What's Cooking (12 page)

Her smile made his heart flutter—something he thought only happened to women.

“It's okay. I know what you're going to say.”

“You do?” He smiled back. That she had been thinking the same things was a positive and very encouraging sign about the growth of their relationship.

“Yes.” She reached up with her other hand and gave his hand a tender squeeze. “I'm okay now. I'm not going to be seeing Hank anymore. It was a shock at the time, but I think I've known for a while that we weren't suited for each other. I'm sure that one day God will put the right man in my path. You're a good friend, Mitchell. I appreciate your concern.”

“But—”

He let his hand go limp, and she moved away. “It's really late. I have to go home. The lack of electricity isn't going to prevent me from sleeping. Good night.”

“Wait!” Out of habit, he reached up to his shirt pocket, but it was empty. He squeezed his eyes shut, remembering that he'd left the ring in the living room, ready for the right moment.

“I'll see you at class tomorrow.”

Mitchell dropped his hand from his shirt pocket. “Yeah. Class tomorrow. Bye.”

❧

Mitchell thunked his lunch pail on the counter and glanced at the clock, then at the calendar.

Today was Tuesday. Class night. It was also three days before the rehearsal party.

The power hadn't come on until after midnight Monday, when the only stores open were the convenience stores. He needed to start cooking as soon as he got home from work on Wednesday. That left tonight to do his shopping.

But tonight was cooking class. The last one he'd planned to take.

The clock on the wall ticked audibly.

He should have been shopping, not watching the clock.

Last night Carolyn called him a friend. She'd also said that one day God would put the right man in her path.

As far as he was concerned, God had put the right man in her path. She just didn't know it yet.

Mitchell grabbed his jacket and ran to his car. He didn't care if he was still at the grocery store at midnight when it closed, but he was going to class.

Thirteen

“Okay, class, today we're going to make some classic hors d'oeuvres, starting with stuffed celery, and then some meat and vegetable combinations. First you need to—”

“Sorry I'm late. Excuse me.”

Carolyn waited until Mitchell shuffled into the last empty chair, crossed his legs, and leaned back. All eyes settled on him, then slowly everyone returned their attention to the front.

She sighed and carried on with the lesson, but her mind was no longer fully on the food preparation. Today Mitchell should have been doing his shopping, since the power hadn't come back on in time to do it last night. She really hadn't expected to see him, and his presence in the class rattled her.

It had been difficult, but she'd come to a decision on what she was going to do about Mitchell. The times he had kissed her were seared into her memory for a lifetime. They didn't have a future together, but she couldn't stand the thought of never seeing him again. To keep whatever was happening between them as a platonic friendship was the best solution.

Yesterday she'd done her best to summon her courage and tell Mitchell indirectly that she considered him a friend. Mitchell was an intelligent person. She knew he would understand her meaning. It was only the shock of Hank's proposal that made her think she was in love with Mitchell, because the more she thought about it, the more she knew it wasn't possible. Mitchell was twenty-four years old. He'd started his first job right out of high school as a warehouseman and worked his way into the dispatch office, where he now held a junior supervisory position. And he was happy with that.

She had to either continue to see him as a friend or not see him at all. She couldn't do that.

When the food preparations were done and all the creations eaten, Carolyn continued to walk from group to group, chatting and answering questions while everyone cleaned up. As usual, she arrived at Mitchell's group last.

Part of the routine she had set up was that every week the cleanup duties rotated, and today it was Mitchell's turn to wash dishes. He had his arms halfway to his elbows in the soapy water and his back was to her. She didn't mean to eavesdrop as she approached, but neither did she want to be rude and interrupt him.

“That's right. My best friend is marrying my sister, and I'm going to be cooking up all the food for the rehearsal party, which is Friday. I kind of backed myself into a corner. I took this course so I wouldn't have to eat crow.”

Mrs. Finkleman started to chuckle. “That was a good thing. Crow would taste terrible.” No one else laughed at her joke, but she didn't seem to notice.

Lorraine nearly dropped the pot she was returning to its place in the cupboard. “You're doing the cooking? You? The man who exploded an egg in the microwave trying to cook it faster?” She pointed her finger at him and burst out laughing.

“That was an accident,” he mumbled while he scrubbed the last pan with far more force than necessary.

Carolyn gritted her teeth at Lorraine's barb and stepped into their little circle. “Everyone makes mistakes, especially when they're still learning. Mitchell is going to do just fine.”

