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Authors: Jessica Matthews
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expected.
“I should put on a shirt,” he began.
Once again, she avoided his gaze. “Suit yourself, but, whatever you do, I promise to sit downwind.”
“Mom never lets Dad eat at the table without a shirt,” Derek said, “but if Uncle Linc can, can I?”
This time Christy looked at him helplessly, her gaze sliding from his pectorals to his face and back again. “Well,” she began, “these are extenuating circumstances—”
“If those are your mom’s rules, then they’ll be ours, too,” Linc said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”
The lure of the waffle was too great and the slices of ham too appetizing to do more than grab yesterday’s wrinkled shirt and slip it on. He’d only buttoned the middle two buttons before he was back in the kitchen and sliding into an empty chair.
If Christy noticed his speedy return, she didn’t comment. Instead, she simply set his plate in front of him, passed the meat platter and returned to the stove.
Linc dug in. He was hungry enough to be grateful for the hospital’s bland cafeteria food, but he was pleasantly surprised to discover Christy’s meal actually melted in his mouth. When she delivered a second waffle as perfect as the first one, he could only utter a long sigh of appreciation.
“These are delicious,” he said as he drenched it with maple syrup.
“Surprised?” She took the chair beside him and began sectioning her grapefruit.
“A little,” he admitted. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom. She owns an exclusive little gourmet restaurant in Seattle and she sends recipes for me to try before she adds them to her menu.”
“Then that explains all the fancy food in the fridge.”
Confusion spread across her face. “Fancy food?”
“You know. The organic milk, the fruit and vegetables I can’t identify.”
She smiled. “I don’t consider organic food as being fancy. As for the unidentifiable stuff, I try new things to see if I’ll like them.” She motioned to his plate. “Speaking of new things, how would you rate this recipe?”
“It’s a keeper.” The cuckoo suddenly popped out of his door and chirped twelve times. “I didn’t realize it was noon. Did you guys sleep late, too?” he asked.
“We’ve been up for hours .” Derek drained his milk glass and wiped his mouth with his forearm until Christy cleared her throat and he sheepishly swiped at it with his napkin.
“ Hours and hours ,” Emma added. “Christy said we had to be quiet, so we ate our breakfast on the patio.”
“Isn’t this breakfast?” he asked.
“This is lunch,” Christy corrected. “Breakfast was at eight and consisted of cold cereal, fresh strawberries, pineapple, and toast.”
“Whole wheat,” Derek mumbled with disgust.
She chuckled and Linc was entranced by the sound. “With all the jelly you slathered on, you couldn’t taste or see that I didn’t use white bread.”
Emma obviously didn’t care because she continued her play-by-play account of the morning. “Then we took Ria for a walk around the block so he could get ’quainted with the dog smells in the neighborhood. After that, we watered Mama’s flowers and weeded and before we knew it, Christy said it was time to eat again. I think she’s almost as good a cook as Mama is, don’t you?”
He’d been put on the spot by a mere six-year-old. No matter how he answered, he was going to have one female in the household unhappy. Christy obviously saw his dilemma because her eyes twinkled with humor. He wouldn’t receive any help from that quarter… .
“Almost,” he agreed loyally, as he exchanged a smile with Christy that said otherwise.
* * *
“We’ll wait for you in the cafeteria,” Christy told Linc a few hours later as he parked in the physicians’ parking lot. They’d decided to spend the afternoon running errands, including driving to his house to pick up a few of what he referred
to as “necessities”, but on the way he’d wanted to run in and
“I should put on a shirt,” he began.
Once again, she avoided his gaze. “Suit yourself, but, whatever you do, I promise to sit downwind.”
“Mom never lets Dad eat at the table without a shirt,” Derek said, “but if Uncle Linc can, can I?”
This time Christy looked at him helplessly, her gaze sliding from his pectorals to his face and back again. “Well,” she began, “these are extenuating circumstances—”
“If those are your mom’s rules, then they’ll be ours, too,” Linc said firmly. “I’ll be right back.”
The lure of the waffle was too great and the slices of ham too appetizing to do more than grab yesterday’s wrinkled shirt and slip it on. He’d only buttoned the middle two buttons before he was back in the kitchen and sliding into an empty chair.
If Christy noticed his speedy return, she didn’t comment. Instead, she simply set his plate in front of him, passed the meat platter and returned to the stove.
Linc dug in. He was hungry enough to be grateful for the hospital’s bland cafeteria food, but he was pleasantly surprised to discover Christy’s meal actually melted in his mouth. When she delivered a second waffle as perfect as the first one, he could only utter a long sigh of appreciation.
“These are delicious,” he said as he drenched it with maple syrup.
“Surprised?” She took the chair beside him and began sectioning her grapefruit.
“A little,” he admitted. “Where did you learn to cook like this?”
“My mom. She owns an exclusive little gourmet restaurant in Seattle and she sends recipes for me to try before she adds them to her menu.”
“Then that explains all the fancy food in the fridge.”
Confusion spread across her face. “Fancy food?”
“You know. The organic milk, the fruit and vegetables I can’t identify.”
She smiled. “I don’t consider organic food as being fancy. As for the unidentifiable stuff, I try new things to see if I’ll like them.” She motioned to his plate. “Speaking of new things, how would you rate this recipe?”
“It’s a keeper.” The cuckoo suddenly popped out of his door and chirped twelve times. “I didn’t realize it was noon. Did you guys sleep late, too?” he asked.
“We’ve been up for hours .” Derek drained his milk glass and wiped his mouth with his forearm until Christy cleared her throat and he sheepishly swiped at it with his napkin.
“ Hours and hours ,” Emma added. “Christy said we had to be quiet, so we ate our breakfast on the patio.”
“Isn’t this breakfast?” he asked.
“This is lunch,” Christy corrected. “Breakfast was at eight and consisted of cold cereal, fresh strawberries, pineapple, and toast.”
“Whole wheat,” Derek mumbled with disgust.
She chuckled and Linc was entranced by the sound. “With all the jelly you slathered on, you couldn’t taste or see that I didn’t use white bread.”
Emma obviously didn’t care because she continued her play-by-play account of the morning. “Then we took Ria for a walk around the block so he could get ’quainted with the dog smells in the neighborhood. After that, we watered Mama’s flowers and weeded and before we knew it, Christy said it was time to eat again. I think she’s almost as good a cook as Mama is, don’t you?”
He’d been put on the spot by a mere six-year-old. No matter how he answered, he was going to have one female in the household unhappy. Christy obviously saw his dilemma because her eyes twinkled with humor. He wouldn’t receive any help from that quarter… .
“Almost,” he agreed loyally, as he exchanged a smile with Christy that said otherwise.
* * *
“We’ll wait for you in the cafeteria,” Christy told Linc a few hours later as he parked in the physicians’ parking lot. They’d decided to spend the afternoon running errands, including driving to his house to pick up a few of what he referred
to as “necessities”, but on the way he’d wanted to run in and
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