Page 79 of Coffee Break with the Billionaire

But she’s eager to learn. Almost excited about it, asking questions about spices and sauce and even the difference between lean and extra-lean ground beef.

I help her select enough food for a few days and load everything in her car for the drive to the apartment.

I park at my place and grab Wyatt, walking across the square to help Fenella finish bringing her groceries up the stairs.

“You’re directly across the square from me,” I tell her on the last load. I point to the window where I can just make out the green front of Coffee for the Sole in the dim light.

“I know. Don’t you be using that telescope to spy on me.” Fenella shakes her finger at me with a mischievous grin.

There’s another new one.

I hijack the kitchen, instructing Wyatt to finish his homework at the table, Ernie the cat perched on the chair beside him. Then I settle Fenella at the counter with a cutting board, an onion, and a very sharpknife.

“I don’t know about this,” she says, eyeing the blade. “You brought your own utensils which tells me two things: you know what you’re doing, and that knife is probably very sharp.”

“Are you afraid to show me your knife skills?” I ask.

“No, I wouldn’t be if I had any skills with a knife other than—” She does the Psycho gesture and areet reetsound effect.

“So you think you could stab someone but not cut up an onion?”

“I never said I couldn’t, only implied that I don’t know how.”

“And that’s what I’m here for.”

I give her detailed instructions on how to cut up an onion, a carrot, and a red pepper. Then I show her how to brown ground beef before we put everything in a big pot, adding a can of tomatoes, garlic and a healthy shake of oregano.

It’s fun.

“Leodie said you’re having a party.” Wyatt watches Fenella as I put a pot of water on to boil, rather than focus on finishing his homework. I can’t blame him—I gave her butter and garlic to spread on a baguette, and she seems to be making a concerted effort to cover every last crumb of bread.

“I am. And you’re not invited because you’re sixteen, and also because I have plans for you,” Fenella tells him, not looking up from her garlic-bread duty.

“Plans?” There’s no mistaking the excitement in his tone.

“I am in need of some muscle. Would I be able to borrow you and a few of your friends to help me unload some furniture on Wednesday after school? If you don’t have practice or a club or a date. I’ll pay you,” she adds.

“You don’t have to pay me. And sure—I don’t have anything on Wednesday.”

“Great. And of course I’ll pay you. Also, I may be in need of servers for the party. It’s on Sunday night—you interested?”

Wyatt drops his pencil and the cat pounces. “I can go to the party?” he breathes. “I’m going to a Fenella Carrington party? Oh, my god!” His voice rises with each word until he’s shouting. “Yes!”

“You can’t touch any of the alcohol, or we’ll be shut down before we open,” she warns. “And you have to wear all black—shirt and pants. And don’t eat all the appetizers.”

“Oh my god.” My nephew, usually so laid back andlaissez-faire,is practically vibrating with excitement. “Thank you, Fenella.” He pushes away from the table and rushes her with the grace of a linebacker and throws his arms around her.

“You’re welcome.” She laughs and hugs him back. “You’re doing me a favour, you know.”

“This is going to be incredible.”

“I hope so.”

Wyatt seems to have attached himself to her, but just as I’m about to tell him to release, I see the look on Fenella’s face.

She looks so happy being hugged by Wyatt. At howexcited he is.

We’re in Edie’s kitchen making dinner. The two of us are making a meal like we do this all the time. It’s cozy, it’s comfortable.

---