Vanessa
had declared a truce with Jack to help her and her mother cook a real
Thanksgiving dinner in France. The Chateau's old world dining room
sparkled with crystals dangling from centuries old chandeliers. But
their light fell softly on the bright modern art
that hung on the dark paneled walls bringing a touch of vibrant life
to the ancient
room. Michelle had decreed that an heirloom, cutwork lace linen
cloth would be used on
the eight foot walnut table. It was topped with
the family's
vintage Limoges
Haviland
china, its edges swirled with delicate lavender
flowers.
Three
young women from the village had been hired to help prepare and serve
the traditional American meal under the
direction of
Jack and
Mrs. Tippett.
This allowed Jack to sit at the table with the rest of the family.
Michelle's
husband Wilhelm and his mother, Madame Heidi Werner, sat upright at
the table looking skeptical.
Lucy and her attorney friend, Claude, smiled in happy anticipation.
Vanessa
still mad at Jack had gotten Michelle's permission to invite their
neighbor and lavender
competitor
Ricard. He had not won the contest either so at least he wouldn't be
an unwelcome reminder. He
said he was looking forward to the most unusual meal.
Sylvia decided to stay rather than fly back to Chicago for TG dinner with her family. She grinned. “Give up the chance to eat a traditional Thanksgiving in France. No way.”
Edmund
was invited to join them at dinner. Vanessa had insisted as an
egalitarian American, but he said he would prefer eating in the
kitchen with staff. Since
she had seen him smiling at Genevieve, one of his helpers, she agreed
to let him eat
where he wanted.
There he
would also keep an eye on Charlie to make sure the helpers did not
spoil him with too much rich food.
The
meal was a great success, even Vanessa's dad who considered himself a
great turkey roaster declared it was a masterpiece of a bird.
As
a first course they were served
a creamy, fragrant pumpkin soup. After
a breif pause while the guests sipped light Beaujolais and conversed
in a mixture of French and English, Edmund
carried in
the browned and glistening turkey. He
set it down on the enormous
serving buffet where he proceeded to carve it with the deftness of a
surgeon. He glided
around the table presenting
a platter filled with serving sized pieces to the diners. Following
him, the helpers
presented bowls and platters of mashed potatoes, gravy, sweet
potatoes (but without the marshmallow
topping which Jack absolutely refused to allow in his kitchen), green
beans, cranberry
sauce (Vanessa
had insisted, giving in on the marshmallows but not this)
and a special Tippett
family stuffing.
Bowing to the French tradition, after
the plates had been cleared there
was a light, palate cleansing green salad dressed
with balsamic vinegar. Vanessa
said it would allow their stomachs to
get ready for the rich desserts of
pecan pie and apple pie. Wines, of
course. A Chardonnay
with the soup, a hearty Beaujolais with the turkey, and Viognier with
the dessert. Jack explained the
latter
was usually
paired with spicy Thai dishes, but
he
felt it would be a good match with the flavor
of the pies.
There
were no American football games to watch after the meal, but there
were also no dishes to wash as the smiling young women got through
them in no time. They were anxious to get back to their families and
friends and discuss the unusual American meal the Sevignys had
consumed.
Jack
was stowing his chef's knives in their special flannel wrap when
Vanessa came into the kitchen. “I just wanted to thank you for
helping us prepare our traditional meal. I know it's not the kind of
food you prefer so it was especially gracious of you to go along with
our project.”
He
looked at her with a wry smile. “I felt it was the least I could
do after the trick my family played on you.”
Vanessa
grinned. “Well, my mother was involved in the trick and they
tried to
trick you, too.”
He
waved his hand as if that was nothing and asked, “Is
Ricard still here?”
“No,
he had to get back to his family. I'm sure he'll love telling them
about the strange customs we Americans have regarding food.”
“Are
you disappointed he had to leave?” Jack started rearranging the
spice shelves.
Vanessa
thought what an odd question, but answered, “No, but again I thank
you for allowing me to invite him. He has been very helpful to me.”
“Yes,
he's helpful all right.” His voice was tight.
“What
do you mean by that?” Vanessa annoyed, wondered if the old Jack
was back.
“It's
none of my business, but I thought you might be interested in him.”
Vanessa's
mind floundered. Was Jack jealous? “Yes,
you
are right. It
is none of your business. However, I am only interested in him as a
friend.”
“Ah,
that is good.”
“Why
is that good?” Vanessa's
body
flushed
with heat as she remembered how Jack had embraced her and was about
to kiss her. She wondered what might have happened if her mother had
not come in then.
He
ignored her question. “Are you going back to Chicago now?”
“Yes,
that's the plan.”
He
stopped fiddling with the spices and looked at her. “I've been
offered a chef's position in Chicago, at Le
Perroquet.
I just wondered if I might run into you when I'm there.”
Vanessa
felt like a balloon lifting her up. “You're going to Chicago? Of
course you'll run into me. My folks will want you to stay with them
while you find a place to live and get settled.”
“Bien.
I wasn't sure if you would want to see me again after this
disastrous month.” He reached
out his hand. She
took it, but this
time she pulled him to her, put
her arms around him and kissed
him. Charlie
barked, dancing around them in excitement, always ready for a new
adventure.
The End