Authors: Lyn Ellerbe
“That might work,” Marcus
reluctantly admitted, now inexplicably a little ticked at his friend
. Was he actually jealous that his best friend would
be working with Aurora?
“Better?” Jake asked his
friend pointedly as he prepared to leave.
“Yes, thanks,” Marcus said.
Calling into the kitchen, “Thanks, Carla for the goodies. Kiss that Princess
Zoe for me.”
Princess.
That seems to be a recurring
theme in my life lately. He groaned as he headed to his car.
-------------------------
Resolved to do this, she forced
herself to sit in front of her computer and turn it on. Maybe he would get so
mad at her request that he would ask her to drop the class. Tomorrow at noon
was the deadline to receive a full refund. After that, she was out any money
she paid for tuition, plus a failing grade would go on her transcript. She was
taking it for credit thinking it would help round out her resume.
Dear Chef:
(she refused still to call him Marcus)
I was wondering what the class policy was for
absences? I have an art show a week from Saturday night, but the art professors
have just scheduled a preview cocktail hour on Friday evening. I know this is
sort of last minute, but if there is any way I can be excused from class that
night, I would be grateful. I checked the syllabus and it looks like we are
doing the second half of the group presentations on Friday night. If Miss
Johnston and I could do ours on Thursday, then it would not hurt her grade for
me to be gone on Friday. Although she would do better without me, I am sure you
would agree. Thank you. ~Aurora Sinclair.
She hit the send button
nervously
. All he could do is say no,
right? Or, she thought, he could say no and hold it against you.
Shocked to see her name in
his inbox, he selected her message
. He
read it twice, took a deep breath, and read it again. She hates me (why else
would she want to miss class), she thinks I’m a brute (he could hear her
saying, ‘I am sure you would agree’), and we’ve slipped back into Aurora
Sinclair instead of just Aurora. And did she think I was joking about the
Marcus instead of Chef Marcus?
Blinded with frustration,
and completely forgetting the resolutions he had made
while talking with Jake and Carla, he quickly typed:
Dear Miss Sinclair:
Your class attendance is entirely a personal decision
. If you decide it is
absolutely
necessary
to miss next Friday, please be sure to sign up for one of the
Thursday demonstration slots. ~Chef Marcus MacRae
“Hey, Rori,” Carla answered
the knock at her door, surprised to see her good friend. “Shouldn’t you be
slaving away in the studio?”
“I’m waiting for one of my
paintings to dry before I can finish the next layer,” the young painter
replied. “So, the whole ‘watching paint dry’ isn’t just a cliché?” Carla
laughed. “Come in. You can help keep Zoe occupied while I make lunch.”
“Aunt
Wa-Ree
!” Zoe skipped down
the hall.
“Hey, squirt!” Rori twirled
the four year old around. “Let’s draw something while Mommy cooks us a
delicious lunch.”
“I
wanna
draw you!” Zoe plopped down at the kitchen table where her crayons and a pad of
construction paper
were spread
in lovely, creative
disarray.
“Okay, Zoe,” Rori agreed,
“and I’ll draw you.
” The real reason Rori
had stopped by was to ask Carla about Chef MacRae. As far as she knew, no one
since high school had ever instantly disliked her and Rori was curious as to
what she had done to make him hate her. His last email made his feelings, or
indifference, clear.
“So, Rori,” Carla asked as
she sliced homemade bread for grilled cheese sandwiches, “how’s your cooking
class going
? Is Marcus treating you
well?” Carla was brimming with curiosity ever since Marcus had admitted that he
was attracted to Rori. At least I know that’s true, even if he is having a hard
time admitting it, Carla thought.
“Ha,” Rori guffawed, “I
wish. I think he hates me, actually. I can’t seem to do anything right and I
have such a hard time being serious for very long that my humor always seems to
come out at the wrong times. Is he always so serious?”
“No, actually, he’s really a
kind person,” Carla wanted to give her friend the most complete picture of
Marcus that she could.
“Really?”
Rori mumbled.
“Could have fooled
me.”
“Stop frowning, Aunt
Wa-Ree
!” Zoe was taking her
portrait drawing very seriously.
Carla laughed at
her intense daughter’s comment. “Yes, Rori, stop
frowning. Marcus is Jake’s best friend and I would think you know us well
enough that you could trust our judgment.”
“Point taken,” Rori
admitted, casually sketching the youngster sitting across from her. “So tell me
about this Prince of a man.” Carla was amazed that Rori could hold a serious
conversation and draw so beautifully at the same time.
