Page 93 of Moonlight Hearts

When we got back to the hallway, there was another knock on the door, and I stuck to Soyer’s side as he opened it.

Chef Martin was carrying a Styrofoam box like people used for deliveries, and he frowned at the bottle in my hand.

“On est arrivés en retard?”

Vico patted the big bottle of Champagne he’d brought along.“Chef suggests you’d best find the right starting point for this party.Vodka, he says, is rather the end point.”

“Oh, this is just for the juice,” I said.

Soyer nodded.“Yeah.For the kiddy table.”

Chef Martin looked at Soyer flatly.“Y’a des gens chelous ici.”

Vico nodded sagely.“Chef says thank you for the invitation.Thanksgiving is not a very French holiday, but he’s excited to experience it.”

I smiled at the Frenchman, wishing I were able to say…anything really.So much for what remained of my high school French.“Oh, it’s just a small gathering for friends.Nothing too special.”

Chef glanced at Vico.“Tu es un empoisonneur menteur, chéri, et il finira par se rendre compte.”

“Wise remarks there, Chef,” Soyer said.

Vico smiled politely at me.“Soyer is right.Chef says that there’s no better reason to celebrate than having friends to celebrate with.Would you show me where to chill the Champagne, Mr.Saintclair?”

I nodded.“Amory’s fine.Follow me.”

Soyer put out his hand and clicked his tongue.“Nope, don’t think so.You’re staying far away from my kitchen, Vico.”

Vico pouted.“Oh, you’re such a terror.Amory, at least show Chef.He made savory onion pies as per my direction.It’s one of my most special recipes; one of the secret ones I never wrote down.”

“Gros frimeur.”Chef walked past me, then looked over his shoulder.“Well?Show me where the kitchen is.”

This was only the second time I’d heard him speak English.He had a thick accent, but it was lovely to listen to.It was definitely the first time he’d spoken to me in English.

“Uh, yes, Chef.”

I hurried ahead while Vico and Soyer remained behind at the door, chatting quietly.

Chef looked around the kitchen and found a spot on the counter to set down his box of pies.

“Bonsoir,” he said, nodding at the vampires and Laura, all of whom returned the greeting.

I pointed at the stove.“We have apple cider in case you want some.”

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, clearly sculpted by moving pots and pans all day and handling knives and who knew what else there was to do in a kitchen.

“Tu n’as pas de vin?”He let his gaze fall to the counter where Soyer had put his breads on a cutting board.The cookies he’d moved from the plate to one of those tiered high-tea contraptions.I wasn’t sure whether he’d had that already or bought it during that shopping trip to the underground.“C’est quoi?”

That one I understood.He was looking at the cookies and the bread, and for once, I was glad to have taken French after all.

“Oh, those’re Soyer’s non-Christmas Christmas cookies.And sourdough bread.Des pains.Cookie is…like…uh.”

“Des biscuits.I’ll try.Why are they not Christmas cookies?”

I scratched the back of my head while cradling the vodka.“I’m not exactly sure.You’d have to ask Soyer.”

“Who has to ask me what?”He and Vico joined us, and Vico put the Champagne next to the wine.

Chef was critically inspecting one of the cookies before taking a bite out of it.“Bon.These are good Christmas cookies.”