Into The Woods

THREE

The Duckling Café was a fifteen minute walk from her home, so of course, after she changed her attire, she headed out the door with tennis shoes on her feet. Her outfit had dulled down from rich greens, to a white button up shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and a light jacket. The cool breeze from outside felt nice against her skin, which she had blemished with makeup. The bruises from the accident were hid beneath the sleeves of her button up, and she felt almost confident walking out the door. 

Of course, the pain of her stitches threatened to flare, but she was ready to get all this legal stuff out of the way. She was currently cashing in all of her paid time off she'd earned over the last eight months to cover her absence at work, and knowing there would be a civil court case for the accident made her nerves weave into balls of stress. One foot in front of the other, she made her way through her small mountain town, before making her entrance to the tiny café. It was almost hidden out of sight. If you didn't live around here, you were most likely going to miss it every time. 

The chef was a man that Isobelle had met shortly after arriving in Oregon. His name was Matthew. He stood at six-foot-eight, dressed in a sky blue chefs coat, with matching pants. He had owned this establishment for the last fourteen years, his children were his workers, and Isobelle had to admit it was the best family owned spot in town. Matthew waved at her from behind the counter as she gave him a smile, and began to scan the room. It didn't take long for her to spot him. He sat at the back of the cafe, tucked away in a corner. From where he sat, he could see every entrance, every worker, every face. 

He sat with a book in one hand, and a cup of coffee in the other. Even from a distance she could see the stem rising up off the fresh brew in his hand. As she approached, his eyes slowly met her gaze, as if he could tell she was in the room. "Ah, Isobelle." He hummed, standing to shake her hand. He wore a suit and tie today, similar to the attire he had worn at her home for dinner. Always on the job.. she mumbled to herself with a smile, before taking his hand in her own. "How are you?"

To the touch he was warm, a strange warm for a chilly day in Oregon, but she paid it no mind as she took a seat across from him. "I feel..better." She smirked, "So, where do you want to start?" Dominic's face lit up as her eagerness reached his ears, and she caught a a gleam in his eye before he spoke.

"Lets start at the beginning."

+ 

They sat in the café for hours as Isobelle took him through her day up to the moment the accident had happened. He had scribbled notes, asked questions, and recorded most of the conversation. She had noticed how delicate his hand writing was, yet it was deep, slanted, and nearly looked powerful. During the time of their interview, she had ordered herself a coffee after all. A tall frozen caramel coffee with an extra shot felt like heaven in her stomach, and she even treated herself to bites of fruit. 

Dominic had refilled his coffee cup three times in the hours that had went by, and Isobelle was surprised he wasn't jittering out of his skin. The entire time they had spoken, he remained calm, collected, professional. Maybe it was the title that gave him the drive, but from what Isobelle could tell, this man was very different than any business partner her Father's ever had. Albert had his fingers in many bowls before the family relocated. If you needed someone, he knew the guy to call. Lawyers? Check. Doctors? Check. Dentists? Oh yes. Need a Chef for your wedding? The list went on. But since they had moved to Oregon, Albert's circle had become very small. There weren't many people to know in the town they moved to. The population didn't reach over three thousand around this part of the mountain, and the next town over was a two an a half hour drive.

Scribbling across the last few empty lines, Dominic clicked his pen before discarding it within the breast pocket of his coat. Isobelle watched carefully as his hands, adorned in golden rings and jewels, shut his notebook and buckled it closed. What Lawyer dared to flaunt their wealth in that way? The question seemed rude as it crossed her mind, and she listened carefully as Dominic spoke, "Thank you, Isobelle. This has been very helpful for you, and your friend." Watching as he sipped the rest of his coffee, she spared a glance to her watch. It had been a few minutes past noon when she arrived, and now the time read: four fourteen p.m. They had sat for literal hours.