Fall Down the Mountain (The Mountains) by Singer P.D

Author:Singer, P.D. [Singer, P.D.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2012-10-17T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

“DON’T bleed on the yams!” Allan swung my hand away from the vegetables, slapping a towel over the wound in nearly the same motion. I’d been chopping vigorously, imagining Melanie, author of my misery, under the blade. If I’d had enough sleep my aim would have been better.

“Gabe, get the yams. Mark can have the carrot scraper.” He helped me clean and bandage the cut, and sent me back to a tool that I couldn’t hurt myself with. “You’re getting chef’s hands.”

Scrapes, cuts, a couple of encounters with hot pots… yeah, I was catching up with him. My concentration wasn’t the best it had ever been, and several cups of coffee were helping only marginally. I’d watched Allan sleep most of the night, after I put him to bed with a pain pill, worn out and hurting from the full day of cooking, deliveries, and then serving dinner to the gang. He’d swatted me away when I tried to dish out the food and then paid for overdoing it. I wouldn’t let him do that again.

“Sit down, Mark.” Julie took over the scolding, just because I tried to get the spices down from the shelf for him. “You’re hovering.” I sat back with the scraper, and when Allan started hunting in the drawer, Julie kicked my ankle before I got all the way up to dig whatever it was he wanted out for him. I didn’t recognize the thing he produced, but he could have explained what it looked like. Kurt was at the stove, stirring the sauce, but he gave me the warning eyebrow too. Some friends, getting in the way of me taking care of Allan.

They wouldn’t even let me answer the phone, though Gabe might have had a point about me not knowing what to say after “Almost Home Catering. Dinner will be good tonight.” Stripping the skins off carrots was a poor substitute, and when an orange sliver flew a little too far and stuck to Julie’s arm, I was ticked enough not to say anything. Everyone looked at me funny and got real quiet when I started chopping the vegetables into bite-sized chunks.

The phone was ringing a lot, too, and Allan had to say three different times, “Yes, the website isn’t working, sorry.” That sounded like a real problem, one I didn’t know how to fix. After the last of those calls, he muttered, “Damned website. More trouble than it’s worth.”

“I could take a look.” Gabe had finished chopping yams and stirred them into a bigger pot with other things. He glanced over to the computer where Allan had entered some orders and printed off some slips.

“That would be great. It’s more hindrance than help right now, and it’s supposed to save me all sorts of time, which it isn’t.” Allan clicked a couple times with the mouse. “What do you need?”

“The password to get into the guts of the site, and it would help to know what it’s built with.” Gabe came to look.

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