Just a Taste (17 page)

“Will you celebrate at all?” Vivi asked.

“I’m sure we’ll figure out something to do, even if it’s to stare at each other over our brandies.”

The image depressed Vivi immensely, even if Natalie was just being flippant.

“Would you like to come home with me for the holidays?” Vivi asked shyly. “I’m sure my mother wouldn’t mind having you.”

Natalie looked teary. “Thank you for the offer, but no, I’d prefer to stay in Paris. Perhaps you’ll make a day trip up to see me, though? We could shop, maybe go to the Pompidou Center. I haven’t been in a very long time.”

“Yes, that might be nice.”

Natalie checked her watch impatiently, one of her tics. “When will you be done here, do you think?”

“Oh, don’t wait for me.” Vivi had arranged to sleep at Natalie’s tonight so they could taxi together to the airport early the next morning. “There’s a few hours of the party left yet, and then I have to help clean up. I’ll come later, when I’m done.”

Natalie looked suspicious. Vivi wondered, did Natalie think she wanted to stick around because of Anthony? If so, that wasn’t the case. Not really. Well, perhaps a little. She did have a small gift for him.

“All right.” Seemingly mollified, Natalie lightly kissed both Vivi’s cheeks. “Don’t work too hard. I’ll see you later this evening.”

V
ivi couldn’t believe
that all the food from the party was gone. When she had seen the trays and trays of lasagna Anthony was preparing, the pounds of squid being breaded and tipped into the deep fryer to make calamari, she was appalled; there was no way it would all be consumed! It was a waste. But she was wrong. Not only was every last bit gobbled up, but they’d actually
run out
, forcing Anthony to improvise. No one seemed to complain when steaming bowls of pasta and Dante’s trademark sauce replaced the lasagna and the delicious, wafer-thin eggplant parmesan that was melt-in-the-mouth good. Yet the pasta and sauce disappeared, too, right along with the olive oil cake Anthony had made for dessert. Luckily, she’d ignored his request for her not to make anything and had baked trays of macaroons, which helped save the day when every last crumb of Anthony’s cake had been devoured. He was annoyed at first, but then begrudgingly grateful to have something to serve. Vivi was convinced that if he kept bringing food out all afternoon, everyone would simply keep eating. She was actually glad when there was no more food to be served.

Afternoon affairs like this one always warped her sense of time. It felt like it should be very late at night when it was only eight p.m. She rejoined Anthony in the kitchen, where he was finishing up the last of the cleaning. The staff had long gone, but Anthony, being a perfectionist, couldn’t lock up until he knew everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. Vivi understood completely. She had no doubt she’d be the same way once Vivi’s opened.

Anthony looked surprised to see her. “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d left with everyone else.”

Vivi feigned offense. “You think I’d leave without saying good-bye? Especially when I’ll be gone for two weeks?”

Two weeks…Why did that suddenly feel like an eternity to be away? She’d been excited for months about going home to see her mother and grandmother. But now, standing with Anthony, it seemed bittersweet. In all her holiday planning, she hadn’t counted on the possibility of missing him.

“Got any special plans for New Year’s Eve?” he asked, picking up a damp rag to wipe down one of the stainless steel tables. The table was perfectly clean as far as Vivi could see. He was either more neurotic than she thought, or he was trying to keep occupied while they talked.

Vivi shook her head. “Not really. At midnight,
maman
and I usually go to the Saint Benezet Bridge and toss coins into the water, making a wish.”

“In Paris?”

“In Avignon. Where we live.”

“Yeah?” Anthony seemed to be concentrating very hard on the already-clean table. “What are you gonna wish for?”

Vivi flushed. “I don’t know.” She paused. “What are you doing on New Year’s Eve?”

“Working. New Year’s Eve is a big night at Dante’s. We have three seatings, starting at five.”

Vivi nodded. She could picture it—the patrons all dressed up, talking and laughing as the clock counted down, and the tinkling of bumping champagne glasses ringing through the room as people wished one another a joyous New Year. She almost wished she could be here, even if it were just to help. “I enjoyed today,” she admitted.

