by Anne Chase
Idly, she twisted the ring on the third finger of her left hand. She opened her mouth wide to make sure her teeth were still clean — always an important precaution! — and gave herself a test smile.
Squaring her shoulders, she turned, opened the bathroom door, and headed back to the kitchen.
14
The first thing Becca encountered was — a standoff!
In the center of the room, a regal white cat was holding court from the dining room table, gazing with aloof disdain at a very curious and very intimidated Bowzer, who was down on his haunches and inching forward, as if approaching royalty.
The cat turned and surveyed Becca with cool grey eyes.
"Oh my," Becca said as she got closer. "Who do we have here?"
"Meet Divina," Nick said as he took a carton of milk from the refrigerator. "The undisputed queen of the castle."
"She's beautiful," Becca said, admiring the cat's lovely white coat.
"Thirteen years old and going strong," Nick said.
"Is it okay if I...?"
"You can try. She's a bit .... choosy. Don't take it personally if she doesn't warm up to you right away."
Becca slowly approached the regal cat, who watched her approach with mild interest.
"Hello, Divina," she said as she held out her hand. "My name is Becca."
Divina graciously deigned to give Becca's hand an exploratory sniff, then consented to have her ears stroked.
Becca pulled out a dining chair and sat down next to Divina. "Come here, girl," she said, gesturing toward her lap.
Divina gazed at Becca for a few seconds, still as a statue. Then, with a smooth sinuous flow, she rose, stretched her back, and dropped with dainty paws from the table onto Becca's knees.
"Aww..." Becca said. "You are such a sweetheart." She reached out and gently stroked Divina's soft fur as the queen of the cabin leaned in closer and sniffed Becca's face.
And then — the queen purred.
"Wow," Nick said.
Becca looked up and saw that Nick was watching them, fascinated.
"She's very picky."
Divina purred again, then settled herself onto Becca's lap.
"She's such a darling," Becca said, her attention returning to the ball of fur on her lap, glowing with pleasure as the cat relaxed and purred again.
Nick cleared his throat. "You're the first person since...."
His voice trailed off. When he didn't finish his sentence, Becca looked up and saw the same confused look on his face that she'd seen when they shook hands.
"Sorry," he said, "where was I?" He took a deep breath and clapped his hands together. "Hot cocoa."
Becca smiled. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Not until Divina decides to let you," he said, turning back to the refrigerator. "From the look of things, that might be awhile."
On the floor next to her chair, Bowzer was continuing to inch closer, intensely curious about the cat but also clearly aware that the queen of the cabin required careful handling.
"Do you want to meet Divina?" Becca said to him.
With a whine of anticipation, Bowzer rose and slowly approached Becca's knee, his nose quivering with excitement.
Divina, lolling about in contented splendor in Becca's lap, stretched her legs and continued to act like the approaching dog didn't exist. She purred again and, still utterly relaxed, shifted onto her side to face Bowzer.
Bowzer whimpered softly, eagerness in every quiver. His nose got closer and closer and —
Divina's paw whipped out and smacked his sensitive snout!
15
With a surprised yelp, Bowzer backed off.
Becca and Nick couldn't help themselves — they both laughed!
"Oh, you poor thing," Becca said, laughing some more as Bowzer looked at Divina, perplexed. "Are you okay?"
"He's fine," Nick said. "Hey, Bowzer, you want some food?"
At the sound of his name and the word "food," Bowzer's head whipped around. Whatever pain or confusion he was feeling instantly vanished. With a happy wag of his tail, he ran into the kitchen.
Nick bent down to give him a hug. "If I remember right, big fellah, you like a mix of wet and crunchy."
With a joyful bark, Bowzer followed Nick into the mudroom.
Becca watched from her chair at the dining room table, unable to move without dislodging the queen. In her lap, Divina rolled over again, this time looking straight up, surveying Becca with approval.
"You are such a beautiful cat," Becca cooed. "Such soft fur. Don't tell Bowzer, but I love your attitude." She giggled. "But go easy on the poor guy, okay? He's actually a sweetheart. I think you and he could become great friends."
