Page 29 of Second Start: Family
“Yes. A cake. For a birthday. Two birthdays. I need one by morning. So if you could tell me how—?”
“By morning.”
He let out a breath. No wonder she was repeating things. He sounded like a maniac. “It’s Lizzie and Molly’s birthday tomorrow. It’s something Annie — my wife — used to do.” He explained the birthday cake at breakfast tradition the best he could in the fewest words. “So, I’m asking—” And if she’d heardbegginginstead ofasking, she wouldn’t be far off. “—do you know how to make a cake well enough to tell me how to do it. And maybe have ingredients. I’ve got flour and … well, I’ve got flour.”
“Making a cake from scratch isn’t easy, Mr. Quick. It—.”
“I don’t care how hard it is, I’ve gotta do it by morning.”
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “How about using a mix?”
“A mix? You’ve got a mix?” Mixes came in boxes and boxes had instructions printed on them. He could follow instructions. It worked with macaroni and cheese. That was one meal the kids never griped about.
“Yes. And I’ll be happy to give it to you, but you’ll still need other ingredients.” She started up the steps. He stayed where he was.
“Like what?”
She turned from the doorway, looking down at him. She hesitated, then said, “You’d better come in so we can see.”
He didn’t mind the lack of enthusiasm — he would have bet she’d tell him to stay where he was and she’d bring the mix out, that’s why he’d stayed put. But going inside was better. Because he’d be able to go over the directions with her.
He followed her in, looking around quickly. He’d seen the trailer from when it was Vick’s, before she got the upgrade, so he knew what reflected Kenzie Smith.
Neat — that was the first impression. Obvious the place didn’t hold any kids. It was a miracle she hadn’t recoiled at his place, even after the girls’ efforts and his scoop and run before his shower.
The curtains on the window facing the back weren’t closed — that wasn’t a good idea with all the roughnecks in two counties knowing a good-looking young single woman lived here. Yeah it backed up to the ridge, but some of those boys who spent too much time at the bar wouldn’t let that stop them.
She had a couple things in frames behind the couch — paintings? No, he thought, photos. Blown up large, without losing their crisp color.
One was of masses of bushes blooming in that shade between pink and orange. The other showed ranks of soft mountain tops fading into a distant sky.
He was used to the nearby Big Horns looking more rounded than the jagged Rockies on the other side of the state, but these mountains were like the Big Horns with padding, then covered in green velvet.
He opened his mouth to ask what mountains they were, then closed it.
This was not a social call.
This was a cake emergency.
“I’m grateful and I don’t mean to hurry you, Ms. Smith, but I’ve gotta get back to the ranch.”
“You don’t want to leave the children alone any longer than necessary. I understand.”
She stretched up to the top of the shelf. He started to move in to help her, then thought better of it. She wouldn’t like being crowded by him and there was no way to be in that kitchen area with her without crowding.
The question of how he knew she wouldn’t like it flicked at him, and was dismissed. Her motion pulled the hem of her sweatshirt up and curved the soft material of the sweatpants around her rounded rump. She went up on her toes and the bottom of the shirt twitched at her waist, revealing a glimpse of pale flesh there.
“Here.” It came out on a breath of accomplishment, and it gave him the needed time to adjust the direction of his attention before she turned, holding a box out to him.
He took it, turning it to the light and concentrating on the words printed on the back.
“It’s chocolate. Is that okay?” she asked.
“Cake beggars can’t be choosers, but in this case it’s good. The girls like chocolate. It says here I need eggs, water, and cooking oil. Water I’ve got, eggs I’ve got, but I’m not sure…”
“I’ve got oil. Do you have measuring cups?”
He tried to picture where they might be in the kitchen. “Seems like we probably do, but I can’t for the life of me remember where they are.”
