Table Manners

The smell of chicken and spices permeated the kitchen. The five cooktop burners held a pot, skillet, or saucepan. The oven racks were weighed down with sheet pans containing biscuits and a spiced apple pie.

Frank Wallace stirred the mashed potatoes while simultaneously using a digital thermometer to check the temperature of the chicken sautéing in the large skillet.

“Almost there,” he said to himself.

He took some butter from the fridge, added a tablespoon to both dishes, and then slightly reduced the heat.

Frank glanced at the clock on the microwave. It read five fifty two.

I’m cutting it pretty damn close, he thought. Six-thirty will be here before I know it.

He looked at the biscuits and pie through the oven glass. Frank guessed that the biscuits would be ready in about five minutes. The pie would not be done for at least another twenty. Frank set the oven timer for twenty-five minutes, and, stepping back from the stove, he sat in a chair. He released a sigh and ran a hand through his black hair. Frank felt sweat running down his neck, and he laughed at himself.

“I hope Nichole appreciates the fact that I am sweating my ass off for this meal.”

Frank knew the sweat was less from the stove's heat than from his nervousness.

Nichole Lewiston and Frank worked together at a small technology firm. They had always made a good team, and their obvious attraction for one another never interfered with their work. Technically, Nichole was Frank’s boss. She was listed as the department manager. But that distinction was largely ignored. Frank had wanted to ask Nichole out for months, but he never dared to say the words.

That was until they had gone to dinner with a potential client. The meeting required formal dress, so Frank had worn his best suit. Nichole arrived wearing a dark green evening gown that reached her ankles. A slit revealed her legs up to the knee. The top of the gown left a lot to the imagination, but just enough was visible to hold one’s attention. A silver clutch purse and matching heels completed the stunning outfit. The colors complemented her medium brown skin. Nichole had styled her curly hair on top of her head. A few loose ringlets hung down the left side of her face, drawing attention to her deep brown eyes.

Frank’s mouth had dropped open at the sight of her. When Nichole greeted him, Frank stammered briefly before finally saying, “You look incredible.”

“Thank you,” Nichole replied.

She scanned Frank up and down before saying, " You look pretty good yourself.”

The meeting was a success, mainly due to Frank and Nichole working so well together. The only downside, at least in Nichole’s eyes, was the food.

At one point, she leaned over to Frank and whispered, “I wonder if you have to pay extra for spices.”

Frank concentrated on chewing his food to avoid laughing and spitting across the table. After he recovered, Frank replied, “I think I could make a better meal at home.”

Nichole smiled and said, “If that is an offer to make me dinner, I accept.”

She then turned to speak to their client.

Frank was flabbergasted. He had been making a joke, and now he was committed to a dinner date with Nichloe at his house.

Frank smiled at the memory as he stood and checked the food. Everything except the pie was ready. He turned the burners off and went to his bedroom. Frank undressed, entered the adjoining bathroom, and turned on the shower. After a quick wash and rinse, he dried off and changed into the clothes he had laid out earlier. Khaki slacks, a dark blue shirt, and boots made for a business casual look. After combing his hair, he looked at himself again in the mirror and nodded.

“This is as good as it's getting,” he said as he returned to the kitchen.

Frank took the biscuits out of the oven. He set plates and silverware out and got a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the refrigerator. As he pulled the cork out of the bottle, the doorbell rang. Frank looked at his watch. It read six-twenty-five. He smiled.

“Just like her to be early.”

He walked to the front door, took a second to collect himself, and opened the door.

“Hey, Frank,” Nichole said, smiling. “What’s for dinner?”

Frank laughed.

“Come in here and find out.”

Nichole stepped inside, and Frank closed the door behind her.

Nichole had dressed casually for their date—black jeans, a red button-down blouse, and a white t-shirt underneath. Black and white sneakers completed the outfit.

Nichole held two bottles of wine.

“I didn't know what we were having, so I figured one red and one white would cover the bases.”

Frank smiled and gestured to the table.

“Please, sit down. I will bring the food over.”

Nichole shook her head as she handed the wine to Frank.

“You know better than that. We have been friends too long for you to think I would let you serve me.”

She pointed to the kitchen, and Frank shrugged.

“Very well,” he said as they approached the kitchen.

They grabbed the plates from the table and piled chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans onto them. Nichole carried her plate in one hand and two biscuits in the other. Frank raised an eyebrow, and Nichole said, “I ran out of room on my plate.”

Frank laughed as he poured a glass of wine for each of them.

As they sat down, Nichole said, “This looks and smells amazing.”

“It tastes even better,” Frank said. “Dig in.”

Nichole cut a piece of chicken and put it in her mouth.

She closed her eyes and chewed slowly.

After she swallowed, she said, “This is so good.”

Frank could not help but smile.

“My mother taught my siblings and me how to cook when we were pretty young. I found that I liked to cook and have been doing it ever since.”

Nichole sipped her wine and asked, “Why didn’t you become a chef?”

Frank shrugged as he buttered a biscuit.

“I honestly don't know. I guess the money to be made in technology turned my head.”

He watched Nichole as she ate.

And I am very glad of that, he thought.

Nichole noticed Frank looking at her.

“What? Did I spill something on myself?”

She looked down at herself frantically.

Frank laughed and waved away her concern.

“No, I just like to see people enjoying my food, that’s all.”

