mahogany. The décor was simple, but obviously of good quality. I could tell that the wood was hand crafted by the dovetailing and metal accent pieces instead of being machine milled.
Running my hand along the top of the end table nearest me I was curious, “Is this Amish crafted? These are mission style, but not the new way. They’re really high quality pieces.”
James had led the way into the dining room without giving me a backward glance but turned slowly with a curious look on his face. “Are you are a furniture expert?”
Why did I open my big mouth? I sounded like a know it all, “No, my dad makes furniture in his spare time so I know a little.” Awkwardly, I brought my hand back to my side and looked around the room again, wishing I had spent more time learning to make small talk. Social idiot kept running through my mind like a schoolyard taunt. Now all I could think of were vampire questions and to ask what Henry meant by flamboyant kills or what he thought my chances might be for learning to master my gift, but all of that seemed like overkill after my flub in the driveway. I shifted from one foot to the other, nervously uncertain what to do.
James raised his eyebrows curiously. “How interesting,” was all he said as he moved into the kitchen while I was having my defeatist self-talk. His voice floated out of the kitchen, “Could I get you anything to drink? I have water, coffee and tea.”
“I’d take a tea. What kind do you have?” A man who had tea; I was impressed.
He poked his face back into the kitchen doorway. “I apologize but I only have black tea. Not many of my guests take more than that, but I remember enjoying it a long time ago. It was always my preference over coffee, not so bitter smelling either.”
I walked up toward the kitchen, “My grandmother was French and brought up in Canada kind of old school. When we would go visit, we would have tea.”
He smiled strangely. “I will get the cream and sugar as well.”
I felt myself grinning back, relaxing a little for the first time with him. “Good guess.”
Following him into the kitchen, I took in the details. Again with the dark wood, mission styled cabinets, lots of glass fronts and deep green and black granite counter tops. The dark colors didn’t make the house seem small like they sometimes can; instead, it felt cozy and lived in. It was easy to picture myself cuddled up on the couch with the blanket, reading a book in the winter or cooking in this kitchen. It felt like home, odd for a girl who’d always grown up without a sense of what that meant.
“Did you design this kitchen or have someone do it for you?”
“I designed the entire house, why? Do you like it?” He asked over his shoulder as he filled up the teakettle with his back to me, giving me a long look at his broad shoulders.
“Just curious. Especially with the kitchen since you probably don’t use it much.” There, I did it again. Pointing out his being different when here he’d been polite enough not to have done the same to me yet.
He stopped filling the teakettle, set it down and turned around, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. I swallowed hard.
“Do you have a problem with what I am? You knew it before we agreed to this arrangement.” It was hard to read his face, he’d wiped any traces of feeling from it.
There was a spot on the floor that I gave all my attention as I answered, “No, I have just never met a… one of you before. Last night was the first I had even heard that you really existed. I guess I don’t know how to go about all of this.” My manners finally surfaced and I looked up at him, “I’m sorry if I have offended you. I would never do that on purpose.” My remorse was genuine and I hoped he could tell that. I really didn’t want to make him angry or
Running my hand along the top of the end table nearest me I was curious, “Is this Amish crafted? These are mission style, but not the new way. They’re really high quality pieces.”
James had led the way into the dining room without giving me a backward glance but turned slowly with a curious look on his face. “Are you are a furniture expert?”
Why did I open my big mouth? I sounded like a know it all, “No, my dad makes furniture in his spare time so I know a little.” Awkwardly, I brought my hand back to my side and looked around the room again, wishing I had spent more time learning to make small talk. Social idiot kept running through my mind like a schoolyard taunt. Now all I could think of were vampire questions and to ask what Henry meant by flamboyant kills or what he thought my chances might be for learning to master my gift, but all of that seemed like overkill after my flub in the driveway. I shifted from one foot to the other, nervously uncertain what to do.
James raised his eyebrows curiously. “How interesting,” was all he said as he moved into the kitchen while I was having my defeatist self-talk. His voice floated out of the kitchen, “Could I get you anything to drink? I have water, coffee and tea.”
“I’d take a tea. What kind do you have?” A man who had tea; I was impressed.
He poked his face back into the kitchen doorway. “I apologize but I only have black tea. Not many of my guests take more than that, but I remember enjoying it a long time ago. It was always my preference over coffee, not so bitter smelling either.”
I walked up toward the kitchen, “My grandmother was French and brought up in Canada kind of old school. When we would go visit, we would have tea.”
He smiled strangely. “I will get the cream and sugar as well.”
I felt myself grinning back, relaxing a little for the first time with him. “Good guess.”
Following him into the kitchen, I took in the details. Again with the dark wood, mission styled cabinets, lots of glass fronts and deep green and black granite counter tops. The dark colors didn’t make the house seem small like they sometimes can; instead, it felt cozy and lived in. It was easy to picture myself cuddled up on the couch with the blanket, reading a book in the winter or cooking in this kitchen. It felt like home, odd for a girl who’d always grown up without a sense of what that meant.
“Did you design this kitchen or have someone do it for you?”
“I designed the entire house, why? Do you like it?” He asked over his shoulder as he filled up the teakettle with his back to me, giving me a long look at his broad shoulders.
“Just curious. Especially with the kitchen since you probably don’t use it much.” There, I did it again. Pointing out his being different when here he’d been polite enough not to have done the same to me yet.
He stopped filling the teakettle, set it down and turned around, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter. I swallowed hard.
“Do you have a problem with what I am? You knew it before we agreed to this arrangement.” It was hard to read his face, he’d wiped any traces of feeling from it.
There was a spot on the floor that I gave all my attention as I answered, “No, I have just never met a… one of you before. Last night was the first I had even heard that you really existed. I guess I don’t know how to go about all of this.” My manners finally surfaced and I looked up at him, “I’m sorry if I have offended you. I would never do that on purpose.” My remorse was genuine and I hoped he could tell that. I really didn’t want to make him angry or
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