Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Before, when I had been a child hiding in my own family, dressing up when there were guests had been an unshakable rule of the household. Now, I knew no one would mind if I showed up wearing my bathrobe for the rest of the day.
Well, Soyer might not have liked that very much, not that I was going to anyway.
I picked out one of my new sweaters and my nicest pair of jeans.
The sweater was a light, caramelly brown with a big knit pattern and wide sleeves.
Soyer had liked it a lot when I’d tried it on, so I had bought it, even if it was more expensive than the clothes I normally went for.
When I went back downstairs, I found Soyer had changed as well, and he was now wearing a black button-down shirt.
He was overseeing a team of four who were setting up a big table and chairs.
They’d moved the couch out of the way and turned it so that if you sat, you’d have Soyer’s picture wall at your back rather than facing you.
Soyer was the dark center of the action. He had his arms crossed and was leaning against the kitchen island. Behind him, cookies were cooling on a rack. He had his eyes on the workers, and given that I spotted Jules carrying in four chairs all at once, I assumed they were from the building.
I stepped onto the stairs, and when my foot hit the metal, Soyer looked right at me. Perhaps I should’ve used the attention to draw out the moment and take my time going down like a popular actor, but I didn’t.
I cleared my throat when I got to the bottom. “Hey, Jules. Do you want a hand?”
Jules looked over the back of the chairs as he was spreading them out around the table. He looked kind of shocked.
“Of course not, sir. We have everything under control.”
“Amory.” Soyer was crooking his finger at me, drawing me in as if he’d caught me with an invisible rope. “First you take the pleasure of pouring coffee from me, now you want to take the satisfaction of arranging the table to perfection from the werewolves?”
“Oh.” I looked back at the quartet. They weren’t paying us any mind, but if they had even half of Ben’s sense of hearing, they’d be able to hear every word. “I just didn’t want Jules to hurt himself.”
“Hmmm.” Soyer put his arm around my shoulders. “Let me get you another cup of coffee, my heart. Would you like to try the cookies?”
I looked at where they cooled. “Your not-a-holiday-cookie holiday cookies?”
“Amory. Are you trying to argue with me? Don’t you think it’s in your best interest if you don’t?”
He slid his hand down my spine, his touch soft. He let it rest at the small of my back. None of that was suggestive in any way, but even so, I shivered with his “threat” of pleasure and bit the inside of my cheek.
“If they’re not Christmas cookies, what do you call them?”
He picked one up. They reminded me of chestnuts, both because of their round shape and the deeply browned color. Soyer looked at his creation.
“I’d like to call them delicious, but I have to get someone to confirm that for me. Open your mouth.”
I glanced at the werewolves setting up the table. They were making sure the chairs were spread out evenly, and two of them were starting to wipe the wooden surface down with cleaner. They weren’t looking our way, but there was no way they were missing something that was…sort of intimate?
Soyer was waiting for me to open my mouth though, so I did. I crunched down on the still slightly warm cookie, and it was a delicious explosion of flavor. Not just of a blend of chocolate and sugar, but also of spices that combined to create a decidedly Christmassy flavor in my mouth.
“This is totally a holiday cookie,” I told Soyer, covering my mouth while speaking and chewing at the same time.
“There you go again, spreading all your beautiful opinions, my heart. Keep it up, no one’s going to care that you’re wrong. Let me get you your coffee.”
I groaned, but Soyer clearly wasn’t in a mood to give in. Back by the table, Jules cleared his throat. I turned, and my jaw nearly dropped. The four of them stood in line by the door as if they were servants waiting for orders.
Soyer handed me my cup. He’d washed it out, leaving nothing to indicate what had happened earlier. A glance at the spot on the floor confirmed that he’d cleaned that up as well.
“Thank you,” I told him as I took the cup he’d offered, causing a subtle smile to stretch his lips.
“You’re done?” he asked, and walked up to the table.
“Yes, sir.” Jules kept his head down, but his shoulders were up. He didn’t look afraid of Soyer, it actually seemed like this was exciting for him, like an event. Maybe it was, given that Soyer didn’t host parties.
“You wiped this down?”
And Soyer, back in his Black Shuck mood, ran his index finger over the smooth and shiny surface of the table, inspecting it for any trace of dust.
“Yes, sir.”
I walked up next to Soyer and hooked my arm around his before he could think of dragging out his dust-seeking.
