Chapter Nineteen
Bethany
I’m still glowing over finding the armoire purchase when we spot Nick’s mother sitting by herself at one of the picnic tables and reading her phone.
“Don’t let her Debbie Downer mood get to you,” Nick says under his breath.
“I won’t.”
When we’re a few feet away, Francine looks up and smiles. Huh? Maybe she’s just not a morning person.
“Looks like you came up empty handed,” she comments.
Nick and I exchange grins.
“Quite to the contrary. Bethany bought an armoire. She really knows her furniture.” Pride laces his voice, and it warms my heart knowing that he’s proud of me.
Her brows slam together. “Where are you going to put that ?”
“There’s plenty of room at the restaurant. She can store it there for now.”
Silence hangs in the air as mom and son glare at each other. Wait until she sees my green monstrosity. She’s going to think I lost my mind.
“Did you find anything good at the farmer’s market?” I say, quickly changing the subject.
I’m shocked when her expression brightens and her lips tip into a smile. “There are some excellent fresh vegetables. Nick, you can make one of those wedge salads that I love.”
“That does sound good,” I add, hoping to win her over. She ignores me as she hops up from the picnic bench. “I’ll show you where they’re at.” The entire conversation is directed at Nick. I’m the third wheel again.
Thankfully Nick puts his arm around my shoulder, making a statement that he’s not going to leave me out. “Lead the way,” he says. He sneaks a quick kiss on my cheek as we stroll down the aisles.
There’s a plethora of every kind of fresh vegetable, plus freshly baked bread and other goodies at the farmer’s market. Nick is in his element as he selects a large head of lettuce, red and green bell peppers, some green onions, plump red tomatoes, and a few veggies that I can’t identify.
“This is endive,” Nick says, “and this is radicchio.” He holds those two up before adding them to our basket. He also throws in a cucumber and an ear of fresh corn.
Next, we stroll over to the baked goods, where Nick selects a loaf of French bread. “I’m going to make bruschetta to go with the salad.” My mouth waters and Nick’s mom grins. Looks like we both agree that sounds delicious.
Each of us carries a bag containing Nick’s purchases. When we get to the car, Nick helps me into the front seat and his mother into the back. Thankfully, she doesn’t complain.
“I’ll whip up the salad at home and then we can tour the restaurant. Bethany, please don’t let me forget to call Skip about borrowing his truck.” He rotates his head and speaks to his mom. “We’re picking up Bethany’s armoire around five.”
During the ride back to his condo, Nick and I discuss tomorrow’s activities. Since I have to catch the train around four, we decide to visit the shops along Main Street and forgo an excursion to the lake.
“I was going to rent one of those paddle boats so we could have a romantic expedition around the lake,” Nick teases.
“Guess that will have to wait for my next visit.” I detect a snort from the backseat, but I ignore it.
“Mom, do you want to join us for the shopping?”
“No, I’m not interested in cheesy souvenirs or dusty antiques.”
I bet she’d be interested if we were going to some boutique clothing stores.
Nick tosses me an amused eye roll. “Okay, but you must join us for dinner tonight. Henri wants to meet you.”
“Of course, dear.”
Her voice sounds hesitant. Is Nick’s mom dreading or looking forward to meeting the Frenchman? From what Nick has told me about Henri, the guy is like a father to him, so I assume Henri is in Francine’s age group. Interesting.
***
As expected, Nick exceeds at preparing the lunch. The bruschetta is the best I’ve ever had, and the salad is as big as a dinner plate, overflowing with those fresh vegetables, topped with a tasty homemade blue cheese dressing. His mom and I both helped chop vegetables and she warmed up to me slightly. At least I was included in the conversation. When Nick described the menu that he’s working on for the new restaurant, I held my breath hoping Francine didn’t bring up the ex-girlfriend and she didn’t.
“I’m stuffed,” I say as we clean up the kitchen. A yawn escapes. I wish I hadn’t eaten that chocolate mousse for dessert.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to retire to my room,” his mom says. “I think the long trip and our excursion this morning wore me out.”
“We’ll delay the restaurant tour until later,” Nick replies. His mom nods and disappears down the hall.
He turns to me. “What shall we do until we have to go get Skip’s truck?”
“Do you have a movie streaming service?”
He smiles. “I do and I know just the movie that a romantic like you will enjoy.”
“If there’s kissing involved, I’m in,” I reply.
“Do you mean people kissing in the movie?” he says with a confused look.
Laughing I say, “Nope. Kissing on the couch while watching the movie. You and me.” I point between us.
A sly smile lights his face as he leads me to the sofa. I snuggle next to him, he puts his arm around me, and I sigh blissfully. Alone time together at last. This is how I expected our time to go this weekend.
