‘Smells good, doesn’t it.’
She opened her eyes. ‘If it tastes anywhere near as good as it smells, I understand why you said it was world famous.’
I picked up my spoon and nodded towards hers. ‘Only one way to find out.’
She lifted her spoon and dipped it in, delicately starting with a small amount.
‘Well?’ I asked impatiently.
‘It’s one of the best things I’ve ever put in my mouth,’ she stated simply. ‘Food wise.’
I snorted the mouthful of stew I’d just consumed, feeling some of it come out of my nose as I coughed and spluttered. She stared at me quizzically for a few seconds before she realized what she’d said.
‘Oh God,’ she said. ‘That came outsowrong. I don’t know why I said that. Sometimes I don’t think about the words I’m saying before I actually say them. Are you OK?’
I nodded as I coughed, my eyes watering. Fiona arrived back with our cheesy garlic bread just then and gave me an alarmed look.
‘Are you choking?’ she asked, pouring me a glass of water from the jug on the table and passing it to me. I took it from her and drained its contents in one gulp.
‘No,’ I finally managed to say. ‘I’m fine.’
‘Was the stew too hot? I can have a word to the kitchen.’
‘The stew is perfect, as usual. I think some of it just went down the wrong way.’
‘OK. Well, enjoy the rest of your meals and sing out if there’s anything else I can get for you.’
‘We will, don’t worry. You know I never leave here without having a slice of blueberry pie.’
Mae looked up from the spoonful of stew she was about to put in her mouth. ‘Did you say blueberry pie?’
‘I did. And you have to try it. It’s?—’
‘Let me guess,’ she interrupted. ‘World famous?’
‘If it’s not, it should be,’ Fiona said, smiling before she walked away.
I picked up the plate on the table between us and offered it to Mae. ‘Bread?’
She took a piece, bit into it and chewed for a while, staring at me thoughtfully. ‘What do you do for a living, Jonah?’
‘You know those boats you just saw, down by the dock?’
She nodded.
‘One of those is mine.’
I saw her eyes dart to take in my calloused, rough hands. ‘You’re a fisherman?’
‘For lobster, yes. Why do you sound surprised?’
‘I guess you’re just not how I imagined you’d look.’
My eyebrows arched. ‘You imagined how I’d look?’
‘Not youpersonally. Men in general. Around here. Who work outdoors.’
‘And how exactly did you think men in general from around here who work outdoors would look?’ I asked, amused.
