Page 26 of Her Summer Hope

She searched the room, finally finding a clipboard on the wall near a phone and intercom. She flipped through the pages, seeing menus and notes by the other cook, but the supper boxes were left blank.

She went to one of the refrigerators and found only dairy products and some drinks. The second one held a variety of fruits and vegetables, along with snack foods. The last one was full of meat.

They had a designated fridge for meat.

She stared at the hoard for a moment before pulling out about ten pounds of steaks. They were thick and beautifully cut and expensive. She took them to a worktop near the sink and unwrapped them, then laid them out on a silicone mat before washing her hands and seasoning them liberally with salt and pepper.

Rob had enjoyed a good steak and it had taken her an embarrassingly long time to learn how to grill a good one. She’d finally gotten it though, and now she could turn one out with her eyes closed.

She was going to assume they like them cooked rare. She could always throw them back on the grill if they preferred otherwise. After the meat was left to rest, she went out on the patio to start the gas grill.

She let it heat while she went back in and pulled more food out onto the clean counter. She scrubbed potatoes, buttered and salted them, and put them in the oven directly on the rack. It would be close, but she thought she could have them done right about the time supper needed to be served.

She found herself humming as she cleaned and sliced the mushrooms for the steaks and then the lettuce for the salad. She was looking for more fresh vegetables to put in it when she heard a noise behind her.

She whirled around and let out an embarrassing squeak as the largest man she’d ever seen in person glowered at her from the patio doorway. His glare was direct and his jaw was firm. She dropped the hand that had sprung up over her heart, wanting to calm the frantic racing.

His hair was wavy and stringy with sweat. His beard was a shade darker and did nothing to make him look gentle. He wore no shirt and that made him even more intimidating. He was covered with sweat and had dirt streaked over his skin. Tattoos and scars marked his body like a strange painting.

She looked away quickly and cleared her throat.

“Can I…help you?” she stammered out, wondering if he was some kind of crazed ax murderer.

He stomped inside and she surreptitiously pressed herself against the fridge as he passed her in a haze of sweat, sun, and, most perplexingly, ripe tomatoes.

He put a box on the counter and turned to her, raising his chin. “Tomatoes,” he rumbled.

He seemed to be waiting for something, so she mustered her courage and crept forward. Before she thought better of it, she reached her hand out into the air between them.

He glared down at it before returning his eyes to her face.

“I’m Madison,” she said, trying to remember that she was a grown woman with four kids.

She might be a bit timid sometimes, but she wasn’t a coward. She wouldn’t be able to work here if she couldn’t even greet a new person respectfully.

Finally, he brushed his hand on his pants and took hers, shaking it gently. “Murdock.”

He let go as soon as he could.

She stood on tiptoes and leaned over to look in the box. Beautifully ripe red tomatoes sat in a neat pile. They were clean and free of blemishes, and it was obvious that whoever had grown them knew what they were doing. The bugs hadn’t gotten them and there weren’t any sunspots or blossom rot.

“Oh, those look wonderful! Thank you,” she said, smiling at the big man.

He ducked his head, tossed a brown paper bag on the counter, and left just as suddenly as he had shown up.

She began pulling out the tomatoes, wondering if he was one of the wounded servicemembers this place accommodated. When the box was empty she opened the sack and pulled out a carefully wrapped bundle of herbs. There was a large bunch of basil and a bit of parsley. She put it near her face and breathed deeply of the wonderfully fresh scents before finishing her task.

She pulled out a stick of butter to soften. She would make parsley butter to put on the steaks.

She completed the salad, covered it, and placed it in the fridge before beginning Helen’s mother’s bread pudding. She made three pans of it, popped them into one of the ovens, and hoped that was enough. She was going to need to remember that she was cooking in bulk and adjust accordingly.

She took the mushrooms out to the grill to cook. On the way back in she had an idea for some of the tomatoes and went straight to the dairy fridge. She had to shuffle some things around, but in the back, she found a large container of fresh mozzarella.

She pulled a platter from the cabinet overhead and while she sliced the tomatoes and the cheese, she thought about Emmie.

She shouldn’t have. It had been an hour and a half since she fed her last and the letdown sensation had her worrying that Emmie was hungry. Helen had eight ounces of milk for her, but was it enough?

Every time she left the kids, she worried about them, especially James and the baby. They were the most vulnerable and needed the most supervision. Helen was fantastic and attentive, but she was older, and with this new second job, she hoped the woman wouldn’t become overwhelmed.

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