Page 8 of Sing with Me

“He can cook.” Diehl pointed to Marlo.

“Marlo’s my assistant. He’s not a chef. At Skye’s the Limit, only chefs cook.”

“Skye’s the Limit?” Diehl grinned. “But no breakfast.”

“If we had that meeting, you could have told me, right?”

“Are you rubbing it in?”

Well, yes. “No, sir.”

“Don’tsirme. It’s Diehl.”

“Well, Diehl, for today, your lunch and dinner are on me. I didn’t want you to pay for what you won’t eat, although your sister said you’ll eat anything.”

“Including breakfast.” Diehl stood his ground.

Marlo made a sound.

Skye glanced at the clock again.

Under her breath, she prayed for mercy as she was thinking about walking out and never return to this client.

A verse popped into her head, stopping her from doing anything really bad, like opening the refrigerator again, taking out the risotto, and throwing it in his face. Well, she had never done that before, but there was always a first time—although she’d have to clean up the floor afterwards.

Also, she might ruin her reputation and that of Skye’s the Limit personal chef service, not to mention taint her testimony as a christian.

Okay. Let’s not throw food at new clients.

She tried to remember a verse.

But love your enemies, do good, and lend, hoping for nothing in return; and your reward will be great, and you will be sons of the Most High. For He is kind to the unthankful and evil.

Luke 6:35. The words of the Lord Jesus Himself.

Is Diehl my enemy?

Maybe the verse meant that if she had to be kind to her enemies, how much more to someone in between friend and enemy—say, a friend’s older brother she hardly knew.

Skye drew a deep breath. She leaned against the kitchen island, and checked the schedule on her phone. “I mentioned that Chef Joseph will be here at eight tomorrow morning. Do you prefer another time?”

“Wait. I’m connecting the dots. You’re not cooking for me tomorrow?”

“Didn’t I tell say that Chef Joseph will be here?”

“I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I don’t work on weekends or on Wednesday nights,” Skye explained. “Saturday is my day off and Sunday is church day.”

“My sister says you’re the best. I’m not sure I want anyone else cooking for me.”

Skye began to realize that Diehl was looking for familiarity, for things that were not constantly or unexpectedly changing. She had tried to prepare him for how she managed her business, but he had apparently not read that email either.

“The details of the contract were in the email,” Skye said. “One of many emails I sent you.”

“Frankly, I just assumed Brin took care of everything. She knows what I like to eat, but I can see that a few things fell through the holes. Breakfast, for example.”

“And risotto?”

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