The prompt for this month is to tell about a fire started or put out.
Down, and almost out, Joe accepted his friend’s offer of a catering job. The fete was booked by Mrs. Vandenburg in hopes of raising support for another of her pet projects. Before the failure of his business venture, Joe would more than likely have been on the guest list, but not now. No, instead, he would be a servant, rather than the served.
The crew arrived early and everything was in place before the guests breezed in. As the room filled with the air of pretense, Joe caught a glimpse of Mrs. Vandenburg’s daughter, Elizabeth. The fluidity of her movement as she mingled among the banquet guests washed over him and left a desire unlike any other. It was just a tiny spark, a glint she saw when their eyes met. She could feel his sweeping gaze as she turned to greet yet another attendee.
Elizabeth was used to it, the attention from men. Her mother ingrained in her at an early age she could have any man she wanted, being graced with the familial beauty, charm and of course, money; and she had found this to be true, if only for a little while. As a debutante, she was smitten with the attention and fell hard, only to find her heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. Somewhere in the healing process, the pieces of her tender heart had become frozen together.
As she made small talk with a guest, a question volleyed back and forth across her mind, “Why did that caterer look so familiar?” She was trying to place where she might have seen him without staring at his angular features that tended to attract the eye.
When another guest approached the young man in question and shook his hand, she immediately knew who he was! How different he looked in the humble attire of a server. She couldn’t help but sneak a peek occasionally; he carried himself with such dignity. As dessert was served, she felt warm breath in her ear, asking, “Coffee?” She turned her head to peer into those eyes full of warmth, and her heart melted.