All noise and action immediately ceased, not only in Mitchell's group, but also the two neighboring groups. When the other two groups noticed the silence, they also suddenly quieted. All eyes turned to her.

Carolyn stiffened and made eye contact with everyone except Mitchell as she spoke. “Next week is our last class, and we're going to make a few dessert items. I look forward to seeing you all then. Good night, everyone.”

She didn't wait for a reply, but turned and headed for her demonstration table to tidy her own mess as the ladies began to filter out.

As usual, Mitchell was the last person besides her remaining in the room. This time, she really didn't want to talk to him. She'd made a public display of defending him when he was perfectly capable of defending himself.

Also as usual, he appeared at her side before she was finished cleaning.

“I need to talk to you.”

He continued before she could protest.

“I have something for you, and this isn't exactly the way I wanted to give it to you, but I'm going to do it anyway.” He patted his pockets until he found what he was looking for, pulled out a little blue velvet jewelry pouch, then handed it to her without a word.

She took the pouch from him but didn't check inside. “How did you know it was my birthday tomorrow?”

He hesitated but recovered quickly. “I didn't know it was your birthday tomorrow. If that's the case, then I'm going to have to figure out something special to give you to mark the occasion. This,” he said, pointing at the pouch, “has nothing to do with your birthday. Quite honestly, I've been meaning to give this to you for a while and never got the chance.”

Her heart started pounding, and she broke into a sweat.

Her hands trembled as she opened it.

When she saw what was inside, she couldn't keep the tremor from her voice. “It's a ring.”

It was small and delicate and beautiful. A small, sparkling diamond in the middle of a gold heart glittered in the fluorescent light.

He scooted around the table and was beside her before she realized he had moved. “Try it on.”

Her hands shook so much, she was afraid she would drop it. Very slowly, she slipped it on. It was a little too big for her ring finger so she changed it to her middle finger, which seemed to minimize its statement. A promise ring.

“I don't know what to say. Why are you doing this?”

He smiled that lopsided smile she was getting to know so well. When his dimple appeared, her throat went dry. “I'm courting you, Carolyn. Can't you tell? If you can't, I must be doing something wrong.”

He had done nothing wrong, but until now, she had done a fine job of convincing herself that his constant appearances and the warm fuzzies she felt in his presence meant only friendship.

“Don't you remember that, as of tomorrow, I'm nine years older than you? You can't court me. It's not right.”

“Age doesn't matter, Carolyn. At least it doesn't matter to me. You're the special person you are regardless of your age or mine. We share lots of common interests, and we share a common faith. Nothing else matters.”

“I think it's a little more complicated than that.” She still wasn't sure they had common interests, although they did enjoy their time together. While she'd always heard that opposites attract, she had a feeling she and Mitchell were too opposite for consideration. He was nothing like the man she had prayed for as her perfect mate. She almost shuddered visibly as she imagined Mitchell with all Hank's sensible and mature character traits. She didn't want another Hank. But Mitchell wasn't right for her, either.

While finding a woman with a strong faith in Christ seemed very important to Mitchell, she couldn't see that she could ever be the fun-loving and active woman he needed. Ten years ago she had tried skiing, hiking, and other more strenuous activities. Not that she was anywhere near a couch potato, but about the time she turned thirty, her interests turned to quieter and less demanding leisure pursuits.

“I don't know if I can accept this. I don't think this is such a good idea.”

He picked up her hands, then rubbed his thumb over the small ring on her finger. “The saleslady said it was a promise ring, and I am making a promise to you, Carolyn. But if you want to, we can start off slowly and call it a friendship ring.”

“But it's a heart. Hearts don't mean friendship.”

His hand rose to her cheek. Her eyes drifted shut as he brushed her skin with the backs of his fingers. “Then think of it however you want. All I want is for you to keep an open heart because I l–l–l. . . I like you a lot.”

Footsteps echoed in the hall, drawing their attention to Mr. O'Sullivan checking the classrooms to make sure everyone had left the building for the night. No doubt he'd noticed that hers was the only car left in the staff parking lot and was dutifully checking on her.

She cleared her throat and opened her eyes, resisting as hard as she could not to lean her head into his fingers. “I think it's time to go home.”

“I can't go home yet. I have to go grocery shopping.”

“Pardon me?”

“I have to start cooking as soon as I get home from work tomorrow, so I'm going shopping tonight. The mega store is open until midnight, so I'll have just enough time. Wanna come?”

❧

Carolyn sent her high school students to the kitchenettes to do their projects, then walked from group to group to supervise and assist.

