Page 51 of Cool for the Summer

“Fine, I guess. I’m not really sure what they’re going to want to know, but I have a few ideas. I’ve never taught anybody anything before,” he says, sounding a little nervous.

“You’re a natural. If anything, you can justactlike a teacher, right?” I smile at him encouragingly and he smiles back.

“I don’t think that’s really how it works, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Dulcie must have thought you could do it or she wouldn’t have asked you,” I go on. “She doesn’t seem like the type to blow smoke.”

“No, she’s pretty down-to-earth. And the Art Center is paying me, which is actually cool.”

I don’t know much about Donovan’s finances, but if he’s been out of acting work for a couple of months already with nothing lined up, I can’t imagine some extra cash wouldn’t come in handy. I make a mental note to pay for the next round of groceries, even though it’s Donovan’s turn.

“The point is, we don’t have to tell anyone if you don’t want to,” he says.

There he goes, being nice again. It would be much easier to resent the situation if he were a raging asshole.

“Okay, thanks,” I say as we approach 32 Bramble Street, a cute one-story cottage with a gravel driveway and a pleasingly overgrown front yard of pollinator-friendly plants like echinacea and milkweed.

Kingston answers our knock wearing a white tank top undershirt, baggy slacks held up by suspenders, and a paisley handkerchief tied around his locs, keeping them out of his face. “The bad news is my air-conditioning is broken, but I’ve got every fan in the house on. Ooh, bubbly!” He takes the bottle from Donovan, kisses him on the cheek, and ushers him inside, then repeats the ritual with me after greeting my offering of cookies with an equally enthusiastic exclamation.

The inside of his house is as charming as the outside, miles smaller than Jack and Pete’s place, but cozier, with textured rugs and lots of art and books on every surface. He leads us through the living room to a cluttered kitchen where two people in their thirties lean against a small bar with glasses of wine in front of them. The baby-faced man has short sandy brown hair and a pale complexion, while the woman is slight with straight black hair, darker skin, and an air of competence that makes me straighten my posture.

“Beck and Van, I want you to meet two of my very best friends, Reed Bennet and Lani Kalama. They’re usually stuck in that paradise called Santa Barbara, but I convinced them to visit us poor east coasters for a bit. And the best news—they have agreed to be trounced by Beck at poker tonight.”

“Hey, I agreed to play poker. I didn’t agree to lose,” Lani says, quirking an eyebrow at Kingston. She waves at Donovan and me. “Nice to meet you.”

“I, however, will be happy to lose,” Reed says, offering a handshake to each of us in turn. “I find it’s usually best to do whatever Kingston tells me.”

“And that is why you are my favorite client,” Kingston says, popping the cork on the bottle we brought. “Reed is an author. It’s too bad Jack and Pete aren’t in town. You three would get along like a house on fire,” Kingston says to his friend-slash-client.

“Jack Avery, right? And his illustrator… P.J. Blue?” Reed asks with interest.

“Jack’s my cousin,” I explain. “I’m… we’re,” I glance at Donovan, “house-sitting while he and Pete, also known as P.J., are on their honeymoon.”

“Your cousin married his illustrator?” Lani asks. She turns to Reed. “I guess it’s good you do your own illustrations.”

Reed laughs and puts his arm around Lani’s waist. I belatedly notice the wedding rings on their fingers. “There are some pretty famous author and illustrator couples, but they usually start out married, then begin working together. But from what I understand, it was the other way around for your cousin.”

“Oh, it was a whole mess of secret identities and confusion for a while,” Kingston says. “You can’t make this stuff up.”

“So, you aren’t a writer, I guess.” I direct my comment to Lani.

She tosses her hair and grins. “No, thank god. I’m a partner in a design firm, Winesap Designs. My partner, Nicole, is the creative side and I’m the business side.”

“You’re a business owner? I’m actually working on a plan to open a cookie shop here in Rosedale.”

“Awesome. Well, if you have any questions, feel free,” she offers. “Though I don’t know anything about food service.”

“How long are you in town? Maybe I could buy you lunch and pick your brain.” I’ve been soaking up knowledge like a sponge, but I haven’t hit saturation yet.

“We’re here for a few days. I’d be happy to take payment in cookies, actually.”

“Her favorite is white chocolate macadamia nut,” Reed says. “But I’m partial to oatmeal raisin. Just in case that’s relevant,” he adds hopefully.

“Two challenging cookies to do well,” I muse.

“Good thing you love a challenge,” Donovan says with a smile, tipping his glass in my direction.

I smile back. “It’s a very good thing.”

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