Phoebe's alarm woke her at five-thirty in the morning. She immediately sat up, threw the covers to the side, and spun her feet to the floor. She had a long day ahead of her, no point in delaying it.
Quickly, she changed into her running attire, a pair of light blue Nike free run Flyknits, black lululemon shorts, and a light gray sports bra. She walked to the corner of her bedroom to turn on the treadmill, noting the sun was not yet even peeking over the horizon. She set her Nordic Trak program for five miles, targeting to complete the run in thirty minutes. Her heart rate exceeded the maximum at the twenty-seven-minute mark and the Nordic Track automatically slowed the pace. She finished the run in just over thirty-one minutes, close to her personal best.
Phoebe turned off the treadmill, exited her bedroom and turned left into the kitchen, dabbing the sweat from her head and neck with a small towel. She retrieved a twelve-ounce bottle of Fiji water from the refrigerator, gulping its entirety as she walked the few steps to the living room. At six fifteen, she began a forty-five-minute Nicole McPherson Pilates routine. She liked the additional strength and stretching it provided beyond the cardio of a good morning run.
By seven fifteen, with the morning sun beaming through her bathroom window, she had finished her second bottle of Fiji water and stood naked in front of her bathroom mirror, evaluating the results of the morning exercise routine she had performed religiously the last nine weeks. Her arms were a bit looser than she had hoped, and there was that stubborn spot of cellulite dimple on her left thigh, but, for a woman in her mid-thirties, she was proud of how she looked naked. She made a quick mental note to remember to tidy up the pubic grooming so the rectangle was nice and tight. An inch and a half wide by four inches long, that was her preferred look.
Her phone alarm went off at eight in the morning, just as Phoebe was unlocking her Prius. She silenced it and verified the dinner menu. She would need to make three stops on her way to the Bauer's. The first stop was her favorite. Angela's Farmer's Market always offered the best choice of fruits and vegetables, fresh from the local farms. Phoebe hoped she would have a good variety of heirloom tomatoes, basil, truffles, shallots, asparagus, potatoes, peaches, grapes, and apricots. Phoebe knew you had to be at Angela's before nine if you wanted a chance at the prime selection.
After Angela's, Phoebe would need Luigi's Fish market. She hated that part of town, and always carried mace as she walked to and from her car, but there was no arguing the quality of Luigi's offerings. He had the best in the city, and every five-star restaurant in town bought only from him. Today, she hoped he had a good selection of lobster and oysters.
Her final stop before the Bauer's was Whole Foods. She hated to admit she frequently sourced from a chain store, but there was no harm in buying the basic staples like flour, chocolate powder, or even prime cut filet mignon from their butcher. They also had a fine selection of cheeses, nuts and crackers. And if Angela or Luigi didn't have what she needed, Whole Foods would definitely have something she could deal with.
Phoebe was pleased to find the merchants had a good inventory of what she expected to buy from each. She arrived at the Bauer's ten minutes before the agreed upon noon meeting time. She texted Lyra, Mrs. Bauer, to inform her she had arrived a few minutes early and would wait in their driveway until it was convenient for her.
The Bauer's lived in a modest home in the upper-class Linwood neighborhood of southeast Cincinnati. An older, three-story Victorian style home with a modest front porch and one of the few with a private driveway. Large, white shutters contrast smartly with the navy-blue siding common in wintry Midwest climates. The lot was small, just barely larger than the house, and well-manicured with pine bushes creating a privacy hedge around the lot regardless of the season. At the rear of the house, Phoebe could see steps leading down to a basement.
'Finishing a meeting. Door is open. Feel free to get started in the kitchen. Will come see you when I'm done.' Lyra texted back.
Phoebe texted a thumbs up and transferred her morning's haul from the car into the kitchen. She had just peeling the potatoes when Lyra joined her in the kitchen.
"You must be Phoebe," Lyra said, extending her hand in greeting. Barefoot, she was dressed casually in khaki pants and a white sweater. Her dark black hair with just a few streaks of grey, high cheekbones, and olive skin reminded Phoebe of all the women she saw waiting tables the summer she spent touring the Greek Isles. Phoebe guessed she was mid-forties and likely kept in shape simply by walking the neighborhood listening to her favorite true crime podcast, not with a personal trainer.
