Page 33 of Christmas Promises

“Please do,” Laney said, leaning forward.

“Accompanying the prosecco is a savory puff pastry filled with ricotta, spinach, and a hint of nutmeg—a delicate and warm bite to start your evening. As you know, tonight’s menu is a fixed course, carefully curated by Mia to reflect her family’s culinary traditions. First, we have an antipasto of marinated artichokes, prosciutto, and fresh mozzarella, paired with a crisp pinot grigio. The second course is linguini with clams in a white wine sauce, accompanied by a light and refreshing vermentino. For the main course, a tender braised lamb shank accompanied by roasted root vegetables will be enjoyed with a robust Chianti. And to conclude, a serving of Mia’s signature tiramisu, complemented by a sweet Moscato d’Asti."

Laney’s eyes sparkled. “What a treat this is. Thank you, Remi.”

“Our goal is to exceed your expectations in every way.” Remi smiled, clearly as charmed by Laney as Nolan was. "I shall bring the antipasto shortly. Should you require anything else, do not hesitate to ask. I aim to make this an evening you’ll never forget.”

As Remi walked away, Nolan raised his glass of prosecco. "Thank you for the pleasure of your company.”

Laney hesitated for just a moment before clinking her glass against his. "To first dates. Or the first as adults anyway.”

“We didn’t really date, did we? More like hanging out every free second we had.”

“Wasn’t it the best?”

“It was,” Nolan said. “In every way.”

They each lifted the savory puff pastry to their mouths. Nolan actually groaned with pleasure as the crisp, flaky crust melted in his mouth, giving way to a warm filling of creamy ricotta and spinach, with a hint of nutmeg adding depth.

"This is heavenly. It’s simple, but the flavors are so balanced. Perfect with this.” She lifted her glass before taking a sip.

“That might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Nolan drank from his glass, savoring the tickle of the bubbles and tart flavor. “They must be hard to make?”

“The pastry is but not the filling.”

“That was a rhetorical question.” He laughed. “But I forgot you’re an expert.”

“Not really. But I do love food. My mother hates that about me.”

“No, that can’t be true.”

“Hatemight be a strong word, but she’s always on me about my weight.”

“From what I can see, you’re just right.”

She flushed and shook her glossy head of hair. “You’re sweet to say so, but as my mother would say, ‘There’s room for improvement’. It’s just that I prefer to eat and read over counting calories and exercising.”

“Who doesn’t?”

Remi brought out the antipasto, a beautifully arranged plate of marinated artichokes, prosciutto, and fresh mozzarella. As Laney took a bite of the artichoke, she closed her eyes for a moment. "The marinade is perfect—just the right balance of tangy and savory."

Nolan nodded, enjoying the creaminess of the mozzarella paired with the salty prosciutto. “Delicious.”

Laney dabbed her lips with her napkin. “This is bringing back memories of my time in Italy.”

Nolan raised his eyebrows, intrigued. “When was that?”

"I spent a summer there—taking culinary classes. I learned from an Italian chef who insisted everything be made from scratch. I was in heaven.”

He tilted his head, observing her. The woman sitting across from him was an artist, curious and sensitive. She might just possibly be the perfect woman for him.

Remi returned, placing the linguini with clams before them, the steam rising in fragrant curls of white wine and garlic. The briny aroma of the clams mixed with the richness of the sauce made Nolan’s mouth water.

“Parmesan?” Remi asked.

They both nodded. Remi stepped over to the service station near the door to the kitchen and promptly returned to grind fresh Parmesan on their dishes of pasta.

Laney twirled linguini on her fork, her eyes lighting up after the first bite. “I can taste the sea. It brings back memories of the Mediterranean. The color of the water is not exaggerated. It might be the prettiest shade of blue there is.”

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