Must Love Sandwiches (7 page)

She quartered juicy, ruby-hued grape tomatoes and piled them into a large bowl. Usually a sprinkle of garlic powder was added next, but Emma didn’t need to have bad breath later that night. There was a soft knock on the door as Daisy chopped kalamata olives and capers to add to the mix. The door swung open as she wiped her hands on a towel and said, “Lunch will be done in a few minutes.”

Emma dropped her keys on the counter. She craned her neck to look into the bowl and then sniffed the air. “I don’t smell bacon. Have you been taking cooking lessons from a certain food truck chef? I thought you put bacon into almost everything you cooked.”

“I wish I had some bacon. I haven’t crossed over to the veggie-only side yet.” A cloud of steam billowed from a pot sitting on the stove. Daisy dumped a box of penne into the boiling water. “It’s just not in my budget right now. Maybe you can help me come up with some things to make for summer, beyond my usual lace scarves and hats.”

“That sounds fun, as long as you help me with dessert ideas for Brad. You were the one that asked him for sweets in the first place.”

She never thought asking for dessert would end up with Emma agreeing to go out with Brad, but somehow it worked. Being a stubborn mule with blinders on might seem to be working for her, but she was going to lose the chance at a relationship with a wonderful man. If only Emma would see it that way. Daisy sprinkled dried herbs into a bowl of olive oil. She brushed thick slices of Italian bread with the fragrant oil and set them in a warm frying pan to toast. “You know I have a gigantic sweet tooth, so I can definitely help. Did you come up with any ideas on your own yet?”

“When I had that migraine a few days ago he brought me some cookies, so I suggested making them into sandwich cookies with a layer of marshmallow fluff or ganache.”

“What about jam instead of chocolate? Raspberry or cherry preserves would be fabulous with chocolate chip cookies.” Daisy opened the refrigerator. The shelves were almost empty, except for a few condiment bottles, a pitcher of iced tea and a carton of eggs. “Do you want water or iced tea? Sorry I can’t offer you anything else.”

“Don’t worry about it. Iced tea sounds good.” Emma took two glasses out of a cabinet and set them on the counter. “The jam is a good idea. What else can you think of?”

Daisy shook her head. “Uh uh. It’s my turn to pick your brain. What are some summer-y things I can knit?”

“I like to pull my hair back off of my face when it’s hot. What about headbands or maybe you could modify a scarf to make a headscarf?”

“Ding, ding, ding! I think we have another winner.” Daisy set a colander in the bottom of the sink and turned on the cold water. As she dumped the pot of pasta into the colander she asked, “Would you wear a headband if I made one for you? I sold quite a few hats this winter after people saw you wearing one.”

“You know I will. I love your work.” Emma plucked a chunk of tomato out of the bowl and popped it into her mouth. “Now it’s my turn again. I was thinking about sandwiches made out of a sweet bread, like banana. Don’t you think grilled banana bread sandwiches filled with something like chocolate hazelnut spread sound good? They would be all warm and gooey.”

Daisy nodded as she dumped the hot pasta on top of the tomatoes. The heat released more of the mouth-watering scent. It smelled like an Italian restaurant, instead of a tiny studio with yarn stuffed into every nook and cranny. She drizzled a bit of olive oil onto the penne, dumped in some chopped parsley and tossed the mixture with two wooden spoons. “I would definitely order something like that. How about cutting the sandwiches into strips and serving them with little containers of caramel or chocolate sauce for dipping?”

“I like it. That way you could add as much sauce as you want.”

“Lunch is served.” She put the bowl of pasta on the counter in front of the bar stools. Emma slid onto a stool while Daisy filled their glasses with tea. Hopefully the pasta tasted as good as it smelled. She handed a large, serving spoon to Emma and said, “Now cough up another idea for me.”

Emma piled pasta onto her plate. “Let me try this first.” She shoveled a fork full into her mouth and grinned. “Yummy. Let’s see…people go to the farmer’s market in the summer. What about some kind of mesh tote bag?”

“Nice. You’re full of great ideas today.”

