Nora took a deep breath and turned to us with a smile so forced, both Mal and I sat back. “Can I interest either of you in an amuse bouche?”
“Nor,” I dropped my voice and leaned forward. “You don’t have to keep doing all this in French-.”
“No, Nick. That’s actually English,” Malcom corrected. “Well, French-slash-English. It’s a mini-bite meant to tease our appetite, and yes, we’ll take whatever the chef is preparing this evening.”
Nora gave me an evil glare before walking away and I shook my head. “She’s trying too hard.”
“Yes, she is,” Malcom agreed. “I find it absolutely delightful, but she’s giving Jolie a fit.”
“Who needs a minor in French anyway?” I grumbled.
“Someone, I imagine, with dreams beyond their small town.”
That didn’t sit right. She’d been so excited about college, but she’d never pretended that she wasn’t planning on coming back. To Calico Cove. To her family. To me.
“So, what looks good to you?” I asked, holding up the big menu to cover what felt like a flush across my whole body.
“Nick, why do I feel like you’re hiding something?”
I wore my best poker face when I looked up. “What would I have to hide?”
His eyes narrowed, but he slowly shook his head. “I wouldn’t know,” he said and went back to looking at the menu. Then he laughed as he closed it. “I don’t know why I’m looking at this,Jolie’s going to serve me what she thinks I’ll like best. I’m ten years older than her but she is older and wiser by far. Did you know that?”
“Huh?” I hadn’t been paying attention. Petite III was the kind of restaurant that had one of those open kitchens, so I was watching Nora get into an argument with the line cook as he pushed the plates onto the counter to be served. I did not like the look on that guy’s face as he talked to Nora. Like she was a problem. If he was being disrespectful to her I was going to have words.
“Interesting,” Mal said.
She must have won the argument, because the cook was redoing one of the plates. I turned my attention back to Mal. “Sorry, what’s interesting?”
Mal grinned, the scars lifting near his mouth. When he first moved to town everyone called him The Beast of Calico Cove and avoided him. Jolie came along and changed all that. “I was just making the comment that my wife is ten years younger than I am, but infinitely wiser.”
“Really,” I said. Had I known there was that much of an age gap between Mal and Jolie? Never really thought about it much. Antony and Birdie were about the same. Ten years. Didn’t seem like that big of a deal between them.
“Voila!C’est magnifique.” Nora set two small plates in front of us. She was flushed and her hair was coming out of her ponytail.
“One of the chefs giving you trouble?” I asked her, as I looked at what appeared to be a fancy deviled egg.
“He tops the eggs with an olive,” she said. “I told him to take it off.”
“Ooh,” Mal crooned. “Never tell a chef what to do with food. I’ve learned that the hard way.”
“Nick despises olives,” Nor said.
Just as I said, “I hate olives.”
Mal looked between the two of us, his eyes sparkling in the candlelight. The guy looked like he had another secret. “Interesting.”
“Anyway. Bon appetite,” she said and lifted her arms and nearly smacked a server coming up behind her. He glared at her and she winced.
Mal popped the egg into his mouth and closed his eyes, very much enjoying his wife’s creation. “Delicious. As always.”
“Mal,” Nora said. “I keep asking Jolie if the restaurant gets its name from Bon Appetit, but she won’t answer. What’s the story there?”
“No stories,” Rebecca hissed as she crossed behind Nora.
“Ignore her,” Nora said.
“No, that’s not where it comes from, my dear. Once upon a time I was a frightful beast of a man and I liked to tease my then housekeeper by mispronouncing her name. Petite III is an homage to how we fell in love.”
