Page 47 of Kiss Me at Christmas
“No.”
“No, you haven’t, or no, you won’t?” she pressed.
“I take it that was your cast?” Evaline gestured with her opera glasses at where the famous five had been sitting.
James gave Harriet a look, which she conjectured to meanDon’t push it. She gave him the benefit of the doubt, but she’d take it up with him later.
“So far, yes,” said Harriet. “We’re hoping for some new additions soon.”
Evaline’s mouth turned down in distaste. “I must be going. It’s Cook’s night off.”
“Of course.” James nodded. “What’s on the menu this evening?”
“Risotto. It takes time to make it right and you know how I like to eat at eight o’clock sharp.”
“You’re making it yourself?” Harriet blurted, incredulous.
“I like to cook. You seem surprised, Ms. Smith.”
“Oh. No. I mean, yes. I mean. It’s only that I wouldn’t bother making something like risotto just for myself, I’d probably buy one that I could microwave.”
Evaline stared at her hard and when she spoke her voice was flint. “Am I, in your opinion, not worth cooking for?”
Harriet swallowed. “No. That’s not—”
“But you do appear to be suggesting that the effort to cook good food should only be undertaken when there is someone else present, and that a person who has no one but themself ought not to bother.”
Evaline had pinned her absolutely.
“I was just thinking about myself, really, about how I don’t tend to cook if it’s only, well, me. My daughter’s been away, and I’m still getting my head around it.”
“Only?” Evaline exclaimed. “Only you?‘Only’ and ‘me’ are words that should not be used together. Being alone does not make a person less worthy of good things.Ideserve to prepare myself delicious food, whether that be a risotto for supper or a soufflé for breakfast or both.Irefuse to curtail life’s little enjoyments because I am without a companion.Iam worth the effort, andyoushould feel the same way about yourself, young woman. Don’t live your life as though you are only a shadow without other people to validate you. Validate yourself!”
Harriet opened and closed her mouth a few times saying, “I, I, I,” but she had nothing.
James, seeming to sense that she’d had her mind blown by their haughty benefactor’s words, stepped in. “Evaline, would you allow me to escort you safely home?” he asked.
“I don’t need to be seen home, safely or otherwise. I’m not an invalid,” she snapped.
“Of course.” James, in Harriet’s opinion, had the patience of a saint. “In that case, I’ll join Harriet and the students in their endeavors.”
“You can help me down the stairs.” Evaline narrowed her eyes. “Or would you have me fall down and break a hip? That would keep me out of your hair for a while, wouldn’t it? Perhaps I’d break my neck and save you any more bother.”
It was incredible to Harriet that someone could be so insightful and such a cow-bag all at the same time. James’s eyes rose to the gold-painted ceiling of the box, and she knew he was counting to ten in his head as Evaline stowed her opera glasses in her handbag and, using her two sticks, creaked herself up to standing. She wobbled and listed to the left, and Harriet put her arms out to steady her but got a stick jabbed into her shin for her troubles.
“Don’t fuss so!” she snapped. “I can do it.”
“You are a tempest of contradictions!” Harriet snapped back without thinking. “You’re either so frail that stairs could kill you or you are indestructible—which is it?” She rubbed her leg.
Evaline grinned, making her thick pink lipstick crack.
“So, you have got a backbone after all. Perhaps James was right about you.”
Harriet cast a quizzical glance at James.
“I only said you had what it takes to make this project work,” he said, trapped between Evaline’s and Harriet’s gazes.
“ ‘Gumption,’ ” Evaline croaked out. “That’s the word he used. I didn’t believe him. But, well, we shall see. James.” She held out her arm. “Till we meet again, Ms. Smith.”
