29. Evan

29

Evan

I knew before we left for the bed-and-breakfast what this was about. Al had been vague this morning, but after tasting Christie’s dessert and her mentioning her experience as a chef, I’d been able to put the puzzle pieces together.

I was a yes. Of course, I was. After Christie’s little incubus trick, though, I’d be damned if I was going to make it too easy on her. I took a shower, only not in the third-floor bathroom because Cary’s comment about it being a mess was an understatement. It would take much more time to fix up than the bedroom. At least I could use the toilet and continue showering downstairs in the meantime.

Cary seemed quiet and contemplative on our drive to town. I wanted to ask him what was on his mind, but figured if he wanted to talk about it, he would. He’d been at the manor while I’d sorted through Inez’s trunk, and I hoped he hadn’t run into any spirits up there. If he had, he either didn’t want to scare me by discussing it, or driving to dinner with friends wasn’t ideal timing for such topics.

With him not being up for conversation on the drive, I replayed in my mind how I wanted dinner tonight to go. I planned my vengeance by thinking of all the ways I’d act like I was being cautious. “You know I might want to do it myself,” I’d practiced saying in the shower.

I was confident I could do the playing hard to get routine, and then in a day or two, I’d tell Christie I had considered all my options and offer her the opportunity to work with me.

The moment we walked into the house, though, my senses were accosted with pure bliss. Their guests were seated in the formal dining room, and I could tell from their faces, the food was excellent. Al escorted us into their private quarters, and Christie came in and shook my hand, waving at Cary before dashing back into the kitchen.

“Thanks for coming, Evan. I know you’re tired from the day’s work, but Christie was excited about you possibly reopening the Cordelia Manor restaurant.”

“And you weren’t supposed to be spilling the beans about that,” Christie said as she came out sporting two bowls of soup. I could’ve wept at the heavenly smell that reached my nose. I was about to dig in when Christie disappeared into the kitchen but reemerged moments later with salads. Okay, soup and salad, I liked where this was going.

She dashed back into the kitchen and, this time, came out with what looked and smelled like freshly baked bread.

“Wow, you did all this today?” I asked.

She nodded and smiled before turning to go back into the kitchen. She made several more trips while Al poured us each a glass of wine. When Christie came back with nothing in hand, I looked at the spread in front of us and then back up at her. “How many people are coming?” I asked.

She chuckled. “I wanted you to get a feel for my abilities as a chef. These are my basic go-to foods. Onion soup with Swiss cheese. Rye bread with freshly milled rye. Leg of lamb, which we have a local provider for, and coq au vin.” She named each dish, then sat across from us to watch us eat.

“Okay,” I said and stared at the meal before me. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start here,” she said, pointing toward the salad. “I make my own dressing. It’s delicious and inexpensive to make. I can also make it in advance, and the flavor will become more intense the longer it ages.”

She took us through bites of each of the dishes. Each one a magnificent representation of French cuisine. I was once again overwhelmed at how gifted Christie was in her culinary skills.

“So?” she asked when I sat back, too full for even one more bite, although I really wanted to keep eating.

“So, I was going to play hard to get, and you deserve that too,” I said, trying to give her the stink eye before I gave up and just smiled. “You’re amazing. I don’t understand why or even how I could say no. If you want to partner with me on reopening the restaurant, I can’t imagine anyone more qualified or talented!”

Christie beamed and put out her hand for a shake. “Then it’s a deal.”

I reached out, took her hand, and a very light shock radiated through it. I knew instinctively I’d made a binding agreement, even though neither of us had signed anything. Christie was now a business partner. Damned if I wasn’t over the moon excited about that.