Page 11 of Christmas Souls

"You're the most beautiful thing in this house," he says in a low tone.

I blush, and I can't help but feel a little giddy inside because of the compliment. Instead of flirting back with him, I hand him the salad bowl. His face has a serious look, and it doesn't waver when he goes to put the salad on the table. I take out the garlic bread from the oven and place it on a fancy tray I found between my grandmother's things.

He takes the tray from me and returns to the dining room. I suddenly hear soft music coming from back there. That's not good. That will make me remember what it used to be like between the two of us.

The oven timer rings, and I take out the lasagna. I serve us two generous pieces and bring them to the table.

"Wow, you made all my favorites,” he says. “Thank you."

"This is my way of thanking you for doing such a good job on the remodel. Things are moving along nicely, and I appreciate that more than you know."

We eat in silence, and I giggle every time Michael takes a bite and moans with pleasure.

"I forgot you sound like you're having sex when you eat. You need to learn to keep it down."

"I only do that when I'm with you."

"Is that a confession?"

"Your cooking does things to me, Mandy."

I nibble on a piece of bread and lower my eyes. Michael has always made me feel special, and tonight is no different. Suddenly, the doorbell rings, and we both jump up in surprise.

"I'll go get it." He holds up a hand to keep me from getting up.

Sitting back down, I squeeze the life out of my cloth napkin. Who could it be at this time of night? Pretty soon, I see two elderly women push their way into the house.

"Hi, dear."

"Hi, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Pierce. What brings you by at this time of night?"

"Loverboy here forgot to bring the dessert you ordered from Flora's."

"Oh, I forgot about that. I never told Michael about it. I thought I'd have more time to run into town and get it. Thanks for bringing it."

"Don't you worry, dearie. I'm just next door to you. I've got my eye on you."

That's absolutely the last thing I want to hear from this octogenarian. Thankfully, I'm not sleeping in this house. Michael is still at the door, looking confused. I raise my eyebrows at him, and he looks defeated. He closes the door and comes sit down next to me. The ladies have already taken a seat next to us and are eating all my garlic bread.

"Did you cook for him, dearie?" Mrs. Carter asks.

"I did."

"Good thinking. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach. Just ask Mr. Carter."

I would, but Mr. Carter is six feet under in the Woodland Falls Cemetery. I give her a small smile. She must be missing her husband of sixty years terribly. It was probably a slip in her memory.

"What was Mr. Carter's favorite?"

Michael makes eyes at me, and I don't even need to guess what he’s trying to convey. He wants me to cut this thing short so that we can eat in peace. I've got manners, though, and can't toss the old girls away.

"Pot roast."

"I'd love to try my hand at that recipe, Mrs. Carter. Would you mind sharing it with me?"

"We'll do it on Saturday, dear. I'll text you the ingredients so you can buy them." She squints her eyes at Michael. "What exactly are your intentions with Mandy, Michael Hoffer?"

"Ma'am?"