Warriors Mate

2- Luncheon

Waking in my room each morning is usually a pleasure. Soft sheets wrapped around my legs. Feather pillows under my head. And the most intoxicating scent of the gardens below my window lulls me awake. This morning, however, the headache of all headaches has seized my good mood and is pounding it into oblivion. 

I slowly rise from my bed knowing the late-night argument with my father is the cause for my discomfort. Padding across to my large bathroom for a morning shower I open the balcony doors on the way to get much-needed fresh air. I hear voices below and step out to the wrought iron rail to see several staff members rushing about setting up tables, chairs, and floral arrangements. Dad must have set up a farewell lunch in my honor. I just wish he would have let me know beforehand. But that is his way. He plans and I accept the role of dutiful daughter and roll with it.

Continuing to the bathroom, I take something for my headache and turn on the shower. Taking off my clothes I can hear my father in the garden shouting orders to the staff and I cringe as I know this day will be more of the same as yesterday. 

Grabbing my phone, I start a playlist to drown out the noise from below and step into the steamy stream of comfort. Standing in four jets, letting them rinse away the stress I already feel, I try to ignore the nagging feeling my father is up to something. I wash and condition my hair in my favorite coconut milk shampoo and conditioner. Scrubbing my face with the best peach exfoliant face wash is almost spa-like. Feeling stress wash away with the scrub I move to my neck for more of the same. Skincare is something I have always been careful about. My mother made sure of that. Next is my luffa and lavender body wash. The scent is so relaxing. I decide to shave as well knowing the next few days I will be busy visiting friends before I head north. I am not a fan of body hair, at least not on my own body.

Once done in the shower I grab a fluffy towel for my hair and wrap it up. Drying my body with a second towel I make my way to the mirror. I look better than I feel and that is a relief. Stress leads to wrinkles mother always said. At nineteen I should not need to worry about wrinkles but with my father and his agenda, who knows.

My closet, which is bigger than many bedrooms, holds more clothes than I could wear in a year. It is almost like a*****e. Shoes, purses, tops, skirts, dresses… Way too many items for one person. My father thought if I was upset at all, sending me something new for my closet would smooth it over. I choose a red sundress and sandals with matching undergarments. Yes, I have a ‘matching’ personality. If it doesn’t match in some way, I must change. 

While dressing I take a good look at myself. My light brown hair falls to the middle of my back in slight waves. Hazel eyes look back at me with well-shaped eyebrows over them. I have never had to have my eyebrows shaped, just plucked a bit from time to time. Pale skin tones adorn my face, and a slight mole is to the left of my nose. I am no beauty queen by any means, but I believe I am a good-looking young woman in my own right. At 5’ 6” I am not tall by any means, but I am not short either. 

After brushing through my hair and applying minimal make-up I head downstairs to eat breakfast. Walking through the halls again I wonder why my father needs such a big house. House is an understatement. It was more mansion-like. Seven bedrooms, nine bathrooms, a dining room which sat fourteen with room to spare, and a kitchen that would rival some restaurants. There were just the two of us, so I never understood the need for all this wasted space.

Staff bustle about while I make my way to the kitchen to find Gigi. Gigi is our housekeeper. Her real name is Rebeccah but I have been calling her Gigi for as long as I can remember and the name stuck. She is more like a grandmother than a staff member and I have always treated her as such. Her wisdom and kindness have been traits I long to adopt in my own life. I can’t recall her ever speaking a harsh word about anyone, not that she hasn’t had the opportunity. I recall a dinner with a client of my father’s when the man, Mr. Roberts, spoke to Gigi in a degrading manner, reminding her she was the staff and not an equal. I was so proud of Gigi as she explained to Mr. Roberts that she may be the staff but she was not his staff and was grateful for that. She finished by telling Mr. Roberts she would take time to pray for his staff claiming they needed it with him as an employer. 

I was not successful in stifling my laughter as my father turned beet red while my mother supported Gigi one hundred percent. One rule in our house. We do not speak down to others. Guess my father let that rule leave with my mother. 

Gigi was perched on a stool at the kitchen island when I entered. Her greying hair pulled into a messy bun atop her head and her apron was covered in several stains.  This was not like her at all.

“Gigi, are you alright? You don’t look yourself at all. Are you well?” My concern must have shown on my face as Gigi got up from the stool and wobbled to me. Being a plump woman, she had her own gait that was unmistakable. 

“Oh, child! I will be just fine. Your father is making a big to-do about your next adventure and the extra staff have been all about my kitchen and making quite a bit of chaos. All will be fine. Did you sleep well Aria?” 

“Not as well as I would have liked. Dad had another talk with me about my choices and since they are not aligning with his plans, will, you know the rest.” I was hesitant to share too much with several additional staff nearby. Gossip travels faster than the wind and considering most of the affluent families used the same catering firm for events, rumors easily flowed through the crowd. 

“Don’t worry Aria. You know your father loves you. I understand he wants the best for you but we both know you must follow your heart. You have always been that way.” She paused for a moment. Her face scrunched up in thought. “Do you remember Liam? From elementary school?” 

“Of course I do. I had the biggest crush on him. My first love as I remember you calling him.” 

 “And you remember how that turned out?” The knowing look on her face told me she was making a point. 

