Love and Hope

by Kayla Perrin

  “Oh my dear,” Mrs. Campbell said. “If you’re worried about time, I can help you pack. Whether or not you decide to do the show.”

  Mrs. Campbell was making an offer she couldn’t refuse. “You can? That’d be great, because there’s so much stuff. I was planning to tackle my mother’s shoe collection after dinner. I don’t think she ever threw anything away.” A smile touched Tasia’s lips. “Anyway, I want to separate them into boxes and bags based on what I should keep, donate, or discard.”

  “I can definitely help you with that. In fact, I’ll have a pretty good idea of which ones some of her friends might like—if you’re giving them away.”

  “If you or some of my mother’s friends can use them, that’s wonderful. I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

  “Your mother’s feet were a little bigger than mine, but I can still fit into her shoes.”

  Malcolm’s phone interrupted their conversation. He glanced down at it and said apologetically, “I thought I’d have some time to help you tonight, too, but it looks like I’ll have to go soon.”

  “Oh?” Tasia said, unable to hide her disappointment.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Something came up.” He frowned, then pocketed his phone.

  “Everything okay?” Tasia asked.

  Malcolm nodded. “Yeah. It will be.”

  “Then I’d better get dinner served.”

  Tasia set another place at the dining room table, as Mrs. Campbell helped bring the dishes from the kitchen. Malcolm opened the wine.

  Although Tasia knew the duck tasted delicious, she was nervous about their reaction. But it didn’t take long for Mrs. Campbell to compliment her. Right from the first bite, her eyes rolled back into her head with pleasure.

  “Tasia, this is wonderful!”

  Tasia beamed. “Thank you.”

  “Your mother always said you were a wonderful chef, but I didn’t realize you were this good.”

  “This is amazing,” Malcolm chimed in. “The duck is so tender and yet the skin is perfectly crisp.”

  Tasia blushed. “Thank you,” she said once more.

  “This is the meal you were planning for Battle of the Chefs?” Malcolm went on.

  “Yeah.”

  “You should do it, darling,” Mrs. Campbell said. “Your mother would have wanted you to.”

  Tasia wasn’t so sure about that. “Some days,” she began hesitantly, “I wasn’t even sure if she supported me becoming a chef. After a while she got used to the idea, and I know she was proud of me, but she felt I spent too much time at work and not enough on my personal life.”

  “Every mother has ideas about what her children should do,” Mrs. Campbell said. “I certainly never wanted my Matthew to pursue football. He didn’t go pro, but he’s coaching now, and he’s happy. But Marcia went into law to please her father, and you know what? She’s miserable. That girl was always happiest when performing on stage, but she did what her father wanted. I know she regrets it.”

  Tasia nodded. “Well, that’s why I chose cooking. It was always a dream of mine. I just … with Mom being gone, I don’t quite feel the same about doing the show.” Her heart told her that what she needed now was to spend some time reflecting and take some time off work. “I’m seeing now that my mother was right about a lot of things. I love my job, don’t get me wrong, but maybe I have been spending too much time at the restaurant and not enough time on me.”

  Malcolm suddenly pushed his chair back and stood. Tasia’s eyes went to him. “Leaving already?” she asked him.

  “Yeah, I’ve got to go.”

  “Before dessert?” Mrs. Campbell asked.

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Let me at least cut you a piece of cheesecake so you can take it with you,” Mrs. Campbell offered.

  “Thank you Mrs. Campbell, I look forward to savoring it later.” He smiled at the older lady. She smiled at him and went into the kitchen. He turned to Tasia “Can I speak to you outside, Tasia?”

  She rose from her chair. “Sure.”

  She wondered if he wanted her outside to steal another kiss. At least, that’s what she was hoping.

  Tasia closed the front door and stood on the front porch. “You wanted to say something to me in private?” she asked.

  “Wait right here,” he said.

  Tasia’s brow furrowed as she watched him head off to the car. What was he doing?

  That question was answered a few seconds later when Malcolm produced a medium-sized gift bag from the back seat of his car.

