Chef Charming

by Ellerbe, Lyn

  “I think he’s just in denial because she’s so different from him,” the wise Mrs. Watkins spoke up. “It’s like a breath of fresh air that he’s not used to. They are perfect for each other.” The romantic at heart smiled as the rest of the group agreed.

  The coffee and pastries filled her growling lion of a stomach and Rori left class fully sated. She only returned to the studio to retrieve her backpack and wallet. She was heading straight home under orders from her pseudo doctors John and Calvin.

  “Whatever is down there can wait,” they insisted as Jess joined them to head out to late night bowling. “Go home!”

  The light sprinkles from earlier in the day had turned into a full-fledged downpour as she ran across the sidewalk and jumped into her VW Beetle. This will be a fun ride home, she thought. Her windshield wipers were due to be replaced, but it was something she didn’t think about until she needed them. Like tonight.

  She was rubbing off the condensation from the car’s poor ventilation when Marcus came out of the building. She saw that he had no umbrella as he began to walk down the block. She honked her horn, leaned over, and rolled down her window.

  “Do you need a ride?” she asked. The rain would begin in earnest any minute now if the typical pattern held.

  “No, I’ll be fine.” He was startled at the voice coming from the bright orange Volkswagen. An early seventies model, from what he could tell.

  “Get in, you big stubborn oaf!” Rori demanded. For some strange reason, he obeyed.

  As he folded himself into the tiny front seat, he wiped the rain from his face. She was obviously rain-soaked, too, but not as bad as he was.

  “What did you call me?” Marcus turned to her, still not believing he had gotten into her car.

  “A stubborn oaf.” She thought he laughed, but she wasn’t sure.

  His apartment was only a couple of blocks away. Thankfully the rain let up slightly just as she pulled up to his building. Still Marcus hesitated before getting out of the car. Rori had no idea that he was grasping for an excuse to extend his stay. After what seemed like hours to him, but was in fact only a second, he remembered overhearing a conversation at her station tonight.

  “Tell me the cream puff story,” he said. “I heard the laughter but your little incident distracted me so I forgot to ask before class ended.”

  Rori smiled at the memory of her dad’s culinary misadventure, but was somewhat confused by the chef’s attention.

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “It’s just a silly story about my dad.”

  “Yes, please,” Marcus said. Hopefully the desperation was not evident in his voice.

  Rori recounted the story. It happened during her home church’s annual Dad’s Dessert Contest. Professor Sinclair had won the previous year with an orange cake and was expanding his culinary skills with the more difficult cream puffs. Unfortunately, his wife and daughters were out shopping when he began his production. Not realizing that you should measure flour quite differently from brown sugar, he carefully packed down each of the four cups of all-purpose flour. As the cream puffs baked, they looked marvelous. As he pulled them out of their molds to cool, he realized something had gone terribly wrong. They were as heavy as baseballs. In fact, when his neighbor, a fellow dessert challenge competitor, came to the door later that afternoon, Dr. Sinclair tossed him one of the perfect looking creampuffs. Thankfully, the neighbor ducked, otherwise the cream puff would have knocked him out. Needless to say, Rori’s dad made another batch.

  “So your dad likes to cook?” Marcus asked.

  “We call his cooking, ‘creative’,” Rori said. “He made a delicious homemade soup one time, mainly by combining various vegetables and spices. It was fantastic. Unfortunately, he had just grabbed random things from the cabinet and hadn’t bothered to write anything down. There was no hope of duplicating it.”

  “He sounds a lot like my brother James,” Marcus said. “I would love to meet him.” Realizing too late to stop the words that conveyed more of his feelings than he was ready to acknowledge, he quickly opened the door of the car.

  “See you tomorrow night,” he said as he leaned in the open door. With no hint of command, but a sense of concern, he added, “Please try to eat before you come to class. Thanks for the ride, and for the story. ”

  Who are you and what have you done with my disagreeable, mean chef? She wanted to ask. She stared in wonder.

