Bill stretched out his neck, trying to peer over the edge of the cookbook, although specialized cooking terms were probably far beyond his grasp of French. "Chicken would be nice. Can I claim a drumstick or does being the host mean I have to give that up?" He grinned at her and kissed her finger before she drew it back.
"I think that would be great. If you make the dessert especially for her, she'll forget that she didn't get to pick the meal. What about some kind of trifle? We can make it look nice but not too fancy, she'll like that. Strawberry and lemon, I know she likes." It might be a doomed quest, but Bill had not given up on the hope that someday Fleur and his mother could be friends--if not necessarily close. Any opportunity for them to make nice, he intended to seize.