Page 69 of Keeping Secrets

“Does she want me cooking for her?” Keely asked.

“She was open to the idea, yes. She suggested a trial week.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Oh, I am so happy to hear you say that. I will send you her phone number, and you can set a time to meet. Frances will pay for the groceries, and we will pay you for your time. Take this first week to determine how much time you will spend and what you will charge, yes?”

“Sure,” Keely said, floored. “Thank you.” She took a breath and drew some life back into her voice. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Sunday, truly.”

“It is my pleasure, Keely. We would be happy to know that you are looking after Frances, and I very much look forward to eating your meals when we come to visit.”

They said their goodbyes, and then Keely sped through the rest of her work. She hardly noticed when the plastic bit into her fingers. Her mind was too busy with excitement and logistics. She wasn’t sure how she would fit this new job in around her hours at the library, but she would figure it out.

When she was finally done with the new books, she carried them upstairs and carted them around to their new homes on the library bookshelves.

Once that was done, she went into the break room for lunch. In addition to the sandwich she’d made for herself, she set out a whole host of treats for her coworkers, the remnants of all of the test batches she had made in preparation for Frances’s birthday party the day before.

“What are we celebrating?” Ingrid asked when she walked in for lunch.

“Another triumph in the world of catering,” Keely said with a laugh.

“It went well, then?” asked Maria.

“It went so well that they offered me a steady job. Nothing full-time,” she assured Ingrid, “just a personal chef kind of thing. They want me to cook for Frances, the lady who lives in that old house up on the hill.”

“We know Frances,” Maria said.

“Everyone in Pelican Point knows Frances,” Ingrid confirmed. “She was the axis of the community for decades, but she’s slowed down in recent years. Stepped back a bit. No wonder, at her age.”

“She seems lovely,” Keely said.

“She is.” Ingrid took a bite of one of the shortbread cookies that Keely had brought in. “If you need to rearrange your hours to accommodate her, or even cut back, you just let me know.”

“Really?”

“Anything for Miss Frances,” she said with a nod. “Anyway, it’s obvious that this is your calling. The food you make is phenomenal.”

“Thank you.” Bolstered by her encouragement, Keely voiced the question she had been too afraid to ask: “Could I just work upstairs?”

“Upstairs?” Ingrid looked puzzled.

“I really, really don’t like the basement.”

“Oh, I see. Yes, I don’t foresee a problem with that.”

“I’ll swap with you,” Maria offered. She was polishing off a jar of lemon curd.

“Really? You mean it?”

She nodded. “I love the basement.”

Keely looked at her incredulously, then let out a laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“I am! I would so much rather work in peace and listen to audiobooks than deal with people all day. You’re welcome to shelve books and work the front desk. I’ll take the grunt work downstairs.”

“That’s amazing.”

Maria shrugged. “I’m happy to. Especially if you keep bringing us food like this.”

---