Page 19 of Christmas Wishes at Pudding Hall
‘Oh, I’ll get something later.’
‘There is more in the pan,’ he said to her. ‘I won’t take no as an answer. Please.’
Christa sighed. ‘Okay, I shouldn’t do this really, but it’s been a day, you know?’
Marc laughed. ‘I don’t think you saw the best of me any of the times we crossed paths today. I’m sorry about that.’
She shrugged. ‘I try not to make snap judgements of people.’
‘Really? I do but it’s something I’m working on,’ he admitted, wondering if the wine was actually truth serum.
He held out his hand. ‘Can we start again? Marc Ferrier.’
She took his hand in hers. ‘Christa Playfoot.’
‘Pleased to meet you. Now have some wine and let’s eat this incredible-looking meal.’
Marc sat at the head of the table as Christa placed down a leafy green salad and bread, while the boys carried their burgers to the table and sat down opposite Adam and Paul.
Christa sat at the end of the table, with her plate of pasta in front of her, looking awkward.
‘Dad, we made the pasta. Try it, try it,’ Seth said excitedly.
Marc took a mouthful. The yolky sauce tasted like a dream and the salt of the bacon cut through the richness, creating a symphony of flavour in his mouth. The pasta was the perfect texture and al dente. He looked up at the twins.
‘This is unbelievably good.’
The boys smiled with pride and he felt a stab of guilt for yelling at them earlier.
He looked at Christa at the other end of the table. ‘So it seems you are a chef and not a cook.’
Christa gave him a wry smile.
‘My degree and work pedigree would agree with you but thanks for confirming.’
‘Was I being condescending then?’ he asked. ‘Oh God I was. I was trying to be funny.’
Christa said nothing as she ate.
Marc laughed but it sounded false to his own ears.Try harder, he thought and he turned to Adam and Paul. ‘I apologised to Christa for being an absolute idiot today. I’m surprised she’s stayed here.’ He looked at Christa. ‘But after seeing what you have taught the boys, you can stay forever.’ He laughed and everyone joined in, not because he was funny – he was self-aware enough to know that – but because he had apologised. That was something he was trying to improve in his life. When you were rich, not many people expected apologies. But when you were a billionaire, you were told never to say sorry for anything because you could buy forgiveness. Christa looked at him for longer than he felt comfortable with and he worried she could see through him. She returned her focus to the food on her plate and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she impressed by him? Did she dislike him? Did she think he was rude? Arrogant? Probably all of the above, he thought, wishing he could start everything again.
He watched the boys eat their burgers, which looked incredible, while Paul chatted with Christa about her restaurant and a mutual friend they had.
‘Good idea on the chef,’ he whispered to Adam.
‘She’s pretty great,’ answered Adam. ‘The boys love her, which is no easy feat. Although this pasta is so good I will be up a pants size if she keep this up.’
‘Don’t bring your California food anxiety here; it’s a holiday and this food is incredible.’
Marc watched the boys listening to Christa talk and noted the way she included them in the chatter.
She was a natural with kids, he thought as she switched easily from talking to them and then Paul and back again. She offered bread and salad and cut the boys’ burgers in half to make it easier for them to eat but she didn’t look at him unless he asked her a question or spoke directly to her.
The discomfort of her dismissing him made him realise something. This is how he made her feel, he thought, and he hated himself. He needed to think before speaking, he reminded himself but he wanted her to know he recognised her work with the dinner and with the boys.
He raised his glass and held it up to the room.
‘To Christa, our chef and pasta queen! And wrangler of recalcitrant people of all sizes. May you never leave Pudding Hall!’
