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Authors: Kay Keppler

Betting on Hope (21 page)

BOOK: Betting on Hope
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When she got to the casino restaurant, Weary was waiting at the entrance. His

eyes widened when he saw her.

“You look mighty fine, Little Hope,” he said. “As pretty as a picture. Like a canary set down in a field of mud hens.”

“Thank you, Weary,” she said. “I’ve been shopping.”

“It paid off.” Weary held out his arm to her. “Okay, well, now that you’re here, we can get this shindig off the ground.”

“Am I late?” Hope took his arm. “I didn’t mean to keep everybody waiting.”

“Nah, you’re not late, just the last to arrive. And with you lookin’ so pretty, it was more than worth it. I just been standing here to keep out the undesirables,” he said, ushering her into the closed restaurant.

“Has anybody tried to get past you?” Hope asked.

“Hell, yes. Somebody slipped me a Jackson to get a reservation for dinner tonight.”

“Did you take it?”

“Sure, I took it,” Weary said. “If people be so foolish as to think I’m the maitre d’, I’ll take their money. Do I look like a maitre d’ to you?”

“Only if maitre d’s wear Hawaiian shirts and look like ex-professional linebackers.”

“Exactly.”

They went into the dim restaurant and crossed the dining room to a table in the back beautifully set for twelve. Tanner, who’d been uncorking a bottle of wine, turned and, when he saw Hope, his eyes widened just as Weary’s had. He put the wine down and went to join them.

“You look fantastic,” he said. “Like a—I don’t know. Butterfly garden.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the cheek.

Hope felt herself blush.
A butterfly kiss
, she thought.

“Weary, I’ll take it from here,” Tanner said. While Weary grinned in amusement, Tanner gently untucked Hope’s hand from Weary’s arm and tucked it into his own.

“There. That’s better,” he said.

Hope’s pulse speeded up. She must be flushed, because she was way too warm.

Tanner leaned into her. “There’s no name cards on the table,” he said, his breath soft against her ear. “I already checked. So I can sit next to you.”

“Maybe Amber has other ideas,” Hope said. When she turned her head to speak, her cheek brushed his. Her heart fluttered and lurched inside her chest, like a moth bumping around a light bulb.

“She’ll let me sit next to you,” Tanner said, so softly it was almost a whisper. “She and I are buds.”

“Hey, Hope, get over here,” Marty called from where he stood at a sideboard. “You have to try these appetizers.”

Hope jerked her head up. “Coming,” she said.

“What does Marty think I can do to you in here?” Tanner asked, but he followed Hope as she joined the group getting drinks.

“Now everybody’s here,” Marty said, handing a glass of wine to Hope.

“Just like the old days,” Pete Wyzniewski said.

“Bing-bing-bing!” Sharp Eddie said.

“Where does the time go?” Isaiah Rush asked. “Hope and Faith, all grown up. Now Amber, just starting out.”

“It’s great to see you all again,” Weary said. “It’s been too long.”

“The unexpected pleasure of reanimating treasured acquaintances cannot be surpassed by any other companionable entertainments,” Jim Thickpenny said.

“Hear, hear!” Tanner said.

Amber burst out of the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon, her white chef’s hat askew, barely held in place by the pink bandana. She looked flushed.

“We’re ready!” she announced, and then she saw her mother. “Mom! I’m having
so much
fun! Everybody sit down! Time to eat!”

And then she dashed back into the kitchen.

“Maybe the presentation could do with a little polish,” Faith said, laughing as they sat down at the table.

“She’s excited,” Suzanne said.
Amber came back into the dining room, carefully carrying a big bowl. “We’re having grilled sardines with potato salad and fancy cole slaw,” she said, putting the bowl on the table. “And brownies!”

“My favorite!” Tanner said. He grinned at her, and Amber grinned back, giving him a thumbs up before she disappeared back into the kitchen.

