Siobhan & Robert Gallico
Feels like old times
Tue Mar 4, 2014 01:39

Siobhan twisted her fingers around the stem of her wineglass. “You’d think Ephram would have gotten back to you by now,” she said, speaking to Robert but examining the moscato in her glass. Siobhan’s back was against the comfortable plush wall of one of the booths at Rose di Montagna. Her champagne satin dress paired nicely with the burgundy seats. “Of course, it’s just as well if we stay here. I like it here.”

“You like the house elves,” Robert corrected his wife. “And doting on Miss Leppit’s son. And gossiping with Elizabeth Guinevere.” He cracked the top of their crème brûlée with his spoon.

“We do not gossip,” she reproached, adjusting her dress so that it draped more flatteringly. The necklace Robert had given her for their anniversary—gold and set with citrines and bought under Siobhan’s meticulous specifications—glittered above the neckline, catching the light from the small tea candle on their table. “Anyway, I’ll owl Kara and see if she can’t speed Ephram up a bit. Best to know sooner than later.”

“As long as they get back to me by August, it’ll be fine,” said Robert. He pushed the ramekin of custard towards her. “Go on, we got two dessert spoons for a reason. And I’m told their crème brûlée is exquisite.”

Robert couldn’t remember who’d given him the recommendation, but they’d been right; the dessert had left Siobhan and Robert scraping the glass for the last tidbit of vanilla and caramel. Lightly bundled for the mild spring air—Robert in his suit jacket and Siobhan with her mink stole—they left their Galleons on the table and stepped out into the late March evening. He offered his arm for Siobhan to take, leading the way for a stroll through the nearby park. Hyacinths and tulips had just started blooming, and Siobhan (who sometimes helped her cousin with her flower shop) pointed the subspecies out as best she could. Robert walked alongside her, contentedly listening to his wife chatter on about whose wedding she had arranged Albanian tulips for. They were certainly a long way, he reflected, from the strangers who had spent their wedding night talking until the sun rose, trying to get to know each other now that their vows were spoken.

“Oh, don’t we know them?” Siobhan was asking when he realized she wasn’t talking about. With her free hand, she pointed (less subtly than Robert would have liked, really) across the park, and then waved at their RMI acquaintance. “Yoo-hoo! How’s it going?”

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