Chapter 3 – The Man Named Bryant Clifton (Part 5)

When something touched her right cheek, she thought his kiss was much lighter than expected. She also thought her face might be numb from the cold air. She realized a bit late that the small, heatless contact point was the tip of his nose. And the moment she realized that, he pressed his lips to her skin.

Evelyn unconsciously held her breath.

It was a dry and soft kiss. The warmth that touched her skin was vivid. He tilted his chin, pressing his lips gently against her cheek, then slightly pulled away. It seemed slightly longer than what he did with other women. His warmth seemed to linger where his lips had touched.

In that same position, Bryant awaited her reciprocation. Just a slight turn of her head and their lips would touch. The scent of his cologne and body was strong from the nape of his neck, so close to her nose. Amidst the fierce pounding of her heart, Evelyn managed to turn her head and give him a brief kiss.

Even after receiving her return kiss, the man maintained his stance for a moment. His breath brushed past her cheek and flowed down her jaw. Evelyn tightened her grip on the collar of her coat. Her heart pounded wildly, and scenes flashed before her eyes. 

What should I do now? What if he turns his head this way? What if he kisses me?

What if he really kisses me?

At the moment when the imagination of their lips meeting felt almost real, the man raised his head and straightened his body. Then, politely, he took a step back to create some distance. The warmth and scent that had come so close quickly retreated. The cold night air rushed into the space he had occupied.

Thump, thump, thump. I didn’t know a heartbeat could be this loud.

“Sleep well.”

Bryant said with a faint smile. Evelyn briefly parted her dry lips. Sleep well. It was such an unexpected phrase that she couldn’t think of an appropriate response. 

What on earth should I say in return? Sleep well, Mr. Clifton?

“Go inside. It’s cold.”

He gestured with his chin and smiled. Evelyn felt awkward, as if her thoughts were transparent to him. She kept feeling like a child in front of this man. Like a child dealing with an adult. For someone who had been told she was mature all her life, it was a disconcerting experience.

“Then, I’ll head in first.”

With polite words, she slightly bowed her head. The man standing opposite her reciprocated in a similar manner. Evelyn reached into her coat pocket and took out the cold key. After unlocking the door and stepping into the entrance, she looked back. As expected, he stood there as if it were only natural, and after giving him a brief glance, she carefully closed the door.

Even after the door was completely shut, she didn’t move. Standing quietly in the unlit entrance, she listened intently. The man beyond the door made no sound. Evelyn held her breath, waiting for any sign of him. Only after she heard the sound of footsteps gradually moving away did she exhale a long, low breath.

Thud, thud. The sound of the man’s footsteps faded down the stairs. Evelyn moved toward the dark hallway. Tap, tap. Her feet, tense the whole time in new shoes, felt especially heavy.

*

To be honest, Evelyn Dale attributed too much meaning to Bryant’s kiss. To recall and reflect on that utterly mundane greeting for ten days was indeed excessive.

It wasn’t just the cheek kiss she repeatedly dwelled on over the past ten days. Everything she saw, heard, and experienced that day intermittently came to mind. The lavishly decorated restaurant and theater. The grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling of the banquet hall. The various behaviors of high society people.

His jokes. His smiling lips. His gaze, gently fixed on her.

Evelyn translated all those feelings and experiences into writing. Moist and flexible expressions, vividly pulsating sentences flowed endlessly. Dipping her pen countless times into the inkwell, she felt the joy of writing for the first time in a long while. Thanks to that, the ten days passed quickly.

The date of the dinner and the address of the house arrived by telegram the day after the concert. Although there was plenty of time and no urgency, Bryant insisted on sending a telegram. He could have written a letter. It was a choice that was hard to understand for a woman accustomed to thrift.

“Miss Evelyn? Are you going out?”

The lady in the rocking chair lifted her head. Evelyn glanced at the skein of yarn and the half-knitted sweater on her lap. The landlady was alone in the parlor with the fireplace burning.

“Yes, Mrs. Turner. I’m going out shortly.”

“But it’s already so dark. Ah, you’re going out for dinner.”

“Yes. You don’t need to prepare my dinner today.”

“Got it. I’ll tell the kitchen.”

“And if it’s not too much trouble, could you call a carriage for six-thirty?”

Evelyn looked out the window as she finished speaking. It was raining quite heavily. Kingston in January had frequent rain. It didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon.

“A carriage?”

Mrs. Turner asked again, adjusting her spectacles.

“Are you going somewhere nice?”

A place where one would wear a neat dress and pretty makeup. A place nice enough to worry about clothes getting a little wet in the rain. Mrs. Turner looked at her with sparkling curiosity.

“It’s a formal occasion.”

Though it was an impromptu excuse, Evelyn thought her words had some truth. It was indeed a formal occasion. A dinner with the publishing house president, her editor, and his wife.

“Alright. You said six-thirty, right? Let’s see, about fifteen minutes left. I’ll make sure it arrives on time.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome.”

After watching the lady set aside her knitting and get up from the armchair, Evelyn left the parlor and returned to her room.

*

Bryant’s house was in Hilford, southwest of Kingston. It was a wealthy area with mansions and townhouses with gardens, about a 30-minute ride from the uptown where Evelyn lived. When the carriage carrying her reached the destination, it was just past 7 PM. Arriving slightly past the invited time was perfect etiquette.

“Author!”

Another guest of the evening, Paul Higgins, had also arrived perfectly on time.

“What a coincidence! We arrived at the same time.”

Higgins stood in front of the carriage with a large umbrella open. After helping his wife out of the carriage, he escorted her to the townhouse entrance and then returned. It was just as Evelyn was paying the driver and opening the door.

“Author, over here. It’s raining quite a bit.”

Evelyn took Higgins’ hand and stepped out of the carriage. Instead of opening her own umbrella, she gladly accepted his courtesy. Walking in step with him, she looked at the house ahead. A building drenched in rain and darkness. It was a three-story townhouse made of light gray sandstone.

“This is my wife, Joyce. She’s an avid reader of Dennis Howle’s works.”

“Hello, Mrs. Higgins.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Author. I’ve been excited all day knowing you were coming.”

Mrs. Higgins was a pleasantly plump middle-aged woman. Her face, staring intently at Evelyn, was flushed with excitement.

“Dear, you didn’t mention she was this beautiful.”

“I said she was a lovely lady.”

“You always use adjectives so freely. You should have added adverbs. Extremely, very, exceptionally. There are so many suitable adverbs.”

Higgins laughed off his wife’s words and knocked on the door knocker.

Not long after making a sound, the door opened. Warmth from inside, along with the sweet smell of food and soft perfume, burst out all at once. Evelyn straightened her back slightly, feeling a bit tense. Surprisingly, the person who opened the door was the homeowner himself.

“Welcome.”

Bryant, dressed like a gentleman hosting a dinner, stood there in formal attire. Behind him was a woman who appeared to be in her late fifties. Based on her demeanor and attire, Evelyn guessed she was a servant, and indeed, the woman took the guests’ coats and umbrellas.

“You all arrived together.”

“The carriages arrived simultaneously, wouldn’t you know it.”

“That’s good. We can start dinner right away.”

After exchanging light words with Higgins, Bryant turned to the women. Then, very naturally, he approached and kissed Evelyn’s cheek. It was a light and brief kiss, almost like a brush.

“Miss Evelyn.”

“Mr. Clifton.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me.”

After exchanging greetings, the man gave Mrs. Higgins the same kind of kiss and then led the three guests to the dining room. Even in his own home, he maintained impeccable manners. He humbly hoped they would enjoy the chef’s skill and emphasized once more how grateful he was for them coming in the bad weather.