It was just as well that everybody concentrated on their food at first, because Foreman doubted he'd be able to offer anything other than a sullen response if he'd been asked for one. He tried to get himself under control, but the attack had come from a direction he hadn't guarded against. Politics or religion were automatically on the list of topics not to bring up and not to argue; sex was to be avoided entirely; but having his personal habits put on the microscope slide was a little much.

He served himself, and, seeing everybody else eating, began to cut up his roast beef. He glanced over at Amber when she let her hand rest on his thigh, but she wasn't quite looking at him, so whatever message she'd intended to convey, he wasn't getting it. It couldn't be 'shut up' since he wasn't talking, and he doubted after his failures in the living room it was some kind of encouragement to speak. He supposed his expression had been obvious. With an effort, he did his best to unclench, taking his first bite. The roast beef was tender and spicy, and his stomach immediately clamoured for more. Foreman controlled himself enough to eat slowly; he didn't want to clear his plate while everyone else was still eating, and look like he'd stuffed himself.

"We only just got the workmen out of here," Kate was saying. "I had to have them back in to fix the wainscotting on the stairs three times! The contractor wanted to charge me! If they hadn't made the mistake the first time then it wouldn't have cost him to re-do it."

Foreman glanced around the dining room. Everything did have that untouched feeling of being brand new, even though Amber had mentioned living in this neighbourhood all her life. Everything looked well put together, but Foreman preferred the comfort of Amber's apartment. Not that he was going to say a word about that. "The roast beef is delicious," he said, when it seemed that the renovation talk had died down.

"Why, thank you, Eric," Kate said. "So nice to hear. I do love trying old recipes on new people."