elrhiarhodan

A Life More Ordinary – Part Six – Epilogue

Nights like this, Elizabeth truly loved her work. Not that she didn't always enjoy being a successful business owner, but it was events like this one that made her remember why she started Burke Premier Events in the first place.

Because she could pull miracles out of her ass.

Four days ago, she took a call from a distraught man. He and his fiancé were supposed to be getting married on Friday night, but it had become a series of cascading disasters. First, their celebrant had come down with a horrific case of shingles. While they were scrambling to replace her, the restaurant where the reception was to be held was closed by the Board of Health for a C rating. Something about rats. If it was just a matter of a few friends, they'd reschedule the whole thing. But one set of parents had already flown in from Denmark and the other set, well, the man said something about a brain tumor and three months to live.

At least they had their tuxedos.

David Bloom told her that he'd gotten her name from Steven Millstein, who said she worked a major miracle with the opening of the new media wing at the Gershon Museum. (She had.) Stefan had been David's housemate during their second year at Yale Law and they both sat on the Gershon's Board of Directors.

She had four days to find a celebrant who would perform a same-sex, interfaith ceremony, as well as locate a venue big enough to seat and serve fifty guests. If she could pull that off, David and Aleksander would have her plan their "big" party (David said something about five or six hundred attendees and the Hamptons. She thought that was kind of ludicrous until she did a little research on her new clients. They weren't bold-faced names, but bankers and lawyers for said BFNs.)

El knew that in New York City, nothing was impossible, and dinner for fifty was barely a blip on the radar. The challenge was giving the men an evening to remember.

She had set Yvonne on the somewhat difficult task of locating a celebrant who would perform a Jewish ceremony when one of the grooms wasn't Jewish and wasn’t interesting in converting. It wouldn't have been a problem to locate a rabbi willing to marry a same-sex couple, but an interfaith one could be a challenge.

El, however, needed to make only one phone call - to her dear friend Asher. His restaurant, Brasserie Ben-Gali was doing well, but had only been opened for three months and was still trying to find traction in the highly competitive New York dining scene. It didn't take much to convince Asher to give her BBG's back room for the entire night.

There were a hundred other details to sort out in the short window she had, but those were all part of the service she provided.

Yvonne came up aces, and the couple had their legal and religious ceremony in their Central Park South duplex early Friday evening. Just the men's parents attended. Two hours later, the fun started at the restaurant and went off without a single hitch, probably because Elizabeth spent most of the evening running interference between the kitchen and the wait staff and the grooms, a pair of overachieving fussbudgets.

Not that she minded. This was why they hired and were paying her exorbitant fee. Long ago, El learned that if she didn't put a premium on her services, no one else would. Miracles didn't come cheaply.

It was close to one in the morning and the happy couple was seeing the last of their guests off.

"Went well, I'd say." Asher was standing behind her, his deep voice rumbled pleasantly.

El stretched her neck, trying to work out a few kinks. "I would most definitely agree."

One of the grooms approached - Aleksander, who looked like he had more than a little Viking blood in him. Elizabeth held out her hands to him, and he took them before giving her a very Continental greeting on both cheeks. "You truly are a miracle worker, Elizabeth Burke."

She grinned. "I know."

The man laughed. "This really has been an evening to remember. We hadn't planned it like this, but I can't imagine my wedding any different now."

His new husband joined them, and agreed. "I owe Steven a huge favor. If he hadn't given me your name, Aleks and I would have had to cancel everything."

"Well, I do love a good challenge. And four days was more than enough time to do this."

David raised an eyebrow at that. "Really, then you're going to waive your surcharge?"

She lightly slapped at him. "Not in the least."

"Nor am I," Asher added. He'd been introduced to the grooms earlier in the week, when they set the menu.

David laughed. "Good, because I'd hate to have to redo these." He handed checks to the two of them. Elizabeth looked into the envelope to confirm the amount and tried to not reveal her astonishment. The payment was half again as large as the amount she'd charged them.

Both grooms bade them good night and with their departure, the remaining wait staff set to cleaning up. Asher took her elbow and steered her towards his office. "Come, let's have drink and relax. Your feet must be killing you."

"Mmm, yes. I could use something." And now that Asher had mentioned it, her feet were aching.

Asher's office was comfortable, with a deep and wide leather couch, a small bar and a slightly cluttered desk. "What can I get you?"

