“Thanks. Let’s do lunch in the city next week. Talk soon.”
Brady shot him a calendar invitation as soon as they hung up the phone.
When he turned back to the table, he found his plate gone, and a piece of some sort of dessert with a scoop of ice cream on the side.
He glanced at it. Apple crisp, maybe? Or pear?
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had dessert. And look at that, he hadn’t asked, it just happened.
But had Ryder overheard his conversation? That felt…awkward.
He sat and picked up the plate, which was warm underneath, and got a forkful of the fruit and some of the ice cream. It was warm and sweet, a bite of pure happiness.
He couldn’t possibly finish it, he was still so full from dinner, but he ate more than half before he made himself put the plate down. It was apples, he wasn’t sure if it was a crisp or a tart or what, but it was made from scratch for sure. How long had it been since he had a real, home-cooked meal?
Too damn long, obviously.
He wanted to say thank you, but he wasn’t sure how to call for Ryder. He wasn’t the shouting type, he didn’t have a little bell or a buzzer. He moved to his desk and found Ryder’s paperwork, and sure enough, there was a cell phone number.
But should he text or call?
He rolled his eyes at himself. It was ridiculous that even simple decisions made him anxious. He picked up his phone and dialed Ryder. He was a grown man, wasn’t he? He could talk on the phone.
“Hello? Can I help you, sir?” The soft drawl was pleasant, not in the least harsh.
“Hi, Ryder. Could you come by my office, please? I thought we could—talk.”
“No problem. I’ll be there in two shakes.”
“Very good. Thank you.” He hung up, and before Ryder arrived he snuck one more bite of dessert. He was going to gain a hundred pounds if Ryder kept feeding him like this.
It didn’t take but a few seconds for Ryder to knock on his office door. The man was in a white T-shirt, a pair of jeans with a kitchen towel in the back pocket, and a pair of boots that were less pointed and shiny as the ones he’d shown up in.
Also, the man’s hair was completely silver, in a wild contrast to the unlined face.
He was a little jealous. His hair was also going silver, but his face showed the years around his eyes.
“Come in. Come sit.” He waved Ryder over to a pair of comfortable leather wing chairs near the window. His view was of the back patio and the path down to the dock; it was shadier than the upstairs views but still had a nice look at the lake. “I really must apologize for my behavior when you arrived. I have reasons, but there was no excuse to be rude.”
“No worries, sir.” He got a nod and a half-grin. “This is my first time doing this, so I didn’t understand the rules. I’m clever, though. I catch on quick.”
He sat and gestured to the chair again. “Are there rules? Maybe you ought to explain to me what they are.”
Ryder tilted his head, frowned. “Well, I suppose what you expect from me. When you want meals, what you like. What needs fixing…”
He nodded. “Dinner was outstanding. I don’t think I’ve ever had macaroni and cheese that perfect. And the dessert was a lovely surprise. It made me smile. Thank you for that. As you can see, I was too full from dinner to finish it. Is that how you found this position? Are you a chef?”
“No, sir. I’ve worked in restaurants and as a camp cook a number of times, and I like cooking well enough, so I’m happy to do it.”
He nodded. That was interesting. “Where are you from, Ryder?”
“Originally, New Mexico, although I’ve lived in Texas, Louisiana, and Colorado, and I’ve traveled all over.”
Texas, New Mexico, Colorado…those places were definitely not like here. “So, why New York? I read your dossier; you could use your set of skills anywhere. From what I’ve seen so far, it seems like this is a new sort of position for you. I’m notquestioning your competence, of course, I’m just curious what brought you up this way.”
“It was time for a change of venue.”
That was a nonanswer answer, but it weirdly didn’t sound like a lie or even a prevarication.