Kitchen Boss

It’s a two-story house, not more than five years old. Or so the agent told me. There’s nothing grand or stylish about it. I didn’t ask for that. All I asked for was a house near the restaurant with a spacious kitchen I can lose myself in and plenty of room for a little girl to run around and not much glass for her to risk running into. Oh, and a spiral staircase. Maisie loves those. Besides, with a spiral staircase, there’s less harm if she trips.

I pause at the bottom of that staircase to get another piece of Cathy’s luggage before letting her go ahead of me. She doesn’t have much – just a backpack, a suitcase, something framed, and a plastic storage box filled to the brim with odds and ends.

She glances over her shoulder. “Are you sure I can stay here?”

“I don’t see why not. You’re practically family.”

That makes her stop on the steps. Her fingers grows still around the railing.

Shit. Did I make her think of Trisha again?

I move a step up. “Besides, this house is too big for just Maisie and me.”

Cathy keeps going. “You mean you’re the only ones who live here?”

“In this house? Yes.” I set her suitcase down on the floor as we reach the top of the stairs. “There’s a family living above the detached garage. The man tends to the grounds and his wife and niece clean the house every day.”

“I see.”

“So you see, there’s plenty of room for you,” I tell her as I pick the suitcase up again and lead her down a hall. “You can take any guest room you like, and there are plenty of places for you to hide. Unless you come to the kitchen, there’s little chance you’ll bump into me.”

“Hide?” Cathy gives me a puzzled look. “You sound like I’m trying to avoid you.”

Isn’t she? I can almost swear she hasn’t been happy to see me since… well, since she saw me. Except for last night when I brought her coffee, but then she sent me away moments after. Plus I notice she rarely looks into my eyes.

It must be because of Trisha. Like she said, she still misses what she’s lost, and I probably remind her of it.

Still, if she wants to deny it, I’ll go along.

“I’m just saying if you want to be alone, you know, to think, or just do things by yourself…”

“What things?”

I shrug. “You know, secret girly rituals.”

Cathy narrows her eyes at me. “Now you’re making me sound naughty.”

Am I? Wait. She doesn’t think I’m referring to that ritual, does she?

“Just to be clear, I don’t have voodoo dolls in that suitcase,” she says. “Or a cauldron. Or a broom, for that matter.”

So that’s the “naughty” stuff she was talking about. Of course. I shouldn’t have known her mind isn’t as dirty as mine.

Then again, she’s twenty-six. Wait. Does that mean…?

“You’re not hiding a man in here, are you?” I ask to test my theory.

Cathy sends me a scowl. “You mean like a corpse? Am I a murderer now?”

I chuckle. She sure has a vivid imagination.

“I meant a live one.”

She lifts an eyebrow as she points at her suitcase. “In there?”

I shrug. “Who knows? You might have brought your handsome neighbor along.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “You’re not making any sense.”

“I was simply thinking maybe the reason you didn’t want to leave your apartment was because you had a handsome neighbor you didn’t want to leave behind.”

Cathy snorts. “I didn’t have a handsome neighbor.”

“Someone who lived in the same building, then?”

She shakes her head.

“Across the street? Down the block? There was no one at all who caught your interest?”

“I… wasn’t really looking.”

“Have you ever looked?” I ask her. “Have you ever been on a date?”

Cathy’s eyes narrow. “What’s with all this talk of dates and men?”

“I’m just curious if you’ve ever been with one,” I confess. “Didn’t you…?”

I almost add “and Trisha” but manage to stop myself.

“…used to drool after boys in movies or sigh over the boys you read about in your books?”

She frowns. “You know, I think I like the old you better.”

I chuckle. “You mean the younger one? The puny one? The one you stayed away from because he was so uncool?”

“I wasn’t the one who said that, but yeah, the one who didn’t care what other people thought and didn’t show any interest in anyone else’s business.”

I lift an eyebrow. Is that what she thought of me?

“I take it that’s a no, then.”

“What?”

“You’ve never been with a man,” I elaborate.

Cathy sighs. “Fine. No, I haven’t been with a man.”

So I was right.

“Happy now?”

Am I?

“Now what? Are you going to tell me I haven’t lived?” she asks. “That I’m missing out on what could be a valuable experience?”

“I’m not – ”

“You know what? Maybe now that I’ve got a job, or an internship at least, I should move on to getting a date. That way, no one will pester me about it.”