Jen assumed it would be the three of them, or four at most, if Godiva was done with her camera transfer, and shrugged. “Lead on.”
As she and Doris walked to the latter’s car, Doris asked, “I thought you just taught a couple classes at night.”
“Four. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays.”
Doris sent her a look. “You took on two extra classes?”
Jen said, “I added two more when they decided to divide off a couple classes that are really popular. I just didn’t mention it—I know neither you nor Bird has been much interested in martial arts.” And added quickly, “Which is okay. I’m not into knitting, and both of you know I’m a terrible cook, but you still put up with me.”
Doris laughed. “Of course I treasure you entirely because I need taste testers for my kitchen genius.” Then she switched right back to the previous subject. “I knew you practiced regularly in your kung fu. I didn’t know you were that into teaching.”
Before Robert died, Jen hadn’t taught, except once in a while to help out in a pinch. She’d begun teaching last year. It’s what you did when you were completely out of money, and ten years from receiving the very small amount she’d be due from Social Security. But she wasn’t going to tell them that. They’d done enough for her. “It’s a way to keep my hand in,” she said.
Doris blinked over at her. “Speaking as a teacher, I think that four classes four days a week is more like keeping both hands, both feet, and a nose in. That’s real dedication.”
“They’re all good students.” Jen grinned. “And I really love teaching the kids’ classes. The little ones are a crackup, especially when they spar.”
Doris chuckled. “Unlike a lot of my high school students, presumably they want to be there. That can make all the difference. Here we are!”
Doris pulled up behind Joey Hu’s red sports car, which was the first clue that this was not to be just the Gang of Four. Jen caught sight of a white head—Joey had gone to pick up Godiva. Several people were following Godiva up the winding garden path leading to Bird and Mikhail’s house.
Jen spotted Nikos Demitros among them, his silver-touched dark ponytail bisecting a pair of splendid shoulders. At least he was facing away, so she could get in an awkward-free ogle of that line tapering inward from his straight shoulders to his narrow hips.
And then he turned. She looked away quickly, and discovered his two students half-hidden by a spreading California Black Oak. They were talking in their language and pointing at Bird’s enormous house perched along a cliff. They seemed taken with the balconies along the windows of the second floor.
Jen followed Doris toward the house. “I thought it was just us,” she said, trying to shut out the sound of Nikos’s voice up ahead, as he talked to Joey. “Looks like a party.”
“Weather is perfect for Joey’s Korean BBQ,” Doris said—as if that explained it.
“I thought that was going to be Friday evening, before we go to the writers’ workshop.”
Doris said airily, “Joey says the meat has been marinating for days, so why not give the visitors a treat? We can do another barbeque on Friday. Unless you’d be tired of having it twice in a week?”
“No chance,” Jen said with 100% sincerity.
They reached the top of the path. Jen heard Bird say to the girls, “Pick any of the bedrooms with open doors on the second floor.”
From years of habit, Jen felt a twinge of . . . not quite guilt at how much she enjoyed the fact that this house, which she’d always admired, now belonged to Bird. Keeping one’s carbon footprint as small as possible had always been important to Robert—and of course to her. But she couldn’t help admiring beautiful things created for the sake of beauty, as this house had been.
Voices echoed from the kitchen, which opened onto the round terrace lined with flower pots, where they ate when the weather was fine.
Jen heard Joey calling for Doris, which meant the cooks were about to start their magic. Jen drifted up to the far doorway, which would keep her out of the way, and leaned against a cabinet to observe Joey and D
oris prepare the food.
She’d known Doris was an excellent cook for years, of course. And had helped wash up after meals. But ever since Doris hooked up with Joey, the sheer enjoyment of watching the two of them in a kitchen had become like an Olympic sport for her—Joey chopping with skillful speed, Doris scooping and stirring and tossing. They handed spice containers and utensils back and forth as if their minds were connected by telepathy.
Doris entered the kitchen from the other end, but instead of moving to the sink to wash her hands, the way Jen had seen a thousand times, Doris looked around, saw her, and headed her way.
Towing Nikos Demitros.
“Here’s Jen. You had a chance to be introduced, didn’t you?” Doris said.
Jen had about two seconds to feel awkward, then Nikos gave a slow, almost sleepy smile, and said, “We did, thanks. Mind if I join you in watching the chefs? The first time I met Joey Hu, he was preparing Sichuan food for a feast. It seems he found someone who is as fine a cook, eh?”
All the awkwardness vanished. Nikos clearly liked seeing the cooks at work as well as Jen did. Jen said, “I’ve admired Doris’s kitchen magic for years. Watching her with Joey is double the fun.”
Doris laughed, her cheeks pink. “Speaking of that, I’d better get on it before those hungry kids reappear and start gnawing on our arms and legs.”