From Sneers to Cheers: Anthea’s Ascent (Anthea ) novel Chapter 510

As they drew closer, Anthea realized that Lorraine, despite her silver hair, looked much younger than she’d imagined.

Sixty, at most.

When she’d first glimpsed Lorraine’s snowy hair, Anthea had assumed she must be in her eighties or nineties.

“Ms. Yeager,” Lorraine greeted her with a gentle smile.

Thirty minutes earlier, Lorraine had received a call from Sherman. He’d told her he’d be bringing a friend for dinner.

Sherman often brought friends to dine here, but he’d never brought a woman before—let alone a young woman as striking as this.

Lorraine had known Sherman for eleven years. All that time, he’d embraced an ascetic lifestyle—vegetarian meals, daily prayers. She’d even begun to wonder if he might one day become a monk.

Apparently not.

Maybe he was finally opening up to life.

“Come in, please, come in.” Lorraine ushered them warmly inside.

They passed through a cascade of beaded curtains before Lorraine led them to a cozy private dining room. The room was tucked away on the west side of the courtyard; if you brushed aside the curtain by the window, you could see the peaceful garden beyond.

A soft breeze carried the distant sound of string music. The whole place had a refined elegance.

No sooner had they settled in than Lorraine returned with two steaming bowls of soup.

Anthea lifted the lid and was immediately greeted by an intoxicating aroma—rich, homemade chicken broth, topped with a thin layer of golden fat. She took a sip, savoring the flavor that lingered on her tongue.

She glanced at Sherman. “What kind of soup did you get?”

“Vegetable and mushroom,” he replied. “Want to try it?”

Anthea shook her head, but her hand was already sliding her bowl over. Sherman ladled some of his soup into her bowl.

Though it was vegetarian, the blend of fresh greens and mushrooms was surprisingly delicious.

Once they’d finished their soup, the main courses arrived. The portions were small, but each dish was beautifully presented—like something from a Michelin-starred restaurant.

Perhaps Sherman had mentioned something in advance, because when the meal was over, Lorraine brought out dessert.

“Lorraine isn’t from around here,” Sherman explained. “This dessert is a specialty from her hometown. It’s hard to find anything this authentic anywhere else. See if you like it.”

Anthea nodded and lifted the lid on the dish. The air was immediately perfumed with the scent of honey and wildflowers. The dessert itself looked unassuming—clear and simple—but the taste was extraordinary, unfolding on her palate in delicate layers.

She couldn’t help going back for more.

“How is it?” Sherman asked.

“It’s amazing!” Anthea gave him a thumbs-up. “Why aren’t you having any?”