There were plenty of days I’d have been willing to give retirement a try, even at my young age. “It’s different, though, being mortal. Let’s say we’re lucky and we make it to eighty or ninety years old. By the time you’ve worked for forty years or so, how bad would it be to get the other twenty off?”

  “You must ask William and Olivia. They’re both in a position where they could choose idleness over work, and in both cases, they choose work.” The way he said idleness made it clear what he thought of retirement. Or at least early retirement.

  “So your system is that the William Thresher of the day fathers the William Thresher of tomorrow, and when that young man reaches a certain age, the dad gets to retire.”

  “It’s a fluid proposition but essentially, yes.”

  “I guess it’s not that different from my grandmother leaving me her wool shop after she passed.” But did I really want to have a daughter just so I could pass on my business to her? What if she turned out to be a worse knitter than I was? If that was even possible.

  Maybe she’d want to be a ballerina or a scientist, something other than a shopkeeper in Oxford. Still, I could see that my little world was very different from Rafe’s.

  “And William obviously has a side business that he loves.”

  “He does.”

  “Violet’s going to be working for him on Saturday. Maybe she’ll meet a rich guy. We both know she’ll be working with one.”

  He held up an admonishing finger. “Lucy. Even though I’ve been careful not to answer your questions, I would still appreciate your discretion, especially where your cousin Violet is concerned. And most especially where Violet and William are concerned. We live peaceably here because we keep such a low profile.”

  How did he do it? He couldn’t have seen William and Violet together very often and yet he’d nosed out their possible infatuation.

  I felt awful then. “You know I’d never tell anyone. Violet’s my cousin but maybe not the most discreet woman in Oxford. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I have a vested interest in you and William being safe too, you know.”

  His eyes glinted when he smiled. “I’m very glad to hear it.”

  I wanted to ask whether he suspected a fondness between Vi and William. It seemed as though he did, but I decided to keep my suspicions to myself. First, because that’s all I had, a suspicion that they liked each other. If Violet was hanging out on Witch Date, then they obviously hadn’t taken the attraction anywhere. I kind of hoped it fizzled out. I wasn’t sure Violet was the right wife for William, and I was almost positive Rafe would hate the idea of Violet and William as a couple. Much better for me to let things take their course. Maybe Forest Sprite had already swept Mistress Moon off her feet.

  “And now, shall we go in to dinner and see what William has prepared for you?”

  “Can’t wait. I’m starving.”

  William never let me down. Tonight’s dinner was as much theater as food. Each course was presented in such an unusual way that I wanted to hang the plates on the walls, as they seemed too pretty to eat.

  From tiny, perfect pastry parcels of an indescribably delicious duck filling, served on tiny bare tree branches, to a salad of local greens to lamb chops with a fig glaze and swirls of green mousse and tiny, perfect vegetables, I was kept in rapture.

  Rafe poured the wines, a different one for each course. He even tasted my meal, though he seemed to take more pleasure in watching me eat and hearing my rave reviews.

  “Olivia, this is fabulous,” I said when she came to clear away my embarrassingly empty plate. “I’ve never tasted a meal so flavorful.”

  Even though she hadn’t cooked it, I felt like I should give her the compliment by proxy and hope that she remembered to pass it on to William. But to my great delight, I’d managed to compliment her without even realizing it. She smiled at me, looking happier than she had since I’d stepped into the manor house this evening.

  “Thank you, Lucy. I grew all those vegetables myself. They’re all from the estate.”

  I smiled at her. “So you’re William’s secret weapon. As he always tells me, a great chef starts with great ingredients.”

  She laughed. “I’m sure he’s never said any such thing. William is convinced his talent is a kind of magic.”

  “Well, I know from magic, and ingredients matter.”

  “Do you have room for dessert?”

  The way she said it, I knew dessert was going to be something I would not be able to turn down. Still, I didn’t want to be too easy. “Depends what it is.”

  “Pear tart served with stem ginger ice cream.”

  “And a very nice Madeira to go with it,” Rafe added.

  “The pears came from our trees. I tasted some myself earlier. It really is quite delicious.”

  “Sold.”

  And so I ended my work day with a meal that would have costs hundreds of pounds in a top London restaurant.

  When William came out to ask my opinion on each course, I was able to tell him that I’d enjoyed every perfect bite.

  “No criticism at all?”

  “Maybe you could make the portions bigger.”

  Chapter 4

  It was midmorning the next day, and I’d decided to take the morning off so I could get ahead on my knitting. We weren’t very busy in the shop, and if I was there, I’d be doing computer work, which I could just as well do here at Rafe’s manor house without having Violet sneak off for extra breaks because she knew I was on the premises.

  Rafe was in his office translating the alchemy book, and I was in the living room, where a cozy fire popped and sighed as though commiserating with me as I struggled to make sense of the herringbone rug pattern. It shouldn’t be this difficult. I was college-educated, surrounded by wonderful knitters. But I was trying to learn a new stitch that involved knitting two together and dropping one, purling two together and dropping one, which had sounded so much easier when I read it and wasn’t so easy when I tried to do it. On top of that, I was trying to make sense of the rug pattern. As I looked down at the instructions, I began to feel the way I used to in an algebra exam when all I saw were marks on a paper that didn’t make any sense.

