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Chuckling, I said, “Fair enough. How about you try this one.” I put a little foie gras on her plate.
“Hmm, what is it?”
“Goose liver. And those things are candied fruit.”
“Much more my style. The candy that is, not the mushed-up bird organs. I will try it though.”
Jesus Christ, this girl.
“This one looks pretty normal. What is it, like, just a salad?”
“That’s right. Niçoise Salad.”
“Yeah, I like this one.”
I tipped more of the salad on her plate and took the foie gras for myself.
“Dare I ask what you’ve ordered for mains? Or should I wait to be surprised?”
“I’ll let you off the hook. The mains are Coq au Vin—”
“Cock of what!?”
“Jesus, Esme!” I shot a quick look around to see if anyone had heard her outburst. No one had, so trying to smother more laughter, I said, “It’s chicken in a red wine sauce.”
“Oh, thank fuck for that. Go on.”
“Beef fillet with red wine and duck breast with orange sauce are the mains. Desserts are crème brûlée, chocolate mousse and tarte tatin.”
“Amazing. It all sounds amazing. Even the cock.”
“I’m glad you think so. How are you liking the champagne?”
“I love it, but it’s going to my head a bit.” She pushed the champagne flute away.
“I’ll get you a soda.”
“Do they serve soda in places like this?”
“They serve whatever I ask them to serve.”
“Right. Of course. Perks of being obscenely wealthy.”
“You got it.” I got Joseph’s attention and ordered Esme’s soda.
“Does it get weird, though, honestly?” She asked once he’d gone. “All the deference, the hushed tones, the obedience. It’s all a bit…” pausing, she bit her lip, frowning in thought before continuing, “forced, or something. Fake, maybe? Because it’s all about the wealth and status. Youarethe main character, every day, because of your money. That seems really lonely, to me. A bit sad.” I gazed at her for just long enough to have her squirming in the seat, pushing her hair nervously over her shoulder. “Shit. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, you’re fine.” I hadn’t answered because I’d felt her words like a punch in the guts. Maybe this was what was wrong with me? Why I felt so off, like there was something missing. Why I felt so fucking bored all the time. It felt like way too much of a big deal to process here at dinner, so I gave a nonchalant shrug. Joseph returned with soda, in a cut crystal carafe, no less, and once he’d gone, Esme changed the subject. I couldn’t deny the twinge of relief that we wouldn’t be pursuing that particular topic any further.
We both kept the conversation light after that. I felt Esme was withholding a little, often deflecting the talk back to me if I got even slightly personal. Like, I wanted to know what was with this family she nannied for. Why did they not pay for their groceries? And where were they on her birthday? We were just finishing up the mains and my suspicion that she was withholding was confirmed. “So, tell me about the kids.”
A shadow passed over her face and the blunt, “Not tonight,” startled me. She didn’t want to talk about the kids? Odd, but I could accept it.
Just as we were nearly done with dessert and I was thinking about taking her back to Esperance, the conversation took a very interesting turn.
“So, this is what I know. You live in Raleigh. You root for the Panthers. You like red wine. Your siblings aren’t terrible. Your parents aren’t great. Umm, what else…” She tapped her fingertip on her lips. “You like fast cars. And good suits. But something’s missing.”
I arched a brow, leaning back in the chair and resting my hand on the snowy tablecloth. “Yeah? What’s that?”