Free Stake & Eggs by Laura Childs Page A

fabulous collection of copper pots
     and pans. She thanked her lucky stars for the umpteenth time that she’d been able
     to renovate this kitchen exactly to her taste and standards. When you put great care
     into something, she decided, it became yours in the truest sense.
    Chopping off the woody portion of the stems, Suzanne popped her asparagus into simmering
     water for a quick blanch before she tossed it on the Jenn-Air grill. Then she seasoned
     the steaks with fresh cracked pepper, whipped up a pan of her special béarnaise sauce,
     and sliced the baguette and slathered it with garlic and butter. Tonight she wasn’t
     counting calories.
    With the grill heating, the asparagus simmering, and the béarnaise sauce bubbling
     like a mini volcano, Suzanne set out ivory-colored linen placemats on her butcher-block
     table. She added silverware and two Reidel wine goblets. As a finishing touch, she
     placed two silver candlesticks with tall white tapers in the center of the table,
     then lit the candles.
    Suzanne gazed at the table. A cozy, inviting place setting for two. It looked so perfect,
     it brought a lump to her throat.
    Just as she placed the steaks on the grill, she heard Sam’s footsteps outside the
     front door. There was a loud
da-ding
and then the dogs were whirling and swirling their way to the door.
    “Right on time,” she said, pulling open the door.
    “Smells great in here,” Sam said as he clumped in, kicked off his boots, and gave
     her a quick kiss. “Looks great, too,” he said, smiling at her.
    “Compliments will get you everywhere,” laughed Suzanne as she took his parka and hung
     it in the hall closet. She glanced out the narrow front hall window that was etched
     with ice crystals. “Still so cold out?”
    “Brutal,” said Sam. “But even with icy intersections, people are tearing around like
     mad.”
    “Good for business,” said Suzanne.
    “Ski season’s always my prime time,” laughed Sam as they linked arms and strolled
     into the kitchen, the dogs following at their heels. “All those broken bones.”
    Sam produced a bottle of cabernet sauvignon and set it on the kitchen counter.
    “What kind?” said Suzanne.
    “Ah, something I read about in
Wine Spectator,”
said Sam. “They gave it ninety-six points. Then again, they’re generous and tend
     to give everything ninety-six points.”
    Suzanne handed Sam a corkscrew, and he opened the wine with a
pop
and a flourish, as she tossed her asparagus onto the grill next to the sizzling steaks.
     Five minutes later,with the steaks looking caramelized and smelling great, Suzanne plated everything
     and carried it to the table.
    “Wow,” said Sam, as she hit the rheostat and dimmed the lights. “Very impressive.
     Fine dining à la Chateau Suzanne.”
    “Did I ever tell you my secret dream?”
    “You mean running your own fine-dining restaurant? Yes, you did. And I think you should
     follow that dream. Of course, I’d insist on a small piano bar where I could tickle
     the ivories when the mood struck me.”
    “You really play the piano?”
    “Are you kidding?” Sam made a Groucho Marx expression with his eyebrows. “I can play
     show tunes with the best of them.”
    They dug into their food and wine then, relishing the end-of-day peacefulness and
     the chance to be together. Both had demanding work schedules and were responsible
     for other people, so it was a blessing to sit down and share a few hours.
    “This is so civilized,” said Sam. “I could get used to it.”
    Suzanne grinned. “I’m already used to it.”
    Reaching across the table, Sam grasped her hand and gave it a knowing squeeze.
    They chatted comfortably then, but it wasn’t long before their talk turned to the
     news du jour in Kindred: Ben Busacker’s untimely death. Suzanne told Sam all about
     Ed Rapson showing up that morning. And about Charlie Steiner’s rant against Busacker,
     as well as Reed Ducovny suddenly becoming Doogie’s prime