To Love a Way of Life (2 page)

“This is good business for me.”

“I’ll miss you when you’re living in a thatched cottage with your hippy boyfriend.”

“What would be bad about that?” She responded.

“The countryside smells of cow poo,” was Sandra’s response.

She looked back at Patrick’s e-mail. He had included a list of tax-related reading material. She was impressed by how thorough he was, he had found a lot of the main tax law she needed. She had found more, of course, but it was her profession. If this was how he advised his clients then they were in good shape, but she could squeeze more out of their earnings for them.

The end of the e-mail seemed to get a little more personal. He said he’d be up in the city at the weekend and he’d like to take her to dinner. He had some files he wanted her to look over, so it wasn’t like it was a date. A relaxed business dinner, in a restaurant she already really wanted to go to. She had held back on taking herself there as a treat, she couldn’t justify the expense when she didn’t have a job.

She e-mailed back that she was excited about the plans and was looking forward to seeing him Friday night.

F
riday night came, and Emma had a little notepad and a few documents stashed away in her bag. The past few days had been miserable. She had no news of new clients that she could secure on her own, she was really relying on these small producers. She’d have to nail this dinner with Patrick.

She walked to the restaurant and went inside. Patrick hadn’t arrived yet and Emma was a little put off by the amount of couples sitting around. Some looked romantically into each other’s eyes. She was glad to see there was at least one date going badly, the place wasn’t full of lovey dovey emotion.

“You must be Emma,” a waiter said.

It was a really hip restaurant, the waiter was casually dressed and didn’t look like he was wearing a uniform. The restaurant wasn’t big on the culinary scene yet. It hadn’t featured in any newspaper reviews but any foody worth their salt was dying to get here. It would hit the big time soon.

“Yes,” she said. “How did you know?”

“Patrick said to expect someone for a business meeting. I can see the files sticking out of your bag.” He smiled.

“Come on,” he said. “You have a quiet table so you can talk business.”

He led her to an area that looked like it was carved out of the stone cliff that ran behind the building, she knew she was under tonnes of rock. The table was large, and there was a working light above it. Emma figured it would normally be lit by the two spots above the table, and with a few candles. It looked like a table that would usually be reserved for an engagement dinner, to give the happy couple some quiet, romantic time together.

She sat and the waiter brought her some tea straight away.

“I didn’t ask for this.”

“Patrick wanted you to try it, he’ll be a few minutes late.”

The tea was gorgeous, a really rich red berry fruit tea with just a hint of tartness. The waiter brought some honey with it and when she added a spoonful it brought the drink to a whole new level.

After a few minutes Patrick arrived. He scrubbed up well, a nice shirt, good jeans but still the black boots. They looked well cared for though. And he had brushed his hair. His deference to ruggedness was a showing of stubble. He carried a leather bag, not quite a briefcase, not quite a satchel, it was far more decorated and luxurious than that. It looked like it was handmade and the leather was soft.

He smiled at her, “Hello Emma,” he said. “I’m so glad you agreed to this.”

“No problem, I’m excited about it,” she said. “It seems you’re well known here.”

“One of my farmers provides buffalo steaks and cheese. I helped him get a contract with the chef. Well, a handshake, but everyone is on the same page.”

“I don’t see any menus.” She said.

“Actually, I have a different motive. I want you to try some of the produce my guys and girls provide for here. You can taste the quality you’ll be working with.”

“That sounds amazing.” Emma was a little surprised. She thought she was signing up to be an accountant for a few small producers. They may be small but they must be influential if they were getting into restaurants like this. Or maybe it was Patrick? He had that rugged, relaxed look to him but maybe he was a lot sharper than he appeared.

A starter came, it was a simple meat and crudité platter served with a crisp white wine. The veggies were delicious, really full in flavour and Patrick regaled her with stories of food. He really knew his stuff, she started thinking about him cooking her a meal.

They finished their starter and Patrick tensed up a little, “I hope you don’t mind getting a little business done.”