“Marcus grew up in a good,
faithful family, although they are quite a bit more reserved than your family
probably is. I think it’s something in the proper British upbringing and all.
He has a younger brother Collin, a younger sister named Katie, and an older
brother, James who’s married and has a son about Zoe’s age.”
“Nice cookbook cover
information,” Rori said wryly, “but I’d like something juicier, please.”
“Juicier?” Carla laughed.
“Like is he dating someone? Does he like brunettes or redheads? Is he a secret
agent or in witness protection?”
“Is he?” Rori stopped
sketching long enough to look intently at Carla
. The serious look in Rori's eyes let the young mom know just how
deeply her husband's friend had affected her. But she had to be sure.
“Is h
e what?” Carla asked teasingly.
“Dating anyone?” Rori
ventured.
“No. He dated a little in
college from what I can remember, but not a lot since then. His standards are
high, thankfully. He loves Zoe and his nephew, and from what we see, both Jake
and I think he’ll make a marvelous father.” Carla decided to press for some
answers.
“Why the sudden interest?”
“I don’t know,” Rori said.
“I’ve tried to figure that out myself. I think it just may be that he doesn’t
seem to like me and I want to figure out why.” She seemed truly unsure of her
own motivations, so Carla back
ed off even
though she suspected there was more to Rori’s motivation.
“What else do you want to
know?” Carla asked.
“What did he do after
culinary school?” Rori
was now completely focused
on
her adult conversation, and Zoe was now coloring in her picture so her
inattention was accepted.
“He took a job as chef at a
fancy ski resort, which seemed unusual at the time,” Carla explained. “He was
close to the top of their graduating class, so the position he took was not as
prestigious as expected
. But we found out
later that his mom was caring for his step-grandmother who was suffering from
Alzheimer’s disease. The assisted living complex was a couple hours away from
the resort, so it was a perfect chance for him to help out.”
Rori was quietly trying to
take all this in
. Marcus was definitely
not
what he appeared to be on the surface.
“I know you don’t know all
of our history, either, but Marcus played a big role in getting me and Jake
together, too.”
“Really?”
So Chef Charming is a matchmaker, too
,
Rori thought.
“Yes,” Carla was obviously
revisiting the time in her memories. “Jake went through a tough time when he
lost his dad and wouldn’t have made it without Marcus.
Jake had turned into a hotheaded ruffian. Marcus’s
prayers and friendship were what brought him out of that dark time. It was
right after that that he introduced me to Jake.”
Rori was quiet
.
There was really nothing she could
say.
Carla set the plate of lunchmeat and cheese out. They were going to
have gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches, apparently. Rori just then noticed how
much food was on the platter.
“Expecting company?” Rori
asked at the same time she heard the front door open
. Marcus followed Jake into the kitchen. He was
startled to see her sitting at Carla’s kitchen table.
“Aurora?”
The chef’s surprise and embarrassment were evident in
his voice. He and Jake had just spent an hour playing racquetball. It was a
twice-weekly routine they had started in college and resumed when Marcus came
on staff in the spring. Only Jake saw the look of panic.
“Hey,
Rori!”
Jake said as he hugged his
wife and planted a wet kiss on her cheek.
“
Ew
, you’re sweaty and
stinky!” Carla laughed and dodged a second attempt for a kiss from her husband.
“I know, I know,” Jake
tweaked Zoe’s nose after releasing his wife, “but you’ll have to wait
. I promised Marcus he could change here since you
were preparing your famous gourmet grilled cheese sandwiches. I tried to lie to
him and say we wouldn’t have enough for his wolf-like appetite.” What Rori did
not know was this was a pure spur of the moment fabrication. Marcus threw him a
look of gratitude as he headed for the master bedroom to clean up and change
clothes.
Jake spent the few minutes
it took his friend to change admiring his daughter’s masterpiece
.
And Rori’s, of course.
“Zoe drew me and I drew
her,” Rori explained.
“Ah, that helps,” Jake
nodded. “I could tell this was you,” he said to Rori as he pointed to Zoe’s
childlike depiction, “but I’m glad you told me yours was supposed to be Zoe.”
“Daddy, that is not nice,”
Zoe
reprimanded her father.
“Aunt
Wa-ree
tried her very best. And she likes to
draw, which is the most important thing.
Right?”
Her
last question
was directed
at her art teacher.
“Yes, Zoe,” Rori loved the
interplay with this sweet girl
. “You are
absolutely right. Art is about enjoying
yourself
.”
