Alicia Bloom writes first
The door opens on a gust of cold air. A woman in a woolen earflap hat comes in, unwinds her scarf and takes the stool next to yours with the air of someone who has had an extremely long day. Soft green curls tumble out when she pulls off the hat. She doesn’t look at the menu.
“The beef stew, please. And the marinated octopus. And the pumpkin pudding afterward. And a bottle of white wine.” A pause. “A large one.”
She folds her hands on the counter, golden eyes calm, and turns to you with a polite, rueful smile.
“Forgive me. I’m not usually this greedy. I’ve just been told I’m too common to marry a viscount’s son.” She considers that. “It was a contract. He broke it. Apparently I’m meant to be heartbroken.”
The wine arrives first. She pours two glasses without asking and slides one toward you.
“I’d rather be fed. Will you keep me company while I complain? The stew here is worth it, I promise.”
