Angels at the Table (Angels Everywhere #7)(27)

“Angelic,” Lucie supplied. Their shoulders touched as they walked, arm in arm. “I had the most wonderful evening. I don’t know how to thank you.”

Aren grinned and wrapped his hand around hers in the crook of his elbow. “We’re not finished yet.”

“We’re not?”

“I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starved.” Lucie had gotten up extra early that morning to bake and get everything ready at the restaurant so she could leave for the night in good conscience. It’d been tempting to phone in and make sure everything was going okay. But her mother had discouraged that. Wendy wanted Lucie to forget about the restaurant for one night and enjoy herself. Lucie didn’t think it was possible, but she was wrong. When she was with Aren it felt as if she didn’t have a care in the world.

“I know it’s late but I made dinner reservations.”

They walked past Rockefeller Center and paused to admire the lights on the Christmas tree and gaze at the skaters circling the ice. Unable to resist, Lucie pressed her head against Aren’s shoulder.

“Tired?”

She should be, but she wasn’t. “No, just happy, so happy.”

“I am, too. I didn’t think it was possible to find you again.”

“I didn’t either. I’d given up hope.”

They continued walking, their pace slow and easy until they arrived at the restaurant, which carried the name of a well-known television chef. Lucie couldn’t help being impressed.

“How did you manage this along with the theater tickets to the hottest show in town?”

He grinned sheepishly. “I pulled a few strings.”

“I’ve heard so much about the food here. I’ve always wanted to try it.”

“Good, this is my first experience, too.”

Now she understood why he’d chosen to eat so late. This was probably the only time he could get a reservation. From everything Lucie had heard, the restaurant was booked months in advance. It was next to impossible to get in during the holidays. Lucie could only speculate as to how many favors Aren would owe for this night. Certainly she would long remember this evening.

After they were seated they waited several minutes before the menus were delivered. Lucie caught Aren’s eye. “Mom would never let that happen,” she whispered.

“Oh?”

“Waiting for the menus. She’d be on that right away.”

Aren grinned and opened the elaborately framed menu. A gold tassel dangled at the bottom.

After giving them more than ample time to study the meal selections the waiter returned and recited the evening’s specials in elaborate detail, mentioning the country of origin for the herbs and spices and every nuance of each particular dish. Because it was late in the evening they’d sold out of the appetizer and had only one of the special entrées left.

Again Lucie had trouble hiding a frown. “Why mention the specials at all if they aren’t available? All those details didn’t make the dish sound more appealing. He made me feel it should be placed in a museum to be admired.”

“I agree,” Aren said, chuckling softly.

Lucie ordered the Chilean sea bass and Aren asked for cheese stuffed chilies. Once served, the food was as much a disappointment as the service had been.

“Well, what do you think?” Aren asked after she’d taken her first bite. “Does this restaurant live up to its reputation?”

Lucie set her fork aside and weighed whether she should speak her mind or not. Being in the restaurant business herself, she suspected she was being overly critical. Aren had gone to a lot of trouble to get this reservation, but she could see he wasn’t enjoying his dinner either. “Do you want the truth?” she asked.

“Of course.”

“The fact is I’m disappointed, but take that with a grain of salt. I know a lot about running a restaurant. My fish was overcooked, the sauce has no flavor, and the vegetables have had the very life boiled out of them. This is what drives me crazy.”

“Oh?”

“We had a food critic visit our restaurant who lambasted my cooking. He or she was cruel and mean and I’m telling you right now, I’ll put every dish I serve up against this restaurant’s any day of the week.”

Aren stared across the table at her with his fork frozen in midair.

Lucie should have taken that as a sign to stop talking, but once she got started she couldn’t seem to stop. “What upsets me is that this very same food critic would probably give this restaurant high marks. I mean, Eaton Well must have reviewed the meals here for it to have such a fabulous reputation. That just goes to show you the critic doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” She bit down on her lip, recognizing that she’d probably said far too much. Every time she thought about Eaton Well and his unfair and cutting review, Lucie’s blood boiled. Because she felt she had to, Lucie added, “I know he works for the same newspaper as you, and if he’s a friend then I apologize. It’s just that he did me wrong and I don’t know that I could ever forgive what he said about Heavenly Delights.”

Aren continued to stare at her as if he didn’t know what to say. Lucie tried again, fearing she’d ruined their evening with her tirade. “Forgive me, please,” she murmured, smoothing out the linen napkin in her lap. “I shouldn’t have mentioned the review. As you might have guessed I’m still upset about it.”