“Brad said the same thing.” Emma sprinkled red pepper flakes on her pasta. It looked like a red snow storm had passed over her plate. The woman definitely liked spicy food. Now if only she’d get a clue about the hot chef before he decided to look elsewhere for a new girlfriend. Emma continued, “He even suggested I could be his recipe development consultant. Can you believe it? I barely made it through a year of college. I can’t be a consultant.”

“I think he’s right. All I have to do is ask you to figure out something for me to design and wham bam boom, you’ve come up with several great ideas. It’s like you have spare creativity just knocking around in the back of your mind. Coming up with ideas for other people, and getting paid for it, would be awesome. All of the fun of thinking of new things and none of the work to actually create them. I bet there are quite a few people at the colony who could use some new product ideas.”

“Maybe. Considering how most of us don’t have a lot of spare money, I’d probably end up bartering for art instead of getting paid.”

“That isn’t a bad thing. Trade ideas for art and recipes for food. You could furnish your apartment with all kinds of cool things, never go hungry and start a savings account with the profits from your own stuff.”

“And I’d be too busy to go out on dates. Now there’s a good reason to become a consultant.”

Emma paced around the apartment, taking a detour from her established path every few minutes to check her reflection in the mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She was on the fourth version of her outfit, and considering changing into a different blouse, when there was a knock on the door.
Did she look okay or was the embroidered peasant blouse and tiered skirt too Bohemian?
She slipped on a pair of sandals and opened the door. Seeing Brad standing in the hallway made her pulse race, like she had eaten a one pound bag of chocolate covered peanuts in 15 minutes. Not that she’d ever done anything like that, but she felt like she could jog to the restaurant instead of riding with him. She grabbed a pink notebook off the kitchen counter and waived it in front of his face. “I thought of a few more things you might want to try. I even wrote them down so I wouldn’t forget.”

“Great. I can’t wait to hear them.” Brad smiled sheepishly as he stepped through the doorway. He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his khaki pants and rocked back on his heels. “I don’t want to be rude, and this certainly isn’t criticism about your outfit, but you might want to change out of the skirt and put some pants on. For logistical reasons.”

It was her favorite skirt. The one that she thought made her look taller and as a result, she always felt more confident when wearing it. She needed all of the confidence she could get to pull off the professional consultant act. “What do you mean logistical reasons?”

“You’ll see when we get to my vehicle.”

Emma opened a drawer on her armoire and searched for a suitable pair of pants. It would have been nice if he had warned her about clothing specifications for the evening. Had he brought the sandwich truck and the passenger seat was splashed with grease and globs of errant condiments? If there even was a passenger seat. What if she had to stand in the kitchen area, hanging on to the prep table for dear life? She selected a pair of dark blue, cotton pants and retreated to the bathroom to change. Stains would be less visible on the dark fabric.

“Perfect,” Brad said when she returned from the unplanned wardrobe change. “You’ll have a much easier time now.”

The vague insinuations were not helping ease her anxiety. She had never liked roller coasters and the evening felt like it was climbing up the first hill, getting ready to drop into crazy twists and out-of-control spirals. “Okay, whatever. Let’s get going. I need to pack some mail orders after I get back tonight.”

Uncomfortable silence enveloped them as they rode the elevator down to the lobby. A gust of wind swirled Emma’s hair when she emerged from the front door of the building. There was no way her hairspray could combat that assault. Now she was going to look like she felt, a wild-haired, crazy woman.

“I had to park on the next block,” Brad said as he put his hand on the small of her back and guided her to the left. “I didn’t think parking would be this difficult at night.”

His hand was warm. The comforting gesture was something she could get used to, if only he wasn’t off-limits. The man was a serious test of her will power.

“Here we are.”

They were standing next the biggest Jeep Emma had ever seen. Brad unlocked the door and swung it open. He pulled a stirrup, that looked like it belonged on a horse saddle, out from the space beside the seat. It dangled by a leather strap halfway between the Jeep’s floor and the curb. “The easiest way to do this is hold onto the door handle, put your foot in the stirrup and then use the handle above the glovebox to pull yourself up.”