Divina purred softly in response, as if giving Becca's plea thoughtful consideration.
From the mudroom, Becca heard the sounds of a cabinet opening and dry dog food being poured into a dog dish. She heard Bowzer give a satisfied yelp. Nick popped into the kitchen with a water bowl, which he rinsed in the sink. He filled it, then brought it back to the mudroom.
A minute later, he stepped back into the kitchen. "Now," he said, rubbing his hands together, "where were we? That's right, cocoa."
Divina chose that moment to rise to her feet. She purred again, leaned closer to rub her nose against Becca's cheek to thank her for the use of her lap, then smoothly dropped to the floor.
"Divina's done with my lap," she said.
Nick smiled, then reached into a spice cabinet to take out more ingredients.
Becca stood and joined him in the kitchen. "I feel like I need to have something to do. Please, let me help."
"Okay, I'm getting the ingredients ready." He pointed to a recipe on an index card on the counter. "Can you doublecheck to make sure I have everything?"
She picked up the recipe and saw the title: "Grandma's Secret Cocoa." She smiled. "Your grandma?"
Nick nodded. "Every Christmas, she made it for us. A Shepherd family tradition. For years, we never knew the recipe. She kept it secret. Every year, we begged and begged. Finally, about a year before she passed on, she gave a copy of the recipe to each of her grandkids. Every time I have some of her cocoa, I feel like she's here with me."
Becca felt an emotional tug at his words, spoken so clearly and simply. "I feel the same way about gingerbread."
"Gingerbread? Why's that?"
"I made my very first gingerbread house with the help of my mom and grandma. I was eight years old."
"A home builder from an early age?"
"My mom took pictures of my first house," she said with a smile. "Frankly, it was a total mess. The walls didn't stand up straight, the windows were oddly shaped, and the roof had a big gap at the top."
"Not up to today's exacting construction standards?" Nick said with a grin.
"Oh, gosh, no," she said with a laugh. "The poor house would have blown down at the slightest breeze. But I was very proud of myself. My construction techniques have definitely improved over time."
"I wish I could say the same about my cocoa-making skills." He looked at the ingredients he'd lined up on the counter, a frown on his face. "I think this is right, but...."
Becca's gaze returned to the recipe in her hand, then scanned the ingredients on the counter.
"Looks like you've got it. Milk, cocoa powder, vanilla extract, sugar, salt, cinnamon...." She paused and picked up a container. "Chili powder?"
"Essential," he said with a vigorous nod. "Just enough to rev the chocolate into high gear."
She didn't know what to say about that — his description seemed more automotive than culinary — but she kept her opinion to herself.
"For the whipped cream," she said, "it's best to start with a chilled bowl and whisk."
"I put the bowl and whisk in the freezer a few minutes ago," he said with a grin.
"Excellent," she said, then pointed to the recipe. "The only ingredient I don't see is nutmeg."
"Ah, good catch."
He brushed pa
st her as he reached into a small basket on the counter and plucked out an actual nutmeg.
"Here we go. We grate it to get some flecks onto the whipped cream, just before we drink it."
With him so close, she was reminded again how tall he was, and how perfectly his sweater fit his broad shoulders. She sensed his body heat, and was suddenly very aware of her own body responding. Without warning and much to her chagrin, her cheeks flushed.
Fortunately, nutmeg now in hand, Nick chose that moment to step back to where he'd been, restoring the four-foot buffer that felt infinitely more comfortable.
"Are you feeling okay?" he said, noticing her flushed cheeks.
"Fine, totally fine," she said quickly — too quickly? Desperately, she turned her attention to the nutmeg. "So, about the nutmeg," she said, aware even as she said that she didn't care a whit about nutmeg. "That's quite an ingredient."
Quite an ingredient? She couldn't believe herself. She wanted to scream.
