A Table by the Window: A Novel of Family Secrets and Heirloom Recipes (Two Blue Doors) by Hillary Manton Lodge Read Free Book Online

Chloé—it’s time to eat.”
    We all took our seats in the long, spacious dining room. Alex passed plates around, while my mother updated us on our sister Caterina’s latest escapade in Chicago. As we dove into the hearty lamb stew, the conversation turned to Grand-mère.
    “Have you decided what to do with the bakery?” Sophie asked, verbalizing the question none of us had dared to pose.
    The chatter stilled.
    My mother took a small bite of the lamb, chewed, and swallowed. “Your grand-mère willed it to your father and me, as you know. I have started to clean the apartment. The patisserie—I have not yet decided, but I will have to decide soon.”
    “You’d earn a fortune leasing it,” Sophie noted.
    I looked at her sharply, as did Alex and Nico.
    “What? It’s true,” she protested, holding up her hands. “Don’t look at me like that. You were all thinking it.”
    My father placed his hand over my mother’s. “We will tell you all about our decision once we have made it. Until then, do not allow the business to distract you from your own affairs.”
    I pressed my lips together to suppress a smile. My father wasn’t usually so diplomatic, but I had a suspicion he was as worried about my mother as I was.
    I lifted my wineglass. “To La Petite Chouquette,” I said. “No matter what the future brings.”
    We clinked glasses all around and returned to the familiar, easy dinner-table chatter. I watched as Nico asked Nelson about his thoughts on the euro, Sophie aired her concerns about triglycerides, Alex ribbed Chloé about a boy at school, and my father slipped a bit of lamb to the dog. I felt the familiar blanket of loneliness wrap around my unwilling shoulders, even as I heard the currents and eddies of conversation swirl around me.
    Nonetheless, I straightened the napkin over my lap and continued to eat my dinner with a pasted-on smile.

    After dinner I said my good-byes, then turned my Alfa in the direction of my apartment complex.
    My temperamental Italian car often raised eyebrows from car aficionados. Granted, it wouldn’t have been my first choice. But my father had a deep love for Alfa Romeos, and Alex enjoyed tinkering with the ones in the family’s fleet. In a way, it was the perfect hobby, since each car required a reliable amount of tinkering. I’d inherited my own car from Cat when she moved to Chicago, keeping it over the years in an effort to avoid car payments.
    The car made it home without incident. At my apartment complex, exteriorlights cast a yellowish glow on the steps to my door. I slid the key into the lock and let myself in. This was my home, dark and silent.
    I flipped a few lights on, my shoes off, and settled on the sofa with my laptop. I’d spent the last four years telling myself that maybe tomorrow was the day someone new would walk into my life. I was finally acknowledging that this person in my head—the person who wasn’t intimidated by my job or family—wasn’t going to appear in the life I’m living. Not like this.
    I had two choices: I could sit at home, feeling sorry for myself, or I could do something about it. I could try yet another singles mixer. But I liked the little privacy I had, and the microcosmic nature of the restaurant industry didn’t lend itself to the keeping of secrets. With online dating, however, at least I wouldn’t necessarily have to use my real name. My family wouldn’t have to know.
    The old-world part of me had hoped for the moment when I’d see a man across a crowded room and
know
that he was someone special.
    The truth was, Éric wasn’t coming back, and after four years, I still hadn’t had a proper rebound relationship, much less found a life partner.
    When I was young and Grand-mère taught me to make croissants, I remember her telling me to find a man who could respect my mind and the things I could make with my hands.
    I owed it to her to try.
    S EVEN -H OUR L EG OF L AMB
    For the lamb:
    1 4-pound shank-end leg of lamb or