“Antonia’s lasagna!” Maria’s eyes lit up. “How kind of her. I’m glad to say we haven’t eaten dinner yet.”
“And”—his tone lilted at the end of the word—“if you ladies don’t mind my company, well, I brought some salad fixings that I could throw together for you.”
“Of course, you’re invited.” Maria nodded eagerly. “Victor is a fine chef,” she told Carol. “His salads are beyond just salad.”
“It all sounds good to me,” Carol said. “I’m not much good in the kitchen, but I do know how to set a nice table.”
“Well, you kids go make yourself at home in my kitchen and I will just sit here and be spoiled,” Maria said happily.
Victor laughed. “That’ll be quite a change for you. Might as well enjoy it.”
“Yes,” Carol agreed, but almost added “while you can” since she knew her aunt would be on her own by tomorrow evening. Well, unless this storm refused to let up ... and she was almost hoping that it wouldn’t.
5
While Victor was creating a gorgeous green salad with colorful peppers and gorgonzola and a few other interesting ingredients, Carol set the dining room table. Finished but not satisfied that it was festive enough, Carol asked Maria if she could bring a few things down from the attic.
“You know, to decorate the tree.” She pushed up the sleeves of the heavy sweater Maria had lent her. For the first time today, she was almost too warm.
“Maybe you should change into something a bit more comfortable first,” Maria suggested. “Unless you’re planning to go out for some cross-country skiing tonight.”
Carol laughed. “No thanks, but that’s a good idea.” On her way to the attic, she stopped by the guest room and changed into a plaid flannel shirt she’d borrowed. Tucking it into her pants, she took a moment to bundle her thick hair into a ponytail, then trekked up to the attic, which—other than a spilled box of greens and lights—was impressively organized. Not sure what to bring down, she boxed up the garlands and spilled decor. Then, after taking everything to the living room, she returned to randomly select a couple more boxes and brought them down too.
Spotting some interesting items, she decided to give the dining room table a holiday flair. She knew Maria would like it. Shewas just lighting some candles amid some sparkly ornaments and faux greens when Victor appeared with two glasses of red wine. “One for Maria and for you, if you like.”
She reached for the goblet. “I like.”
“Great!” He handed it to her, then called into the living room. “Soup’s on, Maria.” Then he headed into the living room to help her from the chair. Once she was on her feet, he held out the wine like a carrot before a donkey. “The feast awaits, your highness.”
Maria just laughed, but the sparkle in her eyes suggested she was enjoying the attention. But her face really lit up when she came into the dining room. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed. “This is beautiful! Carol, did you put this together?”
Carol shrugged. “They’re your ornaments and candles and things.”
“Well, I’ve never arranged them like this. It’s so pretty.”
“And dinner is coming,” he said as he helped her to the head of the table.
“I really do feel like royalty,” she said, sitting down.
“Good.” Carol took the chair adjacent to her. “After your rough morning, you deserve a break.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just not a broken arm.”
Victor returned with the steaming lasagna and colorful salad, then went back to the kitchen for a couple more things. When they were all finally seated, he lifted his glass in a toast. “Here’s to Maria getting better soon.” Then he turned to Carol with a more serious expression. “And here’s to Carol getting to her final destination in time for Christmas.”
They all clinked glasses and then Maria bowed her head to ask a blessing and to express gratitude for her young friends helping her in a time of need. She echoed Victor’s toast by praying that God get Carol safely to “where she needs to be for Christmas.” Interestingly, neither of them had mentioned the Bahamas ... and more and more Carol wondered.
“For someone who despises Christmas as much as you do, you’re certainly being a good sport, Carol,” Maria said as Victor served the lasagna.
Victor actually dropped the serving spatula. “What? Carol hates Christmas?”
“Well, hate is a strong word.” Carol set her wineglass down with a thunk.
“I’m sorry, Carol.” Maria looked contrite. “I probably spoke out of turn.”
Carol shrugged self-consciously. “Well, it’s not something I usually advertise. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone before.”
“Not even your parents?” Maria asked.
“No, they wouldn’t understand.”
