Page 46 of Raise The Bar
“Hard to say much about someone you’ve never met,” I shrug, focusing my attention on the dishes in front of me. “He took off before I was born.”
“Callum, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry…”
“Don’t apologize,” I say, smiling at her. “I asked you about your dad, you asked me about mine. Besides, I had my grandfather. He was my father figure.” I omit any mention of Steven. He’s not worth bringing up.
“That’s nice.” The apprehension melts from her expression. “Do you see him often?”
“Not as often as I should,” I admit. “I’m heading home this weekend though. He and my grandmother are celebrating fifty years together.”
“That’s lovely. Is there a big party planned?”
“Oh yeah,” I laugh under my breath. “Most of the guest list is in the seventy plus crowd. Things will probably get wild.” She giggles, too, wiping her hands on her apron.
“Ready to get your hands dirty?”
“Always.” I wink at her behind my safety goggles. “Where do you want me?” Her spine straightens at my unintentional innuendo and I can’t help but be pleased that she’s affected by me.
“I need you to hold the pot while I pour the soap into the molds.” She gestures to the large stainless steel pot. “Normally I can do it myself, but I’ve been tripling my batches and I can’t lift it on my own.”
“On it.” I grab the pot by the handles and hold it over the molds on the table. It’s heavy, but manageable. I don’t miss when Maggie’s gaze lingers on my straining biceps. When she gives me the go-ahead, I tilt the pot just enough for the liquid to pour over the side and into the silicone tray. She stands beside me, controlling the angle of the pour. We don’t talk as we both concentrate on the task at hand. I’m so focused on what I’m doing that I almost don’t notice how close she is. Almost. Working quickly, we fill dozens of molds within minutes.
“Perfect.” She grins at me when we’ve finished. “I really appreciate your help with this. Josh has been doing the heavy lifting for me, but he and Betty have plans tonight.” I feel a stab of envy at her words. Not because I’m jealous of her relationship with Josh, but because I want to be her first choice when she needs something. I know it’s childish and more than a little selfish, but I can’t help it.
“Anytime. I loved getting to see the process from start to finish. Besides, you can’t tell me Josh looks this good in an apron.”
“The aprons are completely unnecessary,” she admits with a guilty smile. “I just wanted to see if you’d put it on.” I try to give her a disapproving look, but the corners of my mouth turn up all on their own. I would put on anything she asked me to.
I’d also take off anything for her.
We chat as I help her clean up. I’m impressed by the simplicity of the process. It’s like baking a cake. You use a recipe and follow a series of steps.
“Would you like to see the finished product?” She asks as she puts away the last of the supplies.
“Yes, please.” I take off my goggles and apron, setting them on the counter. As I follow her out of the kitchen, I notice the temperature drops several degrees. She should be working in a better ventilated environment. She leads me down the hall to what appears to be her bedroom. It’s a decent sized room, but there is a lot of stuff in it. There are two full-sized dressers, side by side. In the open closet, I see boxes neatly stacked on the floor.
“Sorry about the mess.” She gives me a sheepish look. “Betty and I share the space.” It’s not messy, in fact it looks very well organized. There is next to no floor space, but everything seems to have a place. She walks to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf in the corner which is filled with soap molds. It must be where she puts the molds to set, so they aren’t all over the kitchen. She picks one up and gently coaxes a bar out of one of the rectangular molds. “Here is one I made earlier in the week.”
I take the soap from her outstretched hand, turning it over in mine. Running my fingers over its smooth surface, I’m surprised by how heavy it is. Lifting it to my nose, I inhale its scent. Lavender and something else I don’t recognize. I glance around the densely decorated room again. “Where do you keep the rest of your stock?”
“At my office,” she replies, taking the bar back from me. “There is only so much clutter Betty’s anxiety can take.”
“Do you like sharing the apartment with her?” It’s a simple question, but the look that crosses her face is anything but.
“Yes,” she hesitates before continuing. “Betty is my favorite person and I love living with her.”
“But…”
“But, it would be nice to have my own space.” Her shoulders sag with the admission. “I do love getting to see her all the time, and she does spend most of her time at Josh’s. I’m very grateful to be here.”
“Wanting a place that feels like your own doesn’t make you ungrateful, Lois.”
“I know. All things in good time, right?” She stifles a yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Sorry,” she says with a laugh. “Long days lead to early nights for me.”
“I won’t keep you up any longer,” I say, glancing at the queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. I try not to think about how much I’d like to keep her up, doing so many things on said bed. As I follow her out of the room and toward the front door, panic sets in. I don’t want to wait until I’m back from Tampa to see her again. “I fly out on Friday morning. Do you want to come over Thursday evening after work? I’ve been playing around with some logo designs, I’d like to show you what I’ve come up with.” I hold my breath as I wait for her answer.
I don’t need to wait long.
“That sounds great.”
