What's Cooking (8 page)

When they arrived at her car, Carolyn piled everything into his arms while she dug into her purse for her keys.

“See. You needed me after all.”

“Yes. Thanks for helping catch the mouse. The whole class appreciated it.”

He didn't care about the class. He only cared about Carolyn. He helped her load everything into the backseat, then waited for her to be seated behind the wheel.

“About tomorrow night. I'll pick you up at seven for Bible study.” He smiled and closed the door behind her, then turned and walked away before she could respond or turn him down.

All the way home, he continued to think about what he could do to change the direction of their relationship. He didn't come up with an answer, but one thing he did know. It was time to quit fooling around and be more direct.

Once he climbed into bed, Mitchell closed his eyes, folded his hands over his chest, and lay still. What he wanted wasn't as important as what God wanted.

He opened his heart to God and prayed for a solution.

His eyes shot open. He had to prove his intentions in a concrete way, and nothing stated a man's intentions better than jewelry. Except for earrings and the cross necklace from her grandmother, Carolyn didn't wear jewelry of any kind. He didn't know if that was because she didn't like jewelry or simply that nobody else had given her anything to call special—besides the cow pin, which she had worn to every class since.

There was only one way to find out.

Mitchell smiled and rolled onto his side, pulled the blankets up to his chin, and closed his eyes. This time he would get her something more serious, something to better represent his intentions. Tonight his dreams would involve shopping.

Eight

Mitchell managed to get off work on time Friday night. He didn't allow himself to be distracted by stopping for supper first. He headed straight for the mall and the jewelry store.

When he first made his decision to buy something for Carolyn, he hadn't considered how much he would spend; but now that he was in the store, he realized that different items would carry with them a different message. After browsing through everything the store had to offer, he narrowed his choices to either earrings or a ring.

“May I help you?”

He turned toward a middle-aged lady with a bad dye job, wearing a conservative two-piece dress. She smiled at him with a practiced smile as phony as her hair.

“I'm here to buy a gift for someone special.”

The woman clasped her hands together. “You've certainly come to the right place. Did you want to look at engagement rings?”

Her question made him aware of where he was standing. He definitely wasn't in a position to buy an engagement ring. Such a commitment was for a courtship that had already withstood the test of time. “Not an engagement ring, no, but something special.”

She led him to the next display case filled with rings of every size and color and description. The more he thought about it, the more he thought that a ring would be a good choice. A ring was a classic and tangible way to show how serious he was about courting her properly. If things went well, it might even be a precursor to that engagement ring.

However, most of the rings in the case were too flamboyant, the stones too prominent, or the settings too ornate. Not only did he not like a single one of them, he doubted Carolyn would accept something so large and obviously expensive. Her home was filled with simple things. He suspected every item she displayed held some degree of personal value to her.

“Those are too big. She's got really small hands. I want something delicate and understated. Nothing showy.”

He was about to tell the woman that nothing in the case interested him and move on to the case containing the earrings when a selection of smaller rings in the corner caught his eye. In the middle of the grouping was a thin gold ring with a tiny diamond set in a dainty heart shape. Carolyn wasn't the flowers and lace type, but the simple understated message of the small heart was exactly right.

He pointed to it. “May I see that one?”

The woman pulled out the section, plucked the tiny ring from its velvet perch, and gently dropped it into Mitchell's hand. As he held it up, the small diamond twinkled brilliantly in the bright fluorescent light, and the gold reflected both the light above and the gleaming sparkle of the diamond.

“If you're looking for a promise ring, we have a better selection in the other case that I can show you.”

“A promise ring?”

“A ring like that is called a promise ring, although often women choose to wear them as pinkie rings.”

Mitchell smiled. Then the ring was all the more perfect. “This is exactly what I want.”

“And what size will you need?”

He slipped the ring onto his pinkie, trying to picture the size of Carolyn's fingers. The ring barely went past the first joint. “I have no idea. This one is probably close, I guess. Can you size it after I give it to her?”

“Certainly.”

Mitchell listened politely to the woman prattle away about promise rings in general as she processed his credit card and rang up the sale. When everything was completed, she tucked the ring into a small blue velvet pouch, dropped it into a store bag, and handed it to him.

