Page 44 of The Pink House

“It’s gone.”

Charlie arched an eyebrow.

“I donated it all. I didn’t like it, so why keep it around?”

“A decisive woman. Good for you.”

She turned toward the kitchen, then back to him. “If you don’t mind chopping vegetables, you can help me with the salad.”

“Chopping? Knives?” He grinned. “Bring on the fun.”

When he sat at the small dinette table that had seen better decades and began to chop with great gusto, Hannah turned her attention to the homemade yeast rolls in the breadbasket.

“This is my special seasoning blend,” she told Charlie, the shaker poised above the rolls. “If you don’t like garlic, I can leave it off yours.”

“I love garlic.” He shot her a wink. “You’ll discover, if you’re around me any time at all, that I like almost everything.”

“I’m like that, too,” she told him. “But some of my friends have very specific likes and dislikes, so I always ask.”

While she spun the salad, her gaze drifted out the window. Though there should still be some daylight, the storm had made it nearly pitch-black outside.

Even as lightning lit up the sky and rain slapped the windows, the scent of spice, meat and cheese filled the kitchen.

“Smells amazing.” As Charlie inhaled deeply, his stomach growled. He offered a sheepish grin. “I didn’t eat much for lunch, and I built up quite an appetite attacking the vegetables.”

She rolled her eyes. When they shared a smile, everything inside her went warm. “If you like, we could start with salads and rolls. The lasagna will be done in forty minutes.”

“That works.” Charlie glanced around. “What else can I do to help?”

“There are several salad dressings in the refrigerator. I like the balsamic vinaigrette, so if you wouldn’t mind, could you grab that one and whatever you want for yourself?”

Once he’d done that and she set the salad bowls and plate of rolls on the dinette table, Hannah had to chuckle. “My dad called this eating in shifts. Let me say he wasn’t a fan.”

Charlie made a great show of glancing around as he sat down again. “I don’t believe I see your father.”

Hannah grinned, then lifted a hand and brought it down as if waving a starting flag. “Let the first shift begin.”

They ate salad and rolls, then moved on to the lasagna once it was ready.

Instead of awkward, their dinner at the pocket-sized table in her small kitchen felt comfortably cozy. Probably because there was nothing flirtatious in his manner. If there had been, she’d have shut it down.

Well, she was almost positive she’d have shut him down.

“To me, there’s nothing better than this.” Charlie gestured with one hand. “Amazing food, fabulous wine and interesting conversation.”

“Don’t forget, we’re also dry.” The words had barely left her lips when the wind pushed a sheet of rain against the window.

Though Hannah wasn’t a bit cold, she shivered. It was odd how the bright and sunny morning had so quickly turned dark and foreboding.

It reminded her, in many ways, of her life. Hannah recalled vividly those early years with Brian that had brimmed to overflowing with light and promise. One trip to the ER had brought the darkness. Only now was the light beginning to shine again.

Charlie forked off a bite of lasagna. “Since we’re now eating the entrée, would your dad call this the second shift or the main course?”

Hannah only chuckled. “I spoke with him today.”

“How's he liking Florida?”

“Better than I thought he would, considering he doesn’t like change.” Hannah took a sip of wine. “I hope Sandie loves the furniture they purchased, because she’ll likely be stuck with those pieces the rest of her life.”

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