He sighed. “It’s fine. Leave us.”
And the four of them…bowed, then filed out of there. It was the weirdest thing I’d seen in a while, and there’d been several two-headed people at the diner these past two days. Also one octopus person. That one had been really weird.
When the door closed, Soyer reeled me in for a kiss. “Why don’t you go sit at the table?”
I pointed. “This really big table?”
“No, our table. I have to clean this one before I set it. Hmm. Would you like to fold the napkins for me?”
“Wow, there’s something I’m allowed to do?”
He gave me a flat look. “You may do everything. Except cook. Or pour yourself coffee. Amory, I’m not a greedy man. I don’t ask for much. Please grant me this.”
That had me chuckling. “Okay, I’ll do your napkins. You know, Rosa taught me how to do sea roses. I can do one and you can decide if we should go with those or just regular triangles.”
“That sounds lovely. You should get right to work.”
Soyer liked the sea roses. As it turned out, he’d ordered flowers for the table as well, and while he was stuffing his big pumpkin with a filling based on nuts from what I could tell, Jules and one of the helpers placed them on the table.
Soyer, of course, sent them away, only to adjust the flowers to his liking. It was oddly adorable. It showed he cared. It showed he was looking forward to this, maybe even more than I was.
He even allowed me to set the table, though he had a pretty detailed idea of what he wanted everything to look like, and he was absolutely shameless about adjusting the wineglasses and the forks, frowning a lot and keeping up eye contact while he turned plates that were perfectly symmetrical, though maybe not to his experienced eye.
Around four, my phone vibrated on the breakfast table next to me.
By rights, Soyer shouldn’t have noticed, given that he had four pots going on the stove, one of them the cider that was filling the entire apartment with the scent of warming spices, cinnamon, cloves, and anise.
Still, he turned, giving me a curious look.
I picked up the phone. “It’s Dwayne.”
Hey kid, you mind if the sitter drops Laura right at your place? Not quite done yet at the diner. Still setting up the Thanksgiving food for the staff.
I was relieved everyone working today would be fed. Not that they wouldn’t, not in the diner, but even if they didn't really celebrate, it wouldn’t have felt right not to share some of the celebratory spirit with them.
“Laura’s going to be early,” I told Soyer while typing out my answer. “Dwayne’s still busy.”
Sure, np.
“What has the world come to that guests are early?” Soyer indicated his not-holiday cookies. He’d moved them to a nice plate because he’d needed his cooling rack for two leavened loaves he’d kept in the fridge overnight and baked just before the massive pumpkin. “Feed her those.”
“Should I ask her if she thinks they’re Christmas cookies?”
Soyer rolled his shoulders but didn’t turn back to me. “You know you can do whatever you want, Amory. I’ll watch. What’s the worst that could happen, hmm?”
He was enjoying this. Not just playing with me, but also this. How people thought he was a scary guy was beyond me.
About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on our door, and I went to open it. I recognized Laura, who had her hair up in a braided bun and was wearing shiny shoes; just the kind of thing Florence might have enjoyed when she’d been little.
But the person next to Laura—the sitter, if that was who they were—was something else. For one thing, they wore a black veil over their all-black clothing, and an ankle-length dress under a black coat that made them look strict and fierce in equal measure.
“Amory Saintclair,” said a girl-like voice from under that veil, and the woman—girl—held out her hand to me.
“Yeah, hi. Hi, Laura. You’re the first guest.”
Laura frowned up at me. “Dwayne says that’s rude. I brought something to do. I’m making a scarf for him, which is a secret. Can I sit somewhere?”
I stepped aside and pointed. “Is the couch okay?”
Laura nodded and headed inside, letting her backpack slide off as she made her way to Soyer’s love seat. She wasn’t intimidated at all, which wasn’t quite how I remembered her. Maybe there was truth in what people said about children growing up fast.
“Kindly tell Mr. McArthur she has gone through all her schoolwork,” the veiled sitter said.
“Uh, sure. I thought there was no school for Thanksgiving week. Didn’t know that had changed.”
“Saint Auguste only takes a Midwinter break, but I believe Mr. McArthur gave them a note to allow her to stay home tomorrow.”
“Oh. That’s good, I guess. Would you like to come in as well? Have some cider before you go?”
I couldn’t quite make out the words over the cooking noises, but Soyer and Laura were talking. The kid hadn’t made it to the couch, instead she’d gone left to the kitchen.