Frank and Nichole mostly ate silently, interrupted only by the oven timer going off.

Frank turned the oven off and placed the pie on the counter to cool.

Nichole finally pushed her plate away with a sigh.

“That was the best meal I have eaten in a long time,” she said.

Frank stood and collected their plates.

“It’s not over yet,” he said.

He put the plates in the sink and cut two slices of the spiced apple pie.

“Would you like ice cream or whipped cream?” he called to Nichole.

Nichole moaned.

“You are going to make me eat dessert too?”

“Oh yes.”

“Fine,” Nichole said. “I’ll take whipped cream. But you will have to roll me out of here in a wheelbarrow.”

Frank returned with two slices of pie and whipped cream on top.

Nichole felt her mouth water as she smelled the baked apples and spices. When Frank put the plate in front of her, Nichole took a bite.

“Why are you still single?” she asked after she swallowed.

Frank laughed.

“Lucky, I guess.”

Nichole looked at him in a way that made Frank both nervous and excited.

“No,” she said after a minute. “You haven't found someone you want to be with long term.”

Frank’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth.

“That’s mostly true,” he said.

Frank ate the piece of pie and chewed to buy himself some time.

He swallowed and said, “Honestly, I don't have time to date. Between how busy we have been at work and just life in general, things are pretty hectic.”

Nichole nodded.

“It has been a little nuts at the office. The end of the year is always like this, though.”

Frank gave a half-smile.

“Besides, have you looked at the dating pool lately?”

Nichole laughed.

“It’s more like a dating puddle.”

Frank joined in the laughter.

After they caught their breath, Nichole asked, “Would you consider dating anyone at the office?”

Frank shook his head.

“I have done it once and have seen it a hundred times. It never ends well.”

Nichole nodded.

“I have seen the same.”

She leaned forward and said, “What if I told you that there is someone interested in you who did not work with you?”

Frank raised an eyebrow.

“Please don’t tell me you want to set me up on a blind date.”

Nichole smiled, then stood up.

“Where is your bathroom? I’m about to burst sitting here.”

“Down the hall, first door to the right.”

Frank cleared the table while Nichole was in the bathroom. When she returned, she walked toward the living room.

Frank brought another bottle of wine and two glasses with him as he sat on the couch.

“You read my mind,” Nichole said, kicking her sneakers off.

Frank poured, and they touched glasses.

“Cheers to job security, if nothing else,” Frank said.

Nichole laughed.

“I second that,” she said.

They drank in silence for a few moments.

Frank turned to her and asked, “So, are you going to set me up on a blind date?”

Nichole smiled and said, “No, I was just pulling your chain.”

She drained her wine in a single gulp and set her glass down.

Frank offered her a refill, but she shook her head.

“I want to be somewhat sober when I say this. I know that, technically, we are not allowed to date. I’m your manager, but no one recognizes it.”

Frank nodded.

“That is true,” he said.

Nichole took a deep breath.

“Frank, I have been attracted to you for a while, and I would like to see if we could work out as a couple.”

Frank was quiet momentarily, then said, “I feel the same way about you. But because of our positions at work, I never said anything.”

Nichole sat back on the couch.

“I get that. It would be against company policy, and we both would likely be fired.”

Frank smiled.

“You would be ok. You make pretty good money compared to the rest of us peons.”

Nichole punched Frank in the arm.

“Srcew you, Frank,” she said with a laugh.

Frank rubbed his arm.

Nichole is stronger than she looks, he thought.

Nichole looked at Frank intently.

“I’m serious. I want to see if things could work between us.”

Frank replied, “I would like that, too.”

Nichole smiled and leaned in to kiss Frank.

Frank gently held her by the shoulders.

“What about your management position? You just said that we can’t date because of it.”

Nichole took Frank’s hand and said, “I am no longer a manager. I gave up the position last week.”

Frank’s mouth fell open.

“What?”

“I was miserable,” she said. “I was doing the work of three people and not getting paid nearly what I should have for it. I wanted to get out of that mess and figured that you were a worthy motivation.”

Frank was stunned.

“But, you worked your ass off to get that position.”

Nichole looked down for a moment.

“I did. I wanted it until I got it. It was nothing like what was described. I wanted to quit about a week into the job, but I told myself the same things you said. I wanted it, and now I have to deal with it.”

Nichole fell silent as she gathered her thoughts.

“I am sick of being unhappy. When we started working together more often, I hated my job a little less.”

Frank smiled.

“Glad I could help.”

Nichole laughed.

“I enjoy working with you. You kept me sane more times than I can count. I will understand if you say no. It is sudden, and I can be a lot to handle.”

Frank smiled as he fought down the first and then the second response that tried to voice itself.

He finally said, “I know, but I think I can deal with that.”

Nichole smiled.

“Awesome! Now, please pour me some more wine. That was the most intense conversation I have had in a long while.”

Frank refilled their wine glasses, then raised his in a toast.

“To us.”

Nichole touched his glass, and they drank.

Nichole moved closer to Frank, and he placed his arm around her shoulder. Nichole's cell phone rang as they settled in to watch a movie. It was the ominous rhythm of the imperial march.

Frank looked towards the device and asked, “Should you get that?”

“No,” Nichole said. “It's the office. They know this is my day off, so they can message me.”

Frank laughed.

“I think we are off to a great start.”