Bait & Hook

12. Of Truthful Deceit

While the wine waiter – the sommelier, Xander had called her – poured the wine, I asked her, "May I see the label, please? Visuals always help me remember."

"Yes, certainly. I should have shown you, as well. Not only Mr Dunstrom."

She held the bottle for me, but I couldn't find the vintage. "You had said this is the 2014, but I don't see that marked. Is it on the back label?"

She chuckled and pointed. "No, right here above the chardonnay. They've spelt it out in full text, two thousand and fourteen, as if it's the fine print on a contract."

"Oh, so difficult to see in this light."

"They'll likely relabel their unsold stock, making it more prominent. This vintage just won a gold medal at the Chardonnay du Monde."

"What's that?"

"An annual competition in France, in the Burgundy, to find the world's best chardonnays. Three British Columbia wines won golds, one of them topping the list as the grand winner this year. We'll serve that one with the foie gras, and the third gold will accompany your fish course."

Oh, Dios mío! Truly, a dream meal. I smiled and sighed as she left with the waiter. This must be costing Xander a fortune – I should offer to share. Share! Oh, darn it all. Carried away again and shared too much. He now knows about IncaVela – but not her name. Managed to keep from spilling that. And there are dozens of MH-31s here and even more marinas, so...

Xander's voice took me from my thoughts, "To a fine continuation, Roxy."

I raised my glass to copy his actions, clinking bowls before swirling and nosing.

"Oh, my! Another superb wine, Xander."

"Indeed! Buttery oak, baking spices, green apple, hints of pineapple and –" He winced. "Sorry, I should have allowed you to see those, rather than implanting ideas."

"But I had seen those, Xander. And there's mango. Not a ripe one, but nearly."

"Yes, I see that, as well."

He took a sip, and I copied, the flavours magnifying in my mouth. Rich, complex, clean. Then while I luxuriated in the long after taste, the comparison struck me. Why can't Xander be all three? Obviously rich. Incredibly complex. Why not clean?

I breathed a quiet sigh. But the next course awaits. I sliced a piece from one of the huge scallops, the glistening showing it had been perfectly seared. Then with some of the shitake-matsutake sauté, I took it to my mouth, my shoulders dropping at the superbly balanced bite.

Hadn't realised I was tense. Why would I have been? Likely concerned about pretending to be a widow. But my profile doesn't say I am. It simply allows him to interpret bereft as if I were. But now lying that Papá was my late husband. Aha! That's the cause of my tenseness.

But did I lie? I didn't say that he was – only intimated it. Allowed Xander to assume I referred to a late husband with the boats. True that Papá and I had shared the purchases. Also true about our sailing dreams before he – The familiar lump grew again in my throat.

While I took a sip of wine to soothe it, Xander said, "I've often tried to cook scallops like this – how Gillian used to do them, but mine always end up a bit rubbery."

"Cooked too long, then. The secret is a very hot skillet. A minute per end is sufficient to sear a golden crust and retain the moisture and complex flavours. Longer, they sweat, toughen and lose their subtlety."

"Oh, my! You continue to impress me, Roxy. I'll have to have you show me how."

I nodded and smiled at him while I enjoyed another bite. He's making his move. Prompted by my mentioning again the need to get my financial affairs in order. And after the voyage, that's the truth. Other than to cover the mortgage, why would I be in this underpaid, dead-end job?

Job. Back to that. Three people now calling him Mr Dunstrom. A regular here. I know his boat's name and where he moors her. Nothing else needed for a solid ID.

I took another bite of the scallop and mushrooms, savouring it with a sip of wine. Frank said to take as long as needed to ensnare him. I can milk this. Enjoy it.

He's not dangerous except to the unwary, the unsuspecting, and I can keep him busy and not preying on others.

Relax. Enjoy the fine dining. Maybe some sailing. Maybe enjoy him. Ummm! The way he keeps looking at my breasts.

I felt my face warm – then elsewhere.