I couldn’t imaginebeing lovedthat much.
“I’m sorry about your loss.”
He smiled. “I feel her here with me most days. Usually critiquing my sauces.” He pulled a bottle of wine from the shelf behind him and poured a few ounces into a glass, then passed it to me. “This was her favorite. How do you feel about Riesling?”
“Good.” I accepted the glass, straight-faced, while recalling the way Alicia and I demolished ten-dollar bottles with screw-top lids. I knew less about quality wine than French food.
“This one is from Alsace, a favorite region of mine for Rieslings. You enjoy this. I’ll get started on your lunch.”
An hour and far too many food samples later, I was stuffed and ready for a nap. I delighted in the homey atmosphere and sense of belonging. No one questioned the cost of my meal or commented on the likely amount of calories. Pure heaven.
Lucas emerged from the kitchen, a dish towel hung over one shoulder, as I pushed the final plate away. “What’s the verdict?”
“Someone will have to roll me home.”
His dark eyes danced with amusement. “But what was your favorite?”
“The crepes,” I admitted. “I wish I could make them like this, and believe me, I’ve tried. But they never come out quite right.”
“So, you’re a cook.” His eyes narrowed. “I should have known.”
I wagged a finger, feeling the effects of my second glass of wine. “No. Just a woman who loves crepes.”
Lines gathered on his handsome face, and he reached beneath the high-polished bar. “Well, we can fix that.” Lucas placed a flyer before me, then took the dirty plate away.
I turned the paper in my direction when he left. The flyer advertised community classes available at the restaurant. All were open to the public.Authentic French cooking classes, wine tasting, crepe making.I grinned. I supposed I was in luck.
“You can learn to cancan on Saturday nights,” he said, reappearing with a handled to-go bag. “It’s a lot of fun. Please say you can can.”
I straightened my expression and shook my head at his terrible joke. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“No pressure,” Lucas said.
I finished my glass of water, marveling at the local gem of a restaurant. “Did you grow up here?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if I meant in the area or the country, but his accent suggested he wasn’t raised here. Maybe he’d come for college.
“I came to America as an adolescent, then returned to France after high school for a culinary program. I considered going back again after Margot’s death, but we built this place together, so I stayed.”
“I think it’s nice you still wear your wedding ring,” I said. The words came out before I thought better of them. “It’s clearly none of my business,” I added, with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But nice.”
His lips curved gently at the corners. “My family thinks it’s too much, but the ring makes me feel connected to her somehow. I suppose I’ll wear it until another woman wins my heart.”
The young woman with the braids strode into view, phone in hand. “Lucas, Emily.”
He dragged his eyes from me to her and nodded before turning back. “It was nice meeting you, Sophie.”
“You too,” I said. “Do I pay up front?”
“No, no. On the house,” he said, already moving in the direction of the woman and phone.
“Wait,” I squeaked, sliding onto my feet. “I can’t let you do that.”
“You can,” he said. “Don’t forget your bag.”
I looked at the to-go order on the bar before me.Sophiewas written in Sharpie near the top.
Lucas was nowhere to be seen as I left the building, but a peek inside the bag made me smile.
Crepes.