Every time she moved her hand, she became aware of the unaccustomed ring on her finger. She'd never worn a ring before; no one had ever given her one. She enjoyed and appreciated both the look and the feel of the fine gold and tiny diamond on her finger, but conversely, it was a constant reminder of Mitchell.

She still didn't know what to do about him. A man didn't give a woman a ring with a heart on it to signify friendship.

The man was courting her. Part of her wanted it, and part of her said it wouldn't work.

A loud bang accompanied by teenaged laughter drew Carolyn's attention back to her class. Group three again needed more help than the rest of the class, so she stopped thinking about Mitchell and began showing her students how to properly separate an egg when the sound of footsteps clicked on the tile floor so loudly, it almost sounded like someone was wearing taps on their shoes.

“That's Miss Rutherford,” a teen's voice piped up.

Abruptly, Carolyn turned to see a man in a horridly bright red bellhop uniform overly embellished with glossy black stripes down the sides of the legs and arms. The outfit was topped off with the ugliest hat she'd ever seen, and the man was holding a brightly wrapped parcel in one hand. He blew a tuning harmonica, then ceremoniously cleared his throat.

“Happy birthday to you,” he sang, drawing out the familiar refrain.

Most of the students burst out laughing.

Carolyn thought she'd die. But she would kill Mitchell first. Except that would probably be a sin.

Red-faced and stiff as a board, she listened to the badly dramatized rendition wishing her a happy birthday. When the last torturous line was sufficiently drawn out, with a tip of his fez, the man offered her the gift. The class gave him a rousing round of applause to which he bowed with a flourish and left amidst another chorus of catcalls and whistles.

Carolyn continued to stare at the vacant doorway, barely aware of the brightly wrapped box in her hands. She couldn't believe the school secretary had allowed him in.

Another round of applause and cheers from the students snapped her mind back to what she was supposed to have been doing.

Carolyn cleared her throat. “That's enough nonsense. Let's finish up before we run out of time.”

“What did you get?”

“How old are you?”

“Who sent the singing telegram? Your boyfriend?”

Most of the teenaged girls giggled.

Carolyn sighed. She didn't exactly think of Mitchell as her boyfriend, but the trouble was, she didn't know what to call him. The only thing she did know was that of all her friends, only Mitchell would do such a thing as send a singing telegram.

Again, her fingers drifted to touch the tiny promise ring, outlining the shape of the heart without looking at it. Certainly they'd gone beyond mere friendship, but she still hadn't figured out to what. In order to get the focus off her personal life and back to the home economics class she was supposed to be leading, she had to provide a response. “Yes, my boyfriend.”

“Ooh,” the students chorused.

“That's enough, class. Now get back to your kitchenettes.”

Slowly, everyone shuffled back to their lesson project of the day, although she both saw and heard little whisperings in every group.

By the time the lunch bell rang, she was more than ready to be left alone. Rather than go to the staff room, Carolyn sat at her desk and stared at the brightly colored box. It was not professionally wrapped. The paper was cut crooked and the bow lay off center. Only Mitchell could have wrapped this.

Slowly, Carolyn picked off the brightly colored bow and stuck it to the side of her penholder. She unhitched the tape and pulled off the paper.

The box was from a specialty chocolate store, and inside was an assortment of foil-wrapped chocolate kisses and a small card filled with scrawling handwriting.

Happy birthday, Carolyn.

One sweet kiss for each sweet year. Enjoy them, and think of me.

Love, Mitchell

Carolyn squeezed her eyes shut and sighed.

She didn't know how to respond. As strange as it was, the gesture was unique and far more personal than any gift she had ever received. The addition of the chocolates made the whole thing rather romantic, in a Mitchell Farris kind of way.

She picked up the note and studied it. His handwriting was atrocious, but as bad as it was, the signature “Love, Mitchell” jumped off the paper at her.

She didn't want to think about the ramifications of the chocolate kisses.

Rather than dwell on it any longer, Carolyn popped one into her mouth, reread the note, and counted the chocolate morsels while the one melted in her mouth. To her dismay, the store had made a mistake, because, counting the one already in her mouth, there were only thirty-two.

She carefully closed the box, mentally kicking herself for having a chocolate before she ate her lunch, and tucked the box into her desk drawer. She checked the clock, picked up her purse, retrieved her lunch bag from the large fridge, and made her way to the staff lunch room, where she could phone Mitchell to thank him for a very unusual but very special birthday gift.