Page 19 of A Winter's Wedding

“You clean up nicely,” she said.

“So do you,” he said sweetly, though his comment only made her fidget more.

Why was she being so ridiculous? She had been around this man for more years than she could count. So why now, why did she feel like a girl on a first date? Before she had more time to think on it, Alfonso returned from thecucinawith two plates in hand.

Placing them on the table, Alfonso beamed. His smile likely could not have been wider, and all his teeth shined. “I have first,piccolapotato croquette. Lump crab cake with fresh fig and honey compote. A butter lettuce salad with local cranberries and Italian feta cheese.Mangia.”

“Well, I’ve not seen something this pretty in a long time. Looks too good to actually eat,” Edwin said and cut a croquette in half. “What is a croquette anyhow?”

“I believe it’s just a fancy fried potato. And you do know what a crab cake is, right? But I’ve never had fig and honey compote before.” She looked Edwin in the eye and pointed her empty fork at him. “It’s like a jam, in case you were about to ask.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” he asked as though he really had no clue.

Carol was reminded again of all the ways in which Edwin didn’t really know her. Over the last year, as they finally put their rivalry away and began to spend more time together, they had begun to relearn things about one another. She had enjoyed getting to know him as he was now, and she wondered if he felt the same.

“I was in culinary school for a couple years,” she admitted and stuffed her mouth with a bite of lettuce.

“Culinary school? How did I never know that?” he said, though she wondered if he should have his memory checked as she was sure he knew about her leaving town after high school.

She finished chewing while deciding how much she wanted to say but figured it wouldn’t hurt for him to know her better. “That’s right. Two years. You probably don’t remember because you were stationed overseas, and I was trying to be anywhere but here.”

Edwin laughed in his throat. “Forgive me, but I didn’t even know you could cook anything.”

“I suppose you never asked. And I… I never invited you over for a meal.”

“I never knew you wanted to.” Edwin chewed a bite of crab. “Gosh, Carol, you didn’t even speak to me unless it was to complain about something or offer a snarky little remark when we passed on the street. That’s why we called you Scrooge for so long.”

Carol knew he was right but hearing him say it so plainly wasn’t easy. She ate the rest of her food without a single additional comment, not to punish him, but she was deeply aware of just how much damage she had done with her words.

The silence was easily explained by how delicious the food was so far. It was the best she’d ever had, but even saying as much out loud, she feared she would go on to say something about some other topic that she would regret later. Getting older meant there wasn’t much time left for second chances or second guessing, and she didn’t plan on heaping more poor decisions onto her pile.

Alfonso returned with another set of dishes and expertly removed the emptied plates before setting the new ones down. “I see you liked very much, the first course. Now I have traditional rabbit stew, like the pilgrims ate.” He giggled in the way foreigners do when there’s something amusing about American culture, but his enthusiasm frightened Carol all the same. “With whipped mascarpone and shallots,” he said and left them to eat.

“Now this is something I can sink my teeth into,” Edwin said and slurped the stew from a wide spoon.

“I’m a little skeptical, to be honest. And I’m not sure America will like this,” Carol said and stirred the ingredients around the bowl. “She’s a city girl after all.”

“Was.”

“Excuse me?”

Edwin paused his spoon midair between the bowl and his mouth. “Shewasa city girl. Now she’s a Cove girl. This stew is really good. You should try it.”

Carol put a little bit of each ingredient on her spoon and brought the mix of green and orange vegetables and pinkish-colored meat up to her nose. She smelled the stew expecting something pungent or gamey. Instead, the scent of onions, sweet cheese, and rich spices felt more like a cozy hug by the fire than the rustic, back-woods trappings she had imagined. She slurped the gravy from the end of the spoon first and then poured the remaining ingredients onto her tongue. “It’s really good,” she had to admit.

Edwin raised a brow at her. “So, we should keep it on the menu?”

Carol nodded. “It’s unexpected in the best way. Alfonso has really outdone himself this time.”

Edwin scraped the last bite out of the bottom of the bowl. “It’s really good. If I ever get married, I want this exact meal.”

Carol was surprised he had ever thought about his wedding. She never wasted time, the way she knew other girls did, daydreaming about her big day. She had never been married and never planned on it. Hearing a grown man speak about his someday-wedding was as odd as the fact that she had only ever met one man that could have stolen her heart. And neither of them had ever married.

“Have you heard from them today?” Edwin asked.

“America said she would call when she could. But I’m assuming no news is a good thing,” Carol said and set her spoon down. The stew was good, but she didn’t want something so heavy just now. “You want mine?”

Edwin reached around the vase in the center of the table and retrieved the bowl. “Don’t mind if I do.”

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