Page 36 of Cookbooks and Demons

“Allergies?” he questioned.

“No, I don’t think he does,” Helena quickly amended, exchanging an awkward smile with thehostess.

“Alright then, excellent,” she said. “A waiter will be with youshortly.”

And they were. Within two steps of the hostess leaving, the waiter swooped in to pour bubbling, clear water into their glasses froma carafe.

“Hello, I am Éliott. I will be your server this evening,” their waiter said with a light French accent.

“Oh!” Helena said in surprise. “I thought we were just having French cuisine, but you actually are French?”

“Oui, madame.” He nodded, smiling sweetly. “The chef is my cousin, and he invited me to have a chance to come to America and work at his restaurant while I went to school. I of course said, ‘oui.’”

“Well, welcome to the states,” Helena said, nodding the greeting at their authentic server. “I’m glad because I don’t speak or read any French, and I need to take notes on this meal, so maybe you canhelp me?”

“Oui, madame, of course, but I would also like to point out…” he leaned forward to point at the menu, “that while the menu is in French, the line underneath…”

“Is written in English,” Helena said, seeing what he was showing her and feeling silly for having missed it. “Sorry, I was just so hypnotized by all the pretty French.”

“Quel est votre plat de poisson ce soir?”1Rafferty suddenly asked in perfect French.

Helena and the waiter’s eyeswidened.

“Le plat de poisson de ce soir est bar au beurre blanc, monsieur,”2Éliott responded, “Pardonnez-moi de le dire, mais vous parlez comme un Français.”3

Rafferty paused as he was about to say something else, then slid his gaze over to Helena, clearing his throat. After an awkward pause, Éliott politely said, “Is there anything else,madame?”

“No, not at this time,” she said with a note of apology, her eyes still watching Rafferty, who turned his gaze out into the cityscape.

“Very good, madame. Shall I bring you the first course?” Éliott asked.

“Yes, thank you,” she agreed, adding an apologetic smile to her tone. He graciously nodded andwithdrew.

“Rafferty, what’s wrong?” Helena asked, tipping her head to try to capturehis gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I am ruining your gift.” He tried to straighten and adjust his silverware setting even though they didn’tneed it.

“No, not at all. It was nice to hear you speak French like that. I know you said you were from the 1600s, but you never said where. So you were French?”

“I do not wish to talk about it,” he said, but even as he spoke, a French accent bled through his words. He closed his eyes as he realized it.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it,” Helena said and took another sip of her water. “This is a really beautiful view. I wasn’t sure the clouds were going to blow through intime but—”

“You don’t want to talk about it?” Rafferty questioned, squinting his eyes at her.

“No, not if you don’t want to,” she stated.

He continued to squint at her.

“What?”

“Is this that reverse psychology thing? Are you trying to trick me?” hepressed.

“No, not at all—”

“Because ever since you’ve brought me up here, you’ve been prying away at all my secrets, and now you’re not interested?”

“Do you want to tell me?” Helena said, getting a bit exasperated.

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