“This is a business dinner, even if it is in the most romantic spot in the restaurant.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to entertain an attractive woman?”

Emma couldn’t believe she actually blushed. He was buttering her up, he should already know she was fully committed to this venture. She’d sent him her qualifications and her résumé, and her old boss even called her to say he had spoken to a gruff sounding man asking about farming taxes.

“I don’t think beauty has much to do with tax,” she said.

“Believe me, a smile from you and some of these stubborn old farmers will melt,” he said. “A qualified accountant will be a big bonus. When I talk accounts with them it’s like pulling hen’s teeth.”

“I thought ‘hen’s teeth’ was for something that didn’t exist,” she said. She could see where he was going with this but still wanted to play along.

“That’s what makes pulling them so hard!” They both laughed. All business dinners should be like this.

“Anyway, I have a young guy, he’s only 23 and his mother died recently, his father has been dead for years. He’s having a lot of hassle sorting out his tax affairs with the inheritance.”

“My god, the poor guy. He’s only a baby!” Emma was only 29 herself but that meant she had a lot more life experience than a 23 year old.

“It’s tough, I know. My father died, three years ago when I was 36. He was a good man.”

Emma put her hand out and touched his. She could see the sadness on his face, he still wasn’t fully over his father’s death.

“You miss him, obviously.”

“I was working in London at the time. A marketing bigwig, campaigns worth hundreds of thousands of pounds. He was happy for me but he couldn’t fully support the industry I was in.”

“That must have been hard.”

“What’s hard is knowing he was right. And it took his death to make me realise it.”

Emma squeezed his hand. She realised he hadn’t taken it away at her first touch.

“I want to help Daniel, he needs it.”

Emma froze up at the thought of losing her mother. She never knew her father, he had left once he found out her mother was pregnant. She was raised by three parents really; her mother, grandmother and grandfather. She was blessed. She couldn’t have asked for any more love, and it pained her to know some people would never experience what she had been gifted with.

“I’ll do whatever I can.”

“He needs to submit some documents to Revenue by next Friday. I was hoping we could have something done by then.”

“I’m completely free, whenever suits I can meet him.”

“He can’t pay upfront, but I can cover some expenses until he gets everything sorted.” He pulled some documents out of the leather bag. Up close it looked even better, such fine stitching.

“That bag is amazing, it’s not quite a briefcase, but—“

“It was the first payment in my new career,” he said. Emma could see how proud he was of that. “They couldn’t afford to pay me for a few months, but I liked it and needed something to carry documents, so they paid me with this. It was better than any Christmas bonus I received in London.”

Emma was falling in love. Not with Patrick, although she could see why someone would, but with the lifestyle. She had worked her butt off for her career and now she was nowhere. Patrick seemed to have had the high powered career but he left it for something more relaxing. And to Emma’s eyes it looked far more fulfilling.

“Anyway, look over the documents when you get a chance and we can get on with the eating.”

The waiter brought them some salmon, and just as he arrived the bright light above their heads was turned off, leaving them with the warm, romantic glow of the candles.

“I don’t know what I’d do without my mother,” Emma said. “She’s sacrificed so much for me and I want to make it up to her.”

“You don’t owe her anything,” Patrick said. Emma was a little shocked, she owed so much to her mother. He continued, “That’s what mothers do, they work and sacrifice for their children. If you’re happy with life that’s all the reward she could ever need.”

Emma believed him, her mother had said the same thing to her so many times. That she just wanted Emma to be satisfied with life, and she’d be happy too. She occasionally mentioned weddings, probably because she never had one for herself. She’d never liked Emma’s boyfriends though. Patrick had cut right to what her mother meant when she talked about Emma’s life, and pursuit of happiness. And she knew he was right, when she couldn’t believe her mother when she said it. She decided she could trust Patrick to be straight with her.

What surprised Emma most was Patrick’s intelligence, he was so smart but it wasn’t just knowledge or and intellectual sharpness. It was an emotional knowledge that knew how people feel. She didn’t know many men who would accept the reassurance she gave with her hand as he spoke about his own father.