A few hours later, feeling languid, but thoroughly kissed, we conclude our movie watching session and let his mom know we’re leaving to get the armoire. I don’t remember what movie we watched, so hopefully Francine doesn’t ask me to describe the plot when she meets us for dinner.
***
Henri Armor is a tall, distinguished looking man. We meet him at a cozy café that is five blocks from Nick’s new restaurant. His snow-white hair is combed neatly with every hair lying precisely in place. He’s wearing a gray suit and red tie—such a formal look for a Saturday.
After I see Henri, I feel like a bumpkin in my blue jeans and purple top. Even though Nick is also wearing jeans, he looks debonair in a tight-fitting black shirt that hugs his upper body. Several female heads turn as we walk into the café.
Henri stands the minute we enter. He’s at a table near the back, so we wind our way through the maze of tables to his location.
“This must be the beautiful Bethany, I assume?” Henri says with a French accent and a kiss to the back of my hand. He must have been a lady killer in his day and maybe he still is. No wonder Nick gets along with him so well.
My face heats and Nick chuckles at my reaction to the Frenchman. “I’m so happy to meet you Henri! I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise,” he says while motioning for us to sit.
Much to my surprise, Francine begged out of the dinner outing saying she was still too full from our big lunch. Her refusal to come with us stung. Does she hate spending time with me that much? Or did she not want to meet the charming Frenchman? His mom’s frostiness is a conundrum, but I push that to the back of my mind. I’ll worry about what she thinks of me another day.
Settling at the small table, I sit across from Henri and Nick sits right beside me. He drapes his arm across the back of my chair in a possessive gesture. Leaning over, I kiss Nick on his cheek to remind him who I’m with and that I don’t have eyes for his friend. He smiles.
A waitress appears with water and menus. Nick whispers in my ear, “I recommend the corned beef on rye.” His breath tickles my ear, and goosebumps form on my skin.
After we order, Nick and Henri discuss the upcoming restaurant remodeling projects scheduled for next week. I’m content to eat and listen while the men talk.
“The bar is being installed on Tuesday,” Henri says.
Nick turns to me. “It’s going to be spectacular. Solid walnut with a high gloss finish. There’s a brass railing around the edge, making it look like something you’d see in an Irish pub.”
“That sounds grand,” I say, trying to mimic an Irish accent, but doing a poor job of it. Both men laugh.
Henri engages me in the conversation by asking my impression of Cold Spring.
“I haven’t seen the main shopping area or too much of Cold Spring yet, but Nick is going to take me sightseeing tomorrow. However, the farmer’s and flea market this morning was great!” I exclaim.
“Bethany refurbishes furniture. She bought the ugliest armoire I’ve ever seen,” Nick teases. “Skip helped us pick it up and it’s stored in the back of the restaurant.” He gives me a squinty side-eye look remembering the struggle he and his friend had getting this massive piece of furniture in the pick-up and then here in this backroom.
I hold up a hand. “Please don’t judge until I’ve refinished it.”
Henri barks out a laugh. “How bad can it be?”
“It’s green!” Nick and I reply in unison, then grin at our simultaneous response. I’ve got it bad for this guy.
“Oh, my,” Henri replies.
“I’m going to strip it down to the original wood.”
He looks impressed but doesn’t ask me for any more details about my find, instead he deftly changes the subject. Guess he isn’t interested in refinishing wood. “What are your plans for Valentine’s Day?”
“Well, I took a fabulous class to learn to cook a fancy meal for my sweetheart,” I say.
“The class Nick taught?”
“Yep, that’s the one. However, I won’t be able to use my new culinary skills on Valentine’s Day because my boyfriend lives out of town.” A frown tips my lips.
Henri quirks an eyebrow at my statement as the men exchange some kind of secret guy-code look. I try to decipher what it means, but I have no clue.
Time passes quickly while Nick and Henri trade stories about their cooking fiascoes. They have me laughing and giggling at their tales of fires, burnt food and spilled ingredients. Nick nudges me at the spilled ingredients comment and reminds me, “Cornish Game hen.”
I toss him a stink eye. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”
“Nope.”
I devour the tasty food despite the big lunch. Dating Nick is going to make me fat. I don’t feel as guilty when I notice that Nick’s and Henri’s plates are as bare as mine. When the waitress wanders by for the third time, we get the hint and leave. Henri graciously pays the bill. He strides off down the street, while Nick puts his arm around me. We stroll slowly in the opposite direction towards his condo.
“Henri’s nice. I see why you went into business with him.”
“He’s a mentor and old friend. It’s an honor to work with him.”
“Thank you for the lovely day.” I stop, stand on my tip toes, and plant a kiss right on his lips. Rubbing the stubble on his face, I say, “And thank you for storing the armoire for me.”
“You’re welcome. I can’t wait to see its transformation.”
We gaze at each other, my heart beats faster, and I know for certain that I’ve fallen for this man.