  “You’re welcome,” she said as he hauled himself out of her small car.

  He seemed to hesitate, almost as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he only added, “Goodnight, Aurora.”

  “Goodnight, Marcus,” she said as he closed the car door.

  -------------------------

  When she got back to her apartment, she turned on her computer immediately. The email message box blinked at her. He had already sent a message.

  Dear Aurora: Thanks for the ride. Your carriage was exactly what I pictured yours would be. But it looks a little like a pumpkin. Aren’t their rules against borrowing from other fairy tales?

  Dear Marcus: I was glad to be of service. I would hate to think of you lying in a puddle in front of the Tech Building. Being made of sugar and all, I’m sure you were likely to melt. ~ Aurora.

  Dear Aurora: You are very funny...

  His fingers hesitated over the keyboard. He decided to venture out on the proverbial limb. It was much easier to do now, not in person.

  ...I like the saying on your shirt. It reminds me of one of my favorite quotes about cooking. It’s from Voltaire. ‘Nothing would be more tiresome than eating and drinking if God had not made them a pleasure as well as a necessity.’ Goodnight, Aurora. ~Marcus. He turned off the program as soon as he sent the message, not brave enough to wait for her reply.

  Soufflé Can You See?

  Sorely tempted to skip tonight’s class, Rori attended under protest. She was tired from her studio work, which now consisted mainly of packing up her supplies and preparing her work for transport on Thursday to the gallery.

  The artist refused to admit to herself that the emotional war waging between her and Marcus was also taking a toll on her. Jessica had dropped broader and broader hints that their battles were just romantic tension. To combat this absurd notion, Rori added an expose on the thirteenth chapter of first Corinthians, commonly called the Love Chapter, to her sketch of Marcus at the back of her sketchbook. She had drawn a quick picture of him after the first class with a countdown of the twelve days of class. She marked off a day every morning. The title of the masterpiece was You Shall Endure.

  Below the caricature she had scribbled, ‘You can do anything for two weeks!’ She quickly wrote out the passage, adding commentary:

  “Love is patient… Grumpy, annoyed, irritated

  Love is kind… merciless, harsh

  Does not envy, does not boast, is not proud…. Need more info/background – Jake & Carla?

  Does not dishonor others…not self-seeking…. Seems to be ok here

  …. Not easily angered?!? ... Try infuriating... on edge

  …keeps no records of wrongs...Or has a photographic memory of every mistake I’ve made….

  Does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth…. trust Jake’s opinion, I guess?

  Protects…. Ok I’ll give him that one…. (She drew a heart next to this one)

  Trusts?... hopes?.... expects the worst

  Always perseveres…. Or is counting down the days of torture like I am...?

  Thankfully, her sketchbook was rarely out of her sight so there was no danger in her mischief, or her feelings, being discovered.

  Sitting in class waiting for Jessica to arrive, Rori flipped open the sketchbook. It was an addiction. She rarely was without a pencil or pen in hand, sketching on whatever surface she could find. Her notes in all her classes and even in sermons were covered with artwork.

  She was the only one in the class. Even Marcus was nowhere to be seen. When she saw how early she was, she cons
idered hanging around outside, but instead decided to brave the lion’s den. Maybe he’ll talk to me like we do online if I’m the only one here, she thought. Knowing that was probably a hopeless dream, and unwilling to think too much about why it was so important to her, she pushed the thoughts away.

  She sketched fruit, vegetables, and loaves of bread and within minutes had covered a couple of pages with abstract, interesting drawings.

  “Nice work,” the deep voice behind her startled her. She jumped and dropped her pencil.

  “Marcus,” his name came unbidden. “You startled me.”

  His breath caught as her blue eyes met his, an involuntary smile on her lips. Marcus had seen her engrossed in her sketching and realized she had not heard his approach. Drawn to her like the cliché moth to a flame, he decided to delay the class preparations to steal a few moments alone with Miss Aurora Sinclair.

