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“Nice of you to bring a gift and a compliment, Lucille. Follow me to the kitchen. I’ve already begun cooking our dinner. Hope you came here hungry.”
“I sure am now.” I trailed Sam to the kitchen. The aroma of the grilling vegetables hit my nostrils at once. On the counter were two humongous pieces of raw steak. Didn’t think I could hold back my stomach from growling at that point.
Sam gave his hands a quick wash under the tap. Wiped his hands dry. “In case you haven’t also guessed, steak is my favourite meal.”
At the prep area on the counter, Sam picked the pepper mill, grounded some over the meat, then sprinkled a pinch of coarse sea salt. He repeated the process on the other side of the steak before finishing with a drizzle of olive oil.
“Oh, you can cook.” Add that to Sam’s ever-growing list of talents.
“Just enough to impress a new friend. Flip the veggies, will you?” Sam instructed me.
I chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t trust me as a sous chef.”
“That terrible?”
“Worse.”
Still, I attempted to give a helping hand. I secured both my hands tight around the skillet’s handle. Tried to jiggle the pan. Once. Twice. Not a single asparagus budged.
Sam laughed at my horrible fail. “Here. Like this.” His fingers took over the pan after me and with seamless effort, Sam tossed the food like a seasoned pro. “See, easy.”
What an utter embarrassment it was to stand beside this man in the kitchen. Look at him. Sam was confident enough to cook in his pure cashmere shirt without an apron and not worry about staining it or something. He got way too much skill, unlike a hopeless me. The last time I tried spaghetti and sauce, I created an inimitable plate of sticky undercooked pasta and had to throw away the burnt sauce with the pan itself which I also had figuratively overcooked.
Sam transferred the raw steak onto a warmed-up grill pan. The meat sizzled in an instant. “How do you like your steak? Please don’t say well-done or I’ll be crossing points off our friendship score.”
“Don’t underestimate my taste buds. Might not cook, but I can definitely eat. Medium-rare for me, chef.”
“Phew. Plus points for that.” Sam forked a piece of red pepper from the veggies mix in the skillet. Popped it in his mouth to taste, unfazed by its hot temperature. Then switched off the burner.
I leaned back to the counter with arms crossed at my chest, resigning to the fact that I was not much help, so I just watched him work. “Curious to know how you learned to cook.”
“My Mama’s kitchen. You probably assumed that because I was raised in a rich family, I was a privileged snob who had everything served, right? Truth is my parents were strict in my upbringing. Taught me everything necessary to live independently. I can cook, do laundry, iron clothes and clean the apartment. Although I don’t do that last one and hire someone instead.” Sam flipped the meat. “Could you bring the plates from there please?”
With the fork in his hand, Sam aimed at a cupboard. When I opened it, there were no plates. Just twenty or more mugs, all with different colours and unique patterns and landmarks from various cities – Las Vegas, Dubai, Paris, Rome, Barcelona, Dublin. “Didn’t know you travelled a lot.”
“Oh, you saw the mugs. Plates are in the next cupboard. And no, I didn’t get those mugs myself. With my schedule, I barely have time to breathe, much less travel. Those are gifts from my parents. They have been travelling for two years, enjoying their retirement. They send a mug from every place they visit. They’ve settled in Iceland now so the mug collection stopped growing.”
I opened the other cupboard and retrieved two porcelain dinner plates. “That’s a nice way to remember your family with every cup of coffee.”
Sam scrunched up his nose. “If only I drank coffee. They know I don’t drink that abomination, yet they chose a mug as a souvenir.” A genuine smile formed on his lips. “The cheeky old man’s idea for sure.”
“Do you ever visit them?”
Sam began plating the mix of red peppers, asparagus, mushrooms and onions on the two plates. “We often talk, sure. But I haven’t seen them since they left except on video calls. Before that? Well, I barely saw them still. I know, it’s entirely my fault and I should be ashamed. I tend to focus too much on my work and neglect everything else.”
While Sam finished plating our food, I pulled out the most obvious drawer to find cutlery and picked two sets of knives and forks. The least I could assist with was setting the table. “Figured you loved your company from the day I met you at the interview.”
“The love of my life. Every new contract I get, every finished project, it gives me life. More than this food probably.”
The plates were ready and oh, did dinner look scrumptious.
“Let’s eat, shall we?” Sam delivered our plates to the table. Then went to the wine rack and chose one. “You haven’t sworn off wine or something, have you?” He snickered mischievously at me.
I stole the bottle from his hand to read the label. Cabernet Sauvignon. Excellent choice. “And pass up a perfectly paired wine? Not today.”
“As long as I don’t have to drive you home today too.” Sam grinned.
While Sam worked the corkscrew on the bottle, I retrieved two Bordeaux wine glasses from the under-cabinet rack. Then we both went to take a seat at the dining table.
