let them know that should they give less than their full support, I will add interpretive dance and ballet, too.'
Surprisingly, over the following weeks, the other agents complained less than either Father or Mother had expected. Indeed, the girl's enthusiasm and enjoyment was so infectious, and the rare four-person-balls so joyous, that even Father joined in once or twice, to Mother's intense annoyance.
Chapter 8
Holding James's arm, Leeth curled into his side. Tonight, Leeth was trying her best to be a young ingénue, Samantha Westin. They'd told her it wasn't a mission, but from her suppressed excitement, James suspected she saw this outing differently.
For just a moment, as he pulled out the chair for her, she'd scowled, but then appeared to remember Mother's lessons and allowed him to seat her.
So far, so good , thought James, glancing from the impeccably set table to the exquisitely dressed young woman. He’d doubted her readiness at first – when he'd had to insist she wear a bra with her cocktail dress, for example. He planned to speak to Emma on the subject tomorrow. Leeth had strange gaps in her social skills. He wondered, again, about her upbringing by the Doctor. Nothing that chap did struck him as accidental: so why did Leeth seem in some ways more like a young savage than a young woman?
Leeth's eyes widened as she took in all the cutlery. Lips moving, she studied the place setting, but at last nodded and relaxed. Then read the menu with equal intensity.
'All right?'
She started to nod. 'Oh – wait! Can we order stuff that's not on the menu?'
'Certainly. This is a five star restaurant.'
She leaned forward, eyes wide. 'Then can we get them to barbecue some tarantulas?'
James went still.
'They're s'posed to be delicious.'
Still James said nothing.
'Just a few. I've got this old documentary. You pounce them with a forked stick and tie their legs up together. You have to do that carefully, cause they can shoot their hairs-'
'No! No, I'm afraid tarantulas are not currently in season.'
'Rats.'
'Don't you dare . We would both be thrown out!'
'Huh? Don't dare what?'
'Ah. I thought you meant… never mind. Just choose from what's on the menu. Are you ready to order? Do you need any help?'
She shook her head, and he met the Maitre'd's eyes. Derek glided over, summoning one of his waiters with a glance. Sizing "Samantha" up in a fraction of a second, Derek inclined his head in approval.
'It's been too long, James. What would the young lady-'
'I'd like the seafood pasta. That's a starter. For the main course, I want, I mean, may I please have the seven-hundred gram sirloin steak, rare, with a, a side of vegetables. For dessert, I'll-'
'Perhaps,' Derek interrupted, 'it might be wise to wait until you have finished your main course.'
'Why?'
'Ah… pardonne?'
'Why would it be wise?'
James seemed to be signaling her, so she waited for Derek to speak. He was the one she had to fool each night, after all.
'In case madame decides she is no longer hungry. When one considers the magnitude of such a cut…' He smiled, tactfully indicating the size with two hands.
She sighed. 'Alright. I get it. It's a lot of meat. So give me two servings of vegetables to go with it.'
Neither man spoke.
'What?'
'If madame is certain…?' At her look, he turned to James. 'And for you, my friend?'
After dinner, they strolled together. The air was warm, just a faint breeze, a full moon sailing the gaps between passing clouds. Here, tonight, amidst the glittering forest of the city, the harsh reality of the real New Francisco seemed far away.
They were returning to the Opera House, still in good time for the performance. Despite some awkward moments, in the end Mother's lessons on table manners had sufficed. “Samantha” had even approached elegance once or twice.
She looked up at the moon, and he half-turned to her, noticing
Surprisingly, over the following weeks, the other agents complained less than either Father or Mother had expected. Indeed, the girl's enthusiasm and enjoyment was so infectious, and the rare four-person-balls so joyous, that even Father joined in once or twice, to Mother's intense annoyance.
Chapter 8
Holding James's arm, Leeth curled into his side. Tonight, Leeth was trying her best to be a young ingénue, Samantha Westin. They'd told her it wasn't a mission, but from her suppressed excitement, James suspected she saw this outing differently.
For just a moment, as he pulled out the chair for her, she'd scowled, but then appeared to remember Mother's lessons and allowed him to seat her.
So far, so good , thought James, glancing from the impeccably set table to the exquisitely dressed young woman. He’d doubted her readiness at first – when he'd had to insist she wear a bra with her cocktail dress, for example. He planned to speak to Emma on the subject tomorrow. Leeth had strange gaps in her social skills. He wondered, again, about her upbringing by the Doctor. Nothing that chap did struck him as accidental: so why did Leeth seem in some ways more like a young savage than a young woman?
Leeth's eyes widened as she took in all the cutlery. Lips moving, she studied the place setting, but at last nodded and relaxed. Then read the menu with equal intensity.
'All right?'
She started to nod. 'Oh – wait! Can we order stuff that's not on the menu?'
'Certainly. This is a five star restaurant.'
She leaned forward, eyes wide. 'Then can we get them to barbecue some tarantulas?'
James went still.
'They're s'posed to be delicious.'
Still James said nothing.
'Just a few. I've got this old documentary. You pounce them with a forked stick and tie their legs up together. You have to do that carefully, cause they can shoot their hairs-'
'No! No, I'm afraid tarantulas are not currently in season.'
'Rats.'
'Don't you dare . We would both be thrown out!'
'Huh? Don't dare what?'
'Ah. I thought you meant… never mind. Just choose from what's on the menu. Are you ready to order? Do you need any help?'
She shook her head, and he met the Maitre'd's eyes. Derek glided over, summoning one of his waiters with a glance. Sizing "Samantha" up in a fraction of a second, Derek inclined his head in approval.
'It's been too long, James. What would the young lady-'
'I'd like the seafood pasta. That's a starter. For the main course, I want, I mean, may I please have the seven-hundred gram sirloin steak, rare, with a, a side of vegetables. For dessert, I'll-'
'Perhaps,' Derek interrupted, 'it might be wise to wait until you have finished your main course.'
'Why?'
'Ah… pardonne?'
'Why would it be wise?'
James seemed to be signaling her, so she waited for Derek to speak. He was the one she had to fool each night, after all.
'In case madame decides she is no longer hungry. When one considers the magnitude of such a cut…' He smiled, tactfully indicating the size with two hands.
She sighed. 'Alright. I get it. It's a lot of meat. So give me two servings of vegetables to go with it.'
Neither man spoke.
'What?'
'If madame is certain…?' At her look, he turned to James. 'And for you, my friend?'
After dinner, they strolled together. The air was warm, just a faint breeze, a full moon sailing the gaps between passing clouds. Here, tonight, amidst the glittering forest of the city, the harsh reality of the real New Francisco seemed far away.
They were returning to the Opera House, still in good time for the performance. Despite some awkward moments, in the end Mother's lessons on table manners had sufficed. “Samantha” had even approached elegance once or twice.
She looked up at the moon, and he half-turned to her, noticing
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