“I’m sure you did.”

“You’re upset about the macaroons.”

“I was at first, but then they wound up saving my bacon. So thank you,” he concluded begrudgingly.

“It was nothing,” Vivi said, waving a dismissive hand. She watched as he moved on to the next table, rubbing it down in broad circles. It was beginning to annoy her. “Why are you cleaning that again?” she asked, following him. “It looks fine.”

“To you, maybe.”

Vivi reached out, stilling his hand. “Stop,” she commanded softly.

Anthony slid his hand out from under hers, pushing the rag away. “Better?”

“Better.”

“I have a Christmas present for you,” he said, looking almost shy. “I was going to stop by your place tonight to give it to you, but your sister told me you were spending the night in the city with her.”

“Yes.”

Anthony smirked as he asked, “Did she have a nice time at the party today?”

Vivi sighed. “I was hoping she might meet someone nice, but I guess it wasn’t to be.”

“Believe me, someone as highfalutin as your sister is
wayyy
out of the league of most of those bozos.”

Vivi’s eyes practically crossed with confusion. “Bozo? Highfalutin? Is that even
English
?”

Anthony grinned. “Let me get your present.” He strode out of the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with a wrapped, rectangular square the size of a box of chocolates. Vivi hoped it wasn’t; she’d eat herself sick on the plane home.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, handing it to her.

“I have one for you, too, you know,” she said, refraining from the impulse to shake the box.

“Yeah?”

“Of course I do. What do you think I am, a total looter?”

“Loser,” Anthony corrected affectionately. He gestured at the package in her hand. “I really think you should open that.”

Vivi excitedly tore away the wrapping, revealing two books:
The Dictionary of American Slang
, and
A Guide to American Colloquialisms and Expressions
. She laughed. “This is wonderful!”

“Yeah?” Anthony repeated uncertainly. “I thought you might be insulted, the way some women are when you buy them something practical for a present, instead of something…”

“Oh, no, I need this, very much so,” Vivi said seriously. “Thank you.” She rose up on tiptoes, planting a soft kiss on his lips.

“You’re very welcome.”

Vivi put her books down on the table. “Now, for
your
present.”

She hustled to the restaurant’s coat closet to fetch Anthony’s present from the large shopping bag she’d brought with her. Usually she hated flying, but with the two books he’d gotten her, she had no doubt the flight back home would pass quickly. What a wonderful, considerate gift, even though she knew that on a certain level, he meant it to be somewhat tooth in cheek, as the Americans said.

Breathless, she scurried back to the kitchen, carefully laying the gift down on the table beside him. “Here you go. Be careful opening it. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Anthony peered at her quizzically, then opened the package. There was no mistaking the shock in his eyes as he took in the sight of the shiny new meat cleaver.

“Vivi.” He picked it up, turning it over in his hands as he admired it. “You shouldn’t have done this.”

Vivi ignored him. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Vivi,” Anthony repeated more sternly. “You have to return this. I know how much this brand of cleaver costs.”

Vivi’s mouth hardened into an angry line. “When someone gives you a present, you’re supposed to be gracious and accept it.”

“Not when that person buys you something outrageously expensive you know they can’t afford.”

“I’m the judge of what I can and can’t afford. Not you.”

“I already have a cleaver, Vivi.”

Vivi hesitated. “Yes, but it doesn’t hold its edge any more. I was shocked when I cut up the chicken to make you my
poulet basquaise
. The cleaver was far too dull. I decided then and there that you needed a new one.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” Anthony replied frostily, “but it’s still too expensive.”

Vivi could see she’d insulted him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was being helpful.”

“I know you did.” His face softened. “I’ll accept it on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You promise never to use it on me.”

Vivi laughed. “You’ll have to behave, then.”

It was the wrong thing to say. Or, perhaps, the right thing. A whisper of tension stole into the room, rendering them both still. Finally, Anthony put the cleaver down. When he turned back to look at her, there was longing in his eyes.

“Please kiss me,” Vivi murmured, surprising herself.

