his walls. Plaques, too. Early June sunshine streamed through the windows and splashed onto the open menus.
âHow many guests are we expecting?â he asked.
âAbout a hundred,â Carella said.
Teddy signed to him.
Buddy looked politely puzzled.
âA hundred and twelve ,â Carella corrected.
Buddy already knew that Teddy Carella was a deaf-mute, speech-and-hearing impaired as they were calling it these days, but nonetheless a woman with devastating black hair and luscious dark brown eyes to match, absolutely gorgeous even when her fingers were flashing on the air, as they were now.
Carella watched her flying fingers.
âThe numbers keep changing every day,â he translated for her. And then added, âEither my mother or my sister keep inviting new people all the time.â
âThis is so-o-oo cute, what theyâre doing,â Buddy said. âThe double wedding. Adorable. So letâs figure a hundred and ten peopleâ¦â
Reading his lips, Teddy again signed, A hundred and twelve.
âYes, I know, darling,â Buddy said, almost as if he could read her hands. âIâm approximating. But letâs say a hundred and ten, a hundred and twelve. Will we be passing fingerlings around before dinner?â
âFingerlings?â Carella said, and looked at Teddy.
Finger food , she signed.
âFig with liver mousse,â Buddy said, nodding. âSeared tuna on toast tipsâ¦well, here,â he said, and moved one of the sample menus to where Carella and Teddy sat opposite him. âPotato pancakes with avocado salsaâ¦salmon and cucumber bitesâ¦goat cheese tartletsâ¦and so on. Weâve got fifty or more fingerlings we can pass around before dinner is served.â
âDo you think weâll want fingerlings?â Carella asked.
I think they might be nice , Teddy signed. With the drinks. Beforehand.
âHow many different kinds of fingerlings would you suggest?â he asked Buddy.
âOh, four or five. Half a dozen. That should be enough. We donât want to get too complicated. And we donât want to spoil our appetites for dinner, do we?â
Reading his lips, Teddy signed, Maybe we should choose the dinner menu first.
Carella translated.
And come back to the hors dâoeuvres later.
Hors dâoeuvres was a difficult word to sign. Or to read. She saw the puzzled look on her husbandâs face. She corrected it at once.
Finger food.
Carella told Buddy what sheâd said.
âWell, yes, certainly, we can do it backwards if you prefer,â he said, sounding miffed.
For the appetizers, he suggested three dishes from which the guests could choose. Either the lobster salad with black truffle dressing, or the Hamachi tuna tartare with caviar crème fraiche and smoked salmon, or the jumbo shrimp cocktail. For the main course, again a choice of three dishes. Either the roasted branzino stuffed with seafood, button mushrooms, roasted artichokes, and fennel, or the chicken curry with pearl onions, red peppers, and madras rice, or the braised rabbit in Riesling with spaëtzle, fava beans, and wild mushrooms.
âAll served with a baby-greens-and-tomato salad with lemon, extra virgin olive oil, and century-old balsamic vinegar dressing,â he said, grinning in anticipation.
Carella looked at Teddy.
She looked back at him.
âIsnât there anything⦠simpler ?â Carella asked.
âSimpler?â Buddy said.
âWellâ¦itâs justâ¦I donât think many of the invited guests would appreciate such aâ¦such an ambitious menu.â
âThese are , believe me,â Buddy said, âsome of our very simplest selections. Virtually basic , in fact.â
âWell,â Carella said, and shrugged and turned to Teddy. âHon?â he said.
Some of the guests will be coming from Italy , she signed.
Carella told Buddy what her hands had just said.
âSo what would
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