“Any hints?” she asked from behind the refrigerator door as she found a place for the containers.
He shook his head. “I just hope you like it. Dinner smells really good, by the way.” He spied a baking sheet of mounds covered with a flour cloth. The rolls.
“Thank you. Dar should be out in a minute. He had a nice nap after church. Georgie? Why don’t you open the bays a little and let some fresh air in here. I’ll go see if Tru would like to join us.” She was already headed down a hallway off the kitchen.
As soon as Jace thought Sister Silva was out of earshot, he turned to Georgie, who was tugging on one of the bay windows. “Should I have taken off my shoes?”
She yanked. “No, you’re fine.”
“Do you need some help?”
“No, I’ve got it—aaugh.” Her hand had slipped up as the window gave, hitting the frame. She grimaced, shaking her hand.
“You all right?”
“Yes.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just banged it.” She stuck her finger in her mouth and crossed to the kitchen sink.
“Sticky windows?”
She nodded, turning on cold water and running her finger under the stream. “This house is about eighty years old.”
“I like it.” The arched entries to the halls. The rock fireplace and textured walls, the built-in bookshelves.
“Me too.” She turned the water off and dried her hand on a hanging dish towel. “It feels loved.”
She’d said it off-the-cuff, but he considered it and agreed.
They were quiet, looking at the old house surrounding them. Finally she said, “This does feel a little weird. You know, not being at work. You being here. Where I live.”
He raised his brow. “Maybe not weird. It’s . . . different.”
“Yes, different.” She tapped the counter. “Because I keep looking at you and thinking that I need to be putting a garnish on something and wondering why you don’t have your chef’s coat on.”
He smiled at her. “I could go home and get one if—”
“No, you’re totally fine without it.” She paused and covered the grin that came, then turned around to face the window.
“Totally fine?”
He saw her fist clench, then relax.
“Well, thank you.” He didn’t have to hide his smile from anyone; he leaned, a bit more relaxed, against the counter. “I noticed you weren’t wearing an apron.”
She looked down, then turned around, her face a little pink. “I’m going to go see what’s taking Dar so long.”
He nodded, and she hurried across the room.
A few minutes later, Sister Silva invited them all to the table. “Tru isn’t up to joining us. She sends her apologies.”
Jace took his seat next to Georgie, and Dar asked Georgie to bless the food. She did, her voice soft.
“We’re thankful to have Jace here with us. Please bless his dessert that it will do our bodies much good.”
Jace grinned, his eyes closed. She finished, and Faye firmly said, “Amen.”
Dar picked up the bowl of coleslaw. “No pressure there, right, Jace?”
“No, not at all.”
Georgie smiled as she split her roll.
“I know this is a simple meal,” Faye said, “but I like to keep it simple for Sundays. We do a bit fancier on fast Sunday.”
Jace shook his head. “This looks wonderful. I grew up on my dad’s very traditional, very good cooking. When he didn’t cook, it was my grandma, who raised my dad, so . . .” He shrugged, taking the sloppy-joe filling from Georgie, “this feels like home to me.”
Faye passed Dar a roll. “Your mother doesn’t cook?”
He took the bowl of coleslaw. “My mother was sick for a lot of my childhood. My dad ran the diner, and she did what she could to keep the books.”
He felt Georgie’s eyes on him.
Faye leaned forward. “Oh, I’m sorry. What a very hard thing.”
He nodded, spooning out a pile of coleslaw and setting the bowl down. “It was. But we had a lot of support. And she’s a lot better now, thank goodness.” He grinned. “Terrible cook though.” He glanced at Georgie, and when he winked, her expression brightened as he’d hoped it would. “So between that and helping out at the diner, I had a lot of opportunity to mess around in the kitchen. I liked it.”
The subject naturally moved to questions about Nevada and his schooling.
“So,” Dar asked, reaching for another roll, “what made you choose Seattle?”
