Page 116 of Valentine Nook
There’s no way I’d have thought to buy all this.
“Is this all for today?”
Clemmie nods with a smile. “So there’s a choice.”
“How did you get here so quickly?”
“I was in the store when Lando messaged. I know you're cooking, but I thought I could help. And remember when I said I make a mean roast chicken...” She shrugs her shoulders. “Surprise. Sorry, is that okay?”
Glancing down at all the ingredients spread across the counter, maybe Lando was onto something when he asked if I knew what I was getting myself into. I don’t think I did.
One look at Clemmie’s eager face, and I yank her into a tight hug. “Thank you. Oh my god, thank you. Yes, help. Please. Roast chicken sounds perfect, and you know. ..the rest.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I must have woken up thinking I was Martha Stewart or something. Lando asked me if I knew what I was doing, and I said yes. But I wonder if maybe I don’t.”
“Well.” Clemmie chuckles, easing from my grip. “I can’t think of a better reason to do it together than to prove my brother wrong.”
“Oh, thank god.” I sigh with relief and stick a cup under the coffee machine. “D’you want one?”
Clemmie nods as she puts the ice cream in the freezer. “Yes, please. I suppose it’s a bit early to start drinking.”
I’m tempted. But I also know that I can’t drunk cook my first English Sunday lunch. It gives me a weird buzz that I’mabout to do something I’ve never done before. On the rare occasions I’ve hosted dinner parties at my place, I’ve always used caterers or dished out preprepared food. Nevercookcooked. And I’ve been so busy baking with Pierre that I haven’t yet gotten around to learning the rest.
“Maybe later,” I reply, staring at the mountain of food. “How long does this take? We have just over four hours.”
“That’s plenty of time. We can enjoy our coffees first and decide what we’re having.” She turns as Lando walks in, looking less than happy. Not that Clemmie seems to notice, or perhaps she’s used to him, so she chooses to ignore it and flashes him a big smile instead. “Morning, Lanny. Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Why are your lips blue?”
“Cold shower,” he grunts, then drops a kiss on my head and takes a large sip from my coffee cup while I hold in a smile. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the Valentine Cook when you messaged, so I offered my services. Holiday and I are making lunch together.”
His eyes flick to mine, twinkling with amusement, and I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“In that case, there are definitely too many cooks in here. If you don’t mind, I’ll nip home and check on Thunder.”
I shake my head. “I don’t mind.”
“Excellent, and that means we can discuss the Fall Ball,” Clemmie says through a slurp of her coffee.
“Then I won’t hurry back. Don’t burn the place down. Remember, the roof is thatched.”
I glance out the window, where the rain still hasn’t let up.
“I don’t think we need to worry about anything catching fire.”
Ihave a newfound respect for Martha Stewart.
How the hell does she make it look so easy?
It’s taken me an hour just to clean the kitchen up. Even with Clemmie’s help, we barely had enough time. There’s a chickenanda side of beef in the oven, the vegetables went in right before Clemmie left to change into clean clothes, and after convincing me I didn’t need to stare at the stove while she was gone, I did the same.
I’ve learned you don’t need to be good at cooking. You just need to be good at math because you have to get your timings in precise order for lunch to be ready exactly the way it’s supposed to be ready.
