The Stranger In My Bed

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 My heart began to race. What exactly was he planning to ask me? Would I be able to stay here if I answered?

"Now, Ms. Walton," he said, pulling back, "what did you really think of the food?"

I blinked. Perhaps it was the fuzziness in my head, but did I hear him right? The food? So that was what he was concerned about. I couldn't help my sigh of relief, he looked at me expectantly.

"The food was delicious, sir. All of it," I said smiling.

"Everything?" He asked suspiciously.

"Yes sir, it's just a lot to eat at one time."

He stared at me a moment, deciding if he believed me or not. I guess he finally decided he did because he gave a satisfied nod and went back to the kitchen.

Though relieved things weren't as bad as I thought, I couldn't help but be curious. He did all that just to have me confess about his food? Did he think I was just being polite or trying to appease him? I saw how much he concentrated on the vegetables he was currently chopping. I let out a small giggle.

I suppose if Arthur ever got me drunk to ask about his pictures I wouldn't be surprised. Why be surprised by Henry? The personas that had a passion for their craft really took it seriously. I was almost jealous of how dedicated and talented one man could be. Well, "one man" in a broad sense anyway.

At that moment Thomas entered the kitchen. I stiffened up immediately. What would he say if he saw me drunk? Could I hide it? He spoke briefly with Henry before noticing me. He smiled and walked my way.

I tried my best to smile back but butterflies filled my stomach. He opened his mouth to speak but stopped suddenly. His eyes fell to the counter, the empty bottle of wine was still there. I saw him frown, a wave of fear went through me. I was ready to sit there and take whatever punishment he was going to give, but to my surprise, he turned back to Mr. Weston.

"Henry, you have to stop getting the staff drunk!" He shouted.

Mr. Weston sighed. "I need honest opinions, Thomas! These new staff you have coming in and out have proven flaky at best. How am I supposed to get an honest response without alcohol?"

Thomas shook his head and turned back to me. He looked apologetic. He pulled up a chair and sat next to me. I think he could still see the panic on my face.

"Don't worry, Ms. Walton," he said, patting my hand. "You certainly aren't the first person he's gotten drunk to get an 'honest response' about his cooking. I'd say it won't happen again, but that's a lie. Even I still have to remind myself to be firm and say no to that third glass."

He chuckled at this. It put me at ease. So this was something common Henry did. Thomas didn't act like it was a big deal, but he was right. I would have to be more firm about rejecting alcohol in the future.

Mr. Weston set a couple of plates before us. It was salad like I asked. Although, it did look like he put great effort into adding ingredients to elevate the meal. As good as it looked my stomach protested.

"Sir, I've just eaten so much food," I said weakly.

"Good, let's continue that pattern. Eat up," he said cheerfully.

I glanced at Thomas. He chuckled and shook his head. As Mr. Weston went to go wash some dishes Thomas leaned close to me.

"You will eat well on the days Henry's here, but you will eat too well I'm afraid," he mumbled. "I'm glad his appearances only happen once a week or I probably wouldn't fit inside the mansion by now."