A Winter’s Wedding (Christmas Cove #3)

Chapter 11

So much for that winter storm , Carol thought as she looked to the partly sunny skies above her. America and Leo had warned her of the incoming snow, though as she walked the mile or so from her house on Main Street down to The Foundry, she wondered if the forecast had changed.

Carol stepped along the newly built replica of a historic covered bridge; the kind New England is known for having. Though most of the covered bridges had long since fallen into disrepair, this one was solid steel and stone. Only the materials used made it appear much older than it was. She appreciated the effort in making The Foundry hold true to the area’s nostalgia.

When Leo had first said that he was going to cobble together several of the old cabins and houses along the lake shore and create a retreat where people could come and relax, learn, and feel part of something, she had laughed him off. The idea was absurd. First, he was the mayor who saw the town fall to new lows and then he decided to be a hotel manager.

She had to give it to him though, as the black barn came into view, the risk had been worth taking. The resort was coming up on one year in operation, and other than the near catastrophic flooding that tried its best to wipe the place off the map late last spring, the resort was doing quite well. Leo and America had received an investment from an out-of-towner and were able to use the funds to make some timely improvements, like water mitigation.

Sunshine spilled through the glass exterior walls of the resort’s main building and refracted off the crystal chandelier hanging just inside the vaulted structure. The luxurious sight was one of Carol’s favorite renovations that Leo had undertaken at the property. The change that the abandoned lake-side property had undergone in the last year was unbelievable. Even though she had helped however she could during the renovation, the sheer scope of the project had been an ambitious endeavor that the whole town had gotten involved with.

And the guest response had been largely positive, seeing as how the place was always booked up. Today was no different. A dozen cars were parked in the recently paved lot beside the barn; Harbour House, they called it. This week’s retreat guests were scheduled to check out on Friday, leaving room in the staff’s schedule to organize Saturday’s big wedding.

Inside, there was no sign of Edwin, who had said he would meet her there. Carol went to the Cucina where she hoped to find the chef and get the tasting moving along with or without Edwin’s help. “Alfonso? Are you in here?” She poked her head inside the saloon-style kitchen doors, but the space was deserted.

The Harbour House was the main gathering space for the resort. A large, wide open great room where all the meals and many of the activities could be held. Saturday, the venue would be transformed into a magical garden for the wedding ceremony. America had been very vocal about the aesthetic she wanted. Pink and white would be everywhere.

Above Carol, the afternoon sun played in the crystal chandelier, sending rainbows dancing in all directions, and painting the walls with vibrant colors and geometric shapes. She could have sat there for hours just watching the way the space changed throughout the day, but alas, she had a job to do.

Carol peered through the lobby entrance for any sign of Edwin. “Where are you?” she said and plopped down in an oversized velvet chair by the two-story stone fireplace. Resigned to waiting on a man, or in this case, two men, she picked flaking red polish off her thumbnail. She knew better, it was a terrible habit, but had planned on redoing her manicure later in the week before the wedding.

That’s when she heard the laughter of a man who was late. She stood and turned on her heel toward the back area where the sound echoed down the hallway. With a hand on her hip, which she hoped would forcefully project her displeasure at having had to wait, she eyed Edwin and the chef approaching from the offices. Edwin caught a glimpse and smirked.

“You’re late,” she said.

“Come now, Carol. You’re the late one. We got started, oh I don’t know, fifteen minutes ago or so?” he asked Alfonso.

“ Si . Yes. We finish already, the tasting,” Alfonso said in his broken Italian-English and chuckled at himself. “I kid you. Come and see what Alfonso has prepared.”

Carol followed the chef to a table in the back, set up near the exercise room, but away from the other guest areas. The small, square table, likely pulled in from the dining room, had a white cloth and an empty vase sitting at the center. Alfonso reached to pull out her chair, but Edwin intercepted the gesture.

“Thank you, Pa,” she said. Everyone called Edwin, Pa, though she always thought of him as Edwin first. Pa was the callsign he was given when he was in the army. Desert Storm had not been kind to him. He had left Christmas Cove as a young man and returned hardened and weathered, as though he had witnessed more during his time as a soldier than all the time before or since.

Alfonso excused himself, and Carol fidgeted with her skirt under the table as they waited for him to return with the first course. Across from her, Edwin sat, his head tilted, and his eyes squinted at her. His hair was wet, like he’d just taken a shower before the meeting, and he smelled of pine and earth.

“You clean up nicely,” she said.

“So do you,” he said sweetly, though his comment only made her fidget more.

Why was she being so ridiculous? She had been around this man for more years than she could count. So why now, why did she feel like a girl on a first date? Before she had more time to think on it, Alfonso returned from the cucina with two plates in hand.

Placing them on the table, Alfonso beamed. His smile likely could not have been wider, and all his teeth shined. “I have first, piccola potato croquette. Lump crab cake with fresh fig and honey compote. A butter lettuce salad with local cranberries and Italian feta cheese. Mangia .”

“Well, I’ve not seen something this pretty in a long time. Looks too good to actually eat,” Edwin said and cut a croquette in half. “What is a croquette anyhow?”

“I believe it’s just a fancy fried potato. And you do know what a crab cake is, right? But I’ve never had fig and honey compote before.” She looked Edwin in the eye and pointed her empty fork at him. “It’s like a jam, in case you were about to ask.”

