‘Are we eating in the dining room?’ Paul asked.
Peggy almost snarled, ‘No, Mr Ferrier wants to in eat in the kitchen.’ She spoke as though he’d said he wanted to eat in a pigsty. ‘I will move the place settings in here though the fine china will look out of place.’
‘Don’t worry about it. We can put it away,’ said Marc. ‘You head home – it’s dark. Please.’
Peggy went to the hook by the back door and took down her coat.
‘I can stay if you need me,’ she suggested.
‘It’s fine, head home.’ Marc hoped his words were firm but not mean.
She nodded at his instruction. ‘Goodnight, Mr Ferrier, Mr Abraham, Mr Salter, Master Seth and Master Ethan. And to you, Cook.’
She closed the kitchen door and Marc let out a sigh of relief.
‘She is truly something else,’ he said as he went to the wine fridge and opened it, searching for the one he wanted and then grabbing it. ‘Like a scary housekeeper in a horror film.’
He uncorked a bottle of wine and started to open and close cupboards randomly.
‘Speaking of horror films, stop with the cupboards,’ said Adam. ‘What are you looking for?
‘Wine glasses,’ he said.
‘Butler’s pantry, right-hand side, long cupboards,’ said Christa as she tossed a salad.
‘How do you know this after an afternoon here and I’m still searching after owning this place for several years?’
Christa smiled at him. ‘It’s my job,’ she said. He felt a tug of interest in her and it was foreign but also pleasant. He was glad he had decided to eat with the boys.
‘Boys, set the table for us. We’re eating in here tonight.’
He saw Adam and Paul glance at each other. ‘Don’t share looks. It’s lovely in here and smells incredible,’ he said.
Seth and Ethan rushed to get cutlery and plates, while Paul found placemats and napkins.
Adam was putting out wine glasses and Christa was whisking egg yolks.
It was a hive of industry and Marc felt something he hadn’t felt before.
Contentment.
‘It’s funny how a kitchen can create an instant atmosphere,’ he said to Christa as he opened the wine.
‘The kitchen is the heart of everything, in every culture, at any time. Food brings people together,’ she said to him as she pan-fried some bacon pieces in a pan, the spitting of the fat not fazing her for a moment.
‘Do you mind us eating in here?’ he asked, aware that he might be encroaching on her space.
‘Not at all – it’s nice to have some company,’ she said and he noticed the blue of her eyes.
He opened the wine and poured a glass for himself, Adam and Paul.
‘Would you like to join us for one?’ he said, wondering if that was okay. In San Francisco he never ate or drank with the staff but this felt more intimate and right, since they were in her space.
Christa looked at him. ‘I don’t drink when I’m working but thank you.’
She plated up the pasta onto three dishes and then carried them to the table.
‘Where is your dinner?’ he asked.