Nick didn't notice. Or maybe he noticed but pretended not to. He nodded and casually tossed the nutmeg in his hand. "Yep," he said, "it's the final touch." She noticed that his hand, the one doing the tossing, was a strong and well-made hand. A hand that took care of all manner of creatures. It was, indeed, a very good hand.
A very good hand? What was she thinking?
"So," she said, "let's get started." Please!
"Right." He opened one of the lower cabinet drawers and pulled out a saucepan to heat the milk, then set it down on the counter.
"Enough for ... two helpings each?" he asked.
"Sure," she said as she watched him pour milk into the saucepan.
"Low heat, right?" he said as he placed the saucepan on a burner on the stove.
"That's right, not too hot. We want the milk to warm gradually."
He turned on the gas heater. With a gentle whoosh, a blue flame ignited. He dialed it back a notch. "That look okay?"
"Perfect."
"It'll take a couple of minutes to warm. So tell me about you and Bowzer. How are the two of you doing?"
"Oh, he's wonderful," Becca said. "Even though it's been just a day, already I can't imagine life without him." She paused. "You weren't at the clinic yesterday when I met him. Did Dr. Gail tell you?"
He nodded. "She called and told me last night. She said the new town librarian and Bowzer had fallen for each other. 'Love at first sight,' she said."
Becca laughed. "Was I that obvious?"
"Apparently so." At that moment, Bowzer ambled back from the mudroom and made straight for Nick.
Nick reached down and gave him a hug. "This guy and I are buds. Aren't we, Bowzer?"
Bowzer barked in agreement, delighted by the attention.
"I promised him we'd find him a good home," Nick said, glancing up from Bowzer to Becca.
She felt it then — the responsibility of her decision. But with that feeling came another feeling — a feeling of happiness that she'd made the leap.
"I promise he'll have a wonderful home with me," she said.
Nick nodded, his brown eyes gazing at her with approval. "I know he will — I can tell."
On the stove, the blue flame of the burner was doing its work. Nick gave the milk a stir. "What do you think?"
She leaned closer. "It's warming up nicely."
"Time to add the sugar and cocoa?"
She nodded. He opened a drawer stuffed with cooking utensils and took out measuring cups and spoons. Glancing at the recipe for confirmation, he opened the sugar container and scooped out the right amount.
Becca reached into the utensils drawer and picked out a stirring spoon. "I'll stir while you add the ingredients."
"Sounds good." Slowly, he added the sugar and followed with the cocoa while Becca swirled the spoon through the warm milk. Conscious of his proximity, she kept her attention fixed firmly on the saucepan. Now that she knew she was prone to responding unconsciously to his physical presence, she could take steps to prevent herself from falling into more of the silliness of a few minutes before.
You're making hot cocoa, that's it, she reminded herself. With a stranger. A friendly stranger, but a stranger nonetheless.
"We keep stirring the pot until the sugar and cocoa are dissolved, right?" he said.
"Exactly." She sensed his focus on her. How she knew that she couldn't tell — she was keeping her own eyes glued to the saucepan, thank you very much — but somehow she felt it. There was some invisible force, some unseen connection, reaching across the small distance that separated them.
She resisted the impulse to look up. Her fingers gripped the stirring spoon more tightly. The delightful aroma of cocoa and warm milk tickled her nose.
"What's next?" she said briskly.
"When the sugar and cocoa are dissolved, we add the other ingredients. We stir the pot for a few more minutes, then make the whipped cream. Then we pour the cocoa into the mugs, add the whipped cream, and sprinkle on the nutmeg."
"The stirring's going well — the last of the cocoa is dissolving now."
"Goo. It's been awhile since I made Grandma's cocoa — I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it."
"I think it's ready."
With an eye on the recipe, he used measuring spoons to add the remaining ingredients. The cocoa was becoming toasty now, with waves of heat shimmering over the surface.
"You okay with the stirring while I make the whipped cream?" he asked.
"More than okay," she said as she leaned in for a whiff of pure chocolate loveliness. "I could stand here and inhale this wonderful smell all night."
