The Summer of Sunshine and Margot - Susan Mallery Page 0,40
had freshly sliced and toasted bread for the bruschetta. All Margot had to do was put on the toppings. She’d just set out ingredients when Alec walked into the kitchen.
Her first thought was that he looked good. He was always attractive, but the dark suit and contrasting white shirt was especially appealing. When he saw her, he frowned.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting the food ready for our cocktail party.”
“That isn’t part of your job.”
“Yes, it is. Not to worry. I won’t be actually cooking. Edna left me instructions on how to assemble. She said it was super easy and even I couldn’t mess it up.”
He smiled at her. It was a nothing smile—casual and amused. It was the kind of smile you gave a stranger, and yet there was something about it. Something that settled low in her belly and made her think about possibilities. Or if not think about them then certainly hope for them. Which was completely and totally ridiculous. She barely knew the man. Most days their only contact was when they nodded at each other at breakfast. He said good morning, she said the same, then she took her breakfast and left. Alert the media—it was the romance of the century!
“I seriously doubt Edna said anything like that,” he told her.
She’d been so busy taking her imagination train to a nonexistent destination, she had to figure out what he meant.
“Not in so many words,” she admitted. “But the meaning was clear. Edna doubts my cooking ability.”
“Is there reason to?”
She laughed. “I have a few skills, but they are nothing when compared to my sister, who can cook anything and make it delicious. Regardless, tonight I will assemble with the best. Oh, and she mentioned you would be acting as bartender. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. It’s only the four of us and my mother raised me to be the kind of gentleman who makes an excellent martini.”
“Good to know.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I detect a lack of enthusiasm. Not a martini drinker?”
“I am, I confess, more of a margarita girl.”
His dark gaze met hers. “Excellent. When our guest of honor arrives, I will impress you with my bartending skills.”
“I look forward to being impressed. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to tend to the bruschetta.”
Alec nodded, then surprised her by taking off his jacket and literally rolling up his shirtsleeves before walking to the sink and washing his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Preparing to help.”
“But I can do it.”
“It will go faster this way.”
She told herself not to read anything into his actions. He was just being polite. Still, she was more than a little fluttery, which was unexpected and made her nervous, which was probably why she accidently blurted, “I feel as if this is the least I can do. Helping out with the party, I mean. Your mother is doing so well with her lessons and practice sessions. I’m not totally sure why she hired me.”
Alec wiped his hands on a towel, then looked at her. “You mean that?”
“Of course. She’s a little eccentric and I worry about her wardrobe choices, but otherwise, she’s been attentive and interested in learning about the history of Wesley’s country and everything else we’ve talked about.”
As she spoke she got out the toasted bread slices and the toppings.
“Let’s give it a couple of weeks before you make any judgments,” he told her. “There are still a few things to be worked out.”
“If you say so.” Margot wondered if Bianca had mellowed more than he’d realized. Sometimes it was hard for adult children to see their parents as people with separate lives.
They went to work on the rest of the appetizers. Margot stirred fresh chopped chives into softened cream cheese, then spread it on the bread and topped it with the mushroom mixture. Alec prepared the more traditional bruschetta, topping the bread with diced fresh tomatoes and feta. They both finished as the oven dinged.
“I’ll take care of that and set everything up if you want to take care of the drinks,” she said.
“One excellent margarita coming up.”
“Now I’m curious.”
She pulled the cookie sheets from the ovens and slid the various appetizers onto serving plates, then carried them into the living room. Bianca was already there, waiting while Alec poured her a martini.
“Isn’t this lovely,” she said, her gaze darting around the room. “Stifling monastery meets munchies. Whatever will people say?”
Bianca’s sharp tone surprised Margot. As far she knew, Bianca loved the house so what was up with the