Page 11 of The Kitchen Contract

“Oh, before I forget, I made our contract, as promised.” Alex slides open a drawer at the end of the island and withdraws a piece of paper. “Here, take a look.”

I almost laugh because I thought he was kidding about drawing up a contract, but he seems serious, which makes my stomach twist as I accept the proffered paper. What in the world did he write?

I scan it quickly and my anxiety lifts. At the top, the words Kitchen Contract are bolded, and the body of the agreement is concise.

This agreement is between Nora Beckham and Alexander Lockwood, henceforth respectively known as the First Party and the Second Party. The First Party agrees to relinquish the rights to all foods prepared in the home of the Second Party, and the Second Party agrees to allow the First Party unhindered access to the kitchen until such time as the First Party no longer needs to use it. Each party certifies that they are freely entering into this agreement and will hereby abide by its terms and conditions.

At the bottom of the page are two date and signature lines, presumably one for each of us.

I look up and find his serious expression has morphed into a playful grin.

“What do you think?” he asks. “Did I miss anything?”

“Well, I’m no lawyer, but I think you should probably use my full name like you did yours, Alexander.”

“Nora isn’t your name?”

“My legal name is Eleanora Beckham, but I’ve always thought that sounded pretentious, so I go by Nora.”

“Eleanora,” he says softly, then repeats it more firmly. “Eleanora. I like it.”

And I like the way my name sounds on his lips, but I won’t dwell on that right now.

“Other than that, I think everything is in order,” I say, drawing his attention back to the contract. “And since this is an informal agreement, I believe the name most people know me by will suffice.”

“Then all that’s left for us to do is sign it.” He grabs a pen and hands it to me. “Ladies first.”

I sign and date it with a smile and a flourish. The whimsy of the whole thing is fun. I doubt that a vague contract like this would ever be taken seriously, but I like the goodwill with which it was written. It seems like a fitting beginning to our partnership.

Alex scrawls his name and produces a second copy for both of us to sign.

“My, this is very official,” I tell him as I repeat my signature.

“Officialness is one of my best traits,” he responds with a wink. He slides both papers out of the way and props his hands on his hips expectantly. “Alright, what are we cooking first?”

I hold up a finger. “Hold that thought. Give me a few minutes to get us set up here and I’ll tell you on camera so we can capture your reaction.”

Alex snaps and points at me. “Smart. Look at you planning authentic content. You’re a natural at this.”

I smile as a tingling warmth washes over me at his compliment. “Either that or I’ve watched way too many online recipe videos.”

Let’s be honest, it’s most likely that.

I carry over an electric griddle I brought from home and place it on the island right in front of the two cameras. Beside it, I place a mixing bowl, a whisk, flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, an egg, and a cup of milk. Alex watches me carefully, and I can see his mind working, trying to guess what we’ll be making. I reach into one last bag and retrieve two matching white aprons, tossing one to Alex before pulling on my own.

“Alright, Chef Alex. Are you ready to do this?”

9

ALEX

Ican’t help sneaking glances at Nora as I tie the strings behind my back. I can only hope I look half as adorable in my apron as she does in hers. Today she’s wearing dark jeans and a short-sleeved blouse in a light purple color with her blonde waves tied back in a loose knot at the base of her neck. It looks like she’s wearing light makeup that makes her blue eyes pop even more than they did the last time I saw her, and the effect is undeniably appealing. She looks natural and feminine and charming.

Nora opens up the camera apps on both phones. She leans her hands against the counter and bows her head for a moment, taking a few deep breaths. She straightens and shakes out her hands, twisting her neck from side to side and shrugging her shoulders like she’s trying to loosen up.

“Alright, let’s see if I can introduce us and our first episode without sounding like an idiot. Are you ready?”

“I was born ready.” I move to stand beside her in front of the cameras and bump her shoulder with mine. “Hey, it’s going to be fine. You’re going to do great. Just relax and remember we can restart the intro as many times as we need to, okay?”

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