“Yes. I do. Dad forbade me from associating with him because his family was, as he called it, beneath us.” 

“Exactly” she replied. “And who is attending Berkley and at the top of his freshman year? I believe it is the same Liam we are speaking of.”

“Yes, it is. I know what you are getting at, Gigi. If I had followed my heart, I may have still been with Liam as he is making his own way. You know my dad would now tell me to go see Liam and make amends, for the good of the family, of course.”

Gigi walked around the island as we spoke gathering items to make my favorite omelet. “Well of course he would. Even though he was the one who told you to stay away from him, he would now see him as a self-made man. Just the kind of man he wanted for you. But I must say, this Jason is not the man for you.” Gigi set about cracking eggs, slicing ham, and grating fresh cheese. I have never been a big vegetable eater so, a ham and cheese omelet was just what I liked. “You do know Jason and his family will be here today for the luncheon. You are welcome to hide in the kitchen with me all you want.” 

“That’s very kind of you but you know I have to make an appearance as I am the reason for the luncheon.  I just wish he would have told me about it” I grimaced as I watch the strangers run from room to room preparing. 

“What did I not tell you about sweet pea?” my father questions as he struts to the kitchen. His use of my childhood nickname is a telling sign he is guilty of not sharing this information, yet he is trying to come off as innocent. It doesn’t work. 

“Good morning, dad. Why didn’t you tell me you were setting up a luncheon?”

“And ruin the surprise? Never. You will love it, sweetheart. Now, after breakfast go change into something appropriate for a luncheon party fit for my princess. I do believe a new dress has been delivered to your room this morning. Please be ready by one o’clock.”

“Yes, dad.” He was acting as if we did not have our discussion last night and I didn’t like it one bit. He was definitely up to something.

*****

Ten minutes till one and I was ready to head down to the party. One look from my balcony told me this was no ordinary party. My father had brought in a small orchestra, champagne fountain, sushi chefs, and even set aside an area for the children with a candy bar complete with a chocolate fountain and an ice cream station. I did not recognize many of the people but that was not unusual. Whenever we had an event it seemed more of an opportunity for dad to schmooze with clients and potential clients. 

A knock on my door diverted my attention from the gathering crowd below. “Come in.”

The door opens slowly and my father steps around the door smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Ready sweet pea?”

Definitely up to something. “Yes, I am.”

“You look absolutely stunning, Aria. When did my princess grow up?” I could see tears welling in his eyes and it took me by surprise. I can’t recall ever seeing my father cry.  He was a man of stone most days. Statuesque really. This was not like him at all. 

“Dad, why do you look like you’re going to cry?”

“You are so beautiful. That dress is perfect for you!” The dress he had delivered was a sleeveless, baby blue satin with a sweetheart neckline and fitted waist. From the waist, the dress flared a bit to give a full flowing skirt. Along the neckline, clear diamond-like beads were sewn into thin royal blue lace which accentuated the neckline beautifully. Matching shoes gave me just enough height that the skirt swept barely above the floor. It was a perfect fit.

“Thank you, for everything. Shall we?” I held out my hand. “We don’t want to keep the guests waiting.” I have learned from experience my father is punctual. Never late and never plans to be. He would probably be early to his own funeral.

“Yes, let’s.” We walked together down the hall to the wide, polished staircase. Guests were milling around but everyone stopped as we descended the stairs. All eyes were on us and a small applause was started, which grew as more guests noticed us. Children ran forward and squealed with delight as we reached the middle of the staircase. 

My father stopped suddenly, cleared his throat in an attempt to get everyone’s attention. “Ladies, gentlemen, esteemed guests, please welcome, my beautiful daughter, Aria Grace Blake.” 

Applause thundered through the great room and out the open doors to the patio and massive yard. I had no idea why they were all so gracious and approving of me this day until I saw him. Jason. He was moving forward through the crowd. Guests parted as he made his way to the staircase almost as if floating toward us. His moves flowed easily in the light grey suit which fit him well. His sparkling blue eyes bore into mine almost pinning me to the spot. I may have stayed frozen right there if it wasn’t for my father motioning me forward down the stairs. Jason reached the base of the stairs at the same time we did as if it was planned that way. Gleaming white teeth and full beautiful lips showcased a sultry smile that was almost cocky in a way. It was then that I noticed his tie and boutonniere were a perfect match to the color of my dress. 

“Aria,” he spoke confidently, but low, “would you do me the honor of a dance?” His husky voice called to me in a way I loved. So, why did I not see a future with him? Oh yeah, he was arrogant and self-absorbed. One dance couldn’t hurt, right?

Graciously, as I had been taught, I put my hand in his and followed him to the gardens. 

Beautiful floral arrangements and sheen fabrics draped the gazebo. It was like a fairytale. The floral vines flourishing along the gazebo were alluring but the flowing drapery and the red and white rose petals adorning the floor were breathtaking. The sweet melody of the orchestra was just perfect. But then, as always, things changed. Instead of dancing Jason released my hands, reached into his pocket, and produced a black velvet box. My eyes widened as Jason flawlessly lowers himself to one knee, opens the box, and says the one thing I dreaded hearing from him. 

“Aria, please say yes and we can join our families to become the most powerful force Santa Clara has ever known. Please, will you be my wife?”