“Oh?”
“We had a food critic visit our restaurant who lambasted my cooking. He or she was cruel and mean and I’m telling you right now, I’ll put every dish I serve up against this restaurant’s any day of the week.”
Aren stared across the table at her with his fork frozen in midair.
Lucie should have taken that as a sign to stop talking, but once she got started she couldn’t seem to stop. “What upsets me is that this very same food critic would probably give this restaurant high marks. I mean, Eaton Well must have reviewed the meals here for it to have such a fabulous reputation. That just goes to show you the critic doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She bit down on her lip, recognizing that she’d probably said far too much. Every time she thought about Eaton Well and his unfair and cutting review, Lucie’s blood boiled. Because she felt she had to, Lucie added, “I know he works for the same newspaper as you, and if he’s a friend then I apologize. It’s just that he did me wrong and I don’t know that I could ever forgive what he said about Heavenly Delights.”
Aren continued to stare at her as if he didn’t know what to say. Lucie tried again, fearing she’d ruined their evening with her tirade. “Forgive me, please,” she murmured, smoothing out the linen napkin in her lap. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the review. As you might have guessed I’m still upset about it.”
Aren reached for his coffee, which had grown cold by now. “From what your mother said, your loyal customers were quick to come to your defense.”
“Yes, thank heaven. Without them we might have been ruined. We could have lost everything because of one negative review.”
Aren returned the cup to the saucer and leaned back, but she could see that he wasn’t relaxed. “There was a second review, wasn’t there?”
“Yes, a retraction. Apparently good ol’ Eaton Well was forced into giving the restaurant a second chance.”
“Was his second review fair?”
“I suppose,” she said with a shrug. “Still, I’d like to meet the man just so I could give that jerk a piece of my mind.”
“Jerk?”
“Well, in my mind he is. Why is it people have to be so cutting and heartless? The things he said were completely unnecessary. Do these writers honestly think they’re being witty? Don’t they realize people’s livelihoods are at stake?”
“I’m sure everything will work out in the end.”
“I hope so.”
To her surprise Aren ordered a dessert tray with small selections of a number of desserts. Lucie sampled a taste of a couple of the ones she thought sounded appealing—the banana cream cake and the raspberry sorbet. Both were adequate but nothing to rave about.
“Your desserts taste far better.”
She beamed with his praise and silently agreed with him. As it was she’d already said far too much about the food and the service. “Thank you.”
Aren paid the bill, which to Lucie’s way of thinking was outlandish for what they’d received. As they left the restaurant, he seemed more subdued than earlier. Perhaps, like her, his day had been long and he was tired. It was late and they both had to work in the morning.
“Tell you what,” she said as they strolled down the street. “Let me cook you a real dinner. This one was a disappointment and I’d like to treat you to one of my meals created especially for you.”
Aren glanced over at her and smiled. “I’m not turning this down.”
“Good. Would Sunday afternoon work for you?” Already her mind buzzed with ideas. Cooking was an emotional experience and Lucie found it easier to express her feelings through food than with words. Dinner would be her way of letting Aren know how much she enjoyed his company and how very grateful she was that they’d reconnected.
“Sunday will work out just fine.”
“Great. Come to my apartment about four … if that’s not too early.”
“It’s perfect.”
Aren stopped walking and signaled for a taxi.
“I had the most wonderful evening,” she said, knowing their time was about to come to an end. “Thank you, Aren, for everything.”
A cab pulled up to the curb. Aren opened the passenger door and Lucie instinctively rose on her tiptoes to kiss him. She’d waited a long time for this, wondering if the kiss she remembered on New Year’s nearly a year ago would measure up.
Aren gripped her by the shoulders and slanted his mouth over hers.
Oh, it was good, as good as she remembered, perhaps even better. She wanted to melt into his arms, and resisted the urge to wrap herself all around him, feet and hands, arms and legs.
“Hey, you two,” the cabbie called out, “I don’t have all night.”
Lucie tasted Aren’s reluctance as he gradually released her. “We’ll talk before Sunday, okay?”
“Of course.”
He looked so serious, even deeply troubled, but Lucie couldn’t imagine what it might be. The evening had been nearly perfect … other than the dinner, but that wasn’t Aren’s fault.
Once she was inside the cab, Aren stepped back and lifted his hand in farewell.
Pressing her fingers to her lips, she set her hand against the window as the cabbie drove off.
Aren stood patiently in line at the Starbucks, dreading having to face his sister. He didn’t need to wait long before Josie sashayed into the coffeehouse no more than five minutes after he arrived.
He purchased both their coffees.
“Hey, to what do I owe this?” she asked when he handed her the disposable cup.
Aren didn’t have an answer. He knew she was waiting to hear about his evening with Lucie, and it had been wonderful, better than he’d hoped. What troubled him was how angry Lucie was at Eaton Well and that original review. She hardly took into account the second review in which he’d praised her and highly recommended Heavenly Delights. It was almost as if the favorable review hadn’t counted.
They started walking toward the subway, their steps perfectly in tune with each other’s. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” she said, “tell me how it went with Lucie last night.”