Kenji and Amber brought out the rest of the food. The meal was simple, but all the dishes looked good. Hope realized how hungry she was. Tanner did indeed sit next to her, and as he handed her the warm plate of grilled sardines, she took three of the small fish, glistening on the platter and cooked to a dark golden color.

“They smell delicious!” she said to Amber.

“But no more delicious than you,” Tanner whispered to Hope before he took the potato salad from Weary on his other side.

“Stop it,” Hope said softly, even as she felt herself flush. She watched as Tanner helped himself to the potato salad. His hands were big, the knuckles stood out on his long fingers. His nails were clean but short. He’d worn a long-sleeved shirt, and he’d rolled up his cuffs, exposing ropey tendons and sinews in his tanned forearms.

Tanner glanced up and caught her looking. He grinned at her, mischief in his eyes.

“The potato salad looks good,” she said, feeling trapped, feeling her cheeks turn even hotter. Now that she looked at it, the potato salad did look good. The potatoes were dotted with green specks—parsley, Hope thought—and lightly coated with something brown.

“You like potato salad?” Tanner asked softly. “I’ve been known to make excellent potato salad. Tender, moist, sweet. Just ask me. I can give you all the potato salad you could ever want.”

He
so
wasn’t talking about potato salad. Hope reached for her water. If only she could splash it against her face. Or dump it in his lap.

“In fact, I’d like to give you some potato salad right now,” Tanner said.

Hope choked on her water, and Tanner grinned, handing her his napkin. “Careful there,” he said.


Tanner!
” she said, glaring at him. “Cut it out
right now!

Several heads turned their way.

Tanner dipped the serving spoon into the potato salad and piled some onto her plate. “Let me give you some potato salad,” he said, his eyes dancing. “It’s delicious. Just try it. Take your time. Let it work its magic.”

Hope yanked the bowl away from him, still glaring.

Tanner laughed.

Kenji clinked his spoon against his glass. “To the chef!” he said. “To Amber, on her birthday!”

Relieved, Hope picked up her glass with everyone else. “Happy birthday, Amber!” they all said.

Amber looked flustered. “Thank you!” she said. “Please eat!”

Marty and Eddie didn’t need any urging. They dug into the sardines with gusto.

Hope saw that Amber was watching her expectantly, waiting for her verdict. The fish certainly
looked
wonderful. Hope picked up her fork and knife and carefully slit down the back of a sardine, laying open one side. Then she pulled out the bones in one easy tug. The flesh of the small fish was delicate and had a faintly smoky aroma. Hope cut a piece and took a bite. And then she felt her eyes open wider in surprise. The sardine was heaven on a fork. The little fish was so light and flavorful, the seasonings—what? Garlic? Salt? Something else she couldn’t identify—just perfect. The skin had just a hint of a crunch.

“Amber,” Hope said, putting down her fork. “The sardines are absolutely fantastic. The best I’ve ever eaten.”

Amber beamed at her. “Do you really think so? We put a little coating on before grilling. Kenji says it’s our secret.”

“Sweetie, you did a wonderful job on everything,” Faith said. “Hope, have you tried the potato salad? Unbelievably good.”

Hope felt Tanner’s leg nudge her thigh under the table. She felt color flood back to her face.

“That’s just what I was telling her,” Tanner said. “How good the potato salad is.”

“Everything far supersedes expectations,” Jim Thickpenny said, digging into the cole slaw. “I might say that the ingredients defy categorization. Can I ask what you’ve added to create this phantasmagoric experience?”

Amber, confused, looked at Kenji.

“What we put in it,” he explained to her. “Miso,” he said. “And other things.”

“Amber, did you really make all this?” Hope asked, finally trying the potato salad. “Everything is
delicious
.”

“Big, big, big!” Sharp Eddie said, his voice a little thick around a mouthful of potato salad.

“I did!” Amber was all smiles. “Kenji showed me stuff. And he did
a lot.
But I did a lot, too. Didn’t I, Kenji?”

Kenji nodded. “Amber, I was thinking—” he said.

“Did I put too much cumin in the potato salad?” Amber asked, suddenly worried. “I wondered.”

