Beauty and the Feast

Gabriel Abbott stared at his blank computer screen as IT specialists hovered over his broad shoulders. Gabe refreshed the screen, hoping his new website would appear. The techs had been working for months on the website for his charitable foundation, Abbott Industries. Just as they’d uploaded the links to his winery, the system crashed.
Gabe suppressed a quick flash of irritation. The project had taken longer than he’d expected, but the result, at least what he’d been able to see of it, was good. In fact, it was better than good. It should be. He’d paid top dollar for his web designers. Gabe wanted to make certain he attracted the attention of the right browsers, high school teachers, guidance counselors, junior college registrars, the very people who could send him promising students. Needy students who couldn’t afford a college education or trade school. Young men and women who were in the same position Gabe, himself, had once been in. There were a lot of hard-working, dedicated, optimistic, ambitious, deserving kids out there. He hoped Abbott Industries could reach as many of them as the foundation could afford.
Gabe rose from his chair and stretched. He turned to his employees.
“You think you can get this running by four? I’ve invited Father Green by to check it out. I want him to see what we’re working on. It could mean a great deal to his students.”
“Yes, Mr. Abbott, no problem. We should have this bug figured out within the hour.” Both men were in agreement. They excused themselves and left his office.
Gabe felt, rather than heard, his iPhone beep. He opened a text message. It read, “Looking forward to dinner. Steph.”
Stephanie Lindstrom. The woman he planned to seduce on Saturday night. He’d met her several weeks before at a fundraiser for the San Francisco Opera. They’d spent most of the evening together. She was a corporate lawyer, the daughter of an investment banker. Gabe had noticed her immediately. It was impossible not to, with as much skin as she’d been showing that night. Stephanie was gorgeous. Tall, blonde, leggy. He’d been struck with the notion that she might look good on his arm, for a while. Make an attractive accoutrement. He’d met her for coffee the very next day and taken her to lunch a couple of times. She’d accompanied him to a reception at the new California Academy of Sciences. Three days ago, he’d taken her to a highly rated, ultra trendy restaurant for dinner. He’d decided to invite her to spend the weekend with him at his cottage in the Napa Valley. She’d said, yes.
Gabe sent her a reply. “Pick you up at six. G.A.” Don’t get too familiar too soon, Gabe reminded himself. Familiarity breeds contempt. That was Gabriel Abbott’s motto when it came to women. It had been years since he’d met a woman, aside from his mother and younger sister, who didn’t bore him to tears within a few months. Hair, clothes, makeup. Gabe shrugged, unconcerned. Perhaps the problem lay with the crowd he associated with now.
In some ways, he missed the tough, working class neighborhood in Chicago where he’d grown up. It hadn’t been all bad. When people had very little in the way of possessions, their concerns tended to revolve around more than their appearance. At least he, his sister and his mother were fortunate enough to have had each other. If there was food on the table, they said thank you and they ate it. It didn’t matter what it was or what it tasted like. When some charity or another offered them second hand winter coats and boots, mittens and hats, they accepted them, pride be damned. His mother worked hard to protect her children and she did her best to raise them right.
When Father Green had taken Gabe and his sister under his wing, he opened doors for them that they’d thought would remain forever shut. Neither of them looked back or felt the least bit guilty for taking the opportunities he offered. The priest had encouraged them to keep their grades up no matter what was going on in their lives and he helped them both to apply for loans and grants to pay for college. Gabe attended the University of Chicago. He’d majored in Business Administration and he’d gone on to get a Master’s Degree at the University of California at Berkeley. His sister attended Northwestern for her undergraduate studies and she’d been accepted into Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia, for medical school.
Their own father had walked out on them when Gabe had been twelve and his sister, Elise, just ten years old. They didn’t hear a word from him until his mother was served with divorce papers a year later. When Gabe was old enough to legally change his name, he took his mother’s maiden name, Abbott, declaring to the world in his eighteen-year-old fashion that he was no longer the cheating, dead-beat Patrick McIntyre’s son. His sister followed in his footsteps. She was now Dr. Elise Abbott, a pediatrician practicing in Skokie, Illinois.
The first thing Gabe did when he made some money was to move his mother into a co-op on Lakeshore Drive. He’d tried to convince her to follow him to California, but she refused to leave his sister and the Midwest. Midwesterners were like that. There was something about the notion of living in The Golden State that made them cringe. When he tried to discuss this issue with his mother, she simply dismissed the idea with the words, “Too blond.”
California’s blond reputation didn’t bother Gabe in the slightest. The weather was pretty damn close to perfect. He could surf a little, ski a little, sail a little, catch a ball game. His apartment in San Francisco was within earshot of AT and T Park. Besides, he had to admit, the women were beautiful. When he’d first moved west, he’d taken a look around and it was as if someone flipped a switch and his brain began broadcasting that old Beach Boys song, California Girls. So many women, so little time. Speaking of women…
Gabe stepped out of his office to check with his assistant, Marsha.
“Marsh, you work something out for dinner this Saturday night?”
“Yes, I’ve hired an agency, ATAP, to provide a personal chef.”
“ATAP?”
“All Things to All People. Kind of cute, don’t you think?”
Gabe rolled his eyes. “Maybe a little too cute. They any good?”
Marsha clicked her pen thoughtfully. “Well, I hope so. I thought you might like to give them a try. They’re a new agency based in Napa and I know how you like to support start-ups. They seem legit, at least Tom, the partner I spoke with, seems to have a good handle on marketing. He impressed me and I’m not easily impressed.”
“True,” replied Gabe. “That’s why we get along so well. Who’s the chef? Someone from one of local restaurants?”
“Um, I don’t exactly know yet. Whoever it is, is supposed to get back to me today to go over the menu.”
“Shit, I’d probably be better off with Chinese take-out. Get this ATAP on the phone and I’ll talk to him myself. I’ll decide if I want to use him.”
“You’re the boss.” Marsha pulled a card out of a small file in her desk drawer and dialed the phone number printed on it. Gabe lounged against the open door.
“Good morning, Tom, this is Marsha Frank, Gabriel Abbott’s assistant.”
“Put it on speaker,” instructed Gabe.
Marsha hit the button and set the receiver in its cradle.
“So nice to hear from you, Miss Frank. How may I help you?”
“Mr. Abbott was hoping to speak with the chef. Is he available?”
“She’s out at the moment, but I’d be happy to have her call you back as soon as she checks in with me. Shall I have her call you at this number?”
“Just a moment.” Marsha took the phone off speaker and placed her hand over the receiver. She glanced at her boss.
“Ask her to call me,” instructed Gabe. “Leave my cell phone number. I’d just as soon talk to her myself, see if she’s up for what I have in mind.”
Marsha raised her eyebrows at him. She removed her hand from the receiver. “Mr. Abbott would like to speak to the chef himself. Here’s his cell phone number.” Marsha provided Tom with number. “Please keep the number private.”
Marsha listened for a moment. “Thank you,” she said.
She hung up. “FYI,” she said to her boss. “Her name’s Eva.”