With a Twist (23 page)

“This was a
mistake. A
très, très
large mistake.”

Natalie looked to Quinn for confirmation as the two of them set the huge table for twelve in Bernard’s dining room. In the background, Vivi and Anthony were arguing loudly in the kitchen. Something about mashing up garlic.

“I’m sure that once my family arrives, they’ll be on their best behavior.”

“If they don’t murder each other in the next ten minutes.”

“Well, it would certainly make for an extra exciting meal, that’s for sure.”

Natalie wished she could appreciate Quinn’s wit, but she was too nervous. She’d been up since early morning, fretting. What if she put a foot wrong again? What if Anthony did? He was as opinionated as Quinn. What if, when his family saw where she lived, they thought she was a rich girl slumming it by working at their pub? She had to remember to tell then this was not really her apartment, that she was subletting it from a friend—very cheaply—while its owner was out of town.

She and Vivi had arranged things so that by the time Quinn’s family arrived, the meal would be virtually ready to go. All she’d have to do was check it once or twice during the conversation as if she’d made it, and then serve it.

The whole family would be there save Liam, who’d made previous plans with a friend of his named Tommy, whom Natalie had never met. An odd look—half interest, half concern—flashed across Quinn’s face when Natalie told him the reason for Liam’s absence. When she asked him about it, he said it was nothing.

Quinn came up behind her as she set the final place, rubbing her shoulders. “You’ve got to relax.”

Natalie leaned her head back against his chest. “I know. But I want everything to go perfectly.”

“As long as you steer clear of the subject of religion, you should be okay.”

The doorbell rang, and Natalie immediately tensed.
Please let this go well,
she prayed to whomever might rule people’s fates.
Please.

“Out of the kitchen, out of the kitchen,” she urged Anthony and Vivi as she hurried to the front door.

Vivi shot her an annoyed look, but within seconds, she and Anthony were casually arranged on Bernard’s sumptuous leather couch, looking like they’d been chatting away just waiting for the other guests to arrive.

Natalie opened the front door, greeting Quinn’s family with a warm smile.
“Bonjour.”

“Bonjour,”
Quinn’s father replied, giving her a quick peck on the cheek as he came in. He gazed around, whistling through his teeth. “This is quite a place you’ve got here.”

“It’s not mine,” Natalie said quickly. “I’m just subletting it from a friend.”

“A very rich friend,” noted Quinn’s mother, handing Natalie two foil-wrapped plates.

“Can’t have too many rich friends,” Quinn’s dad quipped.

“It would be nice if we had just one,” his mother quipped back. Quinn’s sister Maggie and her husband, Brendan, followed behind Quinn’s parents. More kisses on the cheek. Last in was Sinead.

“I’ll probably have to leave before dessert,” she apologized. “I’m a little behind on my work.”

Natalie nodded. “I understand.” She looked at Quinn affectionately. “You’re just like your brother,
non
? Always working.”

“Except her brother doesn’t get three headaches a week, and she does,” said Mrs. O’Brien.

“Just drop it, Mom, okay?” Sinead pleaded wearily.

The plates in Natalie’s hands were still warm. She lifted them to her nostrils, inhaling deeply. “Something with apples, yes?”

“Your basic apple pie.”

“She’s trying to prove she’s absorbed
some
American traditions after all these years living here, eh,
macushla
?” said Quinn’s father, squeezing his wife’s shoulder.

“
Macushla
is Gaelic for ‘my darling,’ ” Quinn explained before Natalie could even ask.

Everyone inside now, Quinn closed the door, relieving Natalie of one of the pies. She was glad; she was so anxious she was trembling and afraid she was going to drop them.

“Come, I want you to meet my family.” Natalie led the O’Briens over to the couch, where Vivi and Anthony now stood waiting to greet Quinn’s family. “This is my sister, Vivi,” Natalie said proudly, “and this is my future brother-in-law, Anthony. They’re both chefs. Right across the street from each other, as a matter of fact. In Brooklyn.”

