Page 92 of First Bride to Fall
Then again, what else could Nell expect? Nobody wanted to marry Aidan, and her sisters didn’t know she was mentally bailing on trying to win over Grant. They certainly wouldn’t think that now, after catching her and Grant in that water fight. Nell decided to let them think what they wanted. It was better than them believing what they’d suspected at the beginning: that Nell would automatically lose their bet.
“Great place,” Charlotte said, glancing around.
“Yeah,” Misty concurred. “Looks like a sweet little getaway for two.”
Charlotte nudged her. “Uh-huh, and three’s a crowd. Four is even worse.”
The group chuckled at her comment, and then Misty remembered the bag on her shoulder. “Oh yeah, here.” She handed it to Nell at the table. “This is for you.”
“Oh great. Thanks for bringing it by.”
Charlotte’s eyes lit up. “Nearly forgot. I’ve got something for you in the car.” She exited through the open front door and returned minutes later holding a covered casserole dish. “Chicken parmigiana,” she proclaimed. “Your favorite.”
“Oh Charlotte,” Nell said kindly. “You shouldn’t have.” Delicious scents seeped into the air, replacing the stench of burned Brussels sprouts with the tempting aromas of oregano, basil, fresh-grated parmesan cheese, and Charlotte’s yummy homemade marinara sauce. She really was an excellent cook.
“It was no trouble,” she said. “Things were slow at work this afternoon, so I knocked off a little early and went home to put it together.”
Nell lowered her voice and sent eye signals to Charlotte. “No. I mean you shouldn’t have.” She rolled her eyes toward Grant and whispered. “Poor Grant can’t eat chicken.”
He returned from messing with the fire, smiling at the women. “Poor Grant what?”
Nell nodded toward Misty and Charlotte. “I was just telling them you’re a pescatarian.”
Charlotte frowned. “That’s too bad.” She stared at Grant. “I brought you and Nell some chicken parmigiana. My signature recipe.”
“It’s, uh, true about the chicken.” He shifted on his feet and cut a glance at Nell. “But I do eat pasta! I’m sure I can have a bit.”
“No.” Nell shook her head and pried back the lid of the casserole dish. Thinly sliced pieces of chicken breast had been pounded flat, breaded, and fried, and laid on the saucy noodles and under the melted cheese. Fresh basil leaves sat on top. Nell’s mouth watered. She was starving, and this looked and smelled so good. She covered the casserole and peeked at Grant. “We have to think of Robby.”
“Who’s Robby?” Charlotte asked.
He frowned.
“Grant’s pet rooster when he was a kid,” Nell said. She whispered the next part. “He went to live ‘on a farm.’”
Misty’s mouth dropped open. “Oh no.”
“Yeah.” Nell made a pouty face. “Which is why Grant can’t eat chicken now. Or poultry of any kind.”
“Yikes, no turkey?” Charlotte said. “Bummer at Thanksgiving, I guess.” She sent Grant a sympathetic look. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
He squirmed uncomfortably. “Uh. Thanks.”
Nell sighed. “No beef or lamb, either.”
“There goes Dad’s shepherd’s pie.” Misty sighed. “You’re going to be missing out, but there are lots of vegan options, I suppose.”
Grant grinned tightly. “Great.”
“Thanks so much for doing this anyway,” Nell said, handing the casserole dish back to Charlotte.
Charlotte frowned.
“No, don’t.” Grant reached out his hand. The group turned to him. “I mean, not after Charlotte went to all that trouble. And anyway, you can eat it, Nell.”
Yes.That’s just what she’d planned.No more fish. Yay!
“Oh, um. You’re sure it won’t bother you, having this in the house?”
