I end up falling asleep in the car, and by the time we reach the vineyard, it is already late. Even though Mrs. Williams has already left for the evening, we find that she has prepared a warm meal for us to enjoy when we return home. I've never had a problem with preparing meals or cleaning up after them, but I have to admit that one of the perks of living with Victor Damion is coming home after a five-hour drive to find a home-cooked meal waiting for me.
Before he comes in to join me in the kitchen, he brings our bags in from the outside and deposits them in the laundry room. I uncover the top of the casserole dish in order to examine the contents. I'm not sure, but could it be a chicken casserole of some kind? "Smells good. Are you prepared to eat dinner right now?"
I am aware that he
