boyfriend works here, so the whole thing
is on the house," I admit. "I just wanted to see if you were the type
who expected a woman to pay for her own meal."
"Ah, so Eleanor likes the chivalrous type, then?"
I nod.
"For the record, Mackenzie, no, I never ever expect a lady
to pay, no matter who asked who out."
I smile. "That’s good to know."
"So, who’s your boyfriend? He’s not the chef, is
he?"
"He might be."
"Oh no." Joel hides his face in his hands.
"Oh no. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I’m sure he knows his elbow
from his armpit perfectly well. And the meal was delicious. Please tell him
that."
"I will."
"Wow, how embarrassing," he continues.
"Don’t worry about it," I say.
After all, Eleanor doesn’t like Dan, you don’t like
Dan—you’ll be a match made in heaven. Or Harrods. Whichever is nearer.
"A millionaire?" Mum asks excitedly. "A
millionaire? What am I supposed to do with a millionaire?"
"Eat caviar, drink champagne, ride on horses or in
limousines?"
"But a millionaire?" She asks again. "Where
on earth did you find him?"
Thankfully this is a rhetorical question and I don’t need to
answer it. Okay, so I haven’t quite told her that I’m on the personal ad trail
yet.
"Mum, you have to hurry," I say instead. "The
car will be here any minute."
Right on queue, the phone rings. I pick up, and a very posh
sounding man on the other end announces the car is in fact waiting outside. I
thank him and hang up. I’m about to call Mum again when she appears in the
doorway.
Mum—sorry, Eleanor—looks lovely by the time she gets
downstairs. She’s dressed all in black, with a little bit of sparkle on her
top. She looks very refined. Perfect for a millionaire’s wife. Did I just say
wife? I meant date, of course.
"You can’t keep a millionaire waiting," I tell
her.
"Do I look all right?"
"You look lovely. Like a woman ready to date a man with
a huge amount of money."
"Good," she smiles. "See you later."
She’s already out the door. And that car is not the
limousine I had pictured. It’s nice enough, I suppose. All black and imposing
with it’s shaded windows, but stretch limo it is not.
"No," Mum says when she knocks on our door later
that night.
"No?"
"No. We’re incompatible."
"How can anyone be incompatible with a
millionaire?"
"I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman . I don’t
know what spoon goes where, or in what order to use the forks. I felt
completely out of place. I can’t date him."
"Didn’t he try to make you feel more comfortable?"
"Yes, he was very nice about it, but we’re two
completely different classes of people."
"Does class even matter?"
"To that degree, yes. The man has more money than he
knows what to do with. And he doesn’t like Cats."
"But he has horses. He’s an animal lover."
"Not cats cats, Cats the musical."
"Oh."
"I thanked him for the lovely night and told him we
wouldn’t be seeing each other again."
Oh. My fantasy of summers by the lake and limo rides to work
go poof right in front of my eyes. Damn. But I know it is fruitless to argue
with her. If she doesn’t like the guy, she doesn’t like the guy, period.
"Okay," I say reluctantly. "I’ll find you
someone else."
"That’d be nice, Mac. I’m really enjoying being out
like this. I feel young again. And I had a lovely time tonight." She
kisses me on the cheek. "Well, goodnight. I must be getting home to my Baby."
I wave her goodbye and shut the door. Dan is in work, as is
usual for a Wednesday night, so I’m all alone in our house.
I have to admit I’m questioning my motives for setting
Eleanor up with Joel the Millionaire in the first place. Now, see if that had
been me on a date with him tonight, I would’ve tried my hardest to impress the
millionaire. Anybody with that amount of cash is worth trying to get along
with. If you were to marry him, hypothetically speaking of course, but if you
were to marry him, you could give up work for good, and just
is on the house," I admit. "I just wanted to see if you were the type
who expected a woman to pay for her own meal."
"Ah, so Eleanor likes the chivalrous type, then?"
I nod.
"For the record, Mackenzie, no, I never ever expect a lady
to pay, no matter who asked who out."
I smile. "That’s good to know."
"So, who’s your boyfriend? He’s not the chef, is
he?"
"He might be."
"Oh no." Joel hides his face in his hands.
"Oh no. I’m sorry about what I said earlier. I’m sure he knows his elbow
from his armpit perfectly well. And the meal was delicious. Please tell him
that."
"I will."
"Wow, how embarrassing," he continues.
"Don’t worry about it," I say.
After all, Eleanor doesn’t like Dan, you don’t like
Dan—you’ll be a match made in heaven. Or Harrods. Whichever is nearer.
"A millionaire?" Mum asks excitedly. "A
millionaire? What am I supposed to do with a millionaire?"
"Eat caviar, drink champagne, ride on horses or in
limousines?"
"But a millionaire?" She asks again. "Where
on earth did you find him?"
Thankfully this is a rhetorical question and I don’t need to
answer it. Okay, so I haven’t quite told her that I’m on the personal ad trail
yet.
"Mum, you have to hurry," I say instead. "The
car will be here any minute."
Right on queue, the phone rings. I pick up, and a very posh
sounding man on the other end announces the car is in fact waiting outside. I
thank him and hang up. I’m about to call Mum again when she appears in the
doorway.
Mum—sorry, Eleanor—looks lovely by the time she gets
downstairs. She’s dressed all in black, with a little bit of sparkle on her
top. She looks very refined. Perfect for a millionaire’s wife. Did I just say
wife? I meant date, of course.
"You can’t keep a millionaire waiting," I tell
her.
"Do I look all right?"
"You look lovely. Like a woman ready to date a man with
a huge amount of money."
"Good," she smiles. "See you later."
She’s already out the door. And that car is not the
limousine I had pictured. It’s nice enough, I suppose. All black and imposing
with it’s shaded windows, but stretch limo it is not.
"No," Mum says when she knocks on our door later
that night.
"No?"
"No. We’re incompatible."
"How can anyone be incompatible with a
millionaire?"
"I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman . I don’t
know what spoon goes where, or in what order to use the forks. I felt
completely out of place. I can’t date him."
"Didn’t he try to make you feel more comfortable?"
"Yes, he was very nice about it, but we’re two
completely different classes of people."
"Does class even matter?"
"To that degree, yes. The man has more money than he
knows what to do with. And he doesn’t like Cats."
"But he has horses. He’s an animal lover."
"Not cats cats, Cats the musical."
"Oh."
"I thanked him for the lovely night and told him we
wouldn’t be seeing each other again."
Oh. My fantasy of summers by the lake and limo rides to work
go poof right in front of my eyes. Damn. But I know it is fruitless to argue
with her. If she doesn’t like the guy, she doesn’t like the guy, period.
"Okay," I say reluctantly. "I’ll find you
someone else."
"That’d be nice, Mac. I’m really enjoying being out
like this. I feel young again. And I had a lovely time tonight." She
kisses me on the cheek. "Well, goodnight. I must be getting home to my Baby."
I wave her goodbye and shut the door. Dan is in work, as is
usual for a Wednesday night, so I’m all alone in our house.
I have to admit I’m questioning my motives for setting
Eleanor up with Joel the Millionaire in the first place. Now, see if that had
been me on a date with him tonight, I would’ve tried my hardest to impress the
millionaire. Anybody with that amount of cash is worth trying to get along
with. If you were to marry him, hypothetically speaking of course, but if you
were to marry him, you could give up work for good, and just
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