“I think I can do that.” There was no way she was going to tell him that she had a lot of practice getting into over-sized four-wheel drives. Almost every one of her boyfriends in high school had a similar vehicle. It was one of the perils of living and dating in farm country. You could make a fool of yourself before the evening even started, if you couldn’t figure out how to make it into the passenger seat. Those dates usually consisted of a trip through a drive-thru followed by long rides on bumpy back roads. While the mode of transportation was familiar, the destination and charming driver were a huge step up the dating ladder.

“I’ll stay right here, in case you need help.”

Emma hoisted herself into the vehicle with ease. She settled into the seat and flipped the visor down. The light from a nearby street lamp was just bright enough that she could see her horrendous hair in the tiny mirror. At least the Jeep had the top on, so it wouldn’t get any worse. She tugged a few curls back into place and then gave up. Looking pretty wasn’t the goal for the evening. Brad shook his head slightly before tossing the stirrup into the foot well and slamming the door. When he climbed into the driver’s seat he was grinning. “I’m impressed. You passed the test.”

She flipped the visor up. A test.
Nice
. She hadn’t studied. “What test?”

“I never date a woman who can’t get into my Jeep.”

“We’re not on a date. Remember? This is a business meeting.”

As they drove across town only a few, small bits of polite conversation interrupted the low whine of the chunky tires rolling over the pavement. The Jeep’s top was made of canvas. The buildings and cars they passed by were distorted by the ripples in the flexible, clear plastic side window. It felt like they were traveling through a dream world. Would it be a fantasy or nightmare after they arrived at the restaurant? Brad pulled into a strip mall and parked in front of a storefront with a red awning printed with Josh’s Tapas. “Here we are. It isn’t fancy, but Josh is a fantastic chef.”

Emma hopped out of the Jeep before Brad made it to her side to help her out. “I’m sure we can find something delicious to munch on while we talk…about business.”

After they were seated at a table in a quiet corner, Emma studied the menu. When they pulled into a generic strip mall she hadn’t expected to find such a sophisticated restaurant. The place offered a dizzying variety of dishes. Brad explained that the small plates of food were meant to be shared. If each person only took one or two bites, diners could sample many things without spending a fortune.

Soon the table was covered with brightly colored plates. As she munched on grilled calamari rings and spicy sausage with caramelized pears she was careful to keep the conversation on dessert ideas for Brad’s truck. She speared a wrinkly, oil-cured black olive with her fork and asked, “Do you want to just offer one dessert a day or would you like to give people a choice?”

“I haven’t thought about that yet. If the dessert sandwiches are easy to produce I don’t see why we can’t offer a couple options, just like the regular sandwiches.”

“You could do quick bread sandwiches, like banana bread with a cream cheese or chocolate filling as well as the sandwich cookies. If you used the frosting or jam as a filling those could be made ahead and all you would need to do is hand them out. Also, don’t forget fruit soups. What about an apple soup with lots of cinnamon and nutmeg, topped with an oatmeal crumble? You could call it Hot Apple Crisp Soup.”

The waitress arrived with an array of plates tiled up her arm like fish scales. As she cleared away empty plates Brad nodded his head in agreement. “I like it. Do you have a degree in marketing? You have so many great ideas that have never crossed my mind.”

Emma stuffed a lamb meatball in her mouth so she wouldn’t look like a grinning goofball. The compliment made her unreasonably giddy. “No, I went to art school for a year, before my scholarships ran out and I had to quit.” The admission that she didn’t graduate vaporized her good mood. He probably had a degree from a prestigious cooking school. Giving him suggestions for his business was ridiculous.
Why had she agreed to do this?

The rest of the evening was spent nibbling on the steady stream of new offerings that were delivered to the table. Emma switched to iced tea after her second glass of wine. There was no way she’d be able to fall asleep at a reasonable time. She knew the evening would replay in her mind like an unforgettably bad movie, so a bit of caffeine wouldn’t hurt. Whenever Brad tried to steer the conversation away from desserts, she guided it back on track. Every time she wanted to get lost in his dreamy, blue eyes she forced herself to think of her mother. She conjured up images of some of her mother’s seedier boyfriends and superimposed their leering faces over Brad’s.