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“Nope. Just relax and enjoy.” He opens the refrigerator door. “You like white wine, right?”
“I do,” I tell him.
“I’ll pour it.” Eli takes the bottle from Saul and pours it into a crystal wine glass. I lift it to my nose and inhale.
“That’s good,” I tell him.
“It’s from Australia. I go once a year to check out the harvests.” Saul leans over the pot he’s stirring and frowns. “More pepper.”
“You can tell that by looking?” I ask him.
“Nope. By smelling.” He grins at me. “And I know Eli loves pepper.”
Eli shrugs. “I like all spices.”
“Except that time you ate a whole chilli,” Saul says. “In your daddy’s kitchen. I’ve never seen a kid turn so red.”
“You’ve known Eli since he was a child?” I ask, interested.
Saul gestures at the living room. “Not since he wasthatlittle.” He lifts a brow and Eli looks suitably embarrassed. “I started working here in the summers when Eli was around seven or eight. I was at catering college and needed the money.”
“That must have been interesting,” I say, sipping the wine. It really is amazing. Saul has excellent taste.
“You could say that.” He grabs a carrot and chops it so fast my eyes can’t register the movements. “None of them liked the same thing. This guy wanted steak, Liam wanted chicken, Holden decided he was a vegetarian for a year.” He shakes his head. “In the end, I had to tell them I wasn’t a short order chef. They’d eat what they got and they wouldn’t throw a fit.”
“A good lesson for life,” I say.
“Right? Six pampered boys and me. I had to win.” Saul grins this time. “Anyway, let’s stop talking about this boring asshole. Tell me about you. Eli says you’re from New York.”
“That’s right.” I nod, feeling a tiny pang of homesickness. “I’ve been living there since college.”
“It’s a great place to be. But crazy, too. I ran a restaurant there for a few years. But I decided I actually liked to sleep occasionally.”
“What do you do now?” I ask him. “Apart from cooking for Eli?”
Saul laughs. It’s deep and low. “This is a favor. I owed Eli one.”
“What for?”
Eli and Saul exchange glances. “My daughter got into a little trouble,” Saul says. “Eli and Holden sorted it.”
“It was nothing.” Eli shakes his head. “Just some asshole who needed a talking to. I was in Boston at the time and Saul’s daughter is in college there.”
It’s clear Saul doesn’t want to talk about that, so I change the subject. “Do you work in a restaurant around here?”
“I have a couple of places in Northern Virginia,” he says. “I flit between them. And then do some occasional private work.”
“He’s being modest,” Eli says. “He cooked for Obama when he was in the White House.”
“You did? What was that like?” I lean forward, fascinated. “Do you just walk up to the front door with all the food and ask them to let you in? Does he have a taster to make sure you’re not poisoning him?”
Saul laughs again, good naturedly answering my questions as he cooks. Eli turns on some music – something low and slow – and refills my glass.
And by the time I stop asking stupid things like whether they have a normal dishwasher and what Barack and Michelle are really like, the food is ready and we sit down at the table Saul and Eli laid earlier.
“Won’t you be joining us?” I ask Saul.
He shakes his head. “I’m gonna head out. Got places to be.” He looks at Eli. “Remember the instructions for the next courses?”