“Great.”
“You don’t sound like it was great. Oh, Aren, don’t tell me, did she guess who you are?” Josie abruptly stopped, causing the people behind her to come to a halt and forcing them to walk around Josie and Aren, muttering as they passed by.
Aren was forced to stop, too. “No, but she talked plenty about the jerk who nearly destroyed their reputation with a bad review.”
“You didn’t tell her it was you, did you?” Josie demanded.
“I couldn’t.” He didn’t know how many times he needed to remind his sister he was under contract.
Josie tilted back her head and looked at the darkening sky as though the frustration was too much for her. “Oh, Aren, this isn’t good.”
He’d thought about nothing else all night. Lucie needed to know, and the longer he kept it a secret, the more difficult it would become for him once the truth came out.
They started walking again, fast approaching the subway station.
“What did Lucie say?” Josie pressed.
Aren shrugged as if he didn’t remember, although he did, almost every word. “She talked about Eaton Well and how mean and unfair he was. At one point she even said she’d like to meet him just so she could tell him off.”
“Oh boy.”
“Even if I could tell her I wouldn’t … not with everything going so well. She’s still so angry.”
“But you wrote a wonderful review later.”
“I mentioned that, but she brushed it off, discounting the article. She couldn’t talk about anything but the first review.”
“But Aren, you’ve got to find a way to let her know sooner or later.”
Aren didn’t need his sister to tell him that. He knew. “I agree.”
“You of all people know what it’s like to be deceived. I know it’s a risk, but it’s one you have to take.”
In theory Aren
couldn’t fault her logic. “I know what needs to be done, it’s just that … I don’t know how to do it and not break my agreement with the newspaper. Have you ever met someone you instantly clicked with? Lucie is smart and funny and intensely loyal and kind. She loves her family and her dog and you should see the way everyone at the restaurant feels about her and her mother. I don’t know when I’ve ever met a better group of people.”
“You’ve only been there twice.”
“I know, and it isn’t what they say, it’s how they all work together and support one another. That kind of camaraderie starts with management and works its way down. Lucie and her mother are destined to make Heavenly Delights a success. I can already see it.”
“All I can say is that you need to find a way to tell Lucie before this whole situation blows up in your face.”
Aren couldn’t put up a single argument. “She invited me to dinner at her apartment on Sunday.”
Josie took a swig of coffee and shook her head. “You’ve got to find a way before then.”
“But …”
“It’ll only get harder, the longer you put it off.”
Aren’s breath came out in foggy bursts in the cold. Snow had started to fall and while the signs of Christmas were all around him, he barely noticed.
“I’ll think of something,” he murmured, and he would.
Josie was right. He stood to lose both his job and Lucie, but it was a risk he had to take. “I’ll think of something.” It wouldn’t be easy but it simply had to be done.
“Call me when you come up with an idea.”
He promised he would even as the dread settled over him.
“Okay, now that that’s over with,” Josie continued as if she were glad to set aside the subject. “Tell me what happened at the play last night.”
Aren smiled at the memory. “Angels at Christmas was great, better than expected.”
“It’s been all over the news this morning, didn’t you hear?”
“Hear what?”
“Aren, good grief, you were there! You must have seen it.”
He felt totally perplexed; he didn’t have a clue what his sister was talking about.
“The actors were interviewed and they told this unbelievable story about how they were lifted two and three feet off the ground. They were reciting their lines the way they do every performance, and all of a sudden they were lifted off their feet and suspended in the air for several minutes.”
Of course Aren remembered. Lucie and he had talked about not being able to see the wires. “You mean that wasn’t part of the play?”
“No, and then another group of performers insisted someone else was singing with them. Actually more than one person.”
“The music was out of this world,” Aren agreed.
“Critics are saying it’s a publicity stunt and the actors insist it wasn’t. Everyone is talking about it on the radio this morning. And you know, I tend to agree with those critics. It sounds like some sort of publicity prank. I mean, how else do you explain that camel wandering down Broadway with trainers chasing after it?”
“The camel got loose?” Aren hadn’t heard a word about any of this.
“Honestly, Aren, you’ve got to get your head out of the clouds. This thing with Lucie is muddling up your brain.”
His brain was more than messed up. All he could think about was Lucie and how afraid he was of losing her again so soon after they’d found each other. That morning he’d turned on the radio but his thoughts had been wrapped around Lucie, and apparently he hadn’t been listening.
They parted soon afterward. Josie went in one direction and he took off in another.
Aren spent the better part of the day writing the review on his experience at the restaurant. Then, because he’d been at the play the night before, he was asked to write a short piece about what he saw and his own interpretation of the strange events from the night before, which was scheduled to run in that evening’s issue. The restaurant review took more time. He deliberately placed Lucie’s comments from the dinner as part of the piece. Once she read the article written by Eaton Well she’d know who he was and then they could talk freely. If she hated him, well, it would be a clean break before his heart was even more heavily involved. When he handed in his article, the feedback was positive.
