Jules Wake - From Paris With Love This Christmas

Alan straightened. ‘Hell yeah. Where do I sign on the dotted line?’

Gareth held up a hand and Siena high-fived him.

‘You go girl. You are ready to go out on the road.’

Alan nodded. ‘Yeah, I think you are. Do you know what, I think I can see a very long and successful relationship with Johnson Home Improvements for you, Siena.’

Jason returned as Siena was grating cheese, dancing around the kitchen and melting butter in the frying pan.

‘What the fu—’ Jason stumbled to a halt in the kitchen doorway.

‘Hi,’ Siena turned, pushing unruly hair away from her face.

Jason looked pained.

‘What’s wrong?’ She followed his eyes as he scanned the table, the kitchen counters and the sink which was piled high with saucepans.

‘It looks like Armageddon in here. What are you cooking?’

‘Omelette. I’m celebrating.’ Now she had a job, she’d been food shopping and treated herself to a bottle of wine.

‘Omelette? For five thousand? You must have used every utensil in the kitchen.’

Siena looked around. Surely he was exaggerating. She’d used a few plates, a couple of bowls, two chopping boards, several knives and one cast iron pan. ‘It’s not so bad.’

He came closer. ‘Have you ever cooked an omelette before?’

‘Yes.’ Typical English man, no clue about cooking.

‘Really? I’ve never seen it cooked like that before.’

Of course he hadn’t. Judging from the contents of the kitchen, he didn’t know one end of a frying pan from the other. He was used to eating meals from plastic trays in sleeves of cardboard. He was no judge.

‘Wait until you taste it. Have you eaten?’

He hesitated.

‘Go on, try it. What have you got to lose?’

He still looked reluctant, until she tossed the pancetta into a Le Creuset frying pan with a sizzle, the scent quickly filing the air. She saw his hesitancy fade as the red peppers and slices of new potatoes went in. She let them cook for a minute. Much as she loved to cook, she didn’t get the chance very much. A lot of what she did was trial and error but she certainly wasn’t going to admit that to Mr Superior. It would have been nice to impress him but a basic dish like this was hardly going to hit the mark.

Even though she did think that perhaps he might be coming around, when she saw his nose lifting in appreciation of the warm cooking smells.

As the vegetables and bacon softened in the butter, she folded in frothy whipped egg whites into beaten egg yolks.

Jason frowned. ‘Do you know you can beat the eggs and put them in? I’ve never heard of anyone separating them and then putting back together.’

Siena shrugged. ‘Your loss then.’ She winked at him. ‘I suggest you withhold judgement until you’ve tried it. Would you like a glass of wine?’

She asked him to pour as she concentrated on pouring the omelette batter into the pan. The trick was to cook the bottom and then slide it under the grill to cook the top.

When she whisked the fluffy omelettes onto warm plates with a side salad of leaves and popped one in front of Jason, she smiled at the look of pleasure on his face when he tasted them.

‘Wow, this is amazing.’

She smiled and took a happy slug of red wine. ‘Told you I knew what I was doing.’

‘I take it all back.’ There was a silence between them and then as if he’d suddenly remembered his manners, Jason asked, ‘So how did you get on today?’

‘It was great. I met some really nice people,’ she pulled a face, ‘and some not so nice people. But I’m all trained and ready to go out on the road.’

‘Trained?’

‘Yes.’ Siena felt rather pleased with herself. ‘Apparently I’m an active seller.’

‘And what’s one of those when they’re at home?’

She ignored his scepticism. What did he know? He hadn’t been there today. She was looking forward to going out, helping people improve their homes. Help them reduce and eradicate unnecessary maintenance.

‘An active seller is proactive. Forward thinking. Takes charge. We make the best sellers.’

‘You mean you’re pushy and don’t take no for an answer.’

‘No,’ Siena drew herself up. ‘We develop empathy with the customer and build a relationship.’

‘Good luck with that, you’re going to need it.’

Siena rolled her eyes. What did he know?

‘How’s the red wine?’

‘Good. No, great. I guess if you’re French you know a bit about wines.’

Siena shrugged. She knew what she knew. She’d never really thought about it before. ‘I’m not really French. I’m English. I just grew up there.’ Neither one thing nor the other.

‘I really like this one. What is it?’

‘It’s a Bordeaux Supérieur.’ The best the supermarket had to offer.

‘What’s that when it’s at home?’

‘A wine from the Bordeaux region obviously; but the grapes, mainly Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot, come from the older plots.’

‘It’s very nice.’ He toasted her and took a long sip and then spoilt it by adding with a naughty grin, ‘Would you usually serve this with omelettes?’

‘But of course,’ she toasted him back with a wry smile. ‘Eggs and red wine, always. Haven’t you heard of nouvelle vin? Forget all those stuffy principles of white wine with fish and red wine with beef. That’s all terribly vintage chapeau.’

‘Really?’ Jason looked half convinced until she gave a gurgle of laughter.

‘No,’ she raised her glass and took an appreciative slurp. ‘I thought I deserved a treat after today.’

‘So it went well, did it?’

Half an hour later they were still chatting as Siena emptied the last of the bottle into the two glasses. She was rather grateful that he got up to do the washing up. There did seem to be an awful lot of it.

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