Chapter 34 - The Unforgettable Lunch (1/2)
If Claire is shocked at Claudia's behavior, she doesn't show it. Instead, she stands, graciously smiles, and gives Claudia an air kiss.
Claudia stands there, unsure of what to do. Then after a moment of hesitation, regathers her angst. ”Answer me, you two,” she hisses. ”How on earth are you able to dine here, like God's own children, while I, who have been a good patron of this place, is being told to sod off?” Then she turns to Dale, who has been trying to buŧŧ in. ”And don't you repeat to me that it's by order of top management! I'm not buying that shit!”
Claire doesn't lose her cool. She reaches out for Claudia's hand and squeezes it, as though they've been best friends forever. ”Who says you can't dine here, Claudia? You're very much welcome to join us.”
Claire gestures to a seat right next to Mary, who has been watching in silent horror as the scene unfolds.
Claudia hesitates for a moment, her rage drying up. Without a word, she takes the seat indicated, throwing Mary an icy glance.
Claire tells Dale the all-around concierge to tell the chef to add another diner for the lunch. Dale obsequiously makes a bow, as though Claire owns him heart and soul. As Dale leaves, Claire (as ”Bella”) says, ”I'm glad you could join us for lunch, Claudia.”
”I, uhh,” Claudia begins, trying to find the right words. Right now she's confused: who is this Bella Xavier person, and why does she have this exclusive privilege at her favorite boutique hotel? Isn't she MERELY an executive ȧssistant, a glorified secretary? Something definitely doesn't add up. ”Uhh, thanks, Bella. But I wonder, really, how you are able to pull this off. Did you inherit this building from some filthy rich uncle?”
Claire fake-laughs. ”Oh no, I just have some special business arrangement with the building's owner.” She smiles. ”Let's just say I have a 'quid pro quo' sort of thing with him—he scratches my back, I'll scratch his.”
Claudia's—and Mary's—brows knit in confusion. What kind of back scratching did it take to get this level of exclusivity?
”Bella offered to treat me to lunch, and I only happily accepted,” Mary chirps, too cheerful for comfort. ”And I was surprised, too, really. I didn't know Bella here, who has just started today, this morning in fact, could be so fabulous.” Again, Mary titters, so nervous that her terror boss is now sitting just beside her in what moments before was a blissful lunch date.
”Hmmm,” Claudia groans. ”Let's see what this place still got after they seem to have been shuttered up.”
Claire simply smiles and doesn't take the bait. A few minutes later, a server arrives, placing a plate for each of them containing a little strange-looking morsel of food. ”Ladies,” he says, ”today's amuse-bouche is egg custard served straight out of an egg shell. Please enjoy.”
Claire stares longingly at the food—it is the first time she has ever seen such a marvel. She has never ever eaten such a fine thing, being only on her second day at the Residence. Her stomach grumbles aggressively, as though it's commanding her to gobble up the entire table. Yet, she smiles and theatrically says, ”Oh, it's my favorite! Egg custard! Served in an actual egg shell! I love how the chef makes this, it's superb!” She scoops it with a tiny teaspoon and takes a cute bite, yet it is enough for the heavenly flavors explode in her mouth.
Mary giggles. ”Oh, my! An actual expensive egg custard!” Aping Claire, she also takes a cute bite, even though the rest of her face says she wants to put the whole thing in her mouth pronto! She closes her eyes in pure pŀėȧsurė.
Claudia frowns. She takes a scoop of her amuse-bouche and, to the chef's credit, some of the hard edges on her face actually softens as the food touches her tongue.
The empty shells of the amuse-bouche haven't turned cold yet when the server reappears, this time bringing something a bit more extravagant: ”A plate of foie gras terrine decorated with gold leaf, ladies, for your utmost pŀėȧsurė,” he says, as he carefully places each plate before them.
OH MY GOD, Claire's stomach jumps around in delight. Is this actual gold, like the jewelry, and are they eating it? For reals?
”Oh my God! Gold leaf!” Mary chirps, grabbing a fork. ”I can't wait to see what comes out of me in the morning!”
”Shut up, Mary,” Claudia snaps, red in the face. ”Can't we have our lunch like civilized people?”
”I'm sorry, Miss Claudia,” Mary mutters, although her other hand is still trying to make little stabs at the terrine.
Claire sighs. Maybe it's a mistake to bring Mary here, of all places. Especially now that Claudia's part of the regrettable equation. Didn't she just endanger their little cover? What if any of these two realizes who she really is, and what their boss, Gabriel Tan, is up to?