Chapter 4 #2
Picking it up, he saw that he had a missed call, as well as a voicemail. Suddenly, he was pretty sure what the message was going to say.
Dialing his voicemail, he listened to the now-familiar voice on the other end.
Hi, Max – it’s Natasha here, from the B when she turned back around, her smile looked a little forced.
“Just taking a little break, since I had some unexpected time off work,” she said breezily, not quite meeting his eyes. “There was a mix-up with my booking and I ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere, but some of the locals were kind enough to help me find this place instead.”
Max could see that she was obviously leaving some parts of her story out, but that was fair enough. As someone who tended to keep his own secrets, he could hardly blame her.
“In any case,” she went on, “I’m glad that I ended up here, rather than at that other place. It’s much nicer.” Her eyes drifted over to the food on the table. “Much nicer.”
“You must be hungry,” Max said. “Please, sit down.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” She practically fell into one of the chairs, her eyes roving over the massive spread of food, clearly looking for a good place to start. It probably didn’t help that Max had pulled almost everything out of the fridge.
He winced as he took in just how much of a mess he’d made – his quick attempt at tidying had barely made a dent.
Originally thinking that he was on his own, he hadn’t bothered with any niceties, reverting to a hands-on enjoyment of his food that was almost primal, gorging himself like a truffle pig.
Could he really be blamed, though, when the food was that damned good?
Clearly it wasn’t just the cakes in this town that were way above average – every single thing he’d tried so far was simply amazing, especially the fruits and vegetables, which had had flavors so – so pure that he’d struggled to get it down into words.
He was suddenly pulled out of his reverie by the sight of Poppy picking up the bottle of milk. Which wasn’t anything spectacular in and of itself, of course, but –
“Don’t drink that,” he blurted out, and Poppy looked up, surprised.
“Sorry,” he said, moving to stand up. “It’s just that I’ve been, uh, drinking straight from the bottle. There’s another one in the fridge that’s for you – I’ll go get it.”
Poppy blinked. “Oh, it’s no problem,” she said. “It makes more sense to finish this one first. No need to get up.”
He watched, utterly entranced, as she drank down the rest of the bottle of milk in one long, slow series of gulps, sighing happily as she finished.
“I probably should’ve gone a bit slower,” she said, licking a stray drop of milk from the corner of her mouth. “But that milk was insanely good. I can’t tell if it’s just because I’ve barely eaten all day, though.”
“No, it is that good,” said Max as he sat back down, trying to tear his eyes from her glisteningly wet lips.
“Apparently all the food here is free-range, grass-fed, and sourced from within fifty miles, and everything I’ve tried has been incredible.
I don’t know what their secret is.” Before he could stop himself, he added, “The cakes were amazing the last time I was here as well.”
“Oh, you’ve been here before?” asked Poppy, and Max kicked himself.
“Just once, several years back. I was just passing through on that occasion, though. I thought it might be nice to come back and spend more than an afternoon here.”
Technically, it was all one hundred percent true.
But Poppy’s eyes narrowed as if she’d somehow seen right through him, before they flitted over to his notebook, which he’d left flipped open on the table.
Max fought down the urge to close it and pull it toward himself, which would’ve looked guilty as hell.
“So are you a writer or something?” she asked. “Or is this just your personal journal?”
Really, this was the first time he’d ever had to deal with this question. He’d always relied on his powers in the past. Apparently, being a secret food critic was a whole lot harder if you couldn’t just make people forget about you.
“Or something,” he said, forcing himself to meet her steady gaze.
See? he thought, even as his heartbeat sped up. I can be cagey about my background as well. So now we’re even.
Poppy stared at him a moment longer, before she grinned.
“Fair enough,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me your life secrets yet.” She paused. “Maybe tomorrow.”
At the apparently stricken look on his face, she laughed out loud. “Or not at all! Don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. We barely know each other, after all.”
The gleam in her eye had him doubting that, but still, he was grateful.
He’d already said more words to this near-stranger today than he had said to everyone else he’d seen in the past week put together, and he was starting to feel overwhelmed by the whole day in general.
He normally had little interest in spending time with other people, but he found that he was…
enjoying her company, as strange as the whole situation was.
Still, he would probably have to excuse himself soon. He did have his limits, and he needed some space to himself to try and digest everything – both figuratively and literally.
In the meantime, though…
“Did you want a sandwich?” he asked, hoping it didn’t sound too awkward. “The bread is just as good as you’d imagine.”
