Page 227 of Sing with Me

“We’re the only ones eating them tonight,” Diehl said as Skye minced up the bulbous part of the lemongrass.

After chopping up ginger, onions, and garlic, Skye opened a tub and showed it to Diehl. “This is tamarind. I’m going to squeeze the meat and put it in the shrimp curry.”

“What does it taste like?”

Skye found a small teaspoon and scooped up a sample for Diehl to try.

He smacked his lips. “Slightly sour. Interesting.”

“They grow on trees in the tropics,” Skye said. “I’d love to plant a tamarind tree, but the climate here won’t support it.”

“Unless it’s in a greenhouse.”

“A big one.”

While Skye heated up the pan for the curry, Diehl finished cutting up the zucchini and squash. However, there wasn’t enough room on the stove top. The burners were too close to one another, so he had to wait his turn.

“I’ll need you to show me how to cook the vegetables,” Diehl said.

“When the rice is done—shortly—we can use that burner for the vegetables.” Skye pointed to her array of spices on the counter. “What’s your heat level?”

“Very hot.” He laughed.

“You want me to put the hottest chili into the curry then?” Skye asked.

“Oh, that. Mild to medium. I can’t do too spicy.” Diehl watched Skye heat up avocado oil in a frying pan. Then she sautéed garlic, onions, turmeric, ginger, and spoonfuls of dried spices. “What are those?”

“I’ve got curry powder, cumin, coriander—the usual spices—and whatever else I can find from my spice cabinet—maybe cardamon, fennel, and paprika.” She stirred them. “Be warned, we don’t have an outside vent in the kitchen, so the smell of curry might fill the entire condo.”

“Do you want me to open the windows?”

“Turn off the AC first. Thank you.”

Diehl wandered around to find the thermostat. He glanced down the hallway to a bedroom, which he assumed was Skye’s room. The door was open. There was a bed with a teal comforter on it. A closed Bible was on top of the comforter. Next to the bed was a side table with a small vase of what looked like fresh flowers in it.

Send her flowers.

His administrative assistant’s words came back to haunt him. He made a mental note to have fresh flowers delivered to Skye from now on.

When he returned to the kitchen, Skye’s back was facing him. She was busy stirring rice and the shrimp curry. Diehl had to move a couple of small dining table chairs in order to reach the lone window. The sliding glass moved vertically but it was tight. Then he walked over to the double French doors that led to the porch.

The French doors reminded him of Brinley’s beach house—both the first and second floors where his bedroom balcony was. Brinley still intended to sell the house, but Diehl did not want Skye to buy it and live in a house that other people designed. He wanted to build her a house that she wanted.

He wanted to do that and more.

Back in the kitchen, Skye removed the pot of rice from the stove. She turned up the burner and heated a frying pan on it.

“I’m putting just enough olive oil to coat the pan.” Skye showed him. “Then when the oil has heated up some—not too much—we can put in the squash and zucchini.”

Diehl nodded.

Skye glanced at him. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot to bring you flowers,” Diehl said.

“Does it matter?” Skye smiled. “You brought me kisses.”

Diehl eyed her lips again, but Skye shrieked.

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