“From what I saw, that’s not going be a problem: he’s already into you. You didn’t see him watching you walk up to my door. That man is smitten.”
“Let’s hope so. When I poison him, he’ll need to be very understanding!”
The sauce had warmed through while they’d talked and Rachel had drained the pasta. She served two portions into large dishes and put the bowls on the table. Parmesan cheese from the fridge complemented the meal, and they sat at the table, ready to dig in.
“Mmm… it smells so good!” Rachel took her first bite and closed her eyes to savour the taste.
“It does. My mum is the best. I dream about this sauce, and I’ve lived out of home for six years. I can even make it, but I’m sure hers is better.”
“Your mother’s cooking is special, that’s for sure.” Rachel filled her mouth with another large forkful of thick, meaty sauce.
They chewed quietly together, and after a minute, Rachel noticed Lori’s face wrinkle up. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure.” She moved her food around with her fork, tasting a lick of sauce first. Satisfied that it was fine, she lifted her fork with a bare piece of pasta on it. “I’m scared to eat this on it’s own.”
“What do you mean?” Rachel frowned at her, confused. “It’s just pasta.”
“Oh no, Rachel, this pasta is special.” She licked the edge of the penne and screwed up her face again. “Did you add salt to the water?”
“Of course I did. I’m not silly.”
“How much?”
“I put the usual amount, and then I added another spoonful because I was cooking extra pasta for tomorrow.” She frowned again as she finished her own mouthful. “Why are you giving me a hard time about it? Now that you mention it, though, this sauce does taste a little saltier than usual. Your mum liked the salt today, too, I see.”
“It’s not the sauce, Rachel. This pasta is so salty—I can’t eat it.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. You can’t make pasta too salty.”
“Try a piece and tell me I’m wrong.”
“Fine!” Rachel forked up her own piece of pasta, making sure she found one that didn’t drip with homemade sauce. She popped it in her mouth and began to chew, making a face at Lori as she did. She soon understood what her friend was talking about as she leaned forward to spit out her mouthful onto the edge of her bowl. “Oh my God, why is that so salty? You’re right: I can’t eat it!”
“What the hell did you do to it?”
Rachel could see her friend’s mouth twitching. Once again, there was going to be hysteria at her expense in the kitchen. She moaned to herself as she got up to check the cupboard. She pulled out the container she’d used to salt the water and groaned loud enough for Lori to hear. She couldn’t hide it now, so she put the container on the table.
Lori picked it up and read the label. “You used cooking salt. You know you don’t need as much as normal salt, right?”
“Umm… I didn’t know that until this moment. I might have put a lot in, since I was on my phone. Oh, why is this stuff so hard?” she cried out as her friend burst out laughing. “How the hell am I meant to cook for Henry if I even mess up basic pasta?”
Lori got up to make another pot. “I have only two things to say about this. The first is that my mother is a genius, and by sending so much sauce, we’ll still get dinner tonight. The second is that you need to go out for dinner on Thursday night, or get someone to cater for you. I don’t want to have to visit you in prison after you kill him with your cooking!”
***
“Rachel?”
“Here.” She stood up from behind the filing cabinet she’d been trying to move and her eyes fell on an enormous bunch of flowers. “Oh,” she breathed. “Are those for me?”
“They sure are.” Sarah’s head appeared behind the petals as she set the vase down on Rachel’s desk. “Someone has an admirer.”
Rachel grinned and searched for the card, sure they could be from one person. The only other time she’d received flowers was one Valentine’s Day when Lori was feeling kind. The card solved the mystery—they were indeed from Henry. She leaned forward to breathe in their heavenly scent as Sarah patted her on the shoulder.
“This one’s a keeper!”
“I agree. If only I had time to sit and admire them.”
Wednesday mornings were extra busy for Rachel. Not only did she have to get through her workload for the day, but also the company held a mid-week staff meeting and all members were expected to attend each week. Josh was a stickler for prompt attendance, too—no one wanted to be late to his meetings.
She arrived early and positioned herself midway down the left side of the boardroom table as Josh set up the projection equipment. This room was far too small for their needs, but Josh liked them to be squeezed in together. He said it made them feel like more of a united team—united in suffering was the current office joke. Rachel smiled to herself as she settled into her chair.
“Something funny, Rachel?” The question, and his tone, startled her.
“Uhh… no, why?” They were alone in the room, and she thought he sounded more harsh than normal.
“You were smirking. I don’t like smirking.”
“I promise I didn’t mean to. I was thinking about my weekend.”
“Oh, yes, the mystery man. I hope we get to meet the guy you’ve hooked up with. Assuming it lasts.” He sneered at her and then turned to write on the whiteboard.
She glanced at her phone to check the time and satisfied herself that they still had ten minutes before the meeting was due to start. She went to the door, closed it firmly, and locked it before turning back to him. “Is there something wrong, Josh?”
He faced her with a surprised look on his face.
He thought I was going to take that rubbish from him without comment.
“Nothing’s wrong. Whatever do you mean, Rachel? Open the door before people start hammering on it.”
