simon_doctor | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's one of Simon's getting-home-early days. He's picked up a few things for dinner on the way home -- he will readily admit that he still isn't much of a cook, but he can handle baked chicken and green salad, and he can make a start on it before Kaylee gets in.

There's another clinic run coming up next month. He's been thinking of taking a few days of vacation sometime after that; maybe he'll bring that up tonight.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

And Kaylee gets home at the usual hour, freshly scrubbed and fragrant with it (somebody at the market makes really effective soap that just happens to smell like strawberries), not even missing a streak of oil, as is her custom.

The offending card is in her pocket.

First things first, she thinks; start dinner, change into something that isn't work clothes, and then get a glass of wine and contemplate what to do.

"Wei," calls Simon's voice from the vicinity of the kitchen, followed a moment later by his appearance: sleeves rolled up, wiping his hands on a dishtowel, smiling.

Kaylee stops, expression softening. "You got out early?"

He nods. "I've been home about twenty minutes. I thought I'd make an early start on dinner."

"Fair warning," she says, "I might have to kiss you for that."

His smile deepens. "I wouldn't dream of trying to stop you."

"Smart man." She comes over, stretching to kiss his cheek. "Let me clean up a little more? And then I'll pay the rest of what you're owed."

"Dangran." He bends to brush a quick kiss across her cheek in turn. "I'll go finish the salad."

"Ooh," Kaylee says with a grin en route to the bedroom, "getting fancy."

She emerges a few minutes later in a sleeveless shirt and skirt, and wanders into the kitchen, the card tucked into her pocket. "What do I get to do?"

"Want to set the table?" Simon's at the counter, carefully tossing a mixed-greens salad in a wooden bowl.

"I can do that." Off to the cabinet with the plates. "So..."

She's got her back to him.

"Something happened today. At the shop."

"Oh?"

He sets down the salad tongs and turns to put the leftover dressing (a sesame oil vinaigrette) in the fridge.

"Fella from across town said I was cutting into his business too much. Losing customers."

She's keeping her voice carefully blank.

"So he made me an offer. To buy the shop."

He's picking up the salad bowl, to carry it to the table.

There's a pause, and it settles back on the counter with a soft thump.

"An offer." His voice is as uninflected as hers, and for a similar reason.

"It's a handsome one."

She's still.

"Only a little under what I think it's worth. And well over what went into it."

"I see." Quiet; he's leaning against the counter.

"I told him I'd think about it." She turns around; there's something wry in her expression. "He didn't act like a threat was gonna come if I didn't cave. So that's something."

"I ... that was going to be my next question." A rueful sigh. "At least there's that."

Beat.

"So."

"So."

Her turn to turn around and lean against the counter. "What do you think?"

"I think I'd be very surprised if you did decide to sell it," he says, slowly. "Are you thinking you might want to ...?"

"It's an option." Kaylee shrugs. "I don't think I ought to dismiss it."

Pause.

"Simon, we ain't even been open that long and apparently I'm a threat to business. Maybe I ought to be aimin' higher. Or different. If I'm really that good at this."

"Well, we know you are that good." He says it quite matter-of-factly; not so much a compliment as a known datum. "So ... it seems to me it's a question of whether you would want to. And of what kind of higher. Or different."

"I don't want to work for somebody else. I know that much." She says this calmly. "And he didn't sound like he was interested in bringin' me on in any capacity. So with whatever I did -- I'd have to start from scratch. Again."

"Essentially."

The oven timer chimes; Simon reaches for a couple of potholders, and bends to take out the sizzling pan of chicken.

Kaylee moves, as though a spell's been shattered, and carries plates over to the table. "I could buy him out." Thoughtful. "Try to consolidate my empire."

...she's only kidding a little.