Melt Your Heart
Chapter 35: "But First, Chilli"
When the guests had finished breakfast and set out to enjoy the mild late-November morning, Abigail found Cassie in the kitchen. It was amazing how everything looked exactly like normal; you would hardly believe a Thanksgiving feast for what seemed like half the town had been prepared and cooked there less than twenty four hours earlier.
"I thought I might take these back to Stephanie," Abigail said, indicating the pile of now-gleaming, trays, pans, and other kitchen paraphernalia. "She'll be needing them when she re-opens The Bistro tomorrow."
"Please thank her for me," Cassie replied, pouring the tea that had been steeping in a small pot into her cup. The twins were playing in the yard, her guests were fed and satisfied, and now with Abigail headed out, she might actually have five minutes of peace. "Be back by six," she added before Abigail left, laden with the borrowed kitchen equipment.
Abigail had planned to walk to The Bistro, but she'd underestimated how heavy her quarry was, so she decided to drive instead, finding a spot just outside her friend's premises. She walked carefully to the door, which was showing the 'closed' sign for one of the very few occasions each year, barely able to see over the stack of trays. Adjusting her load, she tapped loudly on the glass and waited for a response.
"Uh, Stephanie, come on," she muttered, starting to sweat inside her leather jacket. Perhaps she should have called first, but she'd been sure that Stephanie would be there, and she was rarely ever wrong.
She knocked again, and when she still didn't get a response, she tried the handle and the door swung open for her.
"Hey, Stephanie," she called, stepping into the restaurant, her heeled boots clicking on the hardwood. "I just thought I'd drop these off for…" she tailed off, coming to an abrupt stop that had the top tray slipping off the stack and clattering to floor with the kind of crash that could awaken the dead.
It certainly startled Stephanie.
Stephanie who, until Abigail's dramatic entrance, had her hands resting on the waist of tall man with dark blond hair. A tall man who was leaning down to press his lips to hers.
Abigail couldn't believe her Merriwick powers had let her down so utterly. Yes, she'd been trying to rely on them less since her episode in the hospital, but really? And, oh God, she'd asked Stephanie to spend Christmas with them, and all along she'd had a boyfriend?
"So sorry to interrupt, the door was open, and I…" she motioned toward the entrance, a little too forcefully, because another tray fought its way loose and toppled onto the floor.
Abigail Pershing did not do awkward, but right now she would be only too happy for The Bistro's floor to open up and swallow her whole.
"I'll just leave these here," she said, her voice unnaturally loud and false even to her own ears. She turned away, setting what was left of the stack of kitchen equipment on one of the tables. "And get out of your hair."
Stephanie had broken away from the man, bending to retrieve the lost tray and setting it beside the rest of the borrowed items.
"Thank you for bringing these over, Abigail. I could have come and got them myself."
Abigail fervently wished that this was what had happened, but it was too late for that now.
"It was no trouble," she replied brightly, wanting to be absolutely anywhere else even if that involved small talk with Martha Tinsdale, or worse, Ryan Elliott. She took a breath and turned to face the stranger in her midst. "I don't believe we've met."
"I'm Simon," the tall man introduced himself, offering his hand for her to shake. Abigail wanted to dislike him, but he seemed polite and she didn't get a bad vibe from him, but did she even trust her Merriwick mojo? "You must be Abigail Pershing? Steffi talks about you a lot."
Abigail wasn't quite sure which part of that to take issue with first, so she decided to stay uncharacteristically silent, her expression bland.
"Well, I'll let you get back to it," she said, already heading toward the door before the words were out of her mouth. "Good to have met you, Simon."
The last few words were tossed over her shoulder as she crossed the threshold and stepped back onto the street.
Well, shit.
She pulled back her sleeve to look at her watch. It was barely three o'clock; she still had another three hours to kill before she had to be back at Grey House and the person she wanted to spend them with had her arms around someone else.
Cassie enjoyed her cup of tea in relative peace (well, as much peace as you could ever attain with two small and very active children) and then went to the phone, flicking through the ancient address book next to it. She didn't recognise most of the handwriting in it, but she could see where Abigail had added to it over the years.
"Hello, O'Hanrahan residence, George speaking."
Cassie smiled at the greeting. "Hi, George, it's Cassie."