  “Chef Marcus, in class please, Princess,” he smiled as he handed her the dropped pencil. His fingers brushed the palm of her hand. The effect of his touch combined with the smile had a devastating effect on her breathing. She seemed to have forgotten how.

  “Sorry,” Rori bowed her head to recover her involuntary functions, such as breathing and heart beating, and to hide the blush she was sure was spreading across her face.

  “These are quite good,” Marcus was now thumbing through the five or six pages of food related items. “I knew you did portraits, but had no idea you had such an expansive repertoire. I’d be interested in using these for a project that Jake and I are working on.” He smiled again.

  I’m going to die right here at his feet, Rori thought. I can see the headlines now: ‘Coed falls victim to handsome chef’s deadly smile’. She laughed.

  “What’s so funny about that?” Marcus asked, his smile fading. Is she laughing at me, again? He thought disappointedly.

  “No, no,” Rori tried to recover. “I’m just not used to you being nice to me. Sorry.” Avoiding eye contact, she did not see the devastating affect her words had on Marcus. She continued, unaware of his painful confusion.

  “That would be great,” she said. “You’re welcome to use whatever sketches you need. Would you like me to drop some by to you or Jake before Friday?”

  Marcus struggled to regain his equilibrium. Apparently, her comment had not been meant to wound since she blithely continued their previous conversation.

  “Maybe you could meet with me and Jake about it one morning?” He suggested. Last night he finally admitted that since his time with this frustrating and fascinating woman was coming to an end, he needed to act soon. He was desperate and terrified all at the same time.

  “Say, Friday morning?” He asked.

  “Okay,” Rori agreed hesitantly. “You do remember that I won’t be in class Friday night, right?”

  Why do you think I want to see you on Friday morning, woman? Chef thought. Knowing that would shock her for sure, he decided against verbalizing his thoughts.

  “Yes, I remember,” he replied instead. “You have a preview for your art show, correct?”

  “Yes.” She nodded anxious to end this uncomfortable intimacy as the other students were entering the lab. “I can meet you and Jake at the cafeteria Friday, say around eight thirty? Is that okay?”

  “See you then.” He closed her sketchbook and moved away.

  Rori could breathe again. Now if only her heart would behave, she might actually survive the evening.

  The soufflés were tricky but fun, and messy, so Rori thoroughly enjoyed them. Jessica said that Rori never used the same spoon, or pot, or pan, or potholder, if she could take one, or two, or all the others out of the drawers, instead. Their station was a wreck, but their broccoli and cheese soufflé was delicious.

  “This is definitely a skill I will practice,” Rori said. “I’m going to make my parents a fancy breakfast before Gwen and I go to Europe.”

  “You really ought to ask him tonight, you know,” Jess reminded Rori about their weekend discussion. Jessica had suggested that she ask Marcus to make some culinary recommendations for her upcoming European adventure.

  “You know, like what foods to try in Paris, and the best pastry shop in Rome, things like that.” Jess was trying everything she could to push these two lovebirds together. “I’m sure he would love to give you some ideas.”

  Rori reluctantly agreed to speak to him after class. Their planned meeting on Friday morning made for a perfect excuse. She made Jessica promise to stay with her while she talked to him.

  “Just in case he says something to make me mad. I wouldn’t want to hurt him without a witness,” Rori giggled.

  “Chef MacRae,” her roommate stopped him before he headed to his office. “We have a special request.” Jess decided not to give Rori a chance to change her mind.

  “How can I be of service, ladies?” Marcus had been frantically thinking of excuses to open up another conversation with Aurora. It was like an answer to prayer.

  Jess launched right in, “Rori and her sister are going to Europe and she needs some input on places, and food, you would recommend she try.”

  “My sister is graduating with a degree in History next week,” Rori explained as the handsome man smiled, turning his full attention to her. “It’s our dual graduation gift from our parents and grandparents.” Stop doing that, she thought, fascinated as the smile transformed his demeanor. It’s not fair!

  “How nice,” Marcus pulled up a stool and pulled out a notebook. “Tell me exactly where you’re going and I’ll work on some ideas. Will Friday morning at breakfast be soon enough?”