“You seem angry for some reason. Have I done something wrong?”
“Of course not. Open the door.” He turned away, but not before she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes. He was definitely annoyed.
“No, you need to tell me what it is. Is this because of yesterday?”
“Don’t be silly. Yesterday is long forgotten.”
“Okay. If you say so.” She frowned and unlocked the door before pulling it open. Sarah was on the other side with a raised hand, about to knock, and her face showed her confusion. Rachel shook her head and beckoned her inside. She gathered her things from where she’d placed them on the table and moved to sit at the back of the room.
Better to be back here if he’s feeling grumpy today. Maybe I read something into this that wasn’t there.
An hour later, his actions proved he was determined to punish her.
Josh had just informed the room full of people that the company would be participating in a community project each quarter. The first project had been chosen for them, but after that, there would be a submission process and the staff could vote on which one they wanted to support. The initial project was providing food for the homeless at a shelter in the city.
A roster was organised and Rachel found herself on the first shift, booked for Friday afternoon. She pencilled it into her diary, happy to be contributing to the community. Ending homelessness was a cause she heartily supported, and she looked forward to volunteering her time.
That was, until Josh spelled out the tasks, which included cooking. He explained that the shelter provided most of what was needed, but that the volunteers would be required to donate one meal each week, paid for by the company. He proposed that one member would cook the meal and the others on the same shift would be responsible for transporting it to the venue. He offered the work canteen for the cooking.
Well, I’ll be steering clear of that part!
“Rachel, you’ll be cooking the first meal this week.” The words fell on her like bricks as she stared at Jo
sh in disbelief.
“Oh no, that’s not a good idea. I—”
“You don’t want to support this great cause? I thought you’d be the first in line with your hand up.”
“It’s not that—it’s just that I’m not a great cook when it’s only for one person. I have no idea how to make large quantities of food.”
“Oh, you needn’t worry—it’s only soup.” He turned to the rest of the group, ready to move onto a new subject.
“Uhh… honestly, I can’t make soup. I’ve never—”
“Enough, Rachel. I’ve chosen the groups. This one is yours and it’s the easiest. If you can’t make soup, you won’t want to be in the group that has to make a potato bake, will you?” He laughed and the rest of the room joined in as she slumped back into her chair.
What has he done? Now I’m going to poison the homeless!
***
Thursday at work was brutal for Rachel. The US client was unhappy with the print adverts they’d sent over on Tuesday and demanded they rework some of the images. He thought they were too similar to one of his competitors and wouldn’t sign off on them until they were fixed, which meant days of reworking their plan, most likely stretching into the weekend.
Josh was grumpy and barked orders at people all day. He’d been awkward with Rachel ever since he’d asked her out on Tuesday, loading her up with extra tasks that should have been completed by someone else, not to mention the challenge of making enough soup for fifty people that he’d dumped at her feet.
She was determined to talk to him and ask him if he was getting her back for rejecting him, but she couldn’t do it today when she needed to make sure she left early enough to start cooking for Henry. She had a recipe to make and had planned exactly how she would get it done. She’d even watched a video online to try and master cooking rice—something she’d never quite managed to get right. Determined not to have any hard bits of grain on Henry’s plate, she’d gone to a lot of effort to prepare for success.
The universe had other ideas, though, and as she washed her hands in the bathroom right on three o’clock, the fire alarm sounded.
No! Not now!
She tried to rush back to her desk for her handbag, but the office was busy and the nearest fire exit was in the opposite direction. Sarah, the official fire warden for their floor, scolded her and made her join the others who moved toward the exits. Rachel sighed and dutifully fell into line, dreading the walk down the fire escape. Six floors in high heels was not fun—she’d always hated these drills.
This would delay her by more than an hour. By the time they got downstairs and everyone was accounted for, more time would have passed. They’d then have to wait while all the sections reported in. The worst case was that today was a special drill and they’d planned for people to go missing or pretend to be injured. If that was the case, they might be outside longer as the various scenarios played out. God, she hated fire drills!
She did a quick calculation in her head as she teetered down the stairs with everyone else.
If I’m stuck for an hour, that’ll make it four o’clock. I’ll still have time to shop and get home to cook. Why didn’t I go to the supermarket last night, instead of waiting until today?
Josh was waiting on the landing below, and he watched as the staff walked down the stairs, checking to make sure no one had fallen. He loudly reminded them to hurry and to be careful, and not to stop until they reached the assembly area. She could have sworn he smirked at her as she walked past him.
The bastard! He knows I was leaving early today!
Trying to stay calm, she joined the others outside and waited for the roll call to start. Two fire trucks roared up the street with sirens blaring, and for the first time, Rachel considered that perhaps this wasn’t a drill. She glanced up at the building and was shocked to see a stream of black smoke leaking from a window a few floors above hers. This was no drill—this was a real emergency!
God dammit, why didn’t I leave without going to the toilet? I’d be on my way home, now. Instead, I’m stuck here until this is all over and we’re allowed back into the building.
