“That’s really too bad, Mama. I’ll get your coat.”
The next time she saw Alexei’s mother the woman had her coat on and had come to say goodbye. “I am having dinner with Matthew and Rose,” she said. “To celebrate the engagement. But, of course, we will have a proper engagement party in our home to welcome your sister into our family.” She touched Marguerite on the shoulder. “You must come. Alexei will bring you.”
It didn’t feel so much like an invitation as an order. But still, as they cheek kissed, she said, “Thank you. Enjoy your evening.”
She then issued Alexei a spate of instructions that ended with her calling him Beautiful Boy and giving him resounding kisses on either cheek. After she left, he turned to Marguerite and shook his head. “I am so sorry about that.”
“Don’t be.” She struck a pose. “She likes this one.”
He laughed, as she’d meant him to. And surprised her by saying, “My mother may be a pain in the ass but she has good taste in women.”
Since she didn’t know how to respond, she asked, “Can I have a tour of your house?”
“Sure. Absolutely.” He gestured around the small living room. “As you can see, it’s a work in progress.” As she glanced around, she understood what he meant. He’d removed all the old brick from the fireplace but hadn’t put in a new front yet. The sills of the charming old windows had been stripped and awaited new paint. But he clearly used the room. A few pieces of dark leather furniture dotted the room, and a flat screen hung above the wall where one day the new fireplace would be. Mentally, she replaced the furniture with something more contemporary and more comfortable, added some throw cushions and tried a few of her favorite colors on the beige walls. She liked the images her imagination was spitting out. “This room will be charming,” she said.
As though he’d correctly read her unexpressed thoughts, he said, “I put all my extra time and money into the kitchen. Come, see.”
He took her hand and led her out of the living room and down the short hallway toward the tantalizing aroma of cooking food.
“Ah,” she said, understanding immediately that he really had put all his resources into this room. The kitchen was sleek and efficient as well as being intimate somehow. She felt its utility, from the pots hanging from the pot rack above the six burner gas range, to the stone counter tops, and industrial fridge, but the kitchen was also warm and homey. Corner shelves held pieces of brightly painted Greek pottery. A small eating area contained a round table set for two. When she looked at it, he said, “The house has a dining room, if you prefer, but I thought we’d eat in here. I can show you what I’m doing while I cook and we can talk about the book.”
“That’s perfect.” Behind the small table was a set of French doors that led out into a garden. As she headed toward them and pressed her nose against the glass he reached behind her and flipped a switch illuminating his backyard. “This must be so beautiful in the summer,” she said.
She could see an enormous lavender bush so bounteous she could almost smell the fragrance from inside the kitchen. The dark spiky leaves of rosemary reached skyward and he even had a potted bay tree close to his backdoor, like the olive trees at the front, sheltered from the elements. She suspected that during a really bad winter he’d lose it, but from the size of the tree, this one had already been growing for a few years quite happily. Naturally, in her mind’s eye, she turned half of the lawn area into vegetable beds to complement his herb garden. The rock wall would be a beautiful spot for some raspberry canes.
When she turned back into the room she found him looking at her in some amusement. “What?”
He said, “You were planning vegetable beds out there, weren’t you?”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “Busted. I can’t help myself. I see arable land and I want to put beautiful fruit and vegetables on it.”
“I bet you’ll inspire all kinds of people to do the same thing.” He moved to stir a delicious-smelling pot on the stove. “I really wanted to cook for you myself but I can’t lie to you. My mother’s been interfering since the moment she got here. It’s not me who is going to be feeding you tonight, it’s my mother.”
“That’s okay. I bet she taught you everything you know.”
He sent her an enigmatic glance. “Not everything.”
