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Even if that’s the only thing he did want to do.

CHAPTER SIX

Maisie stepped outside of the café forty-five minutes later, her heart, mind, and belly full.

What a meal. What a meal!

Finn had been absolutely correct. That soup had been the best she’d eaten in a long time. The flavor hadn’t been the thing to win her over, either—the Pot-au-feu in France had taken that award already—but it was the care and homemade nature of Mrs. Doherty’s vegetable soup that had clung to her taste buds and her heart, refusing to let go.

She felt like she was a little girl again, having just eaten a meal at her grandparents’ home and was now ready to be tucked in bed with a story and a goodnight kiss to her brow.

What had made the meal even better was the fact that she had eaten without a time limit. Throughout their entire trip, she’d been subjected to Daphne’s sprint-eating. Her aunt treated her meals like business transactions, scarfing down her food like a labrador to a bratwurst—or picking at it like a fussy sparrow—no thought other than the sustenance she was receiving.

Maisie, on the other hand, treated her meals like new friends. She wanted to take the time to get to know each ingredient. To see what they looked like as a whole, to learn the personality they reflected. To smell them and to…

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. She didn’t exactly like to smell new friends. Although, she had smelled Finn’s cologne. But that had been just happenstance, the subtle, earthy scent swirling around her nose with each cool breeze.

ANYWAY.

The point was that she loved the whole process of eating far more than cooking—and consuming that vegetable soup had been the happiest she’d eaten in a long time. Furthermore, coupled with that recommended Belfast bap, the meal had passed her test—goosebumps trailed up and down her arms only if the food hit home, and boy, did that soup do the trick.

She’d have to tell Finn.

Oh, and Daphne.

Stepping to the side of the café’s doors, Maisie pulled out her phone to send an update to her aunt, wandering toward the path away from the restaurant.

Maisie

Found the first official soup to add to the menu for Northern Ireland! Doherty’s Café served it. Vegetable soup with a Belfast bap. Wow, wow, wow.

She sent a few photos she’d taken, then typed out a follow-up text.

Maisie

I spoke with the owner afterward, Mrs. Doherty. She’s super sweet. I wasn’t sure if I understood everything she said with her accent being crazy thick, but I think she was interested in what we have to offer.

I’ll get in contact with her again as soon as I have the go-ahead from you.

She didn’t have to worry if Daphne would approve. Maisie had been given full rein regarding the menu. She was the one who had initially thought of traveling around Europe to make the restaurant more authentic with actual foods from the countries they visited. She’d also tacked on the idea of including the chefs and owners of the restaurants in a sort of partnership. Trade secrets would be shared and a license would be secured and paid for Maisie to create a menu that involved references to restaurants and chefs around Europe. This way, the food in the restaurant would be more authentic with faces and countries attached, instead of nameless, generic soups and breads.

Most chefs signed the agreement within a few weeks, but there had been a couple who had been more wary of working with people overseas. While Maisie could understand their trepidation, she prayed Mrs. Doherty would agree swiftly.

They needed that soup on the menu.

Maisie

You’ve got to stop by if you haven’t left for Ballycastle yet. You won’t regret it.

Finally, she ended by sending the photo of her journal entry.

As soon as the picture sent, she lowered her phone with a contented smile. Daphne was going to love this development. And now that Maisie had put in some work, she more than earned a little walk to set aside the business aspect of her trip and fully enjoy herself again.

She enjoyed doing this for Daphne. Well, she enjoyed it enough. Eating certainly made it far more enjoyable. But she had other dreams beyond menu creating—dreams she still had to sort through—so she would make the best of this while she could.

Glancing down at her watch, she noted the time. She still had a solid twenty minutes before needing to head back to the bus. Just enough time for a quick walk down to the sea.

“Quick walk” was, of course, used generously, as her warm, full stomach did nothing but encourage her to take her time, enjoy the sights, and relish in the beauty around her.