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“Okay, fine. I know what parchment paper is.” She went to the pantry and came back with a big roll of it. “I use it for baking fish.”
“That sounds interesting,” I said, taking it from her. “Maybe you can teach me that sometime.”
I refrained from slapping myself. I shouldn’t be making future plans or trying to give her the idea I wanted to make plans with her. I could spend some time with her, ask some questions, get to know her. Not make plans.
“Sure,” she said, and I heard the hesitation in her voice too.
We prepared the pans, buttering, flouring and lining them, and there was a quiet companionship between us that I found myself trying to soak up and savor.
It was an odd thing, I realized. Being a celebrity meant there were millions of people in the world who “knew” me—but I spent much of my time alone, and even more of it feeling lonely. It was rare to have a quiet moment shared with another person, to be able to enjoy something simple, something pure.
Tess didn’t push me to talk, and together we measured, mixed and poured, and before long, we had the first of the pans in the oven.
“Where did you learn to bake?” she asked as we cleaned up.
I sighed. Every story about my past was lined with landmines. How much did I want to share with her? I started off slowly. “I didn’t. I just started doing it after my mom left. It reminded me of her, I think. She used to bake. Kind of taught myself.”
Tess’s face changed, her lips pressing slightly into a frown. “Did you bake with her? Before?” Her tone showed that she wasn’t going to press, wasn’t going to ask why Mom had left. Relief wound its way through me, but so did a vague disappointment. Why did I want to tell Tess everything?
“We baked a little. Cooked, too.” We sat down, neither of us verbalizing our intention to do so. But as with all things with Tess, I was finding we seemed to agree naturally, to be in the same mental space, maybe. “She wasn’t a very happy person, I guess. So I don’t have a lot of memories of doing things together. A few.”
“And cooking is one of them? So maybe that’s why you like to do it?”
I took a deep breath, let it out. This wasn’t stuff I was used to talking about. The facts, maybe. But not my feelings about those facts. “Maybe. I never really thought about it.”
She nodded. I wondered if she was contemplating what we had in common—we’d both lost mothers. Though I thought Juliet had told me they’d lost both their parents.
“What about you?” I asked her, realizing she might stand up and walk away. I was asking a very personal question of a woman I barely knew. “Do you have happy memories? Of your parents?”
Her eyes met mine then, and I felt myself leaning toward her. I wanted something I couldn’t define, something she made me feel. A sensation ran through me I could only classify as yearning, and I wondered if I’d ever actually felt it before.
“I do,” she said, and a little smile crossed her lips, brightening the golden eyes. “A lot. Me, Juliet, my parents. We were happy,” she said. She didn’t volunteer more, and I didn’t push, and for a while we sat silently. I thought about my mom, and imagined maybe Tess was thinking of her own childhood.
“So when you’re working,” I began. “You kayak? Juliet said you were an adventure guide.”
She nodded, the eyes brightening again. “That’s right. Kayaks, canoes, stand up paddleboards. If you can do it on the water, I’m on it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “Anything? Water skiing? Snorkeling?”
“Yes and yes.” She rose to my challenge, her chest pushing forward as she crossed her arms.
“What else?”
A laugh escaped her. “Name it. We just started doing yoga on stand up paddleboards.”
“That sounds more like swimming.” I imagined myself attempting a yoga pose and toppling off the board into the water.
“That’s why we wear life jackets,” she said, smiling. “Want to try it?”
I wanted to try pretty much anything that would find me with Tess Manchester wearing a bathing suit. “Sure.”
She grinned, but then her face dropped. “We’ve got these cakes to finish,” she said. “And by the time they’re done, it’ll be getting dark.”
My heart jumped a bit at her clear disappointment. Did Tess want to spend time with me the way I found myself looking for reasons to be with her? “I’d love to try it sometime,” I said, realizing I was making plans again. My stomach saved me, offering a distraction with an audible growl.
“Maybe we should eat something.”
“I’m not super hungry,” she said, “but I can find something for you.”
