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Edward got home at ten o’ clock. Isaac was already in bed, and he hadn’t expected to have a meal waiting for him, but within moments of him depositing the armful of papers that he’d brought home onto the hall table Charlotte was calling him into the kitchen
‘Is that enough?’ She surveyed the full plate, with three different kinds of salad and a large slice of home-made quiche.
‘Are you mad? You obviously don’t have any idea what I usually manage to feed myself when I get home late.’
His diet was relatively balanced, and usually healthy, but when Edward was busy cooking didn’t figure much in the equation.
She dismissed his customary eating habits with a small sniff and walked over to the fridge. ‘Would you like some juice? Or there’s some of that sparkling fruit cordial left over.’
‘I’ll have a glass of wine, if you’ll join me.’ Edward put his knife and fork down and got to his feet.
‘Stay there. I’ll get it.’ She walked to the wine cooler and opened the glass door, her hand hovering over the rows of bottles.
‘That one...’ Edward indicated a light, fruity white, and nodded when she pulled it out, holding it up so he could see the label.
He was beginning to see what his father saw in marriage. Not the meal on the table, or the fact that the lights were on in the house, but just that there was someone there. Someone to share the little things with—eating and drinking. Someone to talk to. Somehow the fact that Isaac was asleep upstairs and Charlotte was relaxing here downstairs gave Edward an immense feeling of well-being.
‘I’ve got some treacle tart for afters.’ She took a dish out of the fridge and put it into the oven to warm, then carried the bottle over to the table.
‘Mmm. I love treacle tart. I haven’t had it in years. And this quiche is really good, thank you.’
Edward opened the wine, and poured a glass for her. She took a sip and smiled.
‘This is nice.’
The bottle probably cost more than the whole of the rest of the meal, but Edward wasn’t about to tell her that. You couldn’t buy what made the food so special and the wine so incidental. It was all about the cooking and the care that had gone into the preparation. About the knife and fork set precisely on the table, with a napkin and a glass. The flowers from the garden—just a couple of blooms—in a jug that usually lived under the sink.
‘I’ve been stuck in a meeting for hours. It’s good to get home.’
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Which meeting was that?’
‘Oh, one of Leo’s. Reviewing the progress of the charity arm of the clinic.’ Edward wondered whether she’d pick up on the unlikeliness of the whole thing.
‘Really?’
If she had, it looked as if she’d decided not to ask.
‘Yes. Leo seemed really pleased. There’s a lot of progress being made.’
She nodded. ‘So Leo and Ethan are getting on a little better?’ It was an open secret that while the brothers remained professional in their dealings with the staff, they had what was euphemistically termed ‘issues’ with each other.
‘Looks like it. Leo was praising Ethan’s work, and Ethan looked genuinely pleased. A little bit surprised, as well.’
‘I imagine Ethan felt he had to prove himself when he came back.’ Charlotte was staring speculatively at her wine glass.
‘I don’t see why. Ethan’s a superb surgeon.’
‘Oh, Edward!’ She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘It’s not all about how good you are at something. Ethan could be the best surgeon in the world, but he’s still recovering from his injuries. He had to feel that there was an element of pity involved when Leo brought him back into the practice.’
‘Yeah, I suppose anyone would. I think Ethan’s realised that was never the case, though, and that Leo wanted him back for his medical skills. He was talking about the work that Leo had put into regaining the Hunter Clinic’s reputation as well.’
‘Really? That’s good. Sounds as if they’ve got a bit more respect for each other now. So how’s everything else going?’
‘There are a lot of possibilities for expanding the charity side of the operation. Community issues to be taken into consideration—’ He broke off as Charlotte hid a smile behind her hand. ‘What?’
‘You’ve been engaging in chit-chat about community issues, have you?’
He didn’t blame her for her amused disbelief—he’d been both disbelieving and slightly amused himself. ‘Well, someone’s got to think about it.’
