Page 16 of Christmas Treasures

Why were his eyes so sad suddenly?

“I’ve not experienced that,” Charlie said, turning her attention to the charcuterie board, stretched across a long slab of reclaimed wood. Her mouth watered. This wasn’t just a pile of salami and cheese like most people slapped together for a dinner party.

Thin ribbons of prosciutto curled like flower petals beside peppered coppa and maple-glazed ham. There were wedges of white and orange cheddar, triple-crème Brie, Robiola, Rogue River Blue, and a soft round of goat cheese dusted with herbes de Provence. And so many crackers—fig-studded, rosemary-laced, sea salt flatbread crisps, seeded multigrain wafers. Someone had taken the time to toast crostini to golden perfection and arrange them in a gentle fan. Pickled vegetables nestled in a small stoneware bowl—carrot ribbons, pearl onions, maybe even fennel. Dried apricots glowed like little suns between piles of Marcona almonds and green olives so plump and glossy she could smell the brine from five feet away.

There was honey, too—dark and viscous, pooling in a ramekin.

“This is a work of art,” Charlie murmured.

“Thanks. I did it myself.” Max grinned, clearly pleased with himself.

“You?”

“Why not me?”

“Well, don’t look hurt. I just didn’t know you had this much attention to detail,” Charlie said.

“Only when it comes to food. My ADHD and dyslexia keep me from applying it to all aspects of my life.”

She had no idea what to say to that. Fortunately, Laney came bustling up, carrying several more bottles of wine. “Max, you were right about the wine. It’s a huge hit.”

“I have few talents, but picking wine is one of them.” Max poured a glass and handed it to Charlie. “Do you like Italianwines? I brought a few from my own stash. This is a Super Tuscan. One of my favorites. I made it a mission while I was in Italy to learn as much as I could about the food and wine of the different regions.”

“How strange that you mention that.” Laney’s eyes sparkled. “Charlie was just telling me she spent some time in Italy. Right before she moved here.”

Max’s eyebrows raised. “Really?”

Someone caught Laney’s attention, and she excused herself again, leaving Charlie alone with a glass of red wine in her hand and Max Hayes for company. What should she say to him? Wine. They could talk about wine.

“Tell me about this?” Charlie asked, indicating the bottle he’d just poured from.

His eyes lit up. “It’s a Super Tuscan—Tignanello. Perfect balance of structure and soul. Dark fruit, a little leather, and that classic Tuscan dustiness. It’s bold, but not arrogant. Did you have time to check out any of the Italian wines while you were there?”

“Yes, I enjoyed my share of good wine while I was there,” Charlie said. “I wouldn’t say I was an expert, but I enjoy learning.”

“How long were you in Italy?”

“About six months. My father was Italian,” Charlie said. “After I sold my company, I decided to travel to some of the places he’d been as a child. I grew up hearing stories.”

“Ah, so that’s part of the reason for the pizza restaurant, huh?” Max poured another glass of wine, this time for himself. He swirled it around the goblet, waiting for her to answer.

“That’s part of what factored into the decision, yes.” Charlie sipped from her glass. “This is really nice.”

“I’m glad you like it. Maybe I should hide the bottle so we don’t have to share.”

“As long as it’s not my cheese.” She smiled to let him know she was kidding. “Cheese-gate has now been concluded.”

“Cheese-gate.” He threw back his head, laughing. “As long as you didn’t call the newspaper and have a full investigation launched against me.”

“I already told you I overreacted. And I feel bad.”

He lifted his glass. “Good. I’m glad we can make up and be friends. Happy holidays.”

She deflated.Christmas. “Right. Merry merry and all that.”

“You have a beef against Christmas?”

“No, not really. I just don’t particularly care for the month of December.” The drink she’d had earlier had already gone to her head. She felt lighter, wittier. And Max Hayes was much too handsome for anyone’s good. Mostly hers.

---