“A lot like cooking,” a
familiar voice came from the hallway.
How long had he been
standing there
? And couldn’t he try a
little harder to be less handsome? Rori’s thoughts raced.
“My turn to get all
prettified,”
Jake
declared as he pushed away from the kitchen table. He threw Marcus a loaded
look and decided to push some buttons.
“Marcus,
Zoe
and Rori just drew lovely
pictures of each other,” he said, adding mischievously, “maybe they could draw
you next.” Marcus threw him an ‘I’m going to get you for this’ look.
“No,” Rori said at the same
time Zoe exclaimed, “Yes! Yes! I want to draw Uncle Marcus!”
“I need to get back to the
studio,” Rori pleaded.
“Not before you eat!” Carla
insisted.
“Scared?” Marcus said
quietly as he leaned over to admire her portrait of Zoe. He couldn’t seem to
resist inciting her. It was patently obvious she did not wish to be in the same
room with him.
“Of you?”
The words were out of her mouth before she thought.
“Are you?” he retorted.
“No,” she came back.
“Prove it.” He sat on the
stool at the kitchen counter and folded his arms, striking a pose ready for his
portrait.
“Fine,” Rori conceded,
unable to keep a touch of annoyance from her voice. “Let’s draw Uncle Marcus,
Zoe. Do you want to use the crayons or should I?” She couldn’t resist the
comment, letting him know she thought he was being childish.
“Me,” Zoe volunteered. “I
like all the colors.”
Rori was determined to get
the torture over with quickly. She sketched Marcus, arms folded, holding a
curved knife in one hand and a cooking whisk in the other. She grinned at the
image. She added a plaid sash across his muscular chest, trying to ignore the
broad shoulders, chiseled features, and gorgeous auburn hair.
“Do you have a specific clan
tartan for your family?”
Her question
surprised him. Not everyone knew of the Scottish heritage of plaids. “I can
borrow Zoe’s crayons to make this more authentic.”
“Blue and green, mainly,”
Marcus replied succinctly, squirming under the intense attention from Rori.
“Zoe, may I borrow your
crayons?
Just blue and green, please.”
Rori picked out
the necessary colors after the little girl nodded. Minutes later, she turned
over her sketchbook and stood up.
“I’m done,” Rori stated, and
thanked Carla for the sandwich she had eaten while she was sketching. “I’ve got
to get back to the studio.
” Looking at
Zoe’s depiction of Marcus, she complimented the young artist.
“You’ve done a marvelous
job, Zoe
! That smile is definitely Uncle
Marcus.”
“Are you not going to share
your masterpiece, Miss Sinclair?” Marcus had moved into the kitchen to create
his grilled cheese from the array of ingredients. H
e tried to make his tone sound uninterested. In
reality, he was very anxious to see her artwork.
“I’ll leave it, but will
need to take my sketchbook,” Rori tore the page out and placed it face down on
the counter.
“Aren’t you going to
autograph it?” Marcus asked.
“Already did,” she smiled a
falsely sweet smile. She tried to send him a message, I know you’re trying to
annoy me, but it’s not going to work.
As she closed the door, he
turned over the paper. She had drawn him with a fierce, warrior-like look. It
was uncannily good. Her choice of weapons was comical. He couldn’t help but
laugh.
“Oh, she’s good,”
Marcus
said, his tone making
it clear that he referred to more than just her artistic skill. She knows
exactly what to do to provoke me.
“What was she doing here?”
he asked Carla. “Isn’t she neck deep in completing her art work for her show or
something?”
Carla shrugged her
shoulders, dismissing the importance of her conversation with Rori. She was not
going to tell Marcus that he was the topic of their talk until after she talked
to Jake about it.
“She said she was waiting
for one of her pieces to dry before she could complete it,” Jake’s wife explained.
“And we’re friends, remember?”
“Whatever,” Marcus mumbled.
“He has it bad, honey,” Jake
badgered his friend. “We should take it easy on him.
Poor guy.”
“I’m
outta
here,” Marcus finished
his sandwich, and kissed Zoe on the tip of her nose, thanking her for her
lovely artwork, which he promised to put on his fridge.
Jake walked him to the door.
“Really, Marcus,” he said,
“if you need to talk, let me know.”
“I will.”
Jake returned to his wife.
“Spill it,” he said. Carla described her conversation with Rori.
“So, Rori likes Marcus and
Marcus likes Rori,” Jake summarized his wife’s take on the situation.
“This is not junior high
school, dear,” Carla poked him. “This is serious.”