Mitchell tucked it into his pocket, patted it, smiled a thank-you, quickly checked the time, and left the store.

Tonight he was going to present his gift to a very special woman.

❧

Carolyn turned off the electric mixer and listened. The doorbell rang again, confirming that she had not lost her mind. She hadn't arranged for Mitchell to have another cooking lesson this evening, and Hank never came without calling first, therefore she suspected that, perhaps because it was a Friday night, Wendy was paying her a surprise visit.

She peeked through the peephole. Instead of Wendy or a striking green eye staring back, she saw the entire owner of that eye.

She opened the door. “Mitchell? I wasn't expecting you.”

“I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd stop by.”

She'd heard that one before. “What are you really doing here?”

His smile dropped, and she immediately felt churlish for being so abrupt with him. “I'm sorry. Please come in.”

The smile immediately returned, making her wonder if she had just committed herself to something she might regret. “I just have to finish up what I was doing. I hope you don't mind.”

“Not at all.”

He followed her into the kitchen and sat in one of the chairs while she picked up the electric mixer and finished off the whipping cream.

“What are you making?”

“I might have found an alternative for you instead of those chocolate dessert squares.” She tried to keep the blush out of her cheeks but felt them heat up anyway. “I first wanted to do it myself to be sure it was something you could handle.”

Carolyn held her breath, waiting for his reaction to her lack of confidence in his ability.

“That's very nice of you. I appreciate it.” He folded his hands on the table and smiled.

Carolyn opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

When she got home from school earlier, the first thing she had done was to continue searching through more cookbooks for the elusive chocolate dessert square recipe she had tried to find a few days ago. Instead, she'd come across something similar that looked really good, and before she thought about what she was doing, she had started making the recipe.

He watched her in silence as she added the whipped cream to the cooled creme mixture. The uncharacteristic silence and his constant goofy smile unnerved her so much that she threw herself into teacher mode.

“You've already learned how to fold ingredients together versus stirring. You do the same thing here to mix the whipping cream in with the filling. It's kind of tricky because you have to make the filling by adding everything individually, at the right time, in a double boiler. Here.” She dipped a spoon into the filling to give him a taste.

He closed his eyes as he savored the rich chocolate cream filling. “Mmmm. This is great.”

Carolyn waited for him to say more, but he only sat there and smiled at her. “Mitchell, are you feeling okay?”

He continued with his insipid grin. “Just fine. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” she mumbled, then busied herself in spreading the filling on the first layer.

Mitchell continued to watch. It didn't take long before she couldn't stand the silence. “You said you were in the neighborhood. Where exactly were you?”

He smiled again as he spoke. “At the mall.”

Any other day, Mitchell would not only have expounded on what he purchased, he would have also shown her and explained in full detail.

She placed the second layer on top of the filling, then began spreading again. “I read in the paper they're going to be renovating the mall, expanding and modernizing it and maybe even adding a second level.”

“That's nice. What's a double boiler?”

“And I hear they're putting in a new. . .” Carolyn blinked at the abrupt change of subject and tried to figure how long it had been since she'd mentioned the double boiler. “A double boiler is for cooking or melting heat-sensitive items that are prone to scorching. It's kind of an inaccurate name, because the water shouldn't actually be boiling, as that's too hot.” Rather than explain, she rested the spreader on the side of the bowl and picked up the double boiler from the stove, where she had left it, separating the top, which still held a few dribbles of the filling mixture, and held the set up for him to see. “This is a double boiler.”

“That's just two pots.”

“They stack. First you put water in the bottom one and then. . .” Carolyn let her voice trail off. He hadn't come for a cooking lesson tonight. However, she didn't know what he really had come for.

She put the pieces back together, returned them to the stovetop, picked up the spreader tool again, and started mindlessly spreading the remaining filling. “How's your mom doing? Is she getting ready for the big day?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Ellen says Mom's getting crabby. She says the cast is awkward and itchy, but I know she's enjoying the attention.”

Carolyn waited for him to expound on the wedding plans, but nothing came out. She placed the last layer on top and began to spread the last of the filling.

“Mitchell, are you sure nothing is wrong?”

“No, everything is right. Just right.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“I'm trying to figure out where to take you for dinner tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes, dinner. I hope you haven't eaten yet. I haven't, and I was thinking about asking you to go somewhere soft and romantic. Somewhere we can talk. Unless you already have other plans.”