Eventually, everyone from their area was accounted for, and people stood around or sat on the edge of the garden, chatting quietly to each other. Sarah radioed that she had everyone, and then she stood waiting for further instructions from the chief warden. After ten minutes, they were instructed to move their group to an adjacent carpark as they watched the fire crews prepare to fight the fire.
Sixty minutes later, they were informed that the fire had been extinguished. Tiny snippets of information were passed on to them, but a whisper had gone through the crowd that staff in the office where the fire started had used extinguishers to keep the flames at bay until the fire department had arrived.
Try not to be selfish. Stop thinking about dinner being ruined!
Just before five o’clock, they were cleared to enter the building. The advice from the fire crew was that the area was safe, but that all staff were to collect their belongings and head home. Rachel was one of the first in line to get back inside, and once she’d collected her bag and laptop, she rushed to get down to the carpark. Josh called out to her as she strode across the office, but she ignored him, pretending she didn’t hear him calling.
No time! No time for this!
On the drive to the supermarket, reality set in. Six o’clock was fast approaching, and Henry was due to arrive at seven. Even with a miracle, there was no way to buy everything and get it cooked in time. She didn’t want him looking over her shoulder in the kitchen.
Besides not creating the best dishes, she also was a messy cook. Everything seemed to flick on her clothes, no matter how hard she tried. Food fell on the floor and knives rolled off chopping boards, threatening to impale her toes. The only way to cook successfully was to do it with no one putting pressure on her, and a fully qualified chef in the near vicinity was way more pressure than she could stand.
She pulled the car to the side of the road as tears threatened to blind her, so furious that it was turning out this way. Henry was the first man in a long time who didn’t seem obsessed with her looks. He hadn’t once mentioned anything remotely to do with her appearance, and she was determined to make this last as long as she could. It was a refreshing change to have a man talk to her and be interested in her, instead of how she looked or how they would be a cute couple.
I’m going to have to book the Indian place. Damn.
Resigned to her fate, she wiped her eyes and pulled back out into the traffic. She’d have to tell him about the fire drill—he’d understand. What a disappointment to not have him to herself at home, though. She’d looked forward to curling up in his arms after dinner.
She parked her car and slipped across the road to make a booking. Several people in front of her ordered takeaway, and by the time it was her turn, she’d decided that’s what she would do, too. She ordered a curry dish, along with rice, naan, and all the condiments that went along with it.
It’s lucky I’m getting takeaway—I forgot about all these side dishes that go with curry.
She was a lot more relaxed, now. She’d have time to jump in the shower, and then she could heat up the food in the microwave once he arrived. It was better this way, with no chance of him making fun of her awful cooking. Better yet, she could use those new Tupperware dishes she’d bought last week, which kept food hot without having to put them in the oven.
She took her takeaway home and was so relieved to get inside. The new plastic dishes were at the front of the cupboard, and she pulled them out with a smile. She emptied the curry into one of them and secured the lid. The rice went into the next one. The cheese naan was wrapped in foil, so she turned the oven on low and popped the silver packet onto the rack to keep warm.
The pappadums would sweat inside the bag, so she put them in a breadbasket and left them on the table. Last, she pulled out the dish she only used for special occasions and emptied the mango chutney, cucumber
raita, and coconut banana into the three separate sections. She put plastic wrap over it and popped it in the fridge. Then she glanced at the clock above the oven.
Just enough time for a shower.
***
When Henry arrived, Rachel was back to her cheery self again. The stress of the afternoon at work had melted away, and she was pleased with her decision not to cook, because it meant she wasn’t stressed when Henry greeted her with a kiss. She melted into his arms and congratulated herself again for not booking the restaurant.
“It smells amazing in here,” Henry didn’t waste any time mentioning dinner. “I’m starving.”
“Me too. It’s been an awful day. I was so busy at work, I—”
“Oh, me too. I had someone call in sick and I nearly had to cancel on you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and looked down at her. “I called someone else in, instead.” They smiled at each other and she forgot what she’d been about to tell him. He kissed her on the nose and everything she’d felt on Sunday welled up in her again.
I really do like him a lot.
“You know, you should add me on Facebook.” His words startled her.
“It’s a bit early to be changing our relationship status, don’t you think?”
He laughed out loud at her response. “No, actually. If you can’t change it after a fake wedding proposal, when can you?”
“Let’s eat, since we’re both starving.” She kissed him on the lips and moved away to concentrate on dinner. Hopefully he wouldn’t notice that she’d ignored what he said.
She placed the containers with the food on the table, and the dish from the fridge and the naan from the oven completed their meal. Henry had brought a bottle of wine with him and he poured them both a glass. As Rachel surveyed the table, she marvelled at all the crockery she owned. For someone who cooked so little, she had a nice selection of serving dishes and glassware, courtesy of her mum’s last kitchen downsize. Without that, she doubted Henry would have found proper wine glasses in the cupboard; they’d have been drinking out of plastic movie theatre promotional cups.
Married This Year 2: Simmering Love Page 5