Towada’s eyes flitted to the scissors and sprigs of rosemary in my hand. “What’s that for?”
“It’s for the potatoes. It must be nice having fresh herbs right in your front yard.”
“I guess?” he said, somewhat aloof.
I abruptly realized that while I’d happily accepted Ayako’s invitation, I hadn’t consulted Towada. “Um, I hope I’m not intruding by being here, am I?” I was concerned he might not appreciate my frequent visits—since he was the one who had to escort me home every time.
“Not really,” he replied, stooping to pet Koro’s head. “Ayako seems happy, and walking Koro is always fun.” Though his face was hidden, his tone suggested he didn’t mind my presence, which was a relief. As we drifted toward the door, he picked up a small bag of dog food from the porch. “It’s cold, so why don’t you get inside? I’ll feed Koro and let him in.”
“Oh, sure. Thanks,” I said, a bit taken aback.
Leaving my dog to him, I entered the kitchen to find Ayako busy peeling potatoes. “Thank you kindly,” she said, glancing at me. “Go warm yourself up; it must’ve been cold.”
“I’m fine,” I assured her. “Towada just got back, by the way.”
“Really? Then let’s get these puppies in the oven, shall we? Could you give the rosemary a quick rinse and pat it dry?”
I did so, hearing a soft “I’m back” from the front door. Towada walked into the kitchen and announced, “They only had red leaf lettuce at the store.”
“That’s fine,” said Ayako. “Haruka, could you wash the lettuce as well?”
“Sure thing,” I said over my shoulder.
While the potatoes roasted, Ayako and I prepared a simple salad with the lush red leaf lettuce, threads of thinly sliced carrot, and French dressing, the latter also specially made in a restaurant. Meanwhile, Towada set the table. He arranged the plates with a practiced hand and was placing the bread he’d bought in a wicker basket when he appeared to remember something. “Oh, Ayako, the bakery owner says hi.”
“Duly noted,” she jested as she tended the soup on the burner. She was ever the popular figure, just as Takanori had told me in confidence at the workshop: Ayako was friends with everyone, regardless of age or gender. “If you ask me,” he’d whispered, “she was even more popular than my dad in the classroom.” I shared his sentiment, of course. Ayako always welcomed me with a big smile and open arms, her kindness far more than what my socially inept self deserved. If she could make even someone like me feel at ease, no doubt she could everyone.
But that was exactly why I wished to know…
“Hey, Towada,” I said quietly as I toted the soup to the table. “Does Ayako ever get mad?”
“Of course she does.”
“She does?”
“Yeah, but her face stays the same, so it’s really scary.”
I…can totally see that.
“Look at you two all buddy-buddy and whispering to each other.”
I turned to see Ayako, her characteristic smile in place. A nervous grin crossed my face as I chuckled half-heartedly. When I dared a peek at Towada, I discovered he’d abandoned me to grab glasses from the cupboard. Great. My only viable escape from the awkwardness was to look down and find solace in the lone oatie milling around my feet.
After that brief interlude, dinner preparations resumed, and soon dishes started to accumulate on the dining room table. “The lasagna should come out of the oven now. We’ll save the cake for dessert, yes?” Ayako asked.
“This looks so good,” I marveled.
Before us was a veritable feast: the lasagna, its top layer browned to a lovely crust; fragrant, herb-roasted potatoes; cream of pumpkin soup garnished with fresh parsley; a beautiful, crisp green salad; and warm, freshly baked bread. The deep crimson liquid swirling in our wineglasses was grape juice, next to which stood tall glasses filled with refreshing lemon water.
In lieu of a Christmas tree, a floral centerpiece of dark red roses and St. John’s wort sat in the middle of the table. Festive red and green placemats bordered it, flanked by gleaming silverware. The spacious table accommodated dish and decoration with room to spare.
“This is a welcome change of pace from the Japanese fare we usually eat,” Ayako said. “Haruka, how did your father and brother like the cake you baked at the workshop?”
They had been more than a little impressed. Even Mom was. Upon glimpsing the photo Dad uploaded, she instantly texted us to vow that she wasn’t going to miss the following year’s workshop for the world.
“Learning from a pro sure does make a world of difference,” I replied.
“I’m sure Takanori would be thrilled to hear that,” she said. “It’s just too bad he has to work today.”
That was indeed a shame. Apparently, he would be busy from dawn till dusk, tirelessly baking cakes on Christmas Eve. I saluted his dedication. Also, he’d invited me with that charming smile of his to a Valentine’s Day workshop, which I was considering attending.
“Come to think of it,” I said, my attention meandering to the little creature by my feet, “do the oaties not eat any of this?”
Ayako and Towada exchanged glances. “I don’t think they eat full meals,” Ayako answered.
“Just snacks, I think,” added Towada.
“Guess it’ll be snack time for you all later then, huh?” I said to the floor. In response, the oatie brushed against my ankle one last time before scampering away. “There it goes…”
“It’s probably off to spread the word to its friends,” Ayako mused.
“Gluttons, the lot of them,” Towada said.
“All right, Takumi. Let’s eat too, shall we?”
My mind elsewhere, all I could think about was whether I’d baked enough cookies as we raised our glasses in a celebratory toast and began our Christmas feast.