The following afternoon, Ashley noticed a man, likely in his late forties, donned in a white shirt and a black suit, sporting an earpiece. He inquired about Mr. Maximillian's lunch for the day, a request to which Seher had promptly prepared just moments before his arrival. True to Ethan's assurance the previous evening, he had called Seher, confirming that Mr. Romanov had agreed to her conditions and was content with eating whatever she prepared. Ethan also mentioned that there were additional matters Mr. Romanov would address in a note sent through the driver. George now handed over the said piece of paper to Ashley with explicit instructions to deliver it to Ms. Sandhu.
With Maximillian's note in her hands, Seher felt an eager anticipation to read it immediately. She headed towards the back of the kitchen, away from the activity of the new assistant cook she had recently hired, a young man named Miles Cooper. Miles, a fresh culinary school graduate with a mastery in Indian cuisine, possessed not only impressive qualifications but also a boyish and adorable appearance that Seher found endearing. He proved to be an excellent helper, knowledgeable about the spices used in Indian cooking and familiar with flavor profiles. Although he had much to learn, his basics were sufficient for Seher to have him work under her guidance. While Miles was engrossed in preparing tempering for the two dal makhani orders, Seher set the three chicken dum biryani pots to cook for a final round before being served. In the quiet corner of the kitchen, she stood with Maximilian's note in her hand, eager to unravel its contents.
Hello Seher,
I am glad that you want to accept the proposal of cooking my lunch for me every day. I read your letter yesterday about the apprehensions you have, and I would like to clear a few things.
First, I am perfectly fine with anything you cook. I did an extensive search of all the vegetables that you had mentioned, and even though I have not seen or heard of a few of them, I find them fascinating. I am not promising you that I will love each and every flavor profile, but I can assure you that if you can somehow get my little Blessing, used to flavors that people do not like, I, a grown-up man, can surely get used to them.
Secondly, I would like to inform you that I have no allergies except peanuts, and, not a very harsh allergy either, but I like to avoid them. So, if you are cooking anything with peanuts in it, I would request you not to send that to me, if it's possible.
Also, I read about your concerns regarding the compensation. I would like to inform you that I am a businessman who does not believe in giving out handouts, and the compensation that I've decided for you is the perfect compensation for the kind of work that I am getting from you. I would like you not to argue with me on that and take it as I am saying because I have had years ahead of experience in the business world compared to you. So, I urge you not to argue with me there.
P.S. If you are confused, Blessing is what I call your daughter Meher because that is the meaning of her name, and it suits her perfectly. I hope you don't mind.
Maximilian.Seher frowned as she read the words, noting a commanding undertone despite the presence of polite expressions like "please," "thank you," and "sorry." These three magical words, which she diligently taught her daughter, seemed to coexist with a subtle authority in his notes. The sentences reflected a man accustomed to issuing directives rather than seeking cooperation. This observation left Seher intrigued, not in contempt, but in an attempt to understand the man behind the words.
People like him, with such imposing characteristics, those who dictated terms to the world, that reflected even through his penmanship, were typically not the ones children easily befriended. However, this man had captivated her two-and-a-half-year-old daughter to the point that Meher inquired about him every day. It added another layer of complexity to the enigma that Maximilian presented.
If Meher were aware that her mother had Maximilian's phone number, she would likely have unleashed a storm of tantrums, urging Seher to call her new friend, Maxi. With each passing day, Maximilian became a growing enigma, leaving Seher increasingly curious to meet him in person. She longed to see him not only through his written words but also to put a face to the mysterious personality she had come to know through his notes. Despite her attempts to imagine his appearance, the challenge of visualizing him persisted. Seher found herself uncertain about when the opportunity would arise to meet the man for whom she prepared daily meals.
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YOU ARE READING
Blessing in Disguise
RomanceIn the heart of Chicago, Seher Sandhu, a young mother haunted by her past, embarks on a journey of rediscovery. As bonds form, promises are made, and hope blossoms, yet circumstances force Seher to confront crossroads once more. She battles insecuri...