  He raised the bag high and smiled as he walked back to her.

  Tasia’s pulse began to race. What? He had a gift for her?

  Chapter 8

  Butterflies went wild in Tasia’s stomach—something she hadn’t experienced in years.

  “For you,” he said, handing her the pale blue gift bag.

  Tasia blew out a shaky breath. “Malcolm, you didn’t have to get me anything.” It was a proverbial protest, because the truth was, she was touched.

  “Open it,” he urged, a smile tugging at his lips.

  Tasia chuckled nervously, wondering what it could be. She pulled out the tissue paper, and saw a leather-bound notebook.

  Raising her eyes to meet his, Tasia looked at Malcolm with curiosity. “I don’t understand.”

  “Your mother told me that I would know when the time was right to give that to you,” he said. “And I figured now was the right time.”

  His words were cryptic. Tasia didn’t wait for further explanation. She pulled the book from the bag, and barely stifled a sob when she saw the words etched in gold on the leather … Stella’s Recipes.

  “This was my mother’s?” she asked, running her fingers reverently over the lettering as her heart slammed against her ribcage.

  “Yeah,” Malcolm said softly. “Actually, she had the book made for you.”

  “She … she did? She had this made for me?” Though he’d said exactly that, Tasia found it hard to believe.

  “Your mother hoped it would be inspiration for your career.”

  “But … she never wanted me to become a chef.” Tasia frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  “Maybe that’s what you believe, but I heard differently from your mother.” As if out of nowhere, Malcolm produced an object from behind his back. It was flat, wrapped in white tissue paper, and appeared to be another book.

  “What’s that?” Tasia asked.

  “The original,” Malcolm explained.

  Her forehead scrunching, Tasia put the leather-bound book back in the bag and took the other surprise from him. Carefully removing the tissue paper, she saw a black book with a coil spine, the kind you get at a stationery store. On the front written on a strip of masking tape, were the words: STELLA’S RECIPES.

  “Oh, my goodness,” Tasia said. “I haven’t seen this book in years.”

  A flood of happy memories came back to her. Being in the kitchen with her mother, helping her cut apples to make pies, cutting up vegetables for a stir-fry, rolling the dough for a homemade pizza. The years before her father had left, Tasia had cooked in the kitchen with her mother often. Once her mother had started working to support the family, Tasia had continued to cook on her own. Tasia had referenced her mother’s cookbook often, figuring every household had such a recipe book. But had her mother actually been passionate about cooking as Tasia was?

  “Your mother wanted to make sure you had the original, too,” Malcolm told her as Tasia gingerly opened the older book. “She also wanted you to have something more permanent, more memorable. So she had her cookbook published for you.”

  “Oh, my God,” Tasia said, a rush of emotion causing her to sway slightly. “My mother did this for me?” she asked again, in a trembling voice.

  “She did.”

  Tasia flipped through the pages, tenderly running her fingers along the faded words. Directions and measurements written by her mother. Some pages had notes in the margins, a few had food stains. It was well-
worn and carried a faint scent of her mother’s cooking.

  “This is very old,” Tasia sighed. “I think she started it before I was born. Kept adding to it.”

  “Indeed.”

  Her mother’s elegant handwriting told a loving story: Stella’s Jerk Chicken. Stella’s Triple Berry Pie. Stella’s Beef Stir-Fry. Stella’s Spicy Mac ‘n Cheese.

  “Oh, how I loved her spicy mac and cheese,” Tasia laughed.

  “She made it for me once, too,” Malcolm said.

  Tasia’s gaze flew to his. “She did?”

  “Yep,” he said. “It was delicious.”

  “So many surprises,” Tasia muttered. Then she went to the back of the book, where the edges of some folded papers were sticking out. As Tasia unfolded one of the loose pages, she saw that it had been taped into the book. “There’s got to be sixty or seventy recipes in here.”

  “As you can see, the original is in rough condition. That’s why your mother had her recipes professionally published for you.”