"How about an espresso?" El leaned back and kicked off her shoes. Yes, her feet were definitely killing her.

She watched Asher as he fussed with the machine. He was a good looking man, one of those who only got better as the years passed. Much like her husband.

"What's that sigh for?"

"Just thinking about the unfairness of things."

"Really? What's the matter?"

"Men - you get older and you're distinguished. Women count the years and they just grow old."

The machine finished its sputtering performance and Asher turned back to her with a tiny cup in hand. "Only if you're shallow. A woman's beauty is not in the smoothness of her skin or the firmness of her ass. True beauty comes from the soul."

El laughed. "Yeah, says the man with perfect wings of gray in his full head of hair."

"Ah, but I've got the makings of a comfortable paunch." Asher pulled his chef's jacket tight - proving that he did have a slight belly.

"I don't think I could trust a chef and restaurateur with a perfect six-pack."

Asher sat down next to her. "Here, let's get comfortable." He took Elizabeth's feet and put them on his lap, giving her a questioning look.

El didn't hesitate. "Yes, please." Asher was a man of many talents, not all of them confined to the kitchen or the bedroom. He gave the best massages.

As he worked on her aching feet, he began a not-so-subtle interrogation. "What's going on with you, Elizabeth Burke?"

She groaned as his thumb rubbed and worked at a particularly tender spot. "Nothing much."

"No? That's not what I'm sensing."

"Mmmmm."

"I could stop if you don't tell me."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch." Asher's hands stilled.

"You're a bastard, you know that?"

"My parents would be insulted, if they'd actually been married." He relented and started rubbing her feet again.

El closed her eyes and groaned. What Asher was doing to her felt way too good. "I'm putty in your hands."

"Then tell me what's really going on with Elizabeth Burke, and why she's sitting on my couch with her feet in my lap instead of rushing home to be with her handsome and oh-so-delicious husband?"

She opened one eye and peered at the man. "Are you only interested in my oh-so-delicious husband?" When they’d been together, originally, Asher had gravitated towards Peter.

Asher lifted her right foot and brought it to his lips. The kiss was sweet and sexy at the same time. "I've always been interested in both of you. But Peter sat on this very couch about three months ago and in the kindest possible way made it clear that neither of you were looking for anything outside of your marriage. Has that changed?"

El opened her other eye and pulled her feet away from Asher, tucking them under her thighs as she sat up. "Things are a little different, right now."

"Peter had said that there was someone, but it wasn't working out."

They were heading into dangerous territory. Neal's story wasn't hers to tell, but she needed to give Asher something of the truth. "That's what changed."

"Ah. So the pursued decided he wanted to be caught?"

"In a way. And his name is Neal."

"Do you object?"

"Oh, no - not at all. Neal's …" She tried to think of a way to describe him without giving too much away. "He's never been part of a poly relationship. And that’s really not the stumbling block. He's smart, though, and he understands what we're asking of him - it's just that – " El scrunched up her face, stymied. "He's got a past."

"We all do, shaiyna. "

"Well, Neal's is a bit out of the ordinary."

"Ah, he's got baggage." Asher got up and went to the bar and poured something. He gestured with a bottle of Sambuca. “Want some?”

El declined. "Not tonight, I still need to drive home. And yes, Neal has baggage."

"But not enough to deter you or your husband?"

"Maybe if we'd met Neal before the shooting." She sighed. "He makes Peter happy, though."

"And does that make you unhappy?"

"No! Not in the least. Peter's having a difficult time at this stage. His physical recovery is going slowly and he's still not cleared for desk duty and that's killing him."

"So, this Neal distracts him from his problems?"

"Yes, but it's more than that. It's complicated."

"Life's complicated." Asher gave her a considering look over his glass. "You don't mind Peter's relationship with him, but he's not what you want, right?"

"Yeah." El stretched out again, but kept her feet to herself. "I like Neal. I wouldn't kick him out of bed. But I just want something a little simpler, a little less complicated, right now."

Asher smiled. "I can do simple. I'm not complicated."

Elizabeth laughed. "Oh, Asher Ben Gali, you are as complicated as a Rubik's Cube."

"But if you know the key, I'm pretty easy to solve."

She nodded. "Maybe you are what I need. For a little while."

"Have you talked with Peter?"

"About you?"

Asher nodded, all levity gone. "I know your rules, and I've always respected them."