They chatted a little about the success of the previous day, before Cassie put her idea to him.
"Sounds wonderful," George replied heartily. He rattled off a list of ingredients he would need, and Cassie confirmed they had them all at Grey House. "I'll be seeing you shortly, then," he added before they ended the call.
"Come on through, George," Cassie called a little while later when she sensed his presence at Grey House.
He came into the kitchen chuckling slightly, his eyes sparkling with humour.
"I'll never understand how you girls can do that," he said, a little cryptically. At least that was how Cassie interpreted. As far as she knew, George had lived in Middleton all of his life, and someday she would make the time to pick his brains about everything he'd learned about the town, especially the Merriwick.
But first, chilli.
Abigail was prepared this time.
With a lack of anything better to do, she had decided to go across the flower shop and get a start on the tasks that would be piling up for Monday morning. As soon as Thanksgiving was over, she started receiving orders for Christmas arrangements and it wouldn't be long before the wreaths and the mistletoe arrived from her wholesaler.
"Hi, Stephanie," she called from the back room, setting down her box cutter and the cardboard box she was currently demolishing. It hadn't been as cathartic as she'd hoped.
"Hey," the blonde replied, hovering in the doorway that separated the back room from the rest of the shop. "I'm sorry about earlier."
"Uh, no, I'm sorry about earlier…I shouldn't have just barged in like that."
Stephanie sighed. Abigail refused to meet her gaze, seeming more focused on the now mostly flattened cardboard box.
"No, I mean I didn't intend for you to find out about me and Simon like that," Stephanie attempted to explain herself again.
"It's none of my business," Abigail replied without thinking, and she saw the hurt flare in the blonde's eyes before she blinked and it was gone. "I mean…" Shit, what did she mean? And why had she stumbled into a romantic comedy, which was currently lacking in both departments.
"Abigail, don't be like that."
"Like what?" she protested, her voice slipping up an octave higher than usual. "I'm happy for you." She did mean it, but she wasn't sure if anyone had ever sounded less pleased about anything.
"Thank you," Stephanie acknowledged. "I've been meaning to tell you, but then we had that conversation yesterday, and I should have told you then."
Abigail finally abandoned the box cutter and the remains of the box.
"Why didn't you?"
"I…," Stephanie paused, swallowed, and tried again. "I know I don't have a very good track record with men, and this is still pretty new. I matched with him on a dating app, and we've been talking for a little while. But I only met him for the first time on Tuesday night."
"And now you're kissing him in your empty restaurant?" She didn't mean for it to sound judgemental; it wasn't as if she had a perfect track record of her own.
"Abigail, please try to understand."
"I do. I really do, and I am happy for you, Steph."
Stephanie sighed again at the sound of her rarely used nickname; it was certainly an improvement on Steffi. She was going to have to have a word with Simon about that.
"And that offer about spending Christmas with us at Grey House?" she continued a little sadly. "Don't worry about it if you get a better offer."
"Abigail." Both of them heard the anguish in Stephanie's voice.
Her phone beeped from the depths of sheepskin jacket and she quickly glanced at the screen.
"I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"It's fine, I'll see you around, Stephanie."
She watched her friend leave, wondering how her intuition could have led her so wrong.
By the time Abigail arrived back at Grey House she was ready to go to her room and sulk like a moody teenager. Except, as far as knew, moody teenagers didn't drink Malbec. Well, not by choice anyway.
Instead, she was disappointed to be greeted by a houseful.
Definitely a pitfall of being an introvert who lived in a bed and breakfast.
But something smelled amazing.
Delicious.
Insanely incredible.
It could only be George O'Hanrahan's famous chilli.
Abigail would never tell a soul, but it was ever better than Martha's and her chilli was to die for.
Her bad mood evaporating enough that she didn't snarl at anyone as she let her nose lead her to the source of that intoxicating smell.
"Hey, George," she greeted, almost grinning by the time she reached the kitchen.
"Hi, Abigail," he replied. "I hope you brought your appetite with you."
"Of course," she said, kissing the older man on the cheek. "I've always got room for your chilli."
"You have Cassie to thank really. She invited me to come over and make it for you all, and how can a man resist the charms of a Merriwick?"
"Lesser men have tried," Abigail replied sagely. But then her traitorous mind flashed back to the unintended interruption; honing in on the way that Stephanie's hands had rested so intimately on Simon's waist.