“I hear congratulations are in order,” said Quinn’s mother. Natalie tensed. “You’re getting married soon, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” said Vivi.

Natalie prayed that Mrs. O’Brien’s pious side didn’t emerge, even if it was only for a moment. Luckily, it didn’t. She was all smiles, asking Vivi all about her dress. Natalie wondered if Quinn had asked her not to say anything. She’d have to remember to ask him later.

“I’m just going to put these in the kitchen and check on dinner.” Natalie turned with a smile, heading for the kitchen. A few minutes later, Vivi appeared.

“Quinn’s family seems very nice,” she observed.

Natalie put the pies down on the counter. “They are. I just wish Liam were here. He’s the one I know best. We get along very well.”

“Who’s the serious one?”

“Sinead. I think she’s a very high-strung person.”

“You should introduce her to Anthony. She’d probably be better suited to him than I.”

“There’s no one better suited to you than Anthony, so just hush.”

Vivi checked the coq au vin. “This will be ready soon. All you need to do is baste it two more times in the next twenty minutes. We’ll set the oven timer. When it’s done, have Quinn arrange it on that big platter. He can then slice the baguettes and toss a nice salad while you prepare the creamed green beans.”

“Honestly, it would be so much easier if we just microwave—”

“Do not even finish that sentence,” Vivi interrupted with mock seriousness. “Not in the presence of a chef.” She sighed wistfully. “It’s very nice to see Quinn again. He never comes in anymore—proof that he was only coming in so he could see you.”

Natalie blushed a moment, then grabbed her sister up into a spontaneous hug. “I can’t thank you enough for today,” she whispered. “I’d be doomed were it not for you.
Come on, we’d best go back out there.”

Natalie knew it
made her look anxious, but she couldn’t stop glancing in the direction of the kitchen every couple of minutes, despite Vivi’s having set the timer. As she’d told Quinn, she wanted everything to go perfectly.

Inevitably, talk turned to Anthony and Vivi’s wedding. Anthony was unable to resist asking Quinn’s family’s opinion about whether he was right in wanting the reception to be large, or whether Vivi was right, wanting it to be, in his words, “a sad little affair.”

“Oh, you gotta go big, darlin’, big,” Quinn’s father said without hesitating.
“The more the merrier.”

“I told you,” Anthony said to Vivi smugly as she shot him daggers.

“Wouldn’t you agree, darlin’?” Quinn’s dad asked his mother.

“Now, I do think it’s a matter of personal taste,” Quinn’s mother said cautiously. “However, we Irish do like to have big weddings.” She gave Quinn and Natalie a none-too-subtle glance before continuing. “And if the music is good, well, that guarantees everyone will have a good time.
They’ll be dancing into the wee hours.”

Anthony looked triumphant.

“I’ll think about it,” Vivi murmured noncommittally.

The timer went off in the kitchen, and Natalie and Quinn rose simultaneously.

“Why don’t you all head into the dining room, and mademoiselle and I will bring out her culinary delights just as soon as we can?” said Quinn. Natalie was the only one who caught the brief flash of mischief in his eyes. He thought it hilarious that she was pretending to make dinner.
Connard
.

“Need any help, darlin?” Quinn’s mother asked Natalie.

“Oh, no, no, I’m fine,” Natalie assured her quickly. “Please, go make yourself comfortable at the table.”

She hustled into the kitchen, turned the timer off, and put the coq au vin on the counter. “Vivi says you’re to arrange this on the platter, toss the salad, which I have already cut up, and slice the baguettes while I try to cook these infernal green beans in cream sauce, which I’m sure we could have microwaved.”

“I can’t decide who’s bossier: you or your sister.”

“When it comes to food, Vivi.” She turned to Quinn anxiously. “They’ll like this, right? It’s not too fancy? It doesn’t look like I’m showing off?”

