Rags To Riches: His Wish, Her Command. Annie West
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another of those English expressions you are so full of?’
‘One for every occasion. Didn’t you know?’ Ella replied with a faint smile, her breathing back close to normal. ‘I had better sort out that recipe. And don’t forget that you owe me an hour. Best get to work!’
And with a wave of her hand she turned back towards the house, and Seb and Milou stood next to each other for a second watching the slim figure negotiate the patio.
Seb glanced down to see a pair of yellow eyes looking back at him.
‘Well, we best get busy then, mate.’
There was a low sigh in disgusted response and the dog settled himself into comfort in the shade of the cherry trees.
‘Good idea—you just stay there on guard duty! That’s it. I’ll do the work.’ And try and work out what I have just got myself into in more ways than one.
An hour later, Ella looked out of the kitchen window at the sound of Milou barking.
Seb was pacing up and down the patio stones, wagging the fingers of his right hand and gritting his teeth while chatting away to someone on the cell phone.
Intrigued, she strolled outside just as he closed the call, drying her hand on the towel tucked into her apron waistband.
‘Problem?’
He noticed her, and a slight flush of embarrassment flared on his neck, as though he had been caught doing something naughty.
The naughty Sebastien. Now that thought was enough to bring a smile to her face.
There were pieces of twig and dead leaves caught in the tight curls of his hair, his right forearm was scratched below his rolled up shirt sleeve and cherry juice was spotted all along one broad shoulder.
Strange how it suited him perfectly. The naughty Seb.
‘The wasps,’ he sighed. ‘Took exception to my stealing their food. And my friend Matt has just found a legal technicality which will keep him in Paris until late Sunday. Looks like I am on my own.’
‘Oh, thanks a lot! What a lovely compliment. Let me take a look at your sting.’
He held his hand above his head and gave her a look of disbelief.
‘I can handle a wasp sting, thank you all the same. Even if it does smart.’
Ella raised both of her hands. ‘I was simply going to offer you some antihistamine cream. But if you prefer to suffer in silence like a macho hero? Well, that’s up to you.’ She folded her arms and waited. Patiently.
He pursed his lips and sniffed. ‘Antihista-mine I can use. Pass it over.’
Ella gestured with her head toward the kitchen, unfolded her arms, then picked up the basket of cherries. ‘Follow me.’
The first thing Seb saw when he walked into the kitchen were two family-sized open fruit tarts.
‘Wow. You weren’t joking. Are these a trial run for Nicole’s party?’
‘Partly for Nicole’s party but I also need to get baking for the end of year fete at Dan’s school this afternoon. I volunteered to help out with the entertainment. And most of the desserts! I made the fresh apricot and vanilla cream last week, but the cherry is a new recipe. The cherries I picked yesterday are so sweet and juicy it seems a shame to spoil the flavour with too much almond.’
Seb sat down in front of the two desserts which had already been cut into large segments. They smelt wonderful.
‘Oh you mean the kermesse? Everyone loves the end of year party.’ Seb smiled with a shake of the head as a long forgotten memory wafted into his mind. ‘I vaguely remember dressing up as a tiger in primary school. Or was it a bear? I think we had too much fun running around in costumes to think about the food.’
‘Then this could be your lucky day. I need a human taster to help me decide which of these two beauties would be best for a summer dessert. Think garden party on a hot evening. Think nice dresses and smart suits. No gloppy sauces allowed. The children and parents at the fete won’t mind, but Nicole’s guests might.’
Ella kept on talking as she loaded a plate with a large slice from each tart, slid it across the table towards him and popped the tube of antihistamine cream next to it.
‘This is your lunch, so please help yourself while they are still warm. I know you won’t hesitate to tell me the truth.’
Seb picked up the nearest fork and broke off a piece from the soft deep cherry tart. As he raised it towards his lips the overwhelming fragrance of sweet almonds, butter pastry and warm tart cherries had his mouth watering even before his lips closed around the food.
His eyes closed.
Wow. He was tasting summer.
Crisp pastry melted in his mouth as the rich ground almond paste soothed his tongue and, just when he thought it could not get any better, his teeth squeezed into a whole pitted cherry, and the warm juices burst onto his tongue.
It was the most amazing cherry tart he had ever eaten. No, the most amazing, delicious dessert he had ever eaten! Which was quite an achievement considering that he was on first-name terms with chefs at famous-name restaurants all over Australia.
He had been brought up to believe his grandmother was the finest cook in the world, but she had never made anything like this.
Seb flashed open his eyes and took another generous forkload. Suddenly hungry for more. Just to make sure his senses weren’t deceiving him.
As he bit into another cherry it took him back in an instant to the happy long days when he was a boy in this very kitchen.
Cherries, almonds, apples, apricots. Sitting in the garden on hot summer days, eating sun-warmed strawberries direct from the plants. Being scolded then hugged when he was caught with fruit-stained shorts and skin.
The flavours linked for ever in his mind and memory to this house and to this land. And the people who had made it special.
It was the taste of home cooking and fresh fruit. These days his meals tended to be fine food in hotel restaurants or a sandwich while he was working, but that was it.
When had he forgotten what real food tasted like?
Food made with love in a home with a family around the table.
It had been years since he had remembered so vividly what it had felt like to be part of a warm loving family. And it had taken a stranger to do it. A crazy Englishwoman had given him back that memory. And it meant a lot. Perhaps one day he would have a family of his own, but until then he was grateful for the memory.
Seb turned around in the chair to thank her just as Ella bent over from the waist to offer Milou a plate of what looked like broken pastry. The old dog almost jogged over from his water bowl to gobble up the crisp trimmings as Ella rubbed his head in tune with the wagging of his tail. For a few seconds woman and dog were framed in the sunlit doorway.
His eyes flashed up her long slim trousers to her trim waist and the sun-touched lower arms as she chatted to Milou, who had decided to try his luck by never leaving her side.
She looked happy. At home. Serene. Normal. And so very, very beautiful.
And the thought startled him so much that he coughed.
Beautiful? Where had that come from?
He instantly glanced away as the kettle came to the boil and tried to calm his breathing as he watched her stir the hot water into the ground coffee and savoured the delicious aroma.
God, this woman was good. Even the coffee was excellent.
His eyes moved to her left hand as she brought the coffee over to the table. The pale blue sapphires had no doubt been chosen to match the colour of her eyes by her late husband—whom she was probably still crazy about.