The next Saturday arrived, beginning with the smell of nutmeg, cinnamon and roasting chestnuts.
The kitchen was alive with warmth and energy as sunlight streamed through the windows. Various ingredients were lying on the kitchen counters, all for the early Christmas dinner tonight.
Lariette stood at the kitchen island. With her hair tied loosely into a bun and sleeves rolled up, she carefully chopped fresh rosemary. Her eyes and lips curled up as the festive mood affected her.
Ruediger stood beside Lariette, looking every inch the head chef. The apron tied snugly over his blue shirt, knife moving smoothly as he deboned the chicken for roasting.
The man's concentration was sharp, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed where his thoughts truly were. As he lifted his lids slightly, his eyes fell on the lady beside him.
"Eddy, you're staring again," Lariette said without looking up, sensing his gaze for the nth time, "Careful. Don't slice your fingers."
