Read Online Bliss and the Art of Forever (A Hope Springs Novel) by Alison Kent - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Alison Kent
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a lock,” he said, the cold rushing in and chilling him. “No big deal. Hang on. Let me turn down the music. What question?”
“Whether or not you wear chef whites.”
It was so out of the blue, it left him looking down at his white coat and the stains of his work, at his black-and-white checkered pants Addy said were like her PopPop’s crosswords, and wondering if she’d come for a particular reason, if she had something to say she couldn’t do over the phone. If it was about Addy and couldn’t wait.
“Is that what you came here to ask me? What I wear to work?” If so, he supposed it was better than asking him what he slept in.
Still standing near the door, she shook her head.
Well, something had brought her here. Once he’d turned down the music, he headed back to where she waited, and asked, “Are you okay?”
“It’s not that important,” she said. “And it could’ve waited, but I was thinking about it, and I couldn’t sleep . . .” She pushed her hair from her face, tucked one side behind her ear, and shrugged.
“What is it?”
“I thought of a way for you to make up for all the class parties you’ve missed.”
That’s why she was here? Though the question he should be asking was why was she thinking of him while in bed? Was he the cause of her insomnia, or what she’d hoped would be a cure? “How ’bout I just promise to do a better job of keeping up next year?”
“You could do that,” she said, canting her head as she studied him. “Or you could do a demonstration for the class. Show them how you made the candies you brought to story hour.”
“A demonstration.” He tried to wrap his mind around the idea. “Like here?”
Walking farther into the shop, she gestured toward his kitchen. “I know the window looking out over the register is one-way glass. What about the one on the side facing the shelves? The one behind the drawn blinds? That’s a regular window, yes?”
He nodded.
She nodded, too, the motion an indicator of working out logistics. “There are only fifteen children in class. We always have three chaperones on our field trips. Mothers, fathers.” She paused, added, “Grandparents.”
Touché. “And you?” Because if he did this it would be for her. Addy would be bored silly; she’d seen it all before. And he couldn’t imagine holding the interest of fourteen kids his daughter’s age.
“And me. Of course.” She looked up at the speakers in the ceiling, her brows drawn into a thoughtful vee. “Do you have one of those headsets like the chefs in Williams-Sonoma or HEB use for their cooking classes?”
“I don’t, but I can get one.” And then hope like hell he could figure out how to broadcast from the kitchen.
“That would be great, but only if it’s not too much trouble.” Her eyes were sparkling when she looked at him again. “Otherwise we’ll work up a script.”
“A script.” Did she have an answer for everything?
“Just something simple,” she said, waving one hand. “You explain to me beforehand what you’ll be doing, and I’ll do my best to describe the steps.”
“I’m used to explaining things to Addy. I can probably make it pretty clear.” Then he realized what he’d said and cringed. “For the kids, I mean. Not for you.”
“Don’t worry. I knew what you meant,” she said. “Let me look at my calendar on Monday, then we can set up a date convenient for you.”
“Can’t wait,” he said, and headed to the back hall for the mop since the Roomba had docked itself not long after Brooklyn arrived.
She laughed, a sound that said she saw right through him. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m thinking you skipped your college classes that taught you about fun.”
“I didn’t skip a single class in college,” she said, arms crossed as she leaned against the corner of the kitchen’s two walls.
“Exactly my point.”
“Spend enough time with me,” she said, her shrug
“Whether or not you wear chef whites.”
It was so out of the blue, it left him looking down at his white coat and the stains of his work, at his black-and-white checkered pants Addy said were like her PopPop’s crosswords, and wondering if she’d come for a particular reason, if she had something to say she couldn’t do over the phone. If it was about Addy and couldn’t wait.
“Is that what you came here to ask me? What I wear to work?” If so, he supposed it was better than asking him what he slept in.
Still standing near the door, she shook her head.
Well, something had brought her here. Once he’d turned down the music, he headed back to where she waited, and asked, “Are you okay?”
“It’s not that important,” she said. “And it could’ve waited, but I was thinking about it, and I couldn’t sleep . . .” She pushed her hair from her face, tucked one side behind her ear, and shrugged.
“What is it?”
“I thought of a way for you to make up for all the class parties you’ve missed.”
That’s why she was here? Though the question he should be asking was why was she thinking of him while in bed? Was he the cause of her insomnia, or what she’d hoped would be a cure? “How ’bout I just promise to do a better job of keeping up next year?”
“You could do that,” she said, canting her head as she studied him. “Or you could do a demonstration for the class. Show them how you made the candies you brought to story hour.”
“A demonstration.” He tried to wrap his mind around the idea. “Like here?”
Walking farther into the shop, she gestured toward his kitchen. “I know the window looking out over the register is one-way glass. What about the one on the side facing the shelves? The one behind the drawn blinds? That’s a regular window, yes?”
He nodded.
She nodded, too, the motion an indicator of working out logistics. “There are only fifteen children in class. We always have three chaperones on our field trips. Mothers, fathers.” She paused, added, “Grandparents.”
Touché. “And you?” Because if he did this it would be for her. Addy would be bored silly; she’d seen it all before. And he couldn’t imagine holding the interest of fourteen kids his daughter’s age.
“And me. Of course.” She looked up at the speakers in the ceiling, her brows drawn into a thoughtful vee. “Do you have one of those headsets like the chefs in Williams-Sonoma or HEB use for their cooking classes?”
“I don’t, but I can get one.” And then hope like hell he could figure out how to broadcast from the kitchen.
“That would be great, but only if it’s not too much trouble.” Her eyes were sparkling when she looked at him again. “Otherwise we’ll work up a script.”
“A script.” Did she have an answer for everything?
“Just something simple,” she said, waving one hand. “You explain to me beforehand what you’ll be doing, and I’ll do my best to describe the steps.”
“I’m used to explaining things to Addy. I can probably make it pretty clear.” Then he realized what he’d said and cringed. “For the kids, I mean. Not for you.”
“Don’t worry. I knew what you meant,” she said. “Let me look at my calendar on Monday, then we can set up a date convenient for you.”
“Can’t wait,” he said, and headed to the back hall for the mop since the Roomba had docked itself not long after Brooklyn arrived.
She laughed, a sound that said she saw right through him. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m thinking you skipped your college classes that taught you about fun.”
“I didn’t skip a single class in college,” she said, arms crossed as she leaned against the corner of the kitchen’s two walls.
“Exactly my point.”
“Spend enough time with me,” she said, her shrug
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