Introductions

Chapter 5: Introductions

Time: 12:00pm

Raquelle looked down furtively at the thin little wristwatch she had to check the time before knocking on the door. It was exactly noon.

She knocked, and then she waited. She knew he was there. The car was in the driveway and she noticed a light in one of the small windows upstairs.

Maybe it was one of those lights that’s supposed to look like a candle. They’re meant to be like the candles you’re supposed to put out for pilgrims. Pilgrims in a cul de sac, Raquelle thought to herself with amusement as she waited.

They didn’t seem like the kind of couple that would welcome in pilgrims. And why didn’t they have children?

She felt like she was being watched, but tried not to think about it. She smoothed down her outfit. She knew she was dressed for the part. Anyone could see it. She was just missing a piece of rolling luggage.

She swung her briefcase and then she heard the door unlock. It sounded like just one lock. There’s probably an alarm system. She turned around to look but the front yard didn’t have one of those signs about being protected by a remote security service.

-Hello, Ken said just as Raquelle turned back to face the door. May I help you?

-Hi, I’m Rachel, Raquelle said, pulling the screen door open to hold it with her foot as she continued. I’m with Auntie’s Decluttering Services--we also make pie, she recited as if it were a well-worn corporate slogan.

-Pies? Ken asked. He was trying to follow.

-Oh sure, she said, letting herself in and taking an expert-looking look around the expansive foyer. People love the smell, she added, catching a whiff of the bad sourdough bread.

-I’m sorry Mr. Darcy, she continued, extending her hand to him. Your wife, Mrs. Darcy scheduled this appointment. She wanted a professional decluttering consultation.

She waited a beat to let Ken process that she had called him by name and to choose an emotion for not being told by his wife. She and DH figured this part would go over easy. Barbara Darcy would be the type of woman not to tell her husband about something like that.

They figured right.

-Oh that’s just like, Ken began, trying not to be visibly upset, that’s just like Mrs. Darcy, he said, looking to Raquelle and accentuating the way she’d said “Mrs. Darcy.”

-I’d love to show you what I’ve brought, Raquelle said, clutching the briefcase and taking a step toward the kind of den area with a coffee table and a fireplace that looked fake but Raquelle wasn’t sure if it actually was.

I’m sorry, Ken said, taking a step in front of Raquelle. She paused. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to block her or just being awkward.

He looked like he was taller than he knew what to do with, Raquelle noticed. She hadn’t really looked at him before. He was cute. He was tall and looked well-built under the loose-fitting track suit he was wearing. What an odd choice, he didn’t look like that kind of guy at all, though Raquelle supposed it was pretty comfortable.

She’d been staring a little at him so he had stopped talking.

-I’m sorry, he continued, I was saying, my wife did not tell me about this, and so I’m very prepared. He felt the list of chores in his hand. She has had me working with a little more focus on specifics, he added, pointing with his eyes to the chore list.

That was fortuitous, Raquelle though. But also, what kind of a wife? She looked around the part of the house she could see.

-Oh that’s quite ok, Raquelle said, thinking for sure with the size of this place they could afford at least a maid, if not a whole butler. DH had assured her in his location scouting, as he called it, he hadn’t seen anyone.

No one really came or went to the house except the two Darcys and the mailman. They did not even seem to order things from the big online website, or any of the others.

-A lot of spouses do that, Raquelle went on. The partner at home often does better in thinking about it, without having to plan.

She had to admit that sounded good.

-Ok, Ken said. Yeah, sure, I can see that. Do you mind, he continued, aiming at the kitchen area. As you can smell, I’ve got a bread thing that’s, well, not quite working.

-Oh I love baking bread, Raquelle said with genuine enthusiasm, following Ken to the kitchen.

-Hold on, she said. May I put this down? She stepped past the couch to put the briefcase down on the couch. I’d like to do the demonstration in here, she said.

-Oh, what? Ken asked. 

A demonstration, that made sense, sure. It was just nice to have someone to talk to, and she seemed so excited about the bread. 

-Yes, Ken told Raquelle. You can put it down there, sure. There’s not much to show in the kitchen anyway, he added apologetically.

-There's room to declutter everywhere, Raquelle said in a way she wanted to sound profound. 

But it did smell kind of bad, Raquelle thought. Ken was funny. Not like DH. She followed him to the kitchen.

-You let it sit too long before using it, Raquelle said as they got to the kitchen. Probably because of all the chores she’s been making you do, she went on, not realizing how it might have sounded until she had already went on with it. I don’t mean, she said to interrupt herself. Maybe it was making things worst.

She took a seat at one of the stools at the island table as Ken opened the door of the oven and got a whiff of the bitter scent.

-No, you’re right, he said to himself and to her. I started baking bread like everyone else, Ken said as he turned back to Raquelle, during the pandemic.

-Ugh, I hate talking about that.

-Sorry.

-No, it’s ok, I’m sorry. You don’t have to be. I always liked baking bread, but I love that you love it, you know, for whatever reason. 

She felt like she was losing him but he only chuckled. 

-What's your favorite bread? she asked out of nowhere. Is it sourdough?

-You know, I actually love a good Irish soda bread.

-Me too! she said excitedly.

-But you can really only get it once a year, he said, pulling out his phone to look at something.

Was he texting his wife? DH. She grabbed her phone from the little front pocket of the jacket.

One unread message.

But she was supposed to text first. It was DH though. She slid the message icon off the screen but then decided to open the phone screen. What if he’d blown it already and Barbara texted Ken to warn him? She opened the messages app.

“running a little late. i'll tell u when its ago”

Running late? What did that mean? Was he not there yet? When it’s a go. What a dolt, she thought. Can’t take a second to look at what he’s texting. Running late? What?

Ken had snuck up to her while she was on her phone, so she turned off her screen quickly, but he was on his phone too. 

Look, he said as he held the phone up to her. 

It had been some viral clip someone in a group chat he was in had sent. She wondered what kind of friends he was in a group chat with.

She’d seen the video in any case, but she laughed anyway and Ken laughed with her.