Her eyes opened wide. She didn't want to go somewhere to talk to him—not when he was acting so strangely. And she certainly didn't want to go anywhere romantic, but she couldn't lie to him. She didn't have plans. “How about Pedro's? I haven't had Mexican food for a long time.”

“Pedro's? But that's so loud and crowded.”

“I know, but the food is great. I'm really craving enchiladas. And I hear they have a new mariachi band that's really good.”

He blinked twice in rapid succession, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Are you serious?”

Carolyn nodded quickly. “I heard it's really good. And you don't need a reservation if you go early enough.”

“That's not exactly what I had in mind.”

Carolyn nodded so fast her glasses slid down the bridge of her nose. She pushed them up and kept talking without giving him time to protest. “We'll have to go now to get a good table. I think we're both dressed appropriately for Pedro's.”

“Now wait a minute. I don't think—”

She rose and quickly set the bowl into the fridge, spoon and all. Without breaking her movement, she grabbed Mitchell's hand and started leading him to the door. “I can show you how to make that dessert another time. Suddenly I'm really hungry and really want to hear that new mariachi band. I just love the way they play those brass horns, don't you?”

“But—”

“Oops. Wait here. I have to get something.”

Before he could reply, Carolyn ran into the bathroom and tossed the package of antacids into her purse, something she'd learned the hard way from her last visit to Pedro's.

Desperate times called for desperate measures.

❧

Mitchell stared glumly at himself in his bathroom mirror, covered his stomach with one hand, and burped, making no effort to hold it back. The release of pressure didn't give him the relief he needed, and the taste of jalapeño peppers still tainted his mouth. He dumped another couple of antacids into his palm and popped them into his mouth just as Jake appeared behind him in the bathroom doorway.

“Did I hear you correctly? What did you do last night?”

Mitchell shook his head to try to clear the ringing in his ears. “I said we went to Pedro's and got a table right next to the band.”

“The Mitchell Farris I know hates brass bands and can't stand real spicy food. Are you my roommate's evil twin?”

He burped again. “Shut up, Jake.”

Jake shrugged his shoulders, unaffected. “Just checking.”

Mitchell grumbled something rather impolite, but Jake ignored him.

“You were with Carolyn, the cooking teacher, right? I have a feeling there's more cooking there than food.”

Mitchell pulled out his shaver. “Don't you have somewhere to go?”

Jake let out a boisterous laugh and left, leaving Mitchell alone in the house.

Last night had been a night to remember, although not in the way he would have preferred. Besides the fact that everything was far too spicy and it wasn't the private, romantic evening he'd planned, they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves over dinner. The band wasn't what he normally enjoyed, but Carolyn had, and for now, that was what mattered.

Even though he hadn't had the opportunity to talk to Carolyn about where he wanted their relationship to go or give her the ring, some good did come out of the evening. Since she had chosen the table right next to the band, he had moved his chair to sit beside Carolyn so they could watch the band while they played. He'd snuggled in beside her and held her soft little hand while she listened to the music. For his part, he had been thinking of someplace more romantic he could take her another time.

His bubble had burst when he took her home and she disappeared inside without letting him kiss her good night. Still, the fact that she had held his hand encouraged him. And no matter how slowly things were progressing, they were progressing.

He dumped dog chow into Killer's bowl and sat at the table to eat his own breakfast while Killer happily crunched hers beside him. He poured himself a large glass of cold milk to settle his stomach.

After he brushed his teeth, only one thing remained to do before he left.

Mitchell sat on the couch and prayed. Once again, he asked for guidance and maturity in his relationship with Carolyn, and he prayed for assurance that it was God's will, not just his own, that they would be together. He didn't know exactly what Carolyn was seeking in the man whom she would one day fall in love with and marry, but he prayed that he could be everything she needed and wanted.

She was certainly everything he needed and wanted. She was kind and gentle, yet held her own in trying times. She had certainly been braver than he had been in the skirmish with the killer mouse. Carolyn also possessed charm and a quick wit, which he enjoyed immensely. He didn't know what kind of activities she pursued on a routine basis, but so far what they had done together had been mutually enjoyable.