  Tasia choked back tears, clasping the original book against her chest. “I’ll cherish both books forever,” she said, a catch in her voice. “My mom was the best cook, but I never knew how much she loved it. I guess it seems silly, but I just saw it as something she did for the family.”

  “She must have cooked countless meals for you,” Malcolm said.

  “Of course she did. But all moms cook, don’t they?”

  “So you didn’t realize she was passionate about it,” Malcolm supplied.

  “She never once said that she was. I learned so much from her growing up, that’s how I developed my own love of cooking, watching her over the years. But when I told her I wanted to become a chef, she tried to discourage it. Told me it was harder for women in that field, that it would take so much of my time. Why was she so against it … ?”

  Tasia’s voice trailed off as something became clear to her. When she glanced up at Malcolm, she saw a look of understanding in his eyes.

  “You think …” Tasia began, “You think my mother actually had tried to pursue a career as a chef, and that’s how she knew the possible roadblocks?” But even as she asked the question, it suddenly made sense.

  Malcolm nodded. “I don’t think she jumped in with both feet, but she said that before she got married, she got a job at a restaurant here in Miami. She worked there for two years, saw lesser male cooks get promoted even though her talent was superior. She saw the sexism in the kitchen and it discouraged her. Then she met your father, got married, and concentrated on her family.”

  Tasia blew out a breath. Her mother had actually worked in a restaurant? And she’d never told her?

  “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  Malcolm shrugged. “Maybe she didn’t want you to see her as a failure? Or maybe she didn’t want to come across as a know-it-all who’d been in your shoes and had all the answers? Whatever her reason, my guess is she simply wanted to protect you from the disappointment and frustration she’d gone through.”

  Tasia’s chest felt tight, and she sucked in quick, sharp breaths. What she’d just learned about her mother had her winded.

  “Let me ask you this,” Malcolm began. “If your mother had told you she’d once wanted to be a chef and that it hadn’t worked out for her and tried to discourage you based on her experiences, how would you have replied?”

  “I would have told her that was then,” Tasia answered without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have let it stop me from pursuing my goals.”

  “That’s probably why she didn’t tell you,” Malcolm said. “She probably knew you’d be determined nonetheless, and maybe she didn’t want you to think she’d failed in her own career. She understood that you would have to make your own path in life.”

  Tasia shook her head, tears in her eyes. She never would have thought her mother had failed at anything. Her mother was the strongest woman she’d ever known. “But … but it was something we had in common. All these years, I didn’t know if she’d had any big dreams outside of her children.” Why hadn’t her mother shared this with her?

  The door opened. Mrs. Campbell peered her head out, and said, “I’m sorry to intrude on you both, but you’ve been out here so long. I didn’t want you to run off before giving you your dessert.”

  “Ah, yes,” Malcolm smiled.

  Mrs. Campbell passed him a foil-wrapped plate. “Here’s some cheesecake, as promised.”

  “Thank you,” Malcolm said. “I’m sure I’ll enjoy this. Now, I really do have to run. Tasia, I’ll talk to you later.”

  Tasia still clutched her mother’s recipe book to her chest. “Yes, thank you Malcolm.”

  “He certainly is a charming young man.” Mrs. Campbell sighed as they watched Malcolm walk back to his vehicle. “Your mother just adored him.”

  “Seems like it,” Tasia said. She must have, considering what she’d shared with him about her life.

  “And it seems as if you like him too,” Mrs. Campbell said, a gleam in her eyes.

  “Um … well …” What could Tasia say? She’d been caught kissing the man, so to deny that she liked him would be silly. “He is charming,” Tasia finally said.

  “And so handsome,” Mrs. Campbell added as Malcolm’s car backed out of the driveway.

  “Yes,” Tasia agreed with a chuckle. There was no denying that either. But her mother must have trusted Malcolm to open up to him like that. Tasia wondered about that as she headed back inside with Mrs. Campbell. And what else had her mother told him?

