A Proposal at the Wedding. GINA WILKINS

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СКАЧАТЬ this first class, she had the students gather for refreshments around one of the tables in the large, sunny dining room of Bride Mountain Inn. China cups and saucers and plates of petits fours and delicate meringues sat in front of them.

      Silver candlesticks graced the tables, along with white linens and colorful flowers in crystal vases. An antique silver plate and crystal chandelier gleamed overhead. Great-grandmother Finley had salvaged that piece from an old Virginia plantation when she and her husband originally opened the inn in the 1930s, and it had hung here since with only occasional refurbishing, most recently when Bonnie and her siblings had taken ownership. Bonnie had insisted on keeping as many of the original furnishings and decorations as possible during the remodel. They’d restored almost all of the beautiful old light fixtures. Given the value of these items, they limited their guests to ages twelve and older, directing callers with smaller children to nice family motels and inns nearby.

      Kinley and Logan both had other part-time jobs—Kinley selling real estate, Logan consulting for business software design—but Bonnie’s whole life was here at the inn. She worked here seven days a week, and she hadn’t even taken a real vacation in the past three years. As far as she was concerned, teaching this class was just another task that went along with her responsibilities as hostess, head chef, housekeeper, decorator and concierge. Kinley called her “the heart of the inn.” Bonnie rather liked that title.

      Standing beside the demonstration table she had prepared, she cleared her throat to claim the attention of the chattering group of friends. “I think we’re almost ready to start. Some of you may want to move to another table so everyone can see clearly. Before we begin, does anyone need a refill on coffee, tea, lemonade or water?”

      The women gathered their snacks and arranged themselves around two tables, their noisy conversations barely abating in the process. Bonnie wondered if she could get this ebullient group quiet long enough to teach them anything. Nora Willis, the woman who’d persuaded Bonnie to offer this class for her group of thirtysomething friends, was the loudest of them all, her frequent, hearty laughter filling the room.

      With one minute remaining until six o’clock, Bonnie drew a deep breath and spoke above the happy din. “If everyone is comfortable, we’ll go ahead and—”

      Paul rushed into the room with a sheepish smile and an apology. “I’m sorry I’m late. Please forgive me for the interruption.”

      Bonnie was glad everyone had turned to look at the newcomer rather than at her. It gave her a moment to ensure that her expression didn’t give away her pleasure at seeing him enter, all windblown, flustered and sexy male.

      Teaching this class had just become considerably more difficult. Not because she didn’t know the subject matter, but because it would be all too easy for Paul Drennan to become the teacher’s pet.

      Paul settled into a chair at the second table, greeting the two women there quickly with smiles and nods, all the while looking apologetically at Bonnie. She smiled to assure him she wasn’t annoyed, then addressed the group again. “Most of you know each other, but for our newcomer’s sake, why don’t you go around the tables and introduce yourselves. Nora, you start.”

      Nora and her four friends took turns stating their names, looking directly at Paul as they did so. Nora, Lydia, Kathy, Jennifer and Heather were visibly pleased to have an attractive man in the group—especially Lydia and Jennifer, who were both divorced. Paul just happened to sit at the same table as the two singles, and they seemed delighted to have him there. Tall, artfully ombre-haired Jennifer, in particular, appeared to be more intrigued by her new classmate than the cooking lessons. Bonnie didn’t miss noting that Jennifer scooted her chair a bit closer to Paul’s as if to hear him better when he introduced himself.

      Bonnie began the class by passing out copies of the syllabus they would follow during this and the next two sessions. Each syllabus was tucked into a bright red pocket folder which she informed them would be filled by the end of the course with useful handouts and website suggestions. Incorporating Nora’s requests, she’d divided the three two-hour classes into one-hour blocks: Introduction to Seasonal Cooking; Fresh Herbs; Knife Skills; Spring and Summer Recipes; Fall and Winter Recipes; Canning, Drying and Freezing.

      “I’ll be at the farmers’ market next Tuesday morning at eight,” she added as she distributed the schedules. “For those who are free and would like to join me, we can shop together for ingredients for the dishes we’ll make that evening.”

      “I can meet you there after I drop off the kids at day camp,” Jennifer said eagerly. “It sounds like fun, doesn’t it, Paul?”

      “Yes, it does.” He smiled up at Bonnie when she gave him his handout, and she wondered if it was only an accident that his fingers brushed hers as he accepted it. Whether intentional or not, that fleeting contact still made her hand tingle. She flexed her fingers surreptitiously as she returned to the demo table to begin her informal lecture about the many advantages—ecologically, financially and nutritionally—of cooking with fresh, locally grown produce.

      She tried very hard to divide her attention evenly among the class members. She made a point not to look at Paul too much—or too little, which could be just as noticeable. She didn’t like feeling so self-conscious, and she chided herself mentally for her schoolgirl behavior. But still she was too keenly aware of him sitting there listening so attentively, even when other members of the class called attention to themselves with blurted comments or questions or jests. Jennifer, in particular, seemed intent on making sure Paul knew she was available for extracurricular activities.

      After forty minutes of lecture and discussion, Bonnie suggested a ten-minute break before the next session. “Feel free to walk in the gardens or help yourself to snacks and drinks, but please keep an eye on the time so we can begin again promptly.”

      Taking advantage of the cooler temperatures as shadows lengthened in the gardens, the women decided to step outside for the break while Bonnie set up for the next session. “Come with us, Paul,” Jennifer urged. “The gardens here are just beautiful.”

      “Yes, I’ve seen them and they are,” he replied with an easy smile. “But I need to speak with Bonnie for a moment before class starts again.”

      Seeming unable to come up with a reason to linger with him, Jennifer went out with the others, though she looked back over her shoulder at Paul before stepping outside. Paul waited until the door had closed before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a check. “My registration fee,” he said. “Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a freeloader.”

      Bonnie laughed and tucked the check into a deep pocket of her floral summer skirt. “I didn’t think that.”

      “I’m not really in the mood to walk the gardens right now. Is there anything I can do to help you set up for the next part?”

      He was too much the gentleman to admit that he was avoiding Jennifer, but Bonnie had her suspicions. “You can bring things in from the kitchen, if you like,” she said.

      Maybe he was just being polite, genuinely attempting to be helpful rather than trying to escape the attentions of an admittedly attractive woman. The awkward truth was, she hadn’t much liked seeing Jennifer flirting so blatantly with Paul, but maybe he’d liked it very much. It would certainly be unprofessional of her to flirt with him, at least while he was a participant in her class, she told herself primly.

      And still she found herself smiling up at him through her lashes when he stopped close beside her in the kitchen. “You can carry one basket,” she said, motioning toward the two large picnic-style baskets on the counter. “I’ll get the other one.”

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