17. Dinner For Two?
17
DINNER FOR TWO?
Ford
I was running late on Friday evening, rushing into my kitchen with two canvas grocery bags, dumping them on the counter. Mara was due to arrive in less than half an hour, and I needed to hurry up and get dinner started. But to make matters worse, I still needed to unwrap my new furniture. The delivery men had arrived two hours late, dropping off my leather sofa, loveseat, and chairs in my spacious family room, and they were still encased in plastic wrap.
I had hurriedly dismissed the men because I had a call scheduled with McCormick. During our conversation, he tried to pin me down, but I managed to dance around making a commitment. I mentioned that I was still considering my options and needed more time to think. As I gathered my ingredients, my mind raced with thoughts of Ross Film Productions. I was getting excited about this opportunity, but I still hadn’t fully committed myself. Even so, I was leaning toward making something fresh and creative with my family’s company instead of playing it safe with McCormick’s project.
If everything panned out, I’d need to figure out how to tell McCormick I’d changed my mind about working on his film. I didn’t want to offend him or burn any bridges, but I had to do what felt right.
I imagined Mara’s eyes lighting up as she savored her first bite of my mushroom chicken. With the clock ticking, I wasted no time pouring olive oil into two large nonstick skillets and getting them heated up. Working quickly, I browned the chicken in one skillet while dicing onions, garlic, and mushrooms in the other.
Glancing at the recipe card, I flipped over the chicken and tossed the veggies into the other pan. As soon as the chicken was cooked through, I combined it with the veggies, adding a pinch of dried thyme and a splash of wine before covering the pan with a clear glass lid.
Done.
I was really getting the hang of this cooking thing. Dante had been right. It wasn’t all that hard once you learned some basic skills.
With the chicken simmering and the veggies sautéing in perfect harmony, I turned my attention to the next challenge: the great furniture unwrapping.
I stood at the room’s threshold, momentarily stymied by the shiny, plastic-wrapped blobs. They didn’t look like much. I yanked at the wrapping but the stuff was sturdier than it looked. I needed scissors, so I headed back to the kitchen and grabbed a pair from the junk drawer.
Dinner smelled delicious. At least that part of the evening was on track.
I glanced at my watch. Ten minutes to go. I carefully cut through the plastic wrap and threw it in a heap near the window. The whiskey-brown leather furniture was exactly what I’d wanted.
I stepped back to assess everything, only to discover I had a new problem. Lengths of plastic wrap littered the floor.
I shoved everything into the two enormous bags that had covered the chairs, then tied the ends of each bag shut. It was just like bagging autumn leaves.
The doorbell rang, and I took a sharp inhale. This was it. Showtime.
I glanced around. The room wasn’t perfect, but it was presentable.
I shoved the trash bags into the corner, strode to the door, and pulled it open.
Mara stood smiling on my front porch, wearing a slim-fitting blue dress that matched her blue-tipped hair. She cradled a bottle of wine in the crook of her arm.
Stunned, I managed to say, “You look gorgeous.” Simply looking at her made my heart beat faster.
“Thanks. This is for you.” She held out the bottle, blushing slightly.
I fumbled to take it as I leaned in and kissed her cheek. She pulled away too quickly, and the brief caress only left me wanting more. “Thanks,” I said, lifting up the bottle. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“My mom would kill me if I showed up to dinner empty-handed. She’s like the Eye of Sauron when it comes to manners.”
“Lord of the Rings,” I said, recognizing the reference. I stepped back from the doorway to let her come inside.
As she stepped in, her eyes widened, and she sniffed the air. “Uh, Ford, is that dinner I smell burning?” Her tone was casual, but the flash of alarm in her eyes wasn't.