Gift of Fire

I’m into cooking,” she said. She glanced around the room and saw the blank expressions. “Vegetarian cooking,” she added quickly, hoping that would buy her some credibility.
    Oliver Crump, who had been staring into the fire, looked over at her with sudden interest. “We’ll have to compare recipes,” he said with a slight smile.
    “Verity runs a gourmet vegetarian cafe in Sequence Springs,” Elyssa said helpfully. “Positively wonderful food, so wholesome. I’ve tried to explain to Maggie that we would all prefer vegetarian food while we’re here at the villa, but I’m afraid she’s a little set in her ways. I’m not sure what we’ll get for dinner.”
    “I believe that cooking,” Slade Spencer intoned as he fixed Verity with a deep, meaningful gaze, “is the most sensual of all the creative arts. Its appeal is fundamental and basic, isn’t it? It provides stimulation to the senses, and satisfies us in ways that are almost sexual. Don’t you agree, Verity?”
    “I hadn’t thought of cooking as sexy,” Verity began slowly. Before she could finish the comment there was a loud crack of glass against wood. Verity turned to see Jonas release his glass and give Spencer a cold look.
    “If you want to screw a rutabaga, that’s your choice, Spencer. But don’t try anything kinky with Verity’s vegetable stew or oatmeal muffins. Understood?”
    There was a titter of nervous laughter from around the room. The warning had certainly not been subtle. Spencer just shrugged, sinking deeper into his chair and concentrating on his drink and his pipe.
    Doug Warwick frowned and took control of the conversation. Ice tinkled in his glass as he looked at Jonas. “How do you plan to approach this job, Quarrel?”
    Jonas took a sip of scotch. “The first step will be to go through each of the wings and verify age and authenticity. It’s largely a matter of making sure I’m working with the original structure, and not being misled by sections added on at a later date. Digby’s relative might have imported part of a villa and had the rest designed and built to match. It’s not an uncommon practice.”
    Doug nodded. “I see. I hadn’t thought of that.”
    Jonas picked up his glass. “Once I’ve given the place a thorough walk-through, I’ll get down to details. Fifteenth-and sixteenth-century architects were fairly predictable. Even the uninspired ones were very fond of mathematical symmetry, for example.” He then launched into an impressive discussion of Renaissance laws of perspective and how they had influenced architecture.
    Everyone in the room nodded wisely. Verity hid a smile behind her glass. Jonas had not spent all those years on campus for nothing—he could shoot the academic bull with the best of them. From across the room he saw her smile, and laughter danced in his eyes.
    The shared joke made her realize something important. Somewhere along the line they had become a couple. They were at the point where they could exchange silent laughter in a room full of people. She shared ties with Jonas that had nothing to do with their psychic connection.
    The knowledge warmed her. She took another sip of fruit juice and mentally added another day to the monthly calendar in her mind. There was still no indication that she might only be irregular. This was beginning to look like the real thing. The realization made her feel strange. She was heading inexorably toward a major turning point in her life, one for which she had never prepared herself.
    The evening meal was composed mainly of mashed potatoes and carrots. Maggie Frampton had done her best to accommodate the preferences of the Warwicks’ guests, but it was obvious that she was not accustomed to cooking meatless meals.
    “A good hamburger never hurt no one,” she muttered as she cleared away the last of the dishes. “What do you folks do for protein?”
    Verity found herself seated between Oliver Crump and Slade Spencer during dinner. Slade was rather boring. He was obviously quite drunk, and his conversation consisted of a long monologue on the innate sexuality of the spheres.
    Oliver Crump was another matter. He said little, his eyes introspective behind the round frames of his glasses. But when Verity drew him out with a discussion of cooking and medicinal herbs, he proved very knowledgeable.
    On the opposite side of the long table Jonas was seated between Preston Yarwood and Elyssa. The two of them kept him occupied all evening. Every