  When William walked in, I’d never been so glad to see anyone in my life. “Tell me you know how to knit,” I said the minute I saw him.

  He shook his head. “Sorry.” When he looked at the mess in my lap, he must have realized I didn’t know how either. He looked almost embarrassed. “Lucy, could I get your help with something in the kitchen?”

  William was calm and unflappable and knew his work better than anyone. What could he possibly need me for? Still, I didn’t care if he wanted me to scrub out the fridge. It was better than trying to figure out this mess I’d made. I got to my feet, happily abandoning my knitting. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’m meeting with the people who hired me for Saturday’s dinner. They’re very particular. They’ve come around to go over the menu, and I thought it might help if I told them that I’d already cooked everything for you and you were satisfied.”

  “Satisfied? Try died and gone to heaven.”

  “I offered to cook the whole thing again for them, but they don’t have time.”

  They already sounded like difficult clients to me. “Are you sure it’s worth your time? Why don’t you blow them off? Tell them to call Gordon Ramsay. I’m sure he’ll change his menu around because they say so.”

  He smiled at my brutal suggestion. “I might consider it, but one of them is my personal financial advisor.” He made a funny face. “I don’t want to get on the wrong side of the woman who handles my money.”

  I laughed. “Definitely not. One bad meal and your net worth could drop by ten percent.”

  I was joking, but he looked absolutely horrified at the suggestion. If I lost ten percent of my net worth, I wouldn’t be thrilled, but truth was it wouldn’t be that much money. William’s position was obviously different.

  I followed him into the big kitchen that was his domain. He could have held a meeting in his own house on the property or even Rafe’s fancy dining room, but I imagined he’d chosen this kitchen because it was so professional. It was clear that a serious chef worked here.

  He had the menu laid out on the marble work surface, a computer open, and two people stood gazing at the menu pages. One of them had a Montblanc pen in her hand, and it looked like she was making changes.

  William was an artist. When he put together a meal, it was complete. I got the feeling in my chest like she’d taken a paintbrush to a Picasso and was trying to improve it. No wonder William looked so uncharacteristically shaken up.

  He brought me in and said, “I’d like to introduce you to Lucy Swift. I cooked the entire meal for Lucy. She’s got a very good palate, so I often test menus on her.” What a diplomatic way to say I loved to eat.

  The two people looked up from their low-voiced conversation. The woman holding the Montblanc pen was introduced as Jemima Taft. She held out a hand to shake mine. A tennis bracelet glinted with diamonds, and her fingers were perfectly manicured. “Pleasure to meet you,” she said in one of those posh, well-bred voices. She was an attractive woman about my age with blond, artfully streaked hair so silky and straight that it must have cost a fortune. Everything about her was sleek and expensive. Nobody got that accent in England going to a regular school. Hers spoke of ponies and boarding school and privilege. Her clothing was understated, but I recognized the cashmere in her sweater and the discreet designer logo on her handbag.

  The man beside her was Nico Marino. He had wavy, black hair combed back off his face, a thin face with a sharp nose and deep-set, very dark eyes.

  Where she seemed calm and controlled, he was all energy barely contained. He looked like he should be in a Lamborghini racing down the Amalfi Coast.

  “It’s very important that everything be perfect,” Jemima said. I got the feeling it wasn’t the first time.

  William was too nice for this. He didn’t need to do these dinners and catered events. He did it for the love of cooking and making people happy through perfect combinations of flavors offered in a convivial setting. This woman might handle his finances, but she sure didn’t know how to handle him.

  I said, “William cooked me that whole meal. I can’t even tell you how fabulous it was.” I smiled at him. “One of the best things about being a frequent visitor to Crosyer Manor is that I get to be William’s guinea pig.”

  She glanced at Nico and then back at me. “I wish we had time to sample everything. But unfortunately we don’t.” She tapped the printed menu with her pen. “I’m worried about the combination of pear and ginger. You didn’t find it too acidic?”

  I leaned my elbows on the cool surface of the kitchen island. “William isn’t just technically proficient. He’s an artist. Your guests are going to think they’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  She tapped the paper again. “I was wondering about swapping this salad out for something more grand. Bit plebian, isn’t it, a salad?”

  I vehemently shook my head. “William could explain it better than I, but his flavors work almost like a symphony. If you change one movement for another, the sound will be all wrong. Unless you have guests with food allergies, leave it to William.”

  She glanced at her companion again, but he looked like he had a lot of places he should be like five minutes ago. “It will be fine. Stop worrying.”

  She put away her pen. “Yes. All right then.”

  Nico turned to William with a piercing stare. “We are trusting you. This is a very important dinner.”

  It was almost a threat underneath the words “We are trusting you.” As in, if you let us down, there will be consequences.

  There was a moment. Kind of a tense one. And then Jemima laughed, a silvery laugh that she probably learned in boarding school along with how to hire servants. “We’re very grateful, William. We’re so looking forward to your food. We’ve heard so much about it.”

