip, taking more and more drugs, which made her irritable and sometimes a little confused. Mostly, she’d learned to cover it, but the strain was showing in her face, draining her strength.
Secretly, she found a doctor who did X-rays and confirmed what Elena had dreaded—she needed more surgery. There wasn’t a lot they could do for the hip, which was riddled with arthritis, but the surgery on her back would, he was sure, be an almost complete fix. It would require her to wear a brace for four to six months, and for the first two, she couldn’t be on her feet, not for any length of time.
And she would need help. Lots of it. She couldn’t be on her own.
That day, she went back to the tower room at Julian’s house, closed the door, and wept bitterly. To relieve the pain, she would have to give up her kitchen. How could she make that choice? To relieve the pain, she would have to depend on others to help her, and show her weakness.
Maybe, she thought, it was the extreme cold making it so bad. When the weather got better, she’d feel better. So she took some more drugs and scheduled massages for nearly every day of the week and hid from everyone the pain she was feeling. It wasn’t as easy to hide the stiffness, a fact that embarrassed her.
Maybe, she thought, more and more mornings, she should go ahead and have the surgery. Ivan was stable. He could run the kitchen—especially if she let him get rid of Dag—and he wouldn’t undermine her. Maybe Patrick would let her stay with him, or she could hire a nurse. But where would she live after this mythical surgery? She could not bear to let Julian see her that vulnerable!
It was taken out of her hands, anyway. On the fifteenth, she had an email from Dmitri, out of the blue.
From: [email protected]
Subject: ouch!
Saw the slam from Bok. Condolences. Heard you had trouble with INS, which no one can predict. Bad luck.
Here is some good news for you, however—would you consent to be interviewed for my television show? We’ll be in Aspen end of January to shoot a feature that will run on Valentine’s Day: “Aspen for Lovers.” Julian Liswood has always been good to me, and I’d like to feature the Orange Bear, and you, with your gorgeous lips.
Ciao,
dmitri
PS you were right about Jennifer. She was too young for me.
Of course, she thought. Of course. Because the universe couldn’t let her have one freaking minute of peace. She wanted to punch her fist through the monitor. Instead, she opened a reply and wrote:
From: [email protected]
Subject: re: ouch!
Dmitri! What a great surprise—you must be absolutely thrilled to be hosting the show. It’s just your cup of tea (remember the reporter in Vancouver said you were from the Mick Jagger school of beauty?) and I can’t wait to say I knew you when.
Of course I’d be delighted to be interviewed. Name the time! If you want to call me the numbers are: 970-555-4398 (restaurant) and 970-555-0936 (cell). If there is anything we can do to make your stay more enjoyable, please don’t hesitate to let me know. I look forward to seeing you again.
Warmly,
Elena
Before she could add anything snarky, she hit the Send button.
His reply was instant:
From: [email protected]
Subject: re:ouch!
Very good. We will be arriving 28 January and will stay through 1 February. Will call before then to arrange details.
ciao,
dmitri
Ivan felt as if an anvil were hanging over his head. Dag was a constant, needling presence, continuously flirting