I had an account once upon a time, but I closed it when Andy and I pooled our money. I ask the teller for a debit card, but it has to be mailed to me—so I jot down Mr. Edgewood’s address, hoping he won’t mind if I have some of my things delivered there.
It’s getting on in the afternoon by the time I’m done, so I decide to head back to the manor and prepare for dinner. I park in the garage but take the back hallway, avoiding the kitchen so I don’t run into Mr. Edgewood before he’s ready for me to see him.
I take a shower, really working the conditioner into my hair. Then I blow-dry until it’s falling in neat, thick waves down my back.
The dress is perfect, a deep burgundy that’s elegant andyet tempting, and my new black leggings go well with it. Kellen prefers we wear shoes inside, so I pair them with my new boots, hoping that a little height on my part might help Mr. Edgewood feel less self-conscious. I don’t have any jewelry, but that’s pretty low on my list of necessities.
Just before stepping out the door, I remember my new eyeliner and lipstick and put them on. Then, it’s time to meet Rupert Edgewood.
thirteen
. . .
rupert
What if she hates it? I hope I haven’t ballsed it up.
I’ve worked all day, trying it and retrying until I got the texture of the mushrooms right, the layer of mustard spread perfectly, the spinach dry enough, and the dough just the correct thickness. By the time I got to my third batch, I knew it was fit enough for Peony.
I turn the Wellington in the oven one last time, trying to get an even browning on the surface of the dough. It’s a classic, which means it was daring of me to attempt it. Peony will be able to tell right away if I’ve executed any step incorrectly. There’s nowhere to hide in this dish.
But I’m done hiding from her. Tonight, I will open my soul up on the plate.
First is my appetizer, artichoke hearts stuffed with softcheese and crab. After placing a sprig of parsley on top, it’s time to present it.
When I step into the dining room, I half expect Ms. Austin not to be there. That would serve me right if I spent all day preparing a meal and she did to me what I’d done to her.
But no, she’s here. She is here in all her glory.
Peony.My heart leaps into a frenetic beating. To say she’s beautiful wouldn’t be right. You would picture someone who is not Peony. Sheisbeautiful, in the way her round cheeks look like perfect apples, her plump lips splashed with color, her eyes immeasurably bright and eager. Her sunny demeanor doesn’t change as I step into the room carrying the appetizer tray. Her wide mouth is pulled up in a smile, revealing white, straight teeth. The startling burgundy dress she wears complements her red lips, making her look as if she’s been decorated with roses.
I set her plate down in front of her, sliding it off my long claws onto the table. Then I serve myself and Kellen, who I’ve only just noticed is present. Though I have work to do on the main course, I sit anyway because I want to witness Peony’s reaction.
Her smile hasn’t wavered. In fact, it grows wider as I sit down at the opposite end of the table.
“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mr. Edgewood.” She picks up her knife and fork, her eyes glinting with pleasure.
“You as well, Ms. Austin.” My voice, though I am used to it, makes me self-conscious with its deep, gravelly baritone. It is distinctlynothuman, and I am very aware of how not human I am at this moment with my clawed, scaly hands on the table in front of me.
“What am I eating?” Peony holds her utensils at the ready.
I walk her through what I’ve prepared, and she eagerly examines the dish. Then she packs all the elements onto a fork and plops it right between those red lips.
Her eyes are alight. “This is wonderful.” I can already see the healthy glow spreading across her face as she eats. “A little lemon, too?”
“Impressive,” I say. “You’re right. Sprinkled on right at the end.”
It is a marvel watching her chew thoughtfully, her eyes closing in pleasure as she seeks out every tendril of flavor. The whole room is quiet as both Kellen and I watch her eat, waiting for her verdict. He hasn’t even tried his yet.
“Wow.” Peony’s eyes open again, and I’m riveted to them. They’re so large in her face, dark brown, but they squeeze down to small slits when she smiles at me. “Absolutely wonderful dish, Mr. Edgewood.”
The compliment makes the hair on my mane stand up straight. She cocks her head curiously, and I smooth a hand down my neck to try to flatten it again.
“Thank you.” I scratch behind one of my ears. “I didn’t know your tastes, but I got a good guess from what you’ve cooked for me.”
Then I remember I need to prepare the next course, so I hop out of my chair and rush back into the kitchen. There are my Wellingtons, perfectly golden brown, the tops shiny with the egg wash I put on them. Next, I take out the potatoes and the broccolini, and start crafting the plate. I finish with a sauce around the outside in a long flourish, then the dish is ready.
I carry the plates out to the dining room, setting one in front of Peony first. Her face is simply glowing as she takes in the sight of what I’ve made for her.
