Chapter 24 – Change of Season — Part 1

James asked Deanna to accompany him to Haas’s dinner. Nestled beside sprawling Forest Park in the heart of St. Louis, the Haas home was more than a mansion—it was a castle. Passing through the wrought-iron gates and up the long drive, they felt transported to an earlier era, when old money built St. Louis after the Louisiana Purchase and the rise of the railroads.

“Doctors! Welcome!”

“Please call me James.” He extended his hand.

“Deanna. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Haas.”

They’d spoken almost in unison, embarrassed to be addressed as doctors by Haas’ husband.

“Ha! Understood. Call me Tom. So glad you both could join us. Irene, they’re here!”

Irene Haas stepped from the kitchen. Neither of them had seen her outside the hospital—never without the white coat. In a fuchsia dress with a silver scarf, she looked almost like a different person. “James. Deanna. We’re so glad you could come.”

“You have a lovely home, Dr. Haas,” Deanna said. “I love the front fountain—especially the wisteria.”

“Oh, you know wisteria?” Irene beamed. “We fell in love with them in Japan.”

“When were you in Japan?” Deanna asked.

“We honeymooned there,” Irene said, moving closer to her husband. “Have you ever been, James?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to go. I love the food and the culture.”

“So do we—we’ve gone back several times.” Irene smiled. “Masao put us in touch with a friend of his who keeps a private collection of Japanese plants. Masao knows a lot about horticulture—you should see his orchids and lilies. He helped us set up the fountain.”

Deanna and James traded a surprised glance.

“Oh my, how rude of me.” Tom ducked into the kitchen and returned with a bottle and glasses. “Irene, could you bring the charcuterie?”

The board was fit for a party three times the size. Jamón Ibérico, Marcona almonds, quince paste—and cheeses: Manchego, red cheddar, Stilton. Deanna’s eyes widened when she saw the treasure. “Délice de Pommard!”

“Our favorite,” Tom said. “One of yours too, I take it.”

“I live for wine and cheese,” Deanna laughed. “It was one reason I loved Switzerland and spending weekends in France.”

Tom poured. “Then you won’t mind a classic Burgundy with that cheese. Domaine Leroy Pommard, Côte de Beaune.”

It was all gibberish to James, but he grinned. Deanna swirled, checked the color and legs, lifted the bowl to her nose, then took a small slurp. “Classic Burgundian Pommard. Very lovely. Is it an ’85?”

“Irene, I think we have a sommelier in the house.”

Deanna laughed. “I just love my wines. This is such a treat—thank you.”

“Our pleasure. James, do you enjoy wine as well?”

“Deanna’s opened my eyes,” he said. “But I find wine is only as good as the people you share it with.”

“Well spoken!” Tom topped off their glasses. “So, James, Irene tells me you grew up in the Philippines?”

“That’s right—Quezon City, a suburb of Manila.”

“Near Makati?”

“About ten miles. With traffic, an hour by car. How do you know Makati?”

“Our bank works with several there,” Tom said. “One of the bank presidents visited last year. Irene, remember Manny Santos and his wife, Leticia? They stayed with us a few days.”

“Oh yes—lovely couple,” Irene said. “Letty wrote me inviting us to visit. With winter starting, that sounds tempting. Snowbirds in Manila!”

“Yes—Makati’s the financial center,” James said. “And a lot of embassies are there too. Right, Deanna?”

“Right. Both the Brazilian and Swiss embassies are in Makati,” she said, smiling as James pulled her in.

“Exciting things there,” Tom said. “Once the business is done, we want to explore El Nido and Palawan.”

“You know those islands?” James asked. “Beautiful. Some of the best beaches and snorkeling anywhere.”

“So my colleagues say. Most Westerners haven’t heard of them yet, but I think they’ll be the next Bora Bora.”

Tom disappeared to the kitchen and returned with a steaming pan of seafood paella. He clearly relished indulging his right brain. “Hope you like this. We took a cooking class in Barcelona from a young chef—rising star. He talked about some ideas—what was it, Irene?”

“Molecular.”

“Yes—sounded like medicine,” Tom laughed. “Wild stuff. I hope we eat at his restaurant one day.”

The steam and aroma filled the room. “Try the white asparagus,” he added. “Hard to find in St. Louis. We discovered them in Spain. You’d never guess it, but the Spanish are masters at canning—vegetables, tuna…”

“Tom,” Deanna said after a bite. “I’ve been to Spain several times, but I’ve never had paella this good.”

“Thank you. The secret is in the sofrito.”

Deanna nodded. “In Brazil we call it refogado.”

“You cook, Deanna?”

“I’m a novice compared to you,” she said. “But I do make traditional Brazilian dishes—only for very special occasions.” She flashed a quick smile at James.

“Then I hope we’ll sample them someday. Our closest friendships—and our travels—revolve around food and wine. We met at a wine tasting in Boston, when Irene was in residency and I’d just finished my MBA. A special night.” He kissed her cheek.

“He’s a hopeless romantic,” Irene said, rising. “And I made something to remind him of that night.” She returned with a tray of ramekins. A snowfall of sugar, a kiss of the torch—crème brûlée.

“Sweetheart—my favorite,” Tom said, tapping through the burnished crust. “They paired it with a Sauternes at the tasting. But I got the best pairing that evening.” James swallowed a gag reflex and managed a polite smile. Deanna bit her lip.

“Either of you sing?” Tom asked.

Deanna nudged James. “He does. He’s very good.”

“Deanna…”

“Sit by me, James,” Tom said, sliding onto the piano bench.

“What’s your favorite?”

“Jazz,” James said. “Sinatra—especially the Nelson Riddle years.”

“Riddle? I’m impressed.” Tom rolled into “The Way You Look Tonight.” James took the verse—Tom slipped an easy harmony underneath. He was good. Lounge lizards performing for their women. A few more Tin Pan Alley standards, a few more glasses. At one point Tom banged a glass and yelled, “Goodness, gracious—great balls of fire!”

“Sweetheart,” Irene said, laughing, “I think you’ve had enough.”

Tom grinned, lacing his fingers with hers. “Do you know the secret to a good marriage?” he asked, looking from Irene to their guests. “Courage. Share the truth even when it stings—and forgive when something lands wrong. Most conflict is miscommunication. One setback, however painful, shouldn’t end a relationship.”

Irene smiled, reading the flush in their faces. “Tom, you’re embarrassing them.”

“No, no,” Deanna said. “You’re right. One setback shouldn’t shatter a relationship. My parents would agree.”

James nodded. He had nothing to add from his parents’ history.

“James, you have many hidden talents,” Irene said as they stood to leave. “Come again. Tom loves a duet partner.”

“Thank you for inviting us,” James said. Deanna hugged them both. “It was an amazing evening.”

“We were delighted,” Irene said. “Be careful—the roads are icy.”

Arm around Irene, Tom watched them disappear through the gates. A cold wind swept flurries across the drive, the season changing in the dark.

Next Chapter: Chapter 25-Change Of Season Part 2