From the office he caught the subway to Brooklyn. The sky was dark; snow had fallen intermittently all day so that a soft layer of white covered the landscape. Schoolchildren were out and about and Aren counted several snowmen as he walked to Heavenly Delights. Under normal circumstances he would have taken a cab, but he wanted to clear his head.
The restaurant had been open only a few minutes when he arrived. Wendy Ferrara’s face broke into a brilliant smile the instant Aren stepped into the restaurant.
“Aren, how good to see you.” She greeted him like family with a kiss on the cheek. “Lucie had such a wonderful time last evening; it was all she could talk about this morning.”
“I had a great time myself.”
“Here, sit down. I’ll get you a hot cup of coffee. It’s freezing out there and you’re half frozen.” She led the way to a table.
Before Aren could protest, Wendy was off to the kitchen.
Having no choice, Aren sat down and looked around. The restaurant had been decorated for the holidays since his last visit. Each table held a sprig of holly around the base of a thick round candle and was set with green and red linen napkins. A swag of silver tinsel surrounded the hostess desk and two glass ornaments dangled across the front with Wendy and Lucie’s names printed on them. Another glittery swag was draped across the length of windows with identical ornaments with the employees’ names written for all to read.
Wendy returned a moment later, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. Aren would gladly have gone without it, but she was right, he was cold.
“I hope you don’t mind but Lucie had to step out for a quick errand. She should only be a few minutes. I apologize, she must have forgotten you were stopping by.”
“She didn’t know … it was a spur-of-the-moment decision.”
“Ah, that explains it. She’s quite taken with you, you know,” Wendy told him.
Hearing that was like listening to those incredible singing voices at the play all over again. His sister was right. What happened at the show was all over the news. Once word got out that he’d attended, Aren lost count of the number of people who stopped by his cubicle to ask about it. He wished he’d paid more attention. At the time, the antics of the angels had all seemed so natural, as if it was intentional. People get elevated on stage all the time. Good grief, Spider-Man darted all over the audience from one side of the theater to the other and no one had made much of a fuss about that. But then the wires were clearly visible.
“I think the world of Lucie, too.”
“Can I get you anything to eat?” Wendy asked.
“No thanks. I stopped by to have a quick word with Lucie and then I need to go.”
“Then I’ll pack up a dinner for you to take with you.”
Aren raised his hand in protest. “Please, Mrs. Ferrara, that won’t be necessary.”
“Nonsense. I won’t take no for an answer.”
Before he could protest further, Wendy disappeared inside the kitchen. When she returned she brought out a large paper bag. If the size of the container was any indication, he’d have enough food for a week.
“I phoned Lucie and she’s on her way. She asked me to keep you here no matter what.”
Aren had no real reason for his visit other than the need to see Lucie again and the fear he was about to lose her.
“What’s going to happen?” Will asked. He frowned with concern almost as if he knew in advance what was about to take place. “When Lucie learns Aren wrote the negative review, she’s going to be terribly upset.”
“I’d be upset, too,” Shirley agreed. “There simply must be something we can do to help. I don’t understand why Aren insists on ruin
ing such a promising relationship.”
“We can’t interfere,” Goodness insisted, regarding the others. “Gabriel wouldn’t like it.”
“He wouldn’t like you absconding with a camel either, but that didn’t stop you from pilfering it right off the stage,” Mercy reminded her dearest friend.
Goodness had the good grace to look more than a little chagrined. “That was a momentary slip in judgment. Has … anyone heard from Gabriel yet?”
“No, and kindly lower your voice before he does hear.”
Mercy did a rapid three-sixty, certain Gabriel would appear at any moment and banish them from Earth forever.
“I say we keep our shenanigans to ourselves for now.”
“If we can,” Goodness whispered, and glanced over her shoulder.
“What about Aren and Lucie?” Will persisted, sitting impatiently in a corner of the restaurant. “What’s going to happen?” He flittered about the room, revealing his nervousness.
“We won’t know until later when she reads the article,” Mercy explained. She worried about the young couple as much as Will, but the future was held in God’s hands.
The three of them plus Will hovered above the restaurant, waiting for Lucie to arrive. Mercy noticed that the tables filled up fast. When Lucie rushed into the kitchen, she was immediately inundated with meal orders.
“Is Aren going to talk to her?” Will asked.
“It looks like he wants to try,” Mercy said, closely watching the scene as it unfolded with Aren in the kitchen with Lucie.
——
Aren followed Lucie all around the busy kitchen. He had trouble keeping up with her. He found it amazing she could accomplish as much as she did in such a compressed space, especially with two other workers darting this way and that.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, swirling fresh sliced mushrooms around a pan over the gas-fired stove. She paused just long enough to smile over at him. “I loved every minute of our night. Thank you again for everything.”
Dismissing her gratitude, he drew in a deep breath and said, “I know this isn’t the best time.” The words were barely out of his mouth when Lucie abruptly turned and opened the refrigerator. He jerked out of her way as she grabbed what she needed and returned to the stove. “I hoped we might have a few minutes to chat.” He intended to mention the piece he wrote and ask her not to read it until they’d had a chance to be together.
Angels at the Table: A Shirley, Goodness, and Mercy Christmas Story Page 9