Jace finished chewing and swallowed. “I served in the Washington Everett Mission.”
Dar paused with his fork in the air. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“And you came back?” Faye asked.
Jace shrugged, scooping up some fallen meat with his fork. “Yup.” He glanced at Georgie, who was resting her hand on her glass and gazing out the window where raindrops had just begun to fall, making plinking sounds on the porch roof.
“I loved it. Loved the green and the mountains. Loved the people.”
Georgie turned and looked at him.
“Loved the rain.”
She smiled. Dang.
She lifted her glass, and he wiped his mouth with his napkin.
“And I already had a year at the Cordon Bleu in Nevada, so I just transferred to Seattle.”
“But did you ever serve here on Camano?” Dar poured more water in Faye’s glass. “We usually feed the missionaries that come to the island.”
“No, never out this way. Lynnwood, Bothel, Shoreline, Monroe. I had a few companions who served up here though. Elder Stringham? And Elder Moore.”
Faye clapped her hands. “Oh, we remember Elder Moore, don’t we, dear? He had a beautiful singing voice. Ate with us several times and at Christmas.” Dar nodded. “But I don’t recall Elder Stringham.”
“He wasn’t here long. Little guy,” Dar said. “I helped him and his companion put a new roof on Rita Holmgren’s house. That was some time ago. Four, five years?”
Jace nodded. Yes, it was.
Georgie shook her head. “It’s a small world.”
“Sister Silva, this coleslaw is perfect. I think people forget what a touch of sweet can do to cabbage.”
She beamed. “Thank you, Jace. And call me Faye.”
A little while later, Faye stood. Dar and Jace followed. “Well,” she said, “we usually go for a walk after dinner. Would that be all right? Then we’ll come back for that dessert you’re keeping a secret.”
Jace smiled. “Sounds good.” He followed the rest of them, helping clean up the dinner table.
Dar suggested taking a few umbrellas, which became necessary as they walked the beach. The rain pelted the black nylon above Jace’s head, but they didn’t turn for home. It was one of the things Jace admired about the people of the Pacific Northwest. Rain didn’t deter. At least not often. He’d seen walking commuters, picnics, days at the zoo or the beach go on as planned. Enjoying life didn’t stop because of a little rain. He zipped his jacket up a little higher. People just . . . adapted.
He and Georgie walked behind Dar and Faye, who shared an extra-large umbrella.
“You were a missionary,” Georgie said, her red umbrella bobbing with the slow rhythm of her steps.
He nodded, raising an eyebrow. “Yes. Best two years and all that.”
“Huh.” She watched the ground in front of them, for good reason. It could get tricky if a foot landed on a bigger rock or a loose piece of driftwood.
“Huh, what?”
“Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine you in a suit.” He’d worn khakis and a white shirt to church. No suit. She glanced at him. “And a haircut.”
He ran a hand over the trimmed whiskers along his jaw. “Yeah, that was me. It was great that they let us ride motorcycles though.”
She stopped, her mouth open. “They did not.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “Of course not.”
She rolled her eyes and began wa
lking again. “And your family?”
“Mom, Dad, three sisters.”
“Younger? Older?”
“Two older. My younger sister’s a senior in high school.” He blew out a breath, remembering he still needed to talk to Reuben about that.
“And you’re close?”
He nodded. “I guess you could say that. We kind of raised each other with mom so sick.”
“What kind of sick?”
“MS.”
“Oh.”
He recognized that tone of compassion in her answer that he’d heard so many times before.
“She’s doing great right now though. The last several years have been good. Meds are working to keep her strong.”
“That’s good. And your younger sister will be graduating?”
“Addy.” He picked up a shell, not really looking at it. “She used to call me Sammich.”
“Sammich?”
“Yeah, as in make me a sammich.”
Georgie laughed, and he absently handed her the shell.