  Jessica was not aware of their previous engagement and raised startled eyebrows.

  “Yes, that would be fine,” Rori ignored her roommate. “We’re going to London, Paris, Rome, and Florence. The travel agent also arranged some open days for us with flexible arrangements so we can make some detours, too. We’ll end up back in England, where we want to take the last few days touring the countryside and,” she hesitated, “Scotland.”

  “Ah, the motherland,” Marcus broke into a thick Scottish accent. “I’ve been to visit twice and a lovely land it is indeed.”

  Jessica’s giggles were infectious. Rori was beet red, but couldn’t help but laugh, too.

  “It’s hopeless isn’t it?” Rori asked her roommate as they walked away from the building, the cool crisp air a welcome relief on her still blushing face. “Does he have any idea how adorable he is?”

  Adorable was not a common word used to describe the six foot tall red headed chef, Jessica thought.

  “You’ve got it bad, sweetheart. What happened to the repugnant, stubborn, impatient, mean, unreasonable man you met last week? He doesn’t seem any different to me,” Jess teased Rori.

  “Be quiet,” Rori pretended to pout. “It’s just a silly infatuation. Plus, I’m leaving town next Tuesday morning and will likely never see him again.” Why did the thought depress her so much?

  Sweet Desserts, Don’t Desert Me

  Wednesday morning Rori and Jessica worked on their project. Chef was letting them do their presentation on Thursday since Rori would be missing Friday’s class. They had indeed settled on Italian food and were doing four dishes: two in the northern style and two in the more traditional southern style. Rori was in charge of the report and shopping for the ingredients. She also wanted to be solely in charge of one dish, so she chose Savoiardi, known to most Americans as ladyfingers. Baking had been her favorite part of the class so far, and she didn’t feel she could conquer the more difficult tiramisu, which used ladyfingers soaked in espresso. Jess was doing a polenta dish, preferred by many to pasta in the north, and they were working together on a traditional pizza from the southern region and a fish soup, popular at Christmastime.

  The report and presentation were easy to accomplish and Jess made a detailed list of ingredients for Rori. Volunteering to do the shopping was another way to keep her mind off the studio, art show, and Chef Marcus. Jessica was not fooled one bi
t. Shopping meant she didn’t have to be the one to meet with the chef to go over their dishes.

  “Finally. Desserts!” John and Calvin exclaimed as they rushed into Wednesday’s class, running late due to packing up their dorm apartment. Calvin was a Residence Hall Director and John was his roommate. Calvin was getting married later in the summer and his wife, Sally, would be moving in.

  “The place should smell much better next year,” Calvin had deadpanned during one of their after class coffee trips last week.

  “Okay, class,” Marcus called for their attention. “Tonight is our last night of cooking. We’re going out with everyone’s favorites – desserts.” There were cheers and groans of delights. The lab already smelled heavenly, Chef having begun some dishes to sample earlier in the day.

  “At your stations you will find three recipes. Choose one to prepare,” he continued. “For those taking this class for credit, this will count as a test grade, so I will not be assisting you as much as I normally do. You should all have mastered the skills required.”

  He saw looks of panic from several of the less confident students, including Aurora. Seeking to encourage her, he added, “I promise. It will be very, very easy. I know you all will be shocked to know, I’m not really a mean guy.”

  Why is he looking at me? Rori thought. Am I that obvious?

  The Watkins, Jess and the boys, and even the two moms exchanged knowing looks. “Oh yes, dear,” the matron whispered to her husband, “You’re definitely correct. They are head over heels.”

  Chef made his way around the classroom during the course of the evening. He stopped at Jessica and Rori’s station and swiped a finger full of their cheese cake filling,

  “Delicious,” he said licking his lips. “Good job. Any problems with the spring pan?”

  “No,” Jessica answered for Rori as she watched her roommate be mesmerized at the chef’s simple gesture. I wonder if Rori realizes she’s staring at his lips, she thought.