Forget About It by Caprice Crane

Author:Caprice Crane [CRANE, CAPRICE]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780446198462
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2007-08-26T22:00:00+00:00

* * * * *

When I arrived at Travis’s apartment, I was greeted by the most vivid and beguiling aroma—garlic, sweet oils, herbs. Over his shoulder, the place looked amazing too. He’d set a beautiful table, with cut flowers in a cloudy-green glass vase as a centerpiece, and he was holding a tall candlestick when he opened the door.

“Is that a candlestick in your hand or are you just happy to see me?” I asked.

“It is a candlestick and I am very happy to see you.” And I was a human candle, melting a little right then. He invited me to sit, but I wanted to watch, and it was a show of impressive synchronization, from cutting board to stove to sink. The man seriously knew his way around the kitchen. All six square feet of it.

We were midway through dinner and having an amazing time when he realized that the candle was still unlit.

“Dammit. I forgot to light the candle. ”

Through my mind danced all the metaphors about lighting his fire, lighting his candle, shedding light. So I grabbed the matches on the table thinking, This’ll be cute and lead to banter. And with such good intentions, naturally, I burned my finger and flung the burning match onto the rug, where he immediately stamped it out.

“Ouch!” I said and I shook my hand a little, to draw attention away from the rug (no harm done, it turned out). Without thinking, he took my hand and kissed my finger.

“All better,” he said. Yeah, I thought. All better.

“This is delicious,” I said, breaking a long yet strangely comfortable pause in the conversation. “You weren’t kidding about your talents in the kitchen.”

“It’s—it’s just something I’ve always been interested in.”

“You’re an incredible cook.”

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “That’s the kind of reaction I’m hoping I’ll get.”

“From?”

“From people who eat my food,” he said quietly, not looking up.

“What people?” I asked. “Are you having a taste test?”

“Remember I told you about the lighthouse and my dad and all that? It’s all part of my grand plan . . .”

“Do tell.”

“Well, I want to open a restaurant. Right next to the lighthouse. A lighthouse-themed restaurant, you know, beachy, breezy, boat paraphernalia, stringed colored lights. Lots of fish on the menu. The whole nine—”

“And you’ll be the chef?”

He nodded, smiling up at me shyly.

“Then with the money I’m making from the restaurant, I want to restore my dad’s lighthouse, and who knows . . . maybe even turn it into an inn, like a bed-and-breakfast. Lighthouses are definitely an endangered species, but the stories behind them, the whole idea of searching and finding safe harbor, protection from the storm, a beacon in the midst . . . ” He looked at me and winked. “People will just eat it up. And I’ll be there with a cash register and a credit card machine.”

“You joke, but what a great dream.”

“Well, I’m going to make it real.”

“I have no doubt,” I said, the room growing warmer and warmer somehow.

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