She paused, and his thoughts of his sister crashed as he realized he’d handed her the shell as he’d always handed Brenna shells. She’d collected them and was always on the lookout for more. He almost pulled the thing back, feeling stupid, but Georgie had taken it, her fingers just brushing his, sending a current through his skin.
She looked at the shell as he stuck his hand in his pocket. He didn’t get embarrassed often, but the memory affected him. The current affected him.
“This is full of holes.” She gave him a funny look, holding up the shell.
“What?”
“The shell—it’s full of holes. Look.” She held it closer, and he leaned forward, seeing what he hadn’t before. Dozens of tiny holes along the spiral, as if they’d been drilled by some angry little sea creature.
“Oh yeah. Sorry, I didn’t see that.”
She shrugged, looking down at the shell. “It’s all right. It’s interesting.” She held it up to her eye. “And you can see through it.”
“That’s helpful.”
She laughed again. He liked her laugh a little too much, and that bothered him.
“What’s your father like?” she asked.
They’d stopped walking, reaching the end of the stretch of beach, where a copse of soaring pine trees took over. Eagle nests crowned two of the trees, and he wondered if the birds were huddled inside. He took a deep breath of ocean air mixed with wet pine. It cleared his head. “You’re full of questions.”
She shrugged and looked away. “You’re interesting.”
He glanced at the shell in her hand and felt oddly pleased.
“My dad,” he said, “is a hard, stubborn, devoted man, and we knock heads all the time.”
She gave him a curious look, then blinked and looked away.
“He thinks I should be home.”
She nodded, kicking at some rocks. “So does my mom,” she said quietly.
She didn’t say any more, and he had the impression she would when she wanted to. He looked over at Dar and Faye, who were closer to the water, in deep discussion.
Georgie had stopped walking and was searching the hills behind them. “You’re . . . a lot different than I thought you were.”
He turned. “What did you think I was?”
She gave her head a shake. “I’d rather not say.”
He caught the change in her, the small frown line along her brow. He recognized it but hadn’t seen it on her for days. “That bad, huh?”
A smile started at the corner of her mouth, and she peeked at him.
He put on a serious face. “It’s probably my fault.”
“Probably. But not completely.”
“Well, I know something that will prove you wrong in every way.”
She gave him a challenging look, her tone skeptical. “Really? What’s that?”
“Dessert.”
* * *
Faye set out five of her pale aqua dessert plates, then stepped out of the way and watched. Georgie had her arms folded on the counter, leaning forward. From the tall container, Jace pulled out a filled pastry bag. He squeezed several large dots of a heavy white cream across each plate. Then, slowly, he uncovered the cake, and even Dar ahhhed.
“What did you make?” Faye asked, breathless.
Jace ran a knife under hot water from the tap. “Its very unimaginative name is flourless chocolate cake. It deserves better.” He sliced cleanly into the round of the most decadent dessert Georgie had ever laid eyes on.
“Is that frosting?” Georgie asked.
He nodded. “Ganache.”
“It looks like soft chocolate.”
“There’s some cream in there. Laced with a little orange liqueur.” He raised an eyebrow and put his finger in front of his lips. “Shh.”
She smiled. He was enjoying this. It was no wonder. Jace slid pieces of moist cake off his spatula onto the plates, then picked up the white cream again. He squeezed another large dot on top of the ganache. Then, from the short container, he pulled out what looked like paper-thin slices of candied orange, cut in half to form sparkling semicircles. He set a slice upright into the cream on top of a piece of cake.
“That’s beautiful,” Faye said.
Georgie had to agree.
Jace continued with more orange slices for the remaining plates, then pushed two of them gently toward Georgie and Faye.
Faye shook her head. “Tru has to come see this. If she wants a piece, she’ll have to come out.” She left the kitchen with purpose. “Don’t start without me.”
Georgie watched her leave, silently wishing her success. When she looked back toward Jace, she found him waiting, holding out a fork. She went to take it, but he pulled it just out of her reach. Her eyes widened, and she grabbed the fork on her second try. He laughed and pushed a plate to Dar, who grabbed his own fork.
