“Lou—” Al stepped toward her and she put up a hand to stop him.
“I’m not thrilled you’ll be the new critic. I have some unresolved feelings I need to work through on that. Like how can they criticize a restaurant after one visit and not give a chef the chance to, I don’t know, try again.” Lou’s shoulders slumped and she dropped her chin to her chest. “Oh God, it still hurts so much.”
Al pulled her into his arms as her body quivered with each sob and whispered, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Lou quieted after a few moments and stepped out of Al’s arms, wiping tears away from her red eyes with the edge of her apron.
With a sniff she said, “Clearly, I still have some wounds left to heal, but I would never ask you to not take a job you wanted. I’ve been on the other end of that and it sucks. I’m happy you have a job you want. Not many people can say that. I am a bit disappointed you didn’t tell me about it sooner, but I guess I understand why you didn’t.”
Lou stepped closer to Al so she could hold his hands and look closely in his eyes.
“I love you. You say you love me. Spending time with you brought me back from a really ugly place. In hindsight, I believe I’m better off now. I lost my restaurant, but I’m also rid of Devlin and I found you. I want a future with you. Don’t ever be afraid to tell me about your life. If you want to share it, I want to know it. Can you do that? Tell me things even if you think I’ll be upset and end up a mess like I am right now?” She gave him a little smile as she finished.
Al soaked in her words, let them seep into his worry lines. She didn’t care about the new job. She only wanted to know him more. He could do that. Al smiled in relief. He really didn’t deserve her.
“Lou, full disclosure from this moment on.” He lifted one of her hands to his mouth and kissed it. He could see Lou take a quick breath, just like she did when they first met at the pub so many months ago.
“One last thing,” Lou said. “Promise you won’t be anything like the last guy.”
“I can absolutely promise that.”
He pulled Lou in tight, enjoying the feel of her in his arms, the vanilla smell always right behind her ears, her soft hair against his cheek. He didn’t realize how terrified he was of losing her until just now. He took a deep breath.
“Feel better?” Lou asked.
“Quite, you?”
“Much better. Now, back to work. We have a feast to prepare.”
“Lou, who is going to eat all this?”
“Silly man, Thanksgiving isn’t about the meal. It’s about the leftovers. Turkey-and-cranberry sandwiches, stuffing on toast, and gravy fries. Thanksgiving is great, but the day after is even better.”
Yes, Thanksgiving was his holiday. Today was good, but tomorrow would be better.
• • • • •
“Isn’t it pretty? An entire day’s accomplishments spread out for consumption,” Lou said.
“Like a fat man’s fantasy.”
Al and Lou sat at the table with the feast in front of them. Lou’s arteries congealed as she recalled the pounds of butter that went into the meal and the two pies cooling in the kitchen. But you couldn’t skimp on butter on a holiday, and any substitute would feel wrong to a girl born and raised in the Dairy State. At least she’d resisted putting cheese in half the dishes.
“Do you want to carve the bird? Or should I?”
“I’d love to, if you trust me.”
“Butcher away—it all goes to the same place. Use these.”
Lou handed him the carving knife and fork. Al tilted his head. The blade was typical, long and thin, not particularly sturdy. The fork had two tines attached to the handle. What caused Al to pause and what endeared them to Lou were the handles, covered in haphazard paint splotches of every hue. No sign of the original wood appeared under the rainbow handles.
Noticing his pause, Lou explained, “My family has used these since I can remember. One year, when I was about five, my dad explained how they were special utensils for holidays. I decided the plain wood wasn’t good enough. I took the box when my parents didn’t notice and hid it in my room. I spent months painting it just so. When I completed my masterpiece, I put it back in the hutch with the fancy plates and silver. At the next Thanksgiving, my father took them out to carve the turkey. He knew immediately what had happened.”
“What did he do?”
“He asked my mother where she’d purchased such fine carving tools, because they were surely meant for royalty. My mom was so confused; then she saw my handiwork and played along. We pretended we were eating at a royal feast. I played princess and hostess. It was our best Thanksgiving.”
“Rest assured, the Queen would be green with envy if she knew such a fine carving set existed.”
Al set to carving the turkey, neatly removing the wings and legs, impressing Lou with his deftness. He removed the breasts and set them on a cutting board, then turned the bird to get at the thighs.
“This isn’t your first bird,” Lou said.
“We do eat turkey in England, just with slightly different trimmings.”
While Al finished cutting the turkey to manageable pieces, Lou filled their plates with a little of everything. She still struggled with Al’s new job. The hurt had surprised her. She had thought she was over Wodyski’s bad review.
While they chewed, Lou examined the hurt, turned it around in her mind to see it from every side. He’d known she wouldn’t like it—that was why he waited until he got the job. She could accept that as a thoughtful gesture. But why apply to begin with? He knew about the review; she was kidding herself if she thought he hadn’t looked it up online to read it. He also knew how wrong that smug son of a bitch was. She’d served Al the very same meal Wodyski received and he’d raved about the perfectly cooked fish, delicate sauce—said Julia Child would be proud.
Lou thought about what she’d told Al in the kitchen, verifying she meant every word. She did understand wanting a job your partner didn’t support. How long had Devlin begged her to quit the restaurant, never listening to her dreams? From what she knew about Al, he loved food as much as she did, but he also loved writing. Now he could marry the two—a perfect job. She could never deny him that. Yes, she did mean every word. She would support his job, be excited for him, and look forward to a few nice meals on the paper’s dime; it was the least they owed her.
“So how is this going to work?” Lou said, bringing Al back from his happy place with the food.
He chewed and swallowed.
“Funny you should mention that. I could start by reviewing Luella’s. Maybe that could help it out. Maybe even start a section in my column where I revisit Wodyski’s bad reviews and refute the ones he got wrong.”
Lou smiled at the gesture.
“No, you can’t do that. At least not with Luella’s. There would be too much bias, and it’s too late. The closing date is coming like a cheek-pinching great-aunt.”
Al nodded. “Okay then, so I won’t review any restaurant you work at or own. But at least I can still visit.”
“Aren’t you worried people will find out what you look like?”
“Not really. Frankly, I think it would take the pressure off.”
Lou’s head bobbed and her eyes narrowed in thought.
“So, will you need any dining companions? I’d like to volunteer my services. I’ll have some time opening up soon.”
Al smiled. “You must be reading my mind. I can’t think of anyone else more qualified. Plus, date nights on the paper sounds about right. Have you set a date?”
“Harley and Sue finally agreed to get new jobs, but I already know chefs who will hire them whenever they can start. I’m closing December twenty-second. We’ll have one last party on the twenty-third, and everything will be ready for the auctioneers after the New Year.” Lou took a few more bites and stared at her half-empty wineglass.