Page 17 of The Sweetest Season
He liked that.
In fact, Noel liked everything she made, and told her that he was beginning to suspect that she was using magic.“Nothing can taste this good without some sort of supernatural aid,” he said.
“It’s not supernatural,” she chided him.“It’s French.I spent nearly a decade there.Not just baking, but other cooking as well.Someday I’ll serve you my blanquette de veau.After years in the kitchen, I was bound to learn something.”
“I agree.You learned magic.”
“Not any more magical than your paintings.If you handed me a brush and a box of paints, I’d only make a mess.You can create scenes that I want to step into, or things I could swear I could reach out and pick up.”
He looked away, embarrassed.“Only because I spent years at it.”
Beatrice put her hand on his arm.“Precisely.”
Her gesture brought her close to Noel, and he put his hand on her own.“So you’re recommending perseverance?”he asked.
“I, ah…” Beatrice faltered as she found herself looking directly into his eyes.“In the realm of painting, and baking, yes.”
He smiled a bit.“In no other realm?”
“I’m not qualified to say.”Why did he look so…delectable…when he smiled like that?She fought a sudden urge to laugh.
“I think it’s time I tell you what I truly want, Miss Holliday.”
“Yes?”she asked, her breath hitching.
“Honey.Your challenge for next time is honey.”He stepped away from her.“And you should tell me what to do.”
“I should?”she asked faintly.There wereso many thingsshe’d like him to do.
“Yes.My assignment, for painting.”
“Oh.”She was far too distracted to think clearly.“You should paint…something you can’t see.”
“Challenging, indeed.”He wrapped up the painting on the table and tucked it under his arm.“Till next week, Miss Holliday.”
“I look forward to it, Mr Forrest.”
“Not as much as I do.”
When he left, Beatrice leaned back against the wall.The heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with the oven.
* * * *
The next day, Beatrice waited for Noel to arrive.She could scarcely work, she was so eager to see him.She was becoming quite unreasonable about him, and hoped she wasn’t making a fool of herself.
Noel appeared on time, though he looked a bit distracted.“Unfortunately, I can’t stay,” he said.“I have to continue on down to the river and catch my ship before it sails.”
“Where are you going?”
“I am going to New Jersey again, which means, of course, that Mr Marley is remaining here.But north, so I can’t simply cross to Cooper’s Ferry and be done with it.Trust me, missing whatever you’ve made is going to haunt me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”Beatrice sensed a distance in Noel’s attitude, very different from his usual demeanor.
“But I wanted to be absolutely clear about what I want for next week,” he went on.
“You’re always quite clear,” Beatrice said, masking her disappointment that he couldn’t stay now.
“Next week is important,” Noel began.“I’m having a small Christmas Eve dinner, you see.What you contribute will be the most important part.”