Cassie chose that moment to join them in the kitchen, her arms laden with bowls for the chilli to be served in.
"You okay?" she asked her cousin quietly while George hummed and gave the chilli a final, loving stir.
"I've been better," Abigail admitted, surprised with how easily confiding in Cassie came. She wasn't going to tell her the whole story, but just letting someone else know how she was feeling was new for her. She usually only talked about her feelings with Stephanie, or occasionally with Sam if enough whiskey had been consumed.
"Well, I'm pretty sure George's chilli will cheer you up," Cassie said encouragingly, rubbing Abigail's shoulder in a gesture that was becoming second nature to them already. And that was saying a lot, considering Abigail Pershing allowed and liked very few people in her personal space.
"Do you know who else might be in need of some of this magical chilli?" Abigail asked, feeling a bit more like her old self again.
Cassie rolled her eyes. "I'm going to take him a bowl later, and one for Joanne."
Abigail smiled; a real, genuine one for the first time that day.
"That's my girl."
When the guests and her family were fed, and Abigail was on 'putting the twins to bed' duty, Cassie filled two Tupperware bowls with chilli and wrapped a chunk of leftover garlic bread in foil, and started out for Sam's house.
She was a little apprehensive about seeing him after their conversation that morning. There had been plenty of time to think about his proposal, and she felt slightly guilty for not considering his offer before she turned it down. The holiday season had already thrown her for a loop, and it was hard to think about starting new traditions when what she really wanted was to slip back into the old ones she shared with Jake and the twins. But, at the same time, she knew it wasn't fair to any of them to stay stuck in the past. James and Catherine deserved to have magical (pun not intended) Christmas, and Sam was offering to play a part in that.
She was so wrapped up in his internal debate that she'd arrived at his front door before she even knew where she was. Taking a breath she knocked on the glass, waiting with baited breath for his silhouette to appear.
"Hey, Cassie," he greeted her, with genuine warmth in his eyes. Then he saw the stack of boxes in her arms and it turned into a full blown grin. "Please tell me that's George O'Hanrahan's world famous chilli."
"This is George O'Hanrahan's world famous chilli," she parroted back at him, and found that his grin was somewhat infectious. "And, uh, on the subject of chilli, it's getting a little cold out here."
"Oh, sorry," Sam said, stepping aside and motioning for her to enter the house. "Joanne is just taking a catnap, but I'm sure she'll wake up when she smells this heating up."
"How is she doing?" Cassie asked, following him into the kitchen.
"A little tired after the party yesterday," he admitted. "But she says she had a lovely time."
"I'm glad," Cassie replied. "Look, Sam, about this morning…"
"I overstepped," Sam said, cutting across her. "I'm sorry."
"No," she countered. "I'm the one who is sorry. I just dismissed the idea without thinking it through, or even properly thanking you for suggesting it."
"Cassie, please, you don't have to apologise," he said it gently, but his gaze was hot on hers. "Not for anything."
"Sam," she sighed, her breath catching a little in her throat.
"You and I," he started softly. "We jumped into things too fast." He knew they were both thinking about the last time she had been here with him. "I don't think either of us meant to; neither of us was looking for what we found, and we moved too fast. I think I forgot how recently you were widowed, and how you're still grieving."
Cassie stared at him, surprised by what she was hearing.
"But," he continued, his tone lightening now and the laughter lines next to his brilliant blue eyes making a reappearance. "I do have a proposition for you."
"You do?" Cassie asked. She was already wrong-footed and that was with her Merriwick gifts; without them she would have been lost completely.
"I was thinking we give being friends a shot."
"Friends?" she asked, the hint of a laugh creeping into her voice.
"Yeah, we didn't really give that a go, did we?"
"I suppose not," Cassie agreed, thinking about how they'd gone from being at each other's throats to, well, kissing each other's throats.
"Do you think we can handle that?"
Cassie tilted her head sideways, and pretended to be considering him.
"I think we can probably make it work."
"Good, that's settled then," he said, his grin back in full force. "Wait, we should toast."
Cassie stood at his kitchen island while he poured a small amount of white wine into two glasses.
"To friends," he said, raising his glass to hers and clinking them together.
"To friends."