Kenji laughed and reached out, straightening her hat. “Listen to you. Too much cumin. You’re funny. No, this potato salad is perfect.”

“Absolutely,” Isaiah Rush said. “Would you pass it again, please?”

Tanner leaned into Hope while he picked up the bowl of potato salad. “See?” he whispered. “Everybody likes the potato salad.”

Hope kicked him under the table.

Tanner grinned and started the bowl of potato salad around the table for the third time.

“This is what I was thinking,” Kenji said. “My publisher has been asking me when I’ll turn in a proposal for my next cookbook, and so far I haven’t had a good idea. But today it occurred to me that a kids’ cookbook is a good idea. Simple recipes with a twist to get children interested in food. But I have a big problem.” He turned to face Amber, looking somber.

Amber looked at Kenji, her small face worried. “What?”

“I need a kid for a co-author. If I could find one—someone with talent, who knows something about food already because her mom has an organic farm—who could help me write it, I’d be all set.” He grinned at Amber. “If her mom said it was okay.”

Amber’s eyes got huge. “You mean
me?
I
could help you write it?” When Kenji nodded, smiling, she turned to her mother. “Mom, could I?
Please?

Faith looked from Amber to Kenji, her forehead furrowed. “That’s a huge honor, Amber, Kenji asking you to help, but I don’t know. It’s a big commitment. School’s starting soon. You’ll have homework.”

“I can do it! I know I can! Please, mom!”

Kenji turned to Faith. “Amber would be a perfect partner. She already has a lot of background from the farm. She’s an adventurous eater. And she’s got good instincts. She’d be cute on the cover. We could do the testing at your house, if that’s easier.”

“I could be on the
cover?
” And when Kenji nodded again, Amber turned pleading eyes to her mother. “Mom, did you hear that? I have
instincts.
I could be on the
cover.
Please
say yes. Please, please,
please.

“It will be a lot of work, I won’t mislead you about that,” Kenji said. “But I think we’d have fun. And of course she’ll get half the advance and royalties.”

“I don’t care about that,” Amber said, and the others grinned. “
Please,
mom.”

“Well, okay, sweetie, if Kenji’s sure,” Faith said, “but it can’t interfere with homework.”

“It won’t. I
promise.
” Amber threw her arms around Kenji, giving him a hug. Her smile was so bright and so wide, so rapturous with pleasure, Hope thought it would split her face.

Was I ever that happy about anything?
Hope thought about it. Not in a long time, if ever. Not that she could remember.

“Here’s to collaborations,” Marty said and raised his glass.

Tanner leaned into Hope as she raised hers with the others.

“Collaborating on potato salad, that’s the ticket,” he said softly.

Hope rolled her eyes at him.

“To collaborations,” she said firmly with the others, avoiding Tanner’s eyes, and drank.

When the lunch was done and the table cleared, Amber opened her presents. Her first present was a set of knives from Kenji.

“They’re too small for me,” he said. “I hope they’re not too heavy for you. If you use them, Amber, you have to be very careful. They’re sharp.”

“Oh, I will!” Amber said reverently, holding one of the knives. “I can’t wait to try them! For the cookbook! Thank you.”

Tanner gave her a hand-carved chess set. All the pieces were from Alice in Wonderland.

“It’s fantastic,” Amber breathed, stroking the White Rabbit.

“Do you play?” Tanner asked.

“No,” Amber said. “Not yet. Will you teach me?”

“Sure,” Tanner said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The uncles had chipped in to give her a helicopter ride over Hoover Dam.

“Wow.” Amber blinked at the uncles. “I’ve never been in a helicopter.” Suddenly she turned shy. “Maybe you could come with me?”

“We would love to, Bright Amber,” said Sharp Eddie, and all the uncles nodded. “If we can all fit,” he added.

“If not, we’ll play a quick round of seven-card stud 8 or better, high-low split to see who goes,” Marty said.

BOOK: Betting on Hope
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