‘My appetite just went up another notch,’ Nate laughed as they went through to the kitchen and the gathering. The windows were flung open to the sunny day and the smell of barbecue intensified. At intervals along the table were salads, riots of colour, large platters with vegetable sticks fanned around the edges of bowls containing creamy dips.
Sebastian went outside to get the last of the meat which he was transferring to oven dishes to serve inside – Belle whispered discreetly that some preferred a sit-down meal and didn’t want to attempt to eat as they went, as so often happened at a barbecue. Belle took over introductions in the kitchen or rather reminders because Nate had met everyone here at some point over the years, albeit some of them only briefly. But the prompts now were welcome; he’d hate to offend anyone.
Nate caught Morgan’s eye. Did she look pleased to see him? He thought so. Unless he was imagining it to console himself that she was out of reach. As he said his hellos to people and received several compliments about what he’d been selling at the markets, he surreptitiously took in her appearance. She’d stood up to reach some of the cutlery Belle had passed over and between them, they were setting places with knives, forks and spoons. As she got to where he was, her body skimmed past his in the narrow space. She’d chosen a pair of pale jeans and a shirt in a lighter blue shade, both of which suited her in a way that had him looking for a distraction, any distraction.
Gillian came over from her place at the table to talk to him once he’d accepted a glass of wine Sebastian poured for him. She extended her hand. ‘I’m Gillian, Belle’s gran. It’s good to see you again. Well, you might not remember me, of course.’
‘I remember you well,’ he assured her. ‘I used to Trick or Treat at Halloween as a young lad and I remember everyone knew you as being very generous and a good stop to save until last.’
She bellowed with laughter, mischievous hazel eyes the same colour as her granddaughter Belle’s. Belle was watching Gillian and clearly embracing her return to the cottage that had once been hers. It had to be weird, though, Nate thought, that the cottage now belonged to Sebastian rather than Belle, and perhaps he’d get the full story about all of that if he hung around long enough. He’d got snippets here and there already.
Gillian’s lively personality was matched with a hand gesture as she clapped her palms together. ‘I loved to make goodies in time for Halloween. I’d make monster eyeball cupcakes, yogurt-dipped strawberry ghosts, spider pizzas. Belle was always so proud when we handed them out to anyone who knocked on the door.’
‘I really was,’ Belle chimed. ‘They were unique treats.’
‘I’m not even going to ask what spider pizza is,’ Sebastian laughed.
‘Some of the kids were dubious,’ Gillian admitted. ‘It’s such a pity now that we don’t get Trick or Treaters up at the home I’m in.’ She cupped a hand at the side of her mouth and whispered, ‘I’m on day release.’
‘Gran, you’re not a prisoner,’ Belle scolded good-naturedly as she brought over a big jug of iced water and set it down on the table.
‘You’re right, I’m not. It’s a wonderful place. If it wasn’t, I’d be turning up on your doorstep and moving back in, Sebastian.’
‘Fine by me,’ he called across as he came back inside with a big oven tray filled with something that upped the aroma in the room.
Sebastian brought in more barbecue food and transferred it into a dish from the oven. Nate looked across at his dad, his hands thrown up in the air as he demonstrated to Betty how his burn had come about, the way the pan had gone flying and its contents launched across the floor. He was holding his wrist with his other hand as though it still hurt – Nate knew it didn’t unless his dad hadn’t been truthful this morning. He suspected that now it was a prop in his story.
Gillian carried on the talk of Halloween. ‘It sounds as though Sebastian still gets a few callers – trouble is, he’s not home as much as I always was.’
‘He’s got a business to look after,’ Nate agreed. ‘And I have to say the Bookshop Café is a great addition to the village.’
‘I’m thrilled for him,’ said Gillian and with a twinkle in her eye, added, ‘For them both.’
And as she smiled, he recalled something else about her. ‘You made Mum a carrot cake once, for her birthday.’
‘I did indeed.’ She seemed happy that he’d conjured up such a detail. ‘You’re a good lad, remembering that.’
How could he forget? It had been her last birthday, she was in a bad way, and in the depths of despair when Nate had answered a knock at the door to find Gillian proffering a tin which contained his mother’s favourite. She hadn’t imposed, she’d let him get back to his mum, but he’d never forgotten the unexpected gesture.
‘How long are you staying with us?’ she asked, picking up on the sensitivity the memory had evoked for him.
‘Four weeks in all.’
‘Well, make the most of these dinners whenever they’re on. I don’t always come along but I’m pleased I saw you today.’
‘I’m pleased I saw you too.’
‘You can’t stay longer?’
‘Unfortunately not.’
‘But the markets, they’re going so well. Word has it you’ve made some beautiful items. Your mum would’ve been really proud to see you sharing them with everyone.’
‘Gran,’ Belle chided. ‘Give the guy a break.’ And then to him, as Gillian dismissed the remark and set off in the direction of the downstairs toilet he’d come back and fixed properly when the part arrived, she said, ‘She’ll talk your socks off if you’re not careful.’
‘Heard that,’ Gillian called back.
Belle rolled her eyes. ‘Still sharp as a tack.’