He opened the freezer and took out the chilled bowl and whisk, then grabbed a small carton of heavy cream from the fridge. She watched him pour the cream into the bowl and begin whipping it by hand, putting real energy and concentration into the task. She'd always relied on an electric mixer — the old-fashioned way looked so hard! — but she found herself feeling glad that Nick was putting muscle into it.
"I can tell you've done this before," she said as he moved the whisk rapidly through the heavy cream.
"Only when I make Grandma's cocoa," he said. After another minute or so, when the cream looked almost ready to peak, he put the whisk down, grabbed a box of confectioner's sugar from a cabinet and, using just his eyes to measure, sprinkled in the appropriate amount. He whipped the cream for a few seconds more to help the sugar dissolve, then turned around and picked up vanilla extract on the counter and added that. A few more twists of the whisk and the whipped cream was ready, its peaks rising firmly and temptingly into the air.
"Okay, not just for cocoa," he said, giving her a grin. "Also for my mom's cherry pie."
"Aha," Becca said. "A pie lover!"
"Big-time," he said with a grin.
"Your timing couldn't be better." She eyed the saucepan. "The cocoa is ready."
"Excellent." He opened an upper cabinet and took out two mugs. One mug, big and red and stocky, had the name of his vet clinic on it. The other, creamy white and much more elegant, had a lovely curved shape.
"That's a beautiful piece," she said, nodding toward the white mug.
"Thanks." He rinsed the two mugs in the sink, then took a folded dish towel from a kitchen drawer and dried them carefully, set them on the counter next to the stove, and turned off the burner. "Would you like me to pour?"
"Please." She stepped back, her sense of anticipation climbing ever-higher as the heat and aroma of the hot cocoa stirred her senses.
He slipped on an oven mitt, picked up the saucepan, and skillfully poured hot cocoa into both mugs. He set the saucepan on a burner and set it to lowest heat. "More for later."
"I'll add the whipped cream."
"Go for it." Using a spoon, she scooped a healthy dollop of cream into each mug, then plopped the spoon in her mouth to enjoy the sweet coolness of the freshly whipped cream.
He opened his utensil drawer and rummaged around until he found a microplane grater. He picked up the nutmeg and, with a look of concentrati
on, ran the grater over the nutmeg, sprinkling flecks over each mug.
Her stomach growled as the wonderful mix of aromas filled her lungs. With a start, she realized she hadn't eaten anything since wolfing down that poor gingerbread cookie before leaving the cottage.
Nick picked up the white mug, now nearly overflowing with cocoa goodness, and handed it to Becca. As her hand closed over the mug, her fingers brushed his hand, sending another jolt through her.
The mug was so warm in her hand. She leaned in and breathed in the heavenly aroma, the nutmeg enhancing the cocoa wonderfully.
Nick picked up his red mug and held it in front of him.
"A toast," he said.
She straightened and raised her mug in front of her.
"To Bowzer," he said, "who made this moment possible."
Becca smiled and glanced toward Bowzer, who'd heard his name and was looking expectantly at the two of them.
"And to your grandmother," Becca said. "May her recipe and spirit live on."
"Amen."
16
They sipped from the cups then, and Becca's immediate thought was: Oh my. The cocoa was fantastic, the sensations rolling through her mouth. So creamy and rich and chocolaty. So smooth. So luxurious. The chili in the recipe crept up on her, sneaking into her awareness in a refreshing and subtle way, adding the pleasing kick that Nick had talked about.
Moments like this, Becca decided as she reveled in the cocoa's comforting goodness, were what life was about.
Nick closed his eyes as he took his first sip. She used the opportunity to really examine his face. His thick brown hair was a touch too unruly, perhaps, and in need of a trim. His eyelashes looked fuller than hers, she noted enviously. His straight nose and strong jaw were like something out a magazine ad. He hadn't shaved that day, her gaze lingering on his dark stubble. His skin would feel rough if she ran her hand over it —
Wait. Why was she thinking that? Stop it! she told herself.