Read Online The Icing on the Cake by Elodia Strain - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elodia Strain
Ads: Link
me with a quick hello.
I smiled a mostly genuine smile and said hello back.
As Rona stood up to leave, she looked at Isaac. “We’re still on for lunch at one o’clock right?”
Isaac nodded, and Rona smiled charmingly before turning to walk away.
Lunch? They were having lunch? Why were they having lunch? It couldn’t be a work lunch; it was Sunday . Okay, I realize I just said the word “lunch” a ridiculously large amount of times, but seriously, what was Rona up to?
With Rona gone, Isaac turned his attention to me, and I clenched my jaw with the strength of a wolf. The wolf is known for its jaw strength, right? Anyway, I clenched my jaw with the strength of an animal known for having a strong jaw, wolf or otherwise.
I did this to keep my mouth from blurting the countless things I wanted to say: Isaac keep away from Rona. Even though she obviously isn’t very true to him, she already has a man. She’s a thief. She’s pure evil. She . . .
I kept my jaw tight and pretended to be listening to something Carrie was telling Miles. But after a moment Carrie and Miles bid me and Isaac good-bye and got up from the bench, leaving the chapel completely empty except for Isaac and me.
Isaac looked at me as if he could tell something was wrong. Or maybe he was wondering if I had lockjaw problems; I don’t know. Before he could say anything, I unclenched my jaw slightly and questioned, “Are you going to Sunday school?”
“I’m actually taking off for the Spanish ward. My brother attends that ward, and he’s giving a talk today. I won’t understand a thing, but I still want to go. So, I’ll see you around.”
I’ll see you around? Clearly, that would not do if he was planning on having lunch with Rona Bircheck. I needed to step up my game.
So, I quickly blurted, “Will you come to my parents’ house for dinner tonight?”
“I would like that,” Isaac answered. And then he smiled his devastatingly gorgeous smile and got up from the bench.
According to the ancient grandfather clock in my parents’ living room, Isaac was ten minutes late. Maybe he was lost. Or maybe he had car trouble. Or maybe he had fallen in love with Rona Bircheck over lunch and thus decided he had no time to waste on me.
“Mom,” I called out, a sudden urgency in my voice, “are your clocks fast?” I hurried into the kitchen where Mom was putting the final touches on dinner.
“No,” Mom replied with a grin. From the moment I arrived at my parents’ house and told them that I had seen Isaac at church and invited him to dinner, Mom had been grinning at me like that.
“Could you take the rolls out of the oven?” Mom asked me. “I don’t have any free hands.”
“Sure,” I agreed halfheartedly as I looked at the sail-boat-shaped clock on the kitchen wall.
As I stared at the clock a vision began to form in my mind. In the vision, Rona set an obviously overcooked lunch in front of Isaac. But Isaac didn’t notice how completely disgusting the food looked since Rona brushed her hand against his as she handed him a fork. Isaac looked up, surprised by the touch. Then Rona began leaning in toward him and . . .
“They’ll burn if they stay in much longer,” Mom’s voice came into my ears.
“Oh, okay,” I said, snapping out of the vision. I slipped an oven mitt—a red mitt in the shape of a crab claw—onto my hand and reached into the oven.
“You know, Annabelle, those rolls are my own invention.” Mom nodded toward the pan of rolls as I removed it from the oven. “The secret ingredient is a little bit of pure molasses.” Mom spoke as if she were telling me the secrets of the universe.
“They look great,” I responded with a smile.
Every Sunday night, I have dinner at my parents’ house. And ever since I started editing recipes for Central Coast Living , it seems Mom has put just a little extra effort into our Sunday night meals. She would never admit it, but I think she secretly hopes that someday, in the
I smiled a mostly genuine smile and said hello back.
As Rona stood up to leave, she looked at Isaac. “We’re still on for lunch at one o’clock right?”
Isaac nodded, and Rona smiled charmingly before turning to walk away.
Lunch? They were having lunch? Why were they having lunch? It couldn’t be a work lunch; it was Sunday . Okay, I realize I just said the word “lunch” a ridiculously large amount of times, but seriously, what was Rona up to?
With Rona gone, Isaac turned his attention to me, and I clenched my jaw with the strength of a wolf. The wolf is known for its jaw strength, right? Anyway, I clenched my jaw with the strength of an animal known for having a strong jaw, wolf or otherwise.
I did this to keep my mouth from blurting the countless things I wanted to say: Isaac keep away from Rona. Even though she obviously isn’t very true to him, she already has a man. She’s a thief. She’s pure evil. She . . .
I kept my jaw tight and pretended to be listening to something Carrie was telling Miles. But after a moment Carrie and Miles bid me and Isaac good-bye and got up from the bench, leaving the chapel completely empty except for Isaac and me.
Isaac looked at me as if he could tell something was wrong. Or maybe he was wondering if I had lockjaw problems; I don’t know. Before he could say anything, I unclenched my jaw slightly and questioned, “Are you going to Sunday school?”
“I’m actually taking off for the Spanish ward. My brother attends that ward, and he’s giving a talk today. I won’t understand a thing, but I still want to go. So, I’ll see you around.”
I’ll see you around? Clearly, that would not do if he was planning on having lunch with Rona Bircheck. I needed to step up my game.
So, I quickly blurted, “Will you come to my parents’ house for dinner tonight?”
“I would like that,” Isaac answered. And then he smiled his devastatingly gorgeous smile and got up from the bench.
According to the ancient grandfather clock in my parents’ living room, Isaac was ten minutes late. Maybe he was lost. Or maybe he had car trouble. Or maybe he had fallen in love with Rona Bircheck over lunch and thus decided he had no time to waste on me.
“Mom,” I called out, a sudden urgency in my voice, “are your clocks fast?” I hurried into the kitchen where Mom was putting the final touches on dinner.
“No,” Mom replied with a grin. From the moment I arrived at my parents’ house and told them that I had seen Isaac at church and invited him to dinner, Mom had been grinning at me like that.
“Could you take the rolls out of the oven?” Mom asked me. “I don’t have any free hands.”
“Sure,” I agreed halfheartedly as I looked at the sail-boat-shaped clock on the kitchen wall.
As I stared at the clock a vision began to form in my mind. In the vision, Rona set an obviously overcooked lunch in front of Isaac. But Isaac didn’t notice how completely disgusting the food looked since Rona brushed her hand against his as she handed him a fork. Isaac looked up, surprised by the touch. Then Rona began leaning in toward him and . . .
“They’ll burn if they stay in much longer,” Mom’s voice came into my ears.
“Oh, okay,” I said, snapping out of the vision. I slipped an oven mitt—a red mitt in the shape of a crab claw—onto my hand and reached into the oven.
“You know, Annabelle, those rolls are my own invention.” Mom nodded toward the pan of rolls as I removed it from the oven. “The secret ingredient is a little bit of pure molasses.” Mom spoke as if she were telling me the secrets of the universe.
“They look great,” I responded with a smile.
Every Sunday night, I have dinner at my parents’ house. And ever since I started editing recipes for Central Coast Living , it seems Mom has put just a little extra effort into our Sunday night meals. She would never admit it, but I think she secretly hopes that someday, in the
Similar Books
