wished I could hide all the evidence of the fat grams I'd been consuming lately inside jeans and a baggy sweat-shirt instead of the green capris and orange summer top I'd chosen in honor of the on-again, off-again warm weather.
"It's easy to make excellent appetizers that don't involve saturated fats and don't come straight out of the bag," Jim said. "Tonight, we're going to learn how."
That didn't sound so hard. I breathed a little easier and reached for the bacon that was still tucked in my grocery bag.
"Except . . ."
The single word from Jim froze each and every one of us in place.
"We're going to mix things up a little," he said.
I was all for that. Maybe I'd be so busy mixing, I'd forget Eve's crazy accusations as well as how mortified I'd been to be part of her confrontation with Beyla.
"I want you out of your comfort zone," Jim continued, and I snickered under my breath. If he thought comfort had anything to do with me in the kitchen, he had a lot to learn.
"Tonight," he said, "we're going to change cooking partners."
A murmur went through the classroom.
"Oh, come on!" Jim laughed. "It's not the end of the world. If you can cook with your friends, you can cook with anyone. So let's get to it." He moved closer to our cooking stations. "You . . ." He pointed to the Incredible Hulk. "With you." He took the mother from the station in front of ours by the hand and moved her into place. "You . . ." He pointed to another student. "With you. You--" He turned toward Eve, but he was already too late. Before he could assign her a partner, John, the accountant, had already staked his claim. As if by magic, John's groceries had already displaced mine. He and Eve were chatting like old buddies.
Which pretty much left me out in the cold.
"You . . ." When Jim pointed my way, he grinned. I felt a little warmer. "Let's put you . . ." He glanced around the room. "Let's put you over there with Beyla."
"Maybe that's not such a good idea." It slipped out before I could stop myself. Beyla kept staring straight ahead, and I could only imagine the thoughts going through her head.
It was bad enough that Jim had paired her with the woman who'd set off the smoke alarms in the classroom the night before. But also the woman who had been party to practically accusing her of murder?
Maybe I could make it up to her.
I took comfort in that thought as I stepped around John to repack my chives and my bacon and my goat cheese. I sidestepped my fellow students who were busy playing musical cooking stations. I'm not very tall, and it was hard to see across the room, and the next time I caught sight of Beyla, she was reaching into her purse, apparently putting something away. As I approached, she tossed the purse aside and stepped away from the cook station.
She greeted me with, "We will use your stove."
It was better than I deserved, which, as far as I could tell, was more along the lines of Get out of here; I don't want to work with a woman who has crazy ideas about me murdering a man I didn't know.
"Can't." I shrugged and set down my bag. "Eve and John have already started to work over there."
"We will tell them to move."
Why is it that beautiful women think they own the world?
I bit my tongue and got out the pan we'd be using to boil water and cook the collards. There was a small sink between each of the two-stove stations, and I filled the pan with water and set it on the stove.
"Let's just get to work," I suggested.
Beyla took another step back. She ran her tongue over her lips. "We will find another place."
"There is no other place. In case you haven't noticed, all the other places are taken."
"Then we will say we cannot--"
I wasn't listening. I didn't blame Beyla for not wanting to cook with me, but we didn't have any choice. Better to get this over with than to stand here and argue.
I turned my back on her, vaguely aware that when I reached to turn on the stove, she moved away.
I flicked on the burner.
And the stove blew
"It's easy to make excellent appetizers that don't involve saturated fats and don't come straight out of the bag," Jim said. "Tonight, we're going to learn how."
That didn't sound so hard. I breathed a little easier and reached for the bacon that was still tucked in my grocery bag.
"Except . . ."
The single word from Jim froze each and every one of us in place.
"We're going to mix things up a little," he said.
I was all for that. Maybe I'd be so busy mixing, I'd forget Eve's crazy accusations as well as how mortified I'd been to be part of her confrontation with Beyla.
"I want you out of your comfort zone," Jim continued, and I snickered under my breath. If he thought comfort had anything to do with me in the kitchen, he had a lot to learn.
"Tonight," he said, "we're going to change cooking partners."
A murmur went through the classroom.
"Oh, come on!" Jim laughed. "It's not the end of the world. If you can cook with your friends, you can cook with anyone. So let's get to it." He moved closer to our cooking stations. "You . . ." He pointed to the Incredible Hulk. "With you." He took the mother from the station in front of ours by the hand and moved her into place. "You . . ." He pointed to another student. "With you. You--" He turned toward Eve, but he was already too late. Before he could assign her a partner, John, the accountant, had already staked his claim. As if by magic, John's groceries had already displaced mine. He and Eve were chatting like old buddies.
Which pretty much left me out in the cold.
"You . . ." When Jim pointed my way, he grinned. I felt a little warmer. "Let's put you . . ." He glanced around the room. "Let's put you over there with Beyla."
"Maybe that's not such a good idea." It slipped out before I could stop myself. Beyla kept staring straight ahead, and I could only imagine the thoughts going through her head.
It was bad enough that Jim had paired her with the woman who'd set off the smoke alarms in the classroom the night before. But also the woman who had been party to practically accusing her of murder?
Maybe I could make it up to her.
I took comfort in that thought as I stepped around John to repack my chives and my bacon and my goat cheese. I sidestepped my fellow students who were busy playing musical cooking stations. I'm not very tall, and it was hard to see across the room, and the next time I caught sight of Beyla, she was reaching into her purse, apparently putting something away. As I approached, she tossed the purse aside and stepped away from the cook station.
She greeted me with, "We will use your stove."
It was better than I deserved, which, as far as I could tell, was more along the lines of Get out of here; I don't want to work with a woman who has crazy ideas about me murdering a man I didn't know.
"Can't." I shrugged and set down my bag. "Eve and John have already started to work over there."
"We will tell them to move."
Why is it that beautiful women think they own the world?
I bit my tongue and got out the pan we'd be using to boil water and cook the collards. There was a small sink between each of the two-stove stations, and I filled the pan with water and set it on the stove.
"Let's just get to work," I suggested.
Beyla took another step back. She ran her tongue over her lips. "We will find another place."
"There is no other place. In case you haven't noticed, all the other places are taken."
"Then we will say we cannot--"
I wasn't listening. I didn't blame Beyla for not wanting to cook with me, but we didn't have any choice. Better to get this over with than to stand here and argue.
I turned my back on her, vaguely aware that when I reached to turn on the stove, she moved away.
I flicked on the burner.
And the stove blew
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