“They’ll like it,” Quinn assured her. “Please relax, Nat.
Please
. Although it is kind of cute to see Miss Calm, Cool, and Collected a little flustered. It makes you deliciously vulnerable.”

“I’m going to give you a deliciously vulnerable kick in your derriere if you don’t get started on the chicken.”

“Ah, there’s the feisty girl I—adore.”

The air around them charged. Quinn turned quickly to the task before him, while Natalie, heartbeat banging, went to the stove to start on the string beans, which Vivi claimed would only take a few minutes. She tucked away in her heart what Quinn had nearly said and got to work.

“This is delicious,
darlin’, truly delicious,” Quinn’s father raved enthusiastically. “Though at this giant table for twelve, I feel like I’m at the Last Supper.”

“It might be, depending on how well Natalie followed the recipe,” said Quinn.

Everyone laughed, Natalie included. The meal was going very, very well. She was glad Vivi was there, helping to bolster her at every turn, telling stories that couldn’t help but make Natalie look good in the O’Briens’ eyes. Most important of all, she was beginning to feel as though she was really getting to know Quinn’s family. Sinead was still somewhat quiet, but she liked Maggie very much. She was free-spirited and open, reminding her of Vivi. Her husband, Brendan, was nice, too, with a charming sense of humor. In fact, all the men round this table had a pretty good sense of humor. So far, it had been a wonderful, relaxed meal.

“Now, this coq au vin,” said Quinn’s mother. “What all is in it exactly?”

Merde
. Why hadn’t she realized that Quinn’s mother would ask that, being a cook herself?

Vivi jumped in. “This is
grand-mère
’s recipe, isn’t it? The one you make with the mashed-up garlic and the bacon and the Beaujolais?”

“I knew you’d recognize it!” Natalie replied, wishing she could duck beneath the table right now to kiss her sister’s feet.

“If I remember correctly, it has just a soupçon of cognac in it as well, right?”

“You don’t make it at your bistro?” Quinn’s mother asked Vivi skeptically.

Double
merde
.

Vivi covered beautifully. “I use a different recipe. One that’s a little easier to prepare.”

Quinn’s mother nodded, seeming satisfied.

“Vivi made it,” Natalie suddenly blurted out, cheeks flaming. “I can’t cook. I wanted to impress you.”

Quinn’s mother looked touched. “There was no need to impress us, love. The invite alone was a lovely gesture. Anything you served would have been fine.”

“But you suggested the coq au vin.”

“That’s kind of my fault,” Quinn interjected ruefully.

Natalie turned to him. “How?”

“Uh, Mom and I were talking once, and she mentioned that you kept pressing her to add coq au vin to the menu. So I suggested that the next time you brought it up, she call you on it and say, ‘Fine, but
you
have to make it.’ ” He winced. “Sorry?”

“That’s not why I asked you to make it, though,” Quinn’s mother hastily assured her. “I wasn’t trying to trick you into putting your money where your mouth is. I genuinely wanted to try it, because I’ve never had it. So don’t be blaming Quinn here.”

“Yeah, don’t be blaming me,” Quinn chimed in with an Irish brogue.

Natalie wanted to kick him hard under the table.

“I hope you can forgive me,” Natalie said humbly.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” said Quinn’s mother. She turned to Vivi. “Delicious,” she said.

“Natalie did do the green beans,” Vivi pointed out.

Quinn’s mother winked at Natalie. “Delicious.”

Brendan put an arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Don’t feel bad, Natalie. This one here can’t cook worth a tinker’s damn, either.”

Maggie’s mouth fell open. “That’s not true!”

“Doesn’t matter.” Brendan kissed the side of her cheek. “You give a bloody good massage.”

“And it doesn’t matter to me if you can’t cook, either,” Quinn told Natalie, kissing her cheek. She felt radiant. This was the first time he’d kissed her in front of his family. His parents were practically beaming.
They do like me,
she thought ecstatically. What a wonderful day it had turned out to be.