Harvest Moon - By Robyn Carr Page 0,74

can drive back.”

“What about your very special man?” he asked.

“I’ll call him, invite him to join us.”

“He can do that without being jealous?”

She laughed softly. “He’s neither Italian nor a temperamental chef. If he’s available, he’ll do it with class.”

When Luca opened the refrigerator, he exclaimed, “Duck!”

“From the wilds of Idaho,” she explained. “But there’s one small complication—Lief will be bringing his fourteen-year-old daughter and she thinks duck is gross. Probably because he shoots them and plucks them himself.”

“Hah! A minor inconvenience. Does she like pasta?”

“I assume so,” Kelly said with a laugh.

“Good, we’ll fix her up. And we’ll enjoy duck! How would you like it? Honey-orange glaze? Cassoulet? Confit?”

She laughed at him, watching his excitement grow as he considered the possibilities. “I don’t have juniper or allspice berries on hand for confit, Luca. I do have bacon and sausage if you feel like cassoulet. Or we can rub it down with garlic, stuff it with wild rice, serve it with vegetables…”

“Do you have sherry?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“And merlot?”

She frowned. She recognized the sherry marinade—so Italian—sherry, oregano, garlic, rosemary, basil… “What do you need the merlot for?”

“To drink!” he said, lifting his hand in the air.

And she burst out laughing. Ah, she remembered now—there was so much about him to love. He was so full of fun, of life! And she also realized, not for the first time, that didn’t put her in love with him. They were birds of a feather in the kitchen and it was wonderful, but not necessarily right anywhere else.

The cooking commenced. She was more than happy to take orders. He entertained himself so thoroughly, walking her through each step even though she already knew it all by heart. Once she said, “Luca, I know the recipe.” And he said, “Pay attention, my darling Bella! I could throw you a curve! And it could change your life.”

She just laughed—as if a new twist on perky sherry duck could change her life!

Colin and Jillian came home after a long day away shopping. After introductions, Colin stowed his new art supplies in the sunroom and was back in the kitchen. He sat at the table for a while, laughing at the choreography in the kitchen. Jillian went out to her greenhouse and returned with a basketful of lettuce, leeks, a few small tomatoes and some skinny green beans. Luca snatched it out of her hands and tossed it all in the sink to wash, cook and serve—Kelly couldn’t wait to see how.

Lief and Courtney arrived next, and the moment they were all seated comfortably, Luca had an antipasto tray sitting before them, made out of the contents of the refrigerator and cupboards. He had warmed one of Kelly’s frozen French loaves, exclaiming proudly on the texture and aroma, and added that to the table. He poured olive oil and a few spices onto bread plates for dipping. He put Courtney at the head of the table, completely blew off her pique, and never set a place for himself.

Next he served them duck liver appetizers, deviled eggs spattered with inexpensive caviar and cheese and tomato slices. He had always said the true measure of a chef is what he can bring out of the cupboard at last notice. He continued to serve and pour, talking nonstop as was his way, until he had everyone laughing and swooning over his food. Courtney was brought a small casserole of her very own macaroni and cheese, Italian style, which she couldn’t keep away from everyone else. As their forks constantly threatened her casserole, they had her giggling!

By the time Luca delivered the duck to the table for a viewing before carving, even Courtney was impressed. He applied a sharp knife to a few key places and the meat, usually tough and gamey, fell away from the bone.

“Aren’t you going to sit down, Luca?” Jillian finally asked.

“Why? I eat constantly. My passion is to bring it to your mouths. Mangia!”

He never stopped talking, joking, prodding, stopping just short of spooning the food into their mouths. Even Lief was enjoying the performance, and for Luca, every meal he prepared was a performance. Of course it was no small matter of reassurance that Kelly sat beside Lief and often had a hand on his thigh.

But she was reminded by Luca’s good mood, his joy, his humor and his energy that it was cooking that set him right. It was not his fame or wealth, not his many restaurants nor his picture on the labels of