A recipe of love

Letter

The day Nathaniel received Margaret's letter was one he would never forget. The post arrived just as he was finishing his morning lesson at the bakery, the aroma of freshly baked bread and pastries filling the air. Monsieur Dufresne was going over the proper layering technique for a perfect mille-feuille, his voice stern as ever, when Étienne entered the room with a mischievous grin on his face, a letter in hand.

"Nathaniel," Étienne called in his sing-song French accent, waving the letter above his head like a prized possession. "Je crois que c'est pour toi!"

Nathaniel's heart leapt in his chest. He wiped his flour-dusted hands on his apron and hurried over, snatching the letter from Étienne's outstretched hand. His pulse quickened the moment he saw Margaret's handwriting. For a second, the noise of the bustling kitchen faded into the background as he stared at the familiar script, already imagining her words of love. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, his face flushing a deep shade of red.

Étienne, always quick to notice, raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Ah, mon ami, regarde-toi! You are redder than the sun at dusk! Is it from the work or... from a letter of love, hmm?"

Nathaniel fumbled with the envelope, his embarrassment deepening. "It's from Margaret," he said quietly, the sound of her name on his lips stirring something in his chest.

"Ah, Margaret," Étienne teased, switching back to French with a knowing grin. "La belle anglaise qui te rend fou d'amour. What has she written this time? Sweet nothings? A sonnet, perhaps?"

Nathaniel's face burned even brighter. "Leave me be, Étienne. It's private."

Étienne chuckled, patting Nathaniel on the back. "I jest, I jest. Go, read it. I will cover for you with Monsieur Dufresne."

Grateful for the excuse, Nathaniel quickly slipped out of the kitchen, finding a quiet corner in the courtyard. His hands trembled slightly as he broke the seal, unfolding the letter with care. As his eyes skimmed over the familiar loops and curves of her handwriting, the world around him faded. Margaret's words enveloped him, her voice vivid in his mind as though she were there beside him, whispering in his ear.

"Dearest Nathaniel," the letter began, and with every line, he could feel her love and longing. She missed him as deeply as he missed her, and that knowledge filled him with both joy and sorrow. He read about her nights spent thinking of him, of her imagining his arms around her, of the estate and the small daily happenings of her life without him. Each word was a balm to his aching heart.

When he finished reading, he folded the letter carefully, slipping it into his pocket. He sat there for a while, just staring up at the pale blue sky, his mind full of thoughts of Margaret. How he longed to kiss her, to hold her close again. But for now, her words would have to be enough.

Later that day, Étienne found him again, his usual grin in place. "So, *mon ami*," he said, leaning casually against the courtyard wall. "What did your dear Margaret say? Has she sent her heart to you through the pages?"

Nathaniel smiled shyly, still thinking about the letter. "She misses me," he said simply. "And... she sends her regards."

Étienne chuckled, nudging him. "Regards? Just that? I do not believe for a second that she limited herself to mere 'regards.' Surely, there must be more than that." He leaned closer, his eyes twinkling. "Come now, Nathaniel-out with it. I can see it in your eyes; there are words unspoken, and your cheeks speak volumes. What else did she say?"

Nathaniel's gaze softened, drifting off as if he could see her through some invisible, dreamlike veil. "Ah, Étienne," he sighed, "she's... everything. I mean, her words... they paint a world so delicate, so filled with kindness, as if she could hold even the smallest creature in her hand and never let it feel unloved." He hesitated, his voice growing softer. "Her grace... it's as if she walks upon the very edge of silence, never disturbing the world around her. And yet, her laughter-it's a melody, brighter than any dawn I have ever known."