“Oh, good idea,” she said, grabbing a baguette and cutting it open. “I was feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the options, but sometimes you just need a sandwich.”
He’d been wanting to make one for her – which was an urge he’d never had with anyone else before – but apparently she was a go-getter type. Which didn’t really surprise him in the slightest.
“What do you recommend?” she asked, as she slathered the bread with butter. At his obvious look of surprise, she laughed again.
“I did an exchange trip to Germany in high school,” she said. “I’ve been a convert ever since.”
Not that he’d never had bread and butter before, but it wasn’t a favorite of his, and mayonnaise had always been his go-to for sandwiches.
To be fair, though, the butter did look good – it was a deep, rich golden color, and it practically gave way beneath the lightest touch of Poppy’s knife.
He’d already had one sandwich tonight, but, well, what was a food-tasting trip without a little overindulgence? And besides, it didn’t really count as a sandwich if it was just bread and butter.
Tearing apart a baguette with a satisfying crunch of crispy crust, he spread a generous helping of butter along both sides and then took an enormous bite.
“Mm,” he said helplessly around the mouthful, remembering once more just why it was so good to work as a food critic – if he could even call it work.
The butter was incredible, its rich, creamy, salty taste perfectly complementing the fluffiness of the baguette.
The whole combination was so easy to eat, so basic and yet so complete.
“Good, right?” Poppy said, as she layered slices of pork and fennel seed salami onto her sandwich.
“Sublime,” Max said after he’d swallowed another mouthful, before trying to hide his wince.
You’re talking to a beautiful woman, not writing your latest review. Talk like a normal person.
Poppy raised an eyebrow. “You’re a strange one. But I like that.”
Max felt oddly happy at her words, even though she was just saying that she liked that he was strange, not that she liked him. He usually didn’t care about what other people thought of him, but he was finding that Poppy’s opinion mattered a whole lot more to him than other people’s.
He joined her in adding some salami to the remnants of his sandwich, and then some arugula.
Unable to resist, he plucked some leaves from the little potted basil plant which bore a sign saying Please Eat Me!
and sprinkled them over everything, before adding a light drizzle of the home-made mayo that the B&B had provided and slapping the other half of the baguette on top.
The whole thing was so large that he could barely fit his mouth around it, but, well, he was up for the challenge.
Is there any better condiment than one that comes from a jar with a hand-written label and a cloth cover over the lid?
he thought as he chewed his sandwich blissfully, bits of crunchy baguette crust bypassing his plate and falling onto the table with each bite.
The mild spiciness of the arugula perfectly offset the softness of the bread and the silkiness of the spreads, the basil was so fresh and flavorful that he couldn’t really describe its taste as anything other than the color green, and the savoriness of the salami tied up the whole package with a neat little bow.
The two of them sat happily eating for the next few minutes, enjoying each other’s company without conversation, and Max took the time to decompress a little. As much as he was enjoying Poppy’s company, he definitely needed the peace and quiet.
And maybe Poppy was feeling the same way, given the sudden yawn that cracked her mouth open the moment she’d finished her sandwich.
“Excuse me,” she murmured, her eyelids starting to droop. “I’m sorry, but I think I’ve hit my limit.” She stood up, looking like she was going to doze off on her feet. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“You, too,” he said, surprised at how much he meant it. “I’ll clean up here – you just go back to your room.”
Her brow creased with concern. “Are you sure? Let me help a little.”
He waved her off. “No, I made most of this mess. And you look like you need the rest.”
“If you’re sure…” Poppy bit her lip, clearly reluctant to abandon the cleaning-up duties to him alone.
He nodded firmly. “Positive.”
Poppy smiled again, and his heart did a slow roll in his chest. “Thank you, Max. Seriously,” she said. “I think you’ve just saved my vacation.”
She looked a little surprised at herself – and certainly Max felt surprised – but he waved it off, knowing how easy it was to say things you didn’t mean when you were that tired.
“Maybe I’ll see you around?” she said, in a voice that sounded less confident than anything he’d heard from her all evening. And maybe it was… hopeful?
“I’m sure you will,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. There – that was a normal thing to say in this kind of situation, right?
She smiled. “Well, good night,” she said, turning for the door – but not, Max noticed with a smile, before she had picked up her boxes of cake.
“Good night,” he said, watching as she almost stumbled out of the room in her exhaustion.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click, and Max let out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair and looking at the ceiling.
His plans for this trip had been completely turned on their head… and he wasn’t sure that he minded.