What Remains Read Free Page B

well.
    Inside the kitchen of the massive home was warm and smelled of coffee and burning logs from the fireplace that stood behind an antique table with intricately carved legs and tapestry upholstered parson chairs.  Though it was dimly lit at the moment, she could see the gleam on the expanse of granite that spread along the top of oak cabinetry. It was a beautiful kitchen to be sure, but much too large to be in someone’s home, it belonged in a hotel and capable of producing enough food to feed hundreds of guests with its industrial size stainless steel appliances. 
    Although she had never been known for her culinary skills, Tessa found herself impressed, and drawn to the heavy Wolfe gas stove that took center stage, flanked on one side by six feet of white marble, and on the other by a mammoth chopping block.  Above them hung an array of gourmet pots and pans of all shapes and sizes.  They were serious tools for a serious cook, for sure, and she prayed that her limited repertoire of recipes didn’t seal her already questionable fate. 
    Moving to the distant light switch, Mr. Richards turned them on and leaned backwards against the counter.  Staring silently, as if he expected her to broach the silence between them, Tessa drew in a breath and began loudly so that her voice would carry across the distance between them, since she chose to make her stand at the stove.
    “Well, I assume you have questions for me,” she began, with her voice echoing.
    “As a matter of fact, I do.”  Again, there was no attempt on his part to sound cordial.  In fact , he was becoming precariously close to being rude.  “You told my mother you were forty.  I’ve explained to you already, Ms. Maguire, that I am not interested in hiring a college student.  I’m especially not interested in hiring someone who would lie to get the job.”
    Leaning backwards against the Wolfe for support, since her knees were beginning to weaken from sheer anxiety of the moment, Tessa folded her arms across her chest.  She had driven sixteen hours to get here and had a total of three hours of sleep.  It was not a good time to test her patience or her civility; if that’s what he was doing.
    “To be honest, sir, I don’t know whether to shake your hand or take a switch to you.”
    Looking at her curiously, Mr. Richards frowned, causing furrows to appear between his heavy dark brows.
    “I’m afraid you’re going to have to interpret.  I’m not fluent in southern vernaculars.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry, how clumsy of me; I don’t know whether to be flattered by the fact that you think I’m that young, or insulted because you’re calling me a liar.”
    With one corner of his mouth threatening to curve upward into a half grin, the insufferable bully forced it back and continued his surly insults.
    “I rarely have the opportunity to converse with someone so…let’s just say…provincial.  But at least you’re versed enough in the English language to translate for me.”
    Tessa felt her jaw fall open, surprised more than anything, by his behavior.  She should have told him last night to just forget about the whole thing.  It would have been much easier to do over the phone.  But she hadn’t, and now she was forced to face him, with a trembling body betraying her need to appear unaffected by his aggression. 
    Trying to calm her nerves, she rushed to remind herself that not every confrontation ended in violence.  Mr. Richards was not going to harm her.  He may not like her, but he had no cause to raise a fist in anger.  When was she going to get those memories out of her head and become normal again?  Somehow, she had to find the fortitude to stand up and refuse to cower down to this man.
    “Yes, well, aside from cooking up a pretty good mess of hog jowls and ciphering on my fingers and toes, being bilingual is one of my greatest assets.”
    “Is that so,” he commented, with no signs of humor being present in his gaze that was