“How do you know about all this stuff?” he asked as though he really had no clue.

Carol was reminded again of all the ways in which Edwin didn’t really know her. Over the last year, as they finally put their rivalry away and began to spend more time together, they had begun to relearn things about one another. She had enjoyed getting to know him as he was now, and she wondered if he felt the same.

“I was in culinary school for a couple years,” she admitted and stuffed her mouth with a bite of lettuce.

“Culinary school? How did I never know that?” he said, though she wondered if he should have his memory checked as she was sure he knew about her leaving town after high school.

She finished chewing while deciding how much she wanted to say but figured it wouldn’t hurt for him to know her better. “That’s right. Two years. You probably don’t remember because you were stationed overseas, and I was trying to be anywhere but here.”

Edwin laughed in his throat. “Forgive me, but I didn’t even know you could cook anything.”

“I suppose you never asked. And I… I never invited you over for a meal.”

“I never knew you wanted to.” Edwin chewed a bite of crab. “Gosh, Carol, you didn’t even speak to me unless it was to complain about something or offer a snarky little remark when we passed on the street. That’s why we called you Scrooge for so long.”

Carol knew he was right but hearing him say it so plainly wasn’t easy. She ate the rest of her food without a single additional comment, not to punish him, but she was deeply aware of just how much damage she had done with her words.

The silence was easily explained by how delicious the food was so far. It was the best she’d ever had, but even saying as much out loud, she feared she would go on to say something about some other topic that she would regret later. Getting older meant there wasn’t much time left for second chances or second guessing, and she didn’t plan on heaping more poor decisions onto her pile.

Alfonso returned with another set of dishes and expertly removed the emptied plates before setting the new ones down. “I see you liked very much, the first course. Now I have traditional rabbit stew, like the pilgrims ate.” He giggled in the way foreigners do when there’s something amusing about American culture, but his enthusiasm frightened Carol all the same. “With whipped mascarpone and shallots,” he said and left them to eat.

“Now this is something I can sink my teeth into,” Edwin said and slurped the stew from a wide spoon.

“I’m a little skeptical, to be honest. And I’m not sure America will like this,” Carol said and stirred the ingredients around the bowl. “She’s a city girl after all.”

“Was.”

“Excuse me?”

Edwin paused his spoon midair between the bowl and his mouth. “She was a city girl. Now she’s a Cove girl. This stew is really good. You should try it.”

Carol put a little bit of each ingredient on her spoon and brought the mix of green and orange vegetables and pinkish-colored meat up to her nose. She smelled the stew expecting something pungent or gamey. Instead, the scent of onions, sweet cheese, and rich spices felt more like a cozy hug by the fire than the rustic, back-woods trappings she had imagined. She slurped the gravy from the end of the spoon first and then poured the remaining ingredients onto her tongue. “It’s really good,” she had to admit.

Edwin raised a brow at her. “So, we should keep it on the menu?”

Carol nodded. “It’s unexpected in the best way. Alfonso has really outdone himself this time.”

Edwin scraped the last bite out of the bottom of the bowl. “It’s really good. If I ever get married, I want this exact meal.”

Carol was surprised he had ever thought about his wedding. She never wasted time, the way she knew other girls did, daydreaming about her big day. She had never been married and never planned on it. Hearing a grown man speak about his someday-wedding was as odd as the fact that she had only ever met one man that could have stolen her heart. And neither of them had ever married.

“Have you heard from them today?” Edwin asked.

“America said she would call when she could. But I’m assuming no news is a good thing,” Carol said and set her spoon down. The stew was good, but she didn’t want something so heavy just now. “You want mine?”

Edwin reached around the vase in the center of the table and retrieved the bowl. “Don’t mind if I do.”

She nodded and watched him dive in. “I just hope they get back in time for their own wedding, you know?”

It was his turn to nod, seeing how his mouth was full.

Alfonso clapped and came to the table. A wide grin pulled his chipmunk cheeks and exposed a thin ribbon of white teeth between his lips. “So? Tell Alfonso.”

Edwin dabbed the gravy from his lips with a black napkin and smiled with his eyes. He looked like a happy man. “I really like the stew. And the fig jam was really nice.”

“I thought it was all delightful. The crab was my favorite, and I think America will really love it all,” Carol said and stood, her chair screeching on the floor. “I don’t know how you did it, but you somehow combined the local ingredients with the personality of the couple. Bravo, Alfonso.”

A blush splashed across his cheeks, and he looked down. Taking her hands in his, he kissed the back of both. “Much to do before Saturday.” The man gathered the dirty dishes and made for the cucina , leaving Carol and Edwin alone again.

“I appreciate you doing this with me. It was…” she paused for too long, though she knew what she wanted to say, she debated saying that she enjoyed his company.

“I had a nice time too,” Edwin said as though he read her mind. “Can I walk you out? Maybe give you a lift back into town?”

Despite her knee-jerk reaction to deny his request, she leaned into the moment, and leaned into the warm fuzzy feeling she had when he looked at her that way. “Alright. You can drive me home.”

At that, he smiled and took her arm through the crook of his elbow.

“But no funny business,” she added with a dramatized severity in her voice.

All she got in response was a wink and a smirk. Edwin was trouble, she was sure of it now.