  And then they finalized the arrangements and left.

  I turned to William, who looked slightly stunned by the encounter. “Are you sure about this?”

  “You don’t think I can satisfy them?” Now he looked like he was losing his confidence.

  I shook my head. “Not at all. Your food is magnificent. I just wondered if you wanted to waste it on people who might not appreciate it.”

  He suddenly smiled. When William smiled, he didn’t look so ordinary. His smile was his best feature and very charming. “I shall take it as a challenge. I’m bound and determined there won’t be a single complaint.”

  “I can almost guarantee there will be poems and songs of praise written in your honor after they finish eating.”

  He gave me a one-armed hug. “There’s a reason I brought you in, Lucy. Thank you. They simply needed someone to confirm that their guests would be happy.”

  “From how snooty they seemed, I’m surprised they didn’t hire a big celebrity chef.” I’d joked about hiring Gordon Ramsay, but now I wondered if they weren’t the types to equate fame with quality.

  “It’s about discretion, you see. People at her dinner will be very high net worth individuals. They like to keep their business very private.”

  That made sense. I knew how secretive Rafe was. And I suspected there were more truly wealthy people flying below the radar than there were talked about in the business pages. I knew if I was that rich, I wouldn’t want everyone to know either.

  “What’s Nico’s story?”

  “I have no idea. He’s one of Jemima’s clients. She’s putting on the dinner to introduce him to other wealthy people who might be useful to him. I believe he’s got some business or investment venture in mind. But, as I said, it’s very hush-hush.”

  “I wish I was so rich I’d get invited to that dinner,” I said wistfully. They’d left the printout on the kitchen island, and I was staring at it.

  “Never knew you were so concerned with wealth.”

  I glanced up. “Oh, I’m not. I want to eat that meal again.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll make sure to cook extras.”

  Instantly, I felt happier. “Do. I will expect a very large doggie bag.”

  Chapter 5

  “How was the fancy dinner on Saturday night?” I asked Violet when she came in for work Monday morning. I was glad she’d been serving at William’s dinner, as she was always up for a good gossip.

  “Fine,” she snapped. So not what I was hoping for.

  She didn’t look like a woman who’d had a wonderful break since I’d last seen her Saturday afternoon.

  I thought part of it might be that Leo the witch hadn’t asked her out for Saturday night, so she’d ended up being free to serve at William’s dinner.

  “I’ve never heard from Leo. Not that I wanted to. But it’s the principle of the thing. And even though he was as interesting as a wet weekend, I’m not. I’m a wonderful woman. He’d be lucky to get a second date with me. And then he didn’t even ask.”

  I tried to think of something positive to say. “Probably he could sense that you weren’t that interested in him, so he wanted to save his pride.”

  She flipped her hair off her shoulder. “I suppose so.” She got very dramatic. “So there I was, Saturday night, with nothing better to do than to scurry along to waitress for William—”

  “Come on, you know how much William relies on you. He especially came into the shop to ask you because he had to have servers he could trust.”

  “I suppose.”

  “How was the food?”

  “Yeah, good. Jemima Taft, who put on the dinner, made sure I got a nice tip. Said the meal was excellent.”

  “Good. And did she compliment him on the wines?” I recalled whenever I’d helped William how the expensive wines tended to flow at his exclusive, catered dinners.

  To my surprise, Violet said, “No. She took me aside at the beginning of the evening and said to make sure I kept her water glass full, and as far as I know, she let me pour one glass of wine but never sipped it. I threw away the whole glass at the end of the evening. It seemed a shame, too. It was a lovely wine.”

  I glanced over at her, thinking of what I’d said to Rafe. “If the host was a financial advisor and the dinner was that exclusive, were there interesting men at the table?”

  She looked annoyed. “Obviously. I’m sure at least one or two of them were single. But there was this one very annoying woman who insisted on coming back to the kitchen to extend her compliments to the chef.”

  Her face was so sour, I suspected she hadn’t much liked this woman.

  “I didn’t think anyone ever actually did that in real life,” I said. “I’ve seen it in corny movies. Even so, they send their compliments to the chef and then the chef comes out.”

  “I think that’s what she intended to happen, but William is so bashful, he told me to tell her how gratified he was, which I did, and next thing Miss Flirtypants was back in the kitchen bothering us.”

  I stifled my smile. “Flirtypants?”

  “Honestly, Lucy,” she said, leaning so close I could smell her toothpaste. “I might as well have not been in the room. She stood right in William’s personal space, and if you ask me, all her raving about his delicious cooking was nothing but a ruse. She barely ate anything on her plate. I swear she counted every calorie before she put a thing in her mouth.”

  I made a face. I already had a mental picture of this woman.

  “And then, of course, that wasn’t enough for her. She made a date with William for coffee so they could talk about some bogus event she’s pretending that she’s planning.”

  I didn’t want to laugh at my cousin, but she was being a bit overdramatic. “She probably does have an event.”

  “Well, if she does, I can tell you one person who won’t be waitressing.”

  “Good. Because you have a perfectly good job right here. And speaking of that, look at the new shipment of wools that arrived. You could help me unload them.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20