Isabelle and mr. Bête

Isabelle meets the stepmother

Chapter 05

'Good morning, Isabelle.' Jean-Marie said as she walked into the kitchen. 'I see you've woken up on time, very good.'

'Good morning, Mr. Bête.' she said. 'I did remember to set the alarm this time.'

'Jean.' he said, smiling at her.

'Sorry?' she said, afraid she missed something.

'Well, you called me that last evening.'

She went through the memories of the party and remembered calling out to him. 'I did, didn't I?' she said. 'I didn't mean to-'

'I don't dislike it, so when we're in private call me Jean.'

She nodded, feeling a bit shy to call him Jean again.

'I'm glad to see you kept the braid. It looks good on you.'

'Thank you.' she said, happy to hear she looked good from him.

'Now, sit down.' he said and served fresh coffee. 'I'll make waffles this morning.'

'Let me help.' she said, not wanting to feel useless.

'No. Just sit and wait.' he said with a tone that let her know there would be no discussion about it.

It felt a little weird to her, having to do nothing while someone else was working, but it felt also nice to be taken care of. She watched him make the dough then pour it into the hot waffle form. He gathered the rest of the eggs that had been delivered early that morning to put them in the fridge, took one that had a weak shell and squashed it in his hand.

'Damn!' he said, the yolk dripping down his sleeve.

Isabelle hurried with paper towels to catch the rest of the egg and wipe his sleeve.

'I need a new shirt.' he said.

'I'll clean up while you get a fresh shirt.' she said, throwing away the wet paper into the trash.

He looked at the waffle iron. 'No, can you get one for me? I need to keep an eye on this and clean the mess.'

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. My room is to the right of stairs, go only there. You are not to go into the other room, do you understand?'

She nodded, thinking it a little overdone, but he'd probably have his reasons.

She came up on the third floor and turned to his room, then stopped and looked at the other side. It looked just like the rest, but then she didn't really expect a different look. She set aside her curiosity and went into his room, it being furnished much like her own. His bedroom door was open and she found his shirts quickly, selected one like he was wearing and went back down.

He had just cleaned up and started the second batch of waffles. 'Thank you.' he said as she laid the shirt on the table corner. 'You did not go into the other room, right?'

She shook her head.

His expression turned gentle and he unbuttoned his shirt while he checked the waffle iron. When he turned a little and took off his shirt she couldn't resist checking out his upper body. He didn't have a one of those chests as seen often in magazines where the models are unhealthy low on fat, but his shoulders, arms and chest looked fit. Then her attention got drawn for a second to a thick scar from the top of one shoulder down to his back. She recognised it as a burn mark.

He took the fresh shirt quickly from the table and put it on, the old one he put aside for Rosanna to throw in the laundry. Isabelle thought about asking about the scar, but he'd tried to hide it from her so asking was no option.