“I knew inviting you was a good idea.” Dar eyed the dessert. “I may need another walk after finishing this.”
Georgie ran her fork along the edge of the “cake,” a cross between the gooey center of a brownie and chocolate mousse. She moved her fork to the point of the slice and pushed through the dense ganache, nearly half an inch thick, then down through until it touched her plate.
“Your aunt said to wait for her.”
She raised her eyes. “I don’t think she’d blame me.”
Dar chuckled over by the window, shaking his head. “I hope not,” he said, his mouth full.
Jace’s brow rose a fraction, and Georgie lifted the fork to her mouth.
Her eyes closed, and she let the texture and flavor melt in her mouth. “Oh my.” She sighed. Her fork found the next piece, and she ran it through the white cream. With this bite, she recognized it. The consistency of sour cream, but milder, and sweetened to perfection.
She looked at Jace, who watched her closely. “Crème fraîche.”
“Do you like it?”
She nodded, running her fork through the french cream and picking up another bite. “One of my favorite restaurants at home serves it with fresh raspberries.”
“And what do you think of this version?”
She swallowed. “Better.” She pushed her fork into the cake, getting a bit of orange this time.
“You said something about it the other night. It started me thinking. My thoughts ended in this.”
Her fork paused midair. A second ago there was nothing anyone could have said to keep her from taking another immediate bite of that decadence. But he said she’d started him thinking, and it had resulted in this. His eyes became a stronger distraction than even the cake.
A small commotion broke their gaze.
“I don’t know why you had to make me get out of bed when I was perfectly—” Tru stopped, her mild tirade coming to an abrupt end at the sight of flourless chocolate cake and ganache with crème fraîche and candied orange. “Oh, heavens.”
And in her flannel pajama bottoms and Navy Seals T-shirt, Aunt Tru joined
the dinner party.
* * *
Faye opened the front door to the steady downpour outside. “You’re not walking home in this. Georgie, tell him he’s not walking home in this.”
“It’s only a few blocks.” Jace shrugged on the jacket Georgie had retrieved from the peg.
“You’ll be soaked through. Even with an umbrella,” Faye argued.
He looked out the window. It was coming down pretty hard. The street gutters ran in little streams. He looked down at his shoes.
“Georgie—” Faye turned, pleading to her.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. Get out to your little car and zoom him up to his house.”
Georgie chuckled. “Zoom him?”
“Yes.”
Georgie turned to Jace. “Would you like me to zoom you?”
“By all means.”
Dar laughed with his hand over his mouth but stopped when Faye whapped him lightly on the arm. “Stop that. You know what I mean.”
Tru called from her chair in front of the TV. “If somebody doesn’t drive him home soon, I’ll take him.” It was followed by a murmured, “Any boy who cooks like that, I’d carry him up the hill on my shoulders if I had to.”
Jace smiled, looking down.
“Well, I guess I better drive you, then,” Georgie said in mock agitation. “We wouldn’t want Tru to throw out her back.”
He nodded, zipping up his jacket. “The hill is pretty steep.”
Faye nodded, pushing him and Georgie to the door. “Yes, it is. And slick. Georgie, put your hood on.”
Georgie hid her laugh and pulled on her jacket. “You sound like my mom.”
Faye sighed. “Just wear it to the car. Then I don’t care what you do.”
Jace lifted his eyebrows at Georgie, and Georgie held back another laugh.
Faye ignored the exchange. “Jace, it was wonderful having you over. Please come again real soon.” To Jace’s surprise, she reached up and gave him a quick hug.
“Thank you, Faye. I had a really good time. And again, thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” He raised his voice. “And the rolls were perfect, Tru.” She raised a hand, not taking her eyes off the screen.
“Jace.” Dar reached out and shook his hand firmly. “What did I tell ya? This was a good idea.”
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