She didn’t care about their last conversation, when he said he needed to sort things out. All she could think about was the feeling of his mouth on hers, the way her skin warmed like honey in the sun when he touched her. There was no hesitation as Anthony put his mouth on hers. God, he always kissed perfectly, Vivi marveled. There was no awkwardness, no stabbing his tongue into her mouth like an impatient adolescent, the way so many men did. Vivi let herself fall into the moment and then, a moment later, into his arms.

B
reaking their embrace,
Vivi felt confused. She’d told herself not a month before that she would in no way actively pursue him; yet she’d asked him to kiss her. Still, given the sexual tension between them, it was possible he would have anyway. She’d stopped denying to herself that she liked him. Perhaps the next step was admitting that she actively wanted him?

It was usually men who made declarations first, wasn’t it? Men who declared their hearts, who took it upon themselves to transform basic attraction into something deeper and lovelier. Vivi felt herself slipping into uncharted territory. She’d never been the first to tell a man her feelings, and now, standing here in front of the man who frustrated her but whom she was growing to adore, she wondered if she wasn’t making a mistake. But she couldn’t go back home for Christmas without a more solid grasp on how he felt.

So Vivi gave voice to the cliché: “We have to talk.”

Anthony didn’t seem put out or puzzled by her statement. In fact, Vivi thought he looked rather relieved. “Talk away,” he said.

“I like you.”

“I like you, too.”

“No, you don’t understand,” she huffed.
“I like you.”

“And I like you,” Anthony repeated back with a pleased smile. “But I just need a little time to sort things out in my mind.”

“What things?” Vivi asked. She touched his shoulder. “Please, I need to know.”

“Well, for one thing, you’re another chef. Getting together could be dangerous.”

“I agree.”

“Then there’s, you know, my emotional state.”

“Are you still in love with your dead wife?”

She regretted saying it immediately. The words sounded so harsh in the silent kitchen.

“I’ll always love her,” Anthony said carefully. “But I’m pretty sure I’m ready to move on.”

“Then why have you been hesitating so?”

Anthony rubbed his forehead, pained. Vivi could see this was a struggle for him. She got the sense he wanted to state things just right so that there was no misunderstanding.

“I don’t want to start a relationship with you until I’m absolutely sure I can be there for you. I don’t want us to get something started, and then halfway into it, realize I’m not ready for it, and hurt you. You’re a special woman, Vivi, and you deserve to be treated that way, always. Can you give me just a few more weeks to straighten my head out?” He shook his head in disgust. “Christ. I sound like such a wimp.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Do you even know what a wimp is?”

“Yes, it’s someone who’s weak. Indecisive.”

“That about sums it up.” He reached out to touch her cheek. “I promise: I’ll have this all worked out by the time you come back in the new year. Okay?”

Vivi bowed her head for moment. “Okay. But if you start seeing someone else while I’m away,” she said as she looked back up at him, “I
will
use that cleaver on you, and it won’t be pleasant.”

“I’m not gonna start seeing someone else. Don’t worry.” Anthony looked sad. “I’m really gonna miss you.”

“Me, too,” Vivi said, tears springing to her eyes.
“Merde,”
she said, looking away from him in embarrassment. “It takes nothing to make me cry.”

“Read the books I gave you, and you’ll learn how to say that in American.”

“Tell me now.”

“The American expression is, ‘I cry at the drop of a hat.’”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I. But it’s catchy, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Vivi agreed. Her eyes crept to the clock on the wall. “I have to go. A cab is picking me up at my apartment in about forty minutes to bring me to Natalie’s.”

“Cancel it. I’ll drive you into the city.”

“Don’t be silly.” The truth was, she wanted to take the cab. It would give her a chance to ruminate over all that had been said.

Anthony shrugged. “Whatever you want. I’m gonna head out soon myself.” He opened his arms. “Farewell hug?”

“Farewell hug,” Vivi agreed, stepping into his arms. They held each other tightly. Vivi felt she could stay there forever. But she knew the longer she stood there like this, the more she’d be tempted to push for more: more kisses, more passion, more everything. She pulled away gently.

“
Joyeux Noel
, Anthony.”