"We've talked. Not about us getting together, but I did tell Peter that I'd be seeing you tonight. He sends his best regards."

"Your husband always had the most exquisite manners."

"I didn't want to say anything specific, in case you weren't interested."

"I'd have to be dead not to be interested in you, Elizabeth Burke."

"Or involved with someone else."

Asher nodded his head, conceding her point.

"So?"

"So." His eyes not leaving hers, Asher reached out and slid his hand along her calf, up to her knee. When she didn't move, his hand kept going, stopping just short of her panties.

El caught her breath, suddenly unsure if she was ready to move this quickly.

"But not tonight." Asher removed his hand. "We're both more than a little tired. And I think the three of us need to have a meal together."

She smiled. "Maybe Peter will cook for you."

Asher chuckled. "Yes, I haven't forgotten your husband's skills in the kitchen. That's where we met."

She tilted her head back and laughed. "I'd forgotten. You were teaching a class at the Annex."

"And you could barely boil water."

"I still can't."

"I shouted at you."

"You did - you were terribly mean and temperamental."

"You nearly sliced your thumb off."

"You were making me nervous."

"I thought Peter was going to punch me."

"He probably would have, if you hadn't apologized so sweetly."

"I'm all bark and no bite."

"You're just a big softie."

"Especially when I'm faced with the two most dominant people I've ever had the pleasure to meet."

"Ah, Asher - you don't roll over for just anyone."

“No, I don’t. But you’re both worth it.”

They sat there for a few minutes, and despite the espresso, El felt herself dozing off. "I think I need to get home."

"You'll be all right?"

She stood up, found her shoes and slipped them on. "Yeah, I'll be fine. It's a short ride home and there's no traffic at this hour."

Asher peered up at her. "Are you sure? I wouldn't mind taking you home, or getting a car for you if you'd prefer."

"Like I said, you're a big softie - but I'll be fine. I've worked longer hours than this." She leaned over and kissed Asher's cheek.

Asher stood up. "If you're going to kiss me, then do it right." He cupped her cheek and pressed his mouth against hers.

The kiss was pure and uncomplicated pleasure. He was as tall as Peter, but unlike her husband, he had a well-trimmed beard and mustache. It tickled, but in a good way and she enjoyed the contrasting textures. El opened her mouth and touched Asher's tongue with hers. He tasted of anise and some other exotic spices. She liked it and let the kiss go on.

It was Asher who finally stepped back. "You're making me regret all my good intentions."

She licked her lips, capturing the last taste of the man. "And you're doing the same to me."

"My apartment isn't all that far away… "

"No - I'm going to have to decline."

Asher nodded, understanding. "You and Peter need to talk. And I want to talk with your husband, too."

Elizabeth agreed that it was probably a good idea. The three of them having a civilized meal, setting expectations and ground rules. "What night is good for you?"

"We're closed on Thursdays, how does that sound?"

El mentally reviewed her calendar and couldn't remember a conflict. "Thursday sounds perfect. Eight o'clock and bring wine."

Asher gave her a little bow. "Your wish is my command."

He walked her to her car, and El watched him standing like a sentinel at the curb as she pulled away and headed home.

As Elizabeth crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, her thoughts shifted from Asher to Peter, and, inevitably, to Neal. She wondered if their evening ended the way her husband had hoped it would. The way she hoped it had, too.

The cold, early morning air felt good against her skin. It cleared all the doubts from her head. She would have Asher for a while; he would make her feel like a princess, a queen. She'd be in command, of course - that was her nature - but the decisions she'd need to make with him would be easy ones. When the time came, she knew that Asher would let her go without regret. That was his nature. He saved his intensity for his craft. His passion, his need for drama was confined to his kitchen.

And when she was ready, and not a moment before, she'd close the circle and become part of what Peter and Neal had. Neal was in her heart already, there was no doubt about that. She just needed something else right now.

Elizabeth parked, and let herself into the house. Satchmo was asleep on his bed and there were two almost empty beer bottles on the coffee table.

It looked like Peter got his wish.

She took off her shoes and climbed the stairs. The door to the guest room was closed, but she couldn't help herself. El opened it just a crack. They were there, sleeping. Or at least her husband was. She must have disturbed Neal. Even in the dim light from the hall, she could see his eyes open and a worried expression on his face.

Elizabeth didn't say a word. She just blew him a kiss and closed the door.

They'd have time enough to talk in the morning.

FIN