Read Online Avalon by Stephen R. Lawhead - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen R. Lawhead
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a floor-to-ceiling gilt mirror covering most of one wall. Cal let out a silent whistle as he took in the elegant sideboard laden with silver tureens and platters; the precious, if slightly threadbare, Persian carpet on the parquet floor; and a heroic Sheraton dining table that could have served as a Thames bridge. A dozen matching chairs surrounded the table, and more stood against the walls at various places around the room.
“Here we are,” Caroline said. “I’ve put you at this end. I hope you won’t feel like you’re dining in an airplane hangar.”
“Not at all,” James assured her. “But I see only two places. You’re not joining us?”
“I had a light supper earlier. But you two tuck in, and I’ll just potter around. I might be persuaded to join you for pudding, if you twisted my arm.”
“Consider it twisted,” Cal said, pulling out his chair.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she acquiesced nicely. “
Bon appétit
!” She buzzed from the room, disappearing through a door all but hidden behind the sideboard.
“Sterling,” murmured Cal, picking up a fork and hefting it in his hand. On the plates before them was a cold prawn salad prepared with freshly made garlic mayonnaise, and no fewer than four stemmed goblets were arranged before each plate. Cal tapped the largest goblet with a tine of his fork, sounding a clear, resonant note. “Lead crystal.”
The bell-like tone brought an immediate response, for a door opened across the room, and a young woman entered carrying an ice bucket on a stand. Although she was dressed like a man in black trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt, and her dark, straight hair was cut short as any schoolboy’s, her long-limbed figure argued otherwise.
“Hi,” she greeted the diners cheerily. “I’m Isobel.” Placing the ice bucket beside the table, she withdrew a corkscrew from her pocket and proceeded to open the bottle of white wine in the bucket.
“Hello, Isobel,” Cal said appreciatively.
“This,” she said, indicating the bottle between her hands, “is a
good
South African Chardonnay.” She pulled the cork with a practiced twist of a slender wrist, and poured two glasses. “I think you’re going to love it.”
“I love it already.” Cal smiled, adjusting his collar, obviously pleased he’d worn his new shirt.
She winked at him. “Enjoy!”
Isobel disappeared as abruptly as she’d arrived, leaving a gaping hole in the room. The two men fell silent, eating their prawns and sipping wine which, as promised, was very good. No sooner had they laid the fish forks aside, than Caroline entered with two steaming plates of soup.
“It’s plum and parsnip,” she informed them. “I know it sounds hideous, but do try it. Donald would have it every day, but we ration him to Christmas.”
Like the wine, the soup was exceptional. After a perfunctory sniff and an exploratory taste, Calum tilted his plate and scooped away. It was all James could do to keep him from licking the shallow bowl clean.
Next, it was Isobel’s turn to reappear, bringing with her a bottle of red wine, already opened. “I
know
you’re going to like this one. It’s one of my favorites — not terrifically well known but really solid. It’s an eastern Australian Shiraz. And it” — she began pouring — “is” — she filled Cal’s glass — “smashing.”
She filled James’ glass, and then removed the half-empty white wine goblets. “Enjoy!”
“Is this all you do?” Cal asked her.
“I cook as well,” she confided. “Starters, salads, and desserts — which are my specialty.”
“Will you marry me?” asked Cal.
She gave him a dazzling smile. “Why don’t we wait until pudding? In case you change your mind.”
With that, she was gone again. Caroline arrived a moment later with a tray of steaming plates. “These are hot,” she warned, placing a plate before each of her guests. The air was suddenly filled with a heavenly aroma.
“Lamb and
“Here we are,” Caroline said. “I’ve put you at this end. I hope you won’t feel like you’re dining in an airplane hangar.”
“Not at all,” James assured her. “But I see only two places. You’re not joining us?”
“I had a light supper earlier. But you two tuck in, and I’ll just potter around. I might be persuaded to join you for pudding, if you twisted my arm.”
“Consider it twisted,” Cal said, pulling out his chair.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” she acquiesced nicely. “
Bon appétit
!” She buzzed from the room, disappearing through a door all but hidden behind the sideboard.
“Sterling,” murmured Cal, picking up a fork and hefting it in his hand. On the plates before them was a cold prawn salad prepared with freshly made garlic mayonnaise, and no fewer than four stemmed goblets were arranged before each plate. Cal tapped the largest goblet with a tine of his fork, sounding a clear, resonant note. “Lead crystal.”
The bell-like tone brought an immediate response, for a door opened across the room, and a young woman entered carrying an ice bucket on a stand. Although she was dressed like a man in black trousers and a long-sleeved white shirt, and her dark, straight hair was cut short as any schoolboy’s, her long-limbed figure argued otherwise.
“Hi,” she greeted the diners cheerily. “I’m Isobel.” Placing the ice bucket beside the table, she withdrew a corkscrew from her pocket and proceeded to open the bottle of white wine in the bucket.
“Hello, Isobel,” Cal said appreciatively.
“This,” she said, indicating the bottle between her hands, “is a
good
South African Chardonnay.” She pulled the cork with a practiced twist of a slender wrist, and poured two glasses. “I think you’re going to love it.”
“I love it already.” Cal smiled, adjusting his collar, obviously pleased he’d worn his new shirt.
She winked at him. “Enjoy!”
Isobel disappeared as abruptly as she’d arrived, leaving a gaping hole in the room. The two men fell silent, eating their prawns and sipping wine which, as promised, was very good. No sooner had they laid the fish forks aside, than Caroline entered with two steaming plates of soup.
“It’s plum and parsnip,” she informed them. “I know it sounds hideous, but do try it. Donald would have it every day, but we ration him to Christmas.”
Like the wine, the soup was exceptional. After a perfunctory sniff and an exploratory taste, Calum tilted his plate and scooped away. It was all James could do to keep him from licking the shallow bowl clean.
Next, it was Isobel’s turn to reappear, bringing with her a bottle of red wine, already opened. “I
know
you’re going to like this one. It’s one of my favorites — not terrifically well known but really solid. It’s an eastern Australian Shiraz. And it” — she began pouring — “is” — she filled Cal’s glass — “smashing.”
She filled James’ glass, and then removed the half-empty white wine goblets. “Enjoy!”
“Is this all you do?” Cal asked her.
“I cook as well,” she confided. “Starters, salads, and desserts — which are my specialty.”
“Will you marry me?” asked Cal.
She gave him a dazzling smile. “Why don’t we wait until pudding? In case you change your mind.”
With that, she was gone again. Caroline arrived a moment later with a tray of steaming plates. “These are hot,” she warned, placing a plate before each of her guests. The air was suddenly filled with a heavenly aroma.
“Lamb and
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