“Oh god!” said Fred, wearily burying her face in her hands. “Here we go.”
“Oh tosh! A bit of cream won’t hurt me.” Aunt Aggie was unrepentant.
“Tell that to your stomach when it swells to the size of a bowling ball and you start farting like an old Kitty Hawk taking off,” said Aunt Cam. “I’m the one who has to deal with the fallout.”
“Pun intended?” Diggory inquired, and Martha snorted as she followed her husband around the table ladling out the thick stew.
“Absolutely,” Aunt Cam replied. “So much fallout!”
“It may be vegan, but I shaved in plenty of truffle, just how you like it,” said Bella.
This seemed to mollify Aunt Aggie. “Oh, well, that’s different then, why didn’t you say so?” she asked as she rolled her sleeves up and carved thick slices of fresh bread for those who wanted it, while Aunt Cam lit candles along the table and some on the dressers too.
“I would have, if I could have got a word in edgeways,” Bella mumbled under her breath. Warren heard her and laughed. “Sorry, Warren, I’d say it isn’t usually like this, but I’d be lying.”
“No need to apologize. It’s nice to be around a family,”Warren said, drawing the contentious butter dish toward him and buttering his bread. Which made Bella wonder what his family circumstances might be.
Thankfully, Fred had relaxed, especially when it became clear that Warren had managed to charm almost everyone at the table. The dark circles that had lent her daughter a haunted look when she’d first arrived had all but vanished now. She looked younger and, as Aunt Cam would say, her aura was brighter. The brittle smile she had worn for too long had been replaced with a more robust expression of happiness, making her eyes sparkle and lighting her face from within.
“This is delicious, Bella,” said Warren. “I’m guessing these vegetables are locally sourced; you can taste when food has experienced minimal air miles.”
“Thank you, Warren. They are indeed. Aunt Cam pulled the carrots, leeks and swede from the garden this morning. And I dug up the potatoes.”
“I knew it!” Warren nodded, smiling enthusiastically, clearly pleased to be right.
“There’s been a vegetable garden at Hallow House since 1912,” said Aunt Aggie. “We grow all sorts of interesting things: herbal remedies, poisons—”
“Fred tells me that you aspire to be a food writer,” Bella said quickly, pulling Warren’s attention in her direction and cutting her aunt off before Fred’s eyes bulged any wider.
“I do. Fredricka suggested I write my first piece about some of the restaurants in Pine Bluff.”
This was met with great enthusiasm and the people around the table began to suggest places he might like to try. Warren pulled his phone out and began to tap in the names of restaurants.
Bella noticed that Ryan didn’t offer any suggestions, though he smiled along amiably enough.You don’t like him, do you?she mused. Was there a touch of jealousy there?
Dinner conversation turned eventually to the Christmas market.
“I wonder how many traders have been coming back for as many years as you have?” Warren asked Liam.
“There’s a few of us. Delia’s been doing it almost as long as me; she’s a potter down in Cornwall.”
“And, um…what’s his name? The Welsh chappy, makes the patchwork quilts,” said Aunt Cam.
“Connor,” said Martha. “I’ve bought one for every grandchild. Beautiful workmanship.”
Diggory nodded his head at Ryan. “Still waiting for this one to settle down so we can buy one for his kids.”
“Oh, leave him be,” Martha chided her husband, good-naturedly. “Not everyone has to have children. And we’ve already been blessed with a plentiful bunch of grandchildren.”
Ryan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and Fred gave him a sympathetic smile.
“Don’t forget Rita and Bev from the chili farm, they’ve been at the market for as long as I can remember,” said Liam.
“Yes.” Bella seized on the change of subject. “I stock upon their sweet chili sauce, every year. They make it with honey from their own bees.”
“If you like spice, Warren, get yourself down to Rita and Bev’s stall, their ghost chili pesto will blow your gonads off!” said Aunt Aggie.
Warren choked on his wine.