  But the biggest question Tasia had, caused her heart to wrench in pain. Why had her mother felt more comfortable sharing stories about her life with a stranger instead of her own daughter?

  *

  “I always thought we were really close, you know?” Tasia said into the phone. She was sitting cross-legged on her mom’s tan leather sofa, which was also new. No doubt Malcolm had taken care of the details, along with all the other changes in the house. Huddled under a bright blue velour blanket, she had to admit that Malcolm had had quite an impact on her mom.

  “Of course you were close Tas, but everyone has some secrets,” Raven replied. “Maybe it was too painful for her to talk about her dreams with you since she wasn’t able to make them come true. I’m sure she never wanted to hurt you by keeping it from you.”

  “I guess you’re right. It was just such a shock learning that. And especially from Malcolm.”

  “I’m sure it was. But try not to read too much into it. At least it’s not some big, devastating family secret, you know?”

  Raven was right. Maybe Tasia was over-analyzing the situation.

  “And speaking of secrets,” Raven went on, “tell me more about this guy.”

  “I already told you about him. He worked on my mom’s house.”

  “And he keeps coming around now?”

  “He came by to offer his condolences, and then he fixed the bathroom sink and shower.”

  “And you don’t think he’s making excuses to come by? Maybe he likes you …”

  Tasia remembered the feel of Malcolm’s lips on hers, the butterflies she’d experienced, and the inexplicable sense that they’d connected on a deeper level.

  “Tasia?” Raven prompted.

  “I think he feels a sense of loyalty or something to my mother. Raven, I already told you this.”

  “I don’t care what you say, he’s not coming around because of your mother. Girl, you know you got it going on. If this guy’s into you, I say go for it.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tasia said. “You’re jumping the gun, aren’t you?”

  “Am I?” Raven challenged.

  In the moment it took Tasia to figure out how to answer, she heard Raven squeal and knew that she’d hesitated too long.

  “Okay, what aren’t you telling me?” Raven demanded.

  “Well …” Tasia blew out a breath and then told her about the kiss.

  “Oh my goodness. I knew something was going on. Why were you keeping this fro
m me?”

  “Because … because it was just … I think it was just a reaction to the two of us spending time together. And it’s not like anything can come of it. I live in Atlanta, he lives here. You know.”

  “What I know is that you always over-think things. Just go with the flow for God’s sake. No need to have all the answers figured out now except for one. Do you like him?”

  “I do,” Tasia answered, no hesitation.

  Raven squealed again. “I love it. You’re finally into somebody.”

  “You say that like I’ve been in hiding for years or something. Are you forgetting about Rodney?”

  “Rodney.” Raven scoffed. “Whatever. Even before you caught him at that coffee shop with another woman, you weren’t that into him. You certainly never talked about him the way you’re talking about Malcolm.”

  Tasia frowned. “How am I talking about Malcolm?” In fact, she’d deliberately said very little.

  “Just a tone in your voice, plus the fact that you’re being so secretive about him. It’s like pulling teeth to get you to give me any details.” Raven chuckled softly on the other end of the line. “But it’s all good. I like this. I like seeing you a little flustered over a guy. It’s been too long.”

  Tasia was about to protest, but she decided against it. Instead, she smiled and enjoyed the warm, tingly feeling that spread inside of her at the memory of Malcolm’s kiss.

  Maybe Raven was right. Maybe it was time for her to simply go with the flow and see where things might lead …

  Chapter 9

  Tasia glanced at the clock for the umpteenth time as she waited for Malcolm to arrive. When Malcolm had called that morning, asking if she needed him today, she’d said yes without missing a beat.

  Truth be told, she hadn’t needed his help. But she did want his company. She’d gone through all of her mom’s shoes with Mrs. Campbell, and together, they’d boxed up what she would donate. Mrs. Campbell also took a few bags full of shoes home with her promising that she would give them to her mom’s friends. The dear lady said she’d come back tomorrow to help her finish packing the clothes. She smiled, happy that her mother’s lovely things would continue to be appreciated.