Page 14 of A Nantucket Wedding

“Bye, honey, have a great massage,” Jane said, her eyes focused on the computer screen.

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Jane was relieved when she heard her sister and mother leave the house. She’d sensed a flicker of jealousy from Felicity, and couldn’t help but enjoy it. Just a little.

“I think basic white bread,” Ethan said.

“Okay, good.”

“Stand next to me. I’ll give you directions. You do the work.”

“Oh, thanks so much,” Jane joked. As she moved, she became vividly aware of her body. She and Ethan both wore shorts, flip-flops, and T-shirts. Jane wasn’t wearing a bra. She wasn’t as voluptuous as Felicity and often went braless at home. When she did, Scott never noticed, so when Jane dressed this morning, she had, without thinking, gone without a bra.

Well, maybe she had thought about it for a fraction of a moment.

“Hey, it’s the best way to learn. Okay, first, empty the yeast in the bowl and add two and a fourth cups of warm water.”

Jane went to the sink and turned on the taps, fiddling with them both to get the right temperature. “How warm is warm?”

She had the back of her hand under the flow of water. Ethan came over and put his hand under the water. He didn’t touch her hand, but his chest brushed against her shoulder and arm. It was almost as if he were holding her. Jane stood paralyzed, bombarded by sensations. He smelled of soap and shampoo—his hair was still damp—and gave off a warmth that made her body tingle. If she turned slightly, she could kiss him.

“This is good,” Ethan said.

Jane almost said, “I know,” but she caught hold of her senses and realized he wasn’t talking about standing next to her. He was talking about the water temperature.

She filled the cup twice and poured two and a fourth cups of water over the yeast, which immediately began to bubble.

“Oh, look!” she said. “It’s like an experiment in science class.”

“I gather you enjoyed science class.”

“Loved it.” She glanced at him and was almost knocked off her feet by the wattage of his smile. “What next?”

“We add the sugar, salt, and oil.” Ethan brought the staples from the cupboard and stood quietly while she measured them out. “Now add three cups of flour. Beat it all until it’s smooth. No, don’t just stir. Beat. Good. Now, add three more cups of flour, a half cup or so at a time, and keep beating.”

Jane picked up the bowl and held it against her while she beat the dough. “Wonderful smell,” she said.

“That’s the yeast.”

She added more flour. “Hey, this is getting difficult. Are you sure we need this much flour?”

“Absolutely sure.” Ethan watched her and finally said, “Okay. Now we’ll turn it on to the bread board and knead it. First, you have to sprinkle flour on the board.”

Jane picked up the bag of flour and carefully shook out a dusting of flour.

“You’ll need more than that. Like this.” Ethan shook out a blizzard of flour.

“But that’s so…messy,” Jane said. She’d never known flour was so delicate and flyaway, landing on their clothes, the table, the floor.

“Being clean’s no fun,” Ethan said, looking right into her eyes as he spoke.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Besides,” Ethan continued, “some of this flour will become part of the bread. Now, turn the dough out on this bread board. Knead it for about ten minutes.” He checked his watch. “I’ll time you.”

Jane dumped the dough out. Its yielding bulk seemed almost living. Ethan stood close to her, watching, and she could hardly think. She squeezed part of the dough and then another section, until Ethan corrected her.

“No,knead. Haven’t you ever kneaded before?”

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