Page 20 of Neighbors' Omega
I nodded. “Some are in the cookbook section, and I think there are one or two in the special collection.”
“Fantastic! I’ll browse the main books, but will probably want to see the special collection ones too.”
“Ok, but… why? Do you need recipes?”
He laughed. “There’s a baking contest coming up in January to benefit the cultural center. The theme is ‘taste of history,’” he explained, making air quotes. “I want to get an idea of the types of recipes common in the region historically.”
A slow smile spread across my face. “I get it now. But you should really talk to Ash when he comes in this afternoon.”
“Ash?” Roland asked. “You mean the omega mated to Tyler and the others?”
I nodded. “Yep. He helped our archives team with a big project last winter—going through a bunch of microfiche files that had been digitized. A lot of it was old newspapers, and I bet there were tons of recipes in them. He could direct you to those better than I can.”
“Hmm, that’s a good idea.”
“You going to add your own twist to whatever you find?”
He grinned. “Of course. But I thought that the theme was a good place to start.”
“Makes sense.”
“So where shall I start looking, at least until Ash comes in?”
“Oh, yeah. Cookbooks are in the non-fiction section, second floor. There are signs at the end of each aisle so you should have no problem finding them. But let me know if you need help.”
He grinned and tapped the counter twice. “Perfect. And thanks.”
“No prob.”
“I’ll invite you over for taste tests, of course.”
“You don’t need to.”
“No, but I want to.” He grinned, then headed for the stairs before I could say anything else.
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled with the promise of future treats.
∞∞∞
“Do you have any more sugar?” Ryan asked from the kitchen island.
“Is the canister empty?” I replied from my position at the stove.
“Pretty much. I can see there isn’t enough for my pies.”
“Check the pantry. I think there’s the end of a bag in there.”
“Cool.” The sound of rummaging, then a muted, “Found it!”
“Good,” I said as I gave my cheese sauce another stir.
“How did you not stock up on sugar going into Thanksgiving?” Ryan asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t need any for mac and cheese, and I had enough for at least another week. No way was I going to the store. How was I supposed to know that you were going to come over here to make your pies? And why didn’t you bring sugar?”
He huffed, but didn’t say anything.
I chuckled. “Ok, spill. You always have something on your mind when you just appear to hang out. I don’t mind having company for Thanksgiving prep, but I know you.”