"And you're Lyra?" Phoebe asked, quickly washing and drying her hands before accepting Lyra's extended offering.
"I'm very excited for the evening," Lyra said, her face beaming with anticipation.
"I'm very glad to hear it," Phoebe replied. "I assume you have refreshed yourself with everything we discussed to be provided in the Platinum Valentine's Package? Are there any adjustments you want in the offering? Now would be the time to make changes."
"None whatsoever," Lyra replied. "I loved everything about what we discussed. Jason, my husband, will be thrilled."
"I am here to provide you with an exceptional, personalized experience for Valentine's Day," Phoebe said. "Are there any special requests?"
"I bought a special bottle of wine for the occasion," Lyra said. She opened the pantry door and grabbed a bag from the top shelf. "It's an Opus One. We would normally never spend that much on a single bottle of wine, but I figured, if I'm going for the platinum package, we should also have a platinum bottle of wine!"
"An excellent choice," Phoebe said. She had never tried it herself, at five hundred bucks a bottle, it was way out of her price point, but she knew it by reputation.
"Jason won't be home until six tonight. He had a few client meetings and had to go to the office," Lyra explained. "I'm working from home, so if you have questions or need something, I'll be just down the hall, second door on the right. Bathroom is the first door."
The Bauer's were the first to order Phoebe's Platinum Package offering. She had only added it on a whim, after a guest at her last booking, a female entrepreneur who loved providing unsolicited business advice, recommended it as a way to separate herself from every other caterer in the market. Phoebe added the option to an unlisted page of her website. Someone had to know what they were looking for to find it with a google search. When Lyra called to inquire, Phoebe considered telling her she no longer offered the Platinum Package. Ultimately, she decided the five-figure price was worth the effort. They discussed details, confirmed the fee, and set the date. That was nine weeks ago.
Now that Phoebe met Lyra in person, and saw where they lived, the Bauer's were not the type of clientele she had expected to order the Platinum Package. The thought of cancelling crossed her mind, and she quickly dismissed it. She'd never walked away from a booked commitment, and she wasn't about to start. She had to see it through. After, she could decide if she would accept another Platinum Package job.
Finished with the chopping, slicing, and dicing activities of her food preparation routine, Phoebe began preparing the evening's dessert. She brought her favorite copper saucepans and set them to heat on the Bauer's conventional stove. Working in someone else's underequipped kitchen was something she had overlooked when creating this offering. She would have to make a few adjustments if there was a next time.
Phoebe removed a copy of the menu from her rear jeans pocket and reconfirmed the evening's menu. Phoebe's Platinum Package was a seven-course meal, and the Bauer's had selected Oysters in Mignonette sauce for the amuse-bouche (mouth pleasing) first course. For the appetizer second course, they had chosen a light burrata and heirloom tomato salad with fresh basil and a drizzle of balsamic glaze. A lobster bisque third course would be followed by a truffle risotto fourth course. The main course was a filet mignon, medium, in a red wine reduction. Prior to the final dessert of chocolate mousse with raspberry coulis, they had selected an artisanal cheese plate to refresh the palate and cleanse it for the sweet finale.
Phoebe paired each course with an appropriate beverage. Pear schnapps as an aperitif to open the stomach before the first course. Champagne with the oysters. A Domaine Matrot Meursault-Charmes Chardonnay with the salad and soup. The Opus One would substitute for the Caymus cabernet with the pasta and meat course. And finally, a ruby port to serve with the cheese and dessert.
Phoebe spent the afternoon preparing the kitchen to produce each course at precisely the right time. She wouldn't start cooking the meat until after the first course had been served. The mousse and cheese platters she could prepare and refrigerate. At four in the afternoon, Phoebe was preparing the dining room. She placed a white, linen tablecloth over the table, removed all but two chairs, placing what remained across from each other on the short side of the table. At the head and foot of the table, she placed two, seven-candle candelabras that would be the only lighting for the evening.
At five, Phoebe began the sauces and the lobster bisque. Fifteen minutes later, Lyra entered the kitchen, her arms stretched high above her head.