There was a rugged manliness to him, not fighting-with-wild-animals manliness, although she was sure he’d rather befriend an animal than fight with it, rather he was sure about himself, and he was open with his vulnerabilities and passion for goodness; he cared.

Dinner was so enjoyable when it came to paying the bill Emma wanted to split it but Patrick insisted on paying. He said it was his business dinner, he knew he could write it off on his taxes and really it was an investment in their relationship. He suggested they go to Grant’s.

When they walked in it was quiet for a Friday night. Graham stood reading a paper and there were plenty of seats at the bar. She hadn’t really spoken to Graham before but he greeted Patrick warmly.

“Let me get you a drink,” Emma said.

He asked for a Belgian beer, small, frothy and dark. Graham poured it in its own special glass.

“Would you like a taste?” Patrick offered her the glass.

“I’ve only ever drunk a lager” she admitted.

“This is dark, but sweet. I think you’ll like it.”

She took the glass, pressed it to her lips and took a small sip. It was delicious; a hint of caramel but a real fullness to the flavour. It had tasted exactly like a beer she imagined Patrick would go for.

“I’ll have the same,” she said to Graham.

“You’ve converted another sap to that beer,” Graham said.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“It’s Patrick’s favourite. If he offers some to you it must mean he really likes you.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Emma said. She looked at the bottle, 7.5%. “And strong.”

“Just like Patrick,” Graham said.

“I’m just a tired hippy,” Patrick replied.

“I’m jealous of your life,” Emma said.

“There’s no need to be jealous,” Patrick said. “You’re a part of it now.”

That cheered Emma up, she really did feel like this was going to be a great relationship. He reached over and put his arm around her. He raised his glass and said, “To us!” Emma raised her own and clinked it against his. She realised his warm, strong arm around her welcomed her to a new life. She never expected for her career to go this way, but if she could look after small producers who really cared for their business and their produce and skills, she knew she could find contentment. And she knew Patrick would help her find her way.

“Do you have the bottle, Graham?” Patrick said.

“Yeah, you want it now?”

“Please.”

Graham reached into the fridge behind the bar and pulled out what looked like a champagne bottle. Emma was a little surprised, was he suggesting they drink this? It must be very expensive, she’d never even heard of Grant’s selling champagne.

Graham passed out glasses to everyone sitting at the bar, he took one himself and he put the last one in front of Emma. He popped the cork, and poured everyone a glass.

Graham raised the delicate flute and said, “To Patrick and Emma, and their new business partnership. Grant’s bar and beer saloon wish them every success.”

Emma couldn’t believe this. Everyone in the bar cheered for them as she raised her glass to her lips. All eyes were on her. She tasted the champagne, it was actually a very fine, very bubbly sparkling cider. It was delicious and she could feel the bubbles play up her nose. She smiled at Patrick, he really looked at her with care. She reached over and gave him a hug. He held her close, and she felt safe and wanted. She had some clients now.

“A partnership?” She said.

“Well, near enough,” Patrick said.

“It’s your business, I’m not a partner.”

“You’re important to my business,” he said. “I’ve had more of my clients contact me when they heard I had an accountant joined up. I’ve even had a few new clients.”

“Oh my god!” Emma said.

“Just having you talk to me has grown my business, if this keeps up I’ll have to hire an assistant.”

“That’s amazing news. I’m so happy for you”

“Happy for us,” he said. “I wasn’t ready for all this. I thought I’d be taking it easy with a few clients, a small income and a quiet life.”

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” She said. “You’re not sure you want this.”

“I want to help people, I’m just not sure I wanted to be a big business.”

“I’ll help,” she said. She was firm with that. Emma realised she was willing to sacrifice to make this work.

“I know you will. That’s why I’m going ahead with it. You’ve already helped so much.”

“Ok, enough business.” Emma could feel herself getting emotional with all this news. “What do you do to relax? You’re going to need it.”