Page 23 of Sugarplum

Chapter 15

After I'd filledmy empty belly with two bowls of hot soup and three biscuits, I'd headed upstairs for a hot shower. Holt had taken off after the soup for racing practice but promised to return before dark.

I pulled on warm, dry clothes and headed downstairs. Yet another flurry of wonderful aromas met me at the landing. I followed my nose down the hallway to the kitchen.

It happened again, those few seconds where the vision in front of me was of an elderly woman who could have been well past eighty. But by the time the Coco glanced up from the dough she was rolling out, the young, vibrant twenty-something woman had returned.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"Much. Thank you. Between the soup and the hot shower, I'm back to my old self."

"I'm glad. Thank goodness Holt was able to find you out there. I feel terrible about sending you out for a walk. I had no idea Gretel had left her den."

"Please, you have nothing to reproach yourself for. I knew she was out. I saw her last night when I was in—" I stopped myself before finishing and ended my sentence with a hot blush on my cheeks.

Coco was polite enough to ignore the whole thing. She dipped a measuring cup in a bowl of cinnamon and sugar and sprinkled a generous amount on the rolled out square of pillowy dough.

"Cinnamon rolls? When we were kids, my mom made those every Sunday. Then she went on a health kick and decided to switch Sunday breakfasts to oatmeal. It was like switching Christmas morning to a dentist visit."

Coco's laugh was the kind that could be set to music. It had a rich, lyrical quality that would be impossible to copy. "I suppose there is something to say for eating healthy, but it does take away some of the joy in life." She expertly rolled the dough into a smooth tube. "I'll leave some behind for you two tonight. They are Holt's favorite. I thought he deserved a little treat."

"Absolutely. He's a great guy. I've never met anyone else like him." With the exception of the lifelike drawing on my work computer, I added silently. "Are you leaving again?"

"Yes, I'm taking some of these rolls to a friend's house. She lives an hour away, so I usually stay the night. That way we can catch up on things and talk about the good ole' days."

I laughed at the idea of a woman who was no more than two or three decades old having tales to tell about the good ole' days. "What kind of stories would that be? Fighting over the jungle gym at recess?"

Her brilliant green eyes sparkled beneath furrowed brows as if she hadn't understood my humor. Then she smiled and picked up the first tray of rolls. I scooted around the big work island to open the oven door. She slid the pan in and gave her hands a brisk rub across her apron. "Naturally, I've got dinner prepared for you and Holt. Do you like chicken pot pie?"

"Oh yes, but I've only had the frozen kind. I imagine yours is way better."

"If I do say so myself, it's divine. I'll put the timer on so that the pies will be ready at seven. Does that work for you? I know you had soup late in the day."

"Yes," I patted my stomach. "I'm still full from the delicious soup, but I'm sure I can work up an appetite for chicken pot pie at seven." I glanced through the kitchen window. It afforded a view of the backyard and gardens, all covered in a crystal white cloth after today's snowfall. "Do you think Holt will be back by then?"

"Well, it is Saturday night. He likes to go out to play pool and hang out with friends when he has the weekend off. But, on the other hand, he's got plenty here to bring him home early." Another wink. "If you're interested, there's a well-stocked library on the other side of the entryway. I suggest the large green velvet chair. It's extra comfy and has a great view of the lush fields running along the road. Of course, there's no green anymore, but it's still a nice view."

"That actually sounds wonderful."

"Great. I'll bring you some of my homemade butter caramel tea."

"Wow, I will not say no to butter caramel tea no matter how full I am. Thank you."

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