The Return of the Man in Blue (The Claudia Belle Series Book 4) by C.S Luis

Author:C.S Luis [Luis, C.S]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Published: 2017-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

12

Claudia

Mr. Slater looked a little distracted when he took his seat. I wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that Michael had not allowed me to keep the necklace. I very much wanted to, but for some reason I knew what Michael said made some sense. Perhaps the others would get jealous, others like Ms. Stephens who would make a big deal about it. Maybe that’s what Michael had meant.

God, was I starting to see what adults meant? Or had it been that call Mr. Slater had received when we left the restaurant earlier? He hadn’t meant to tell me about it. Was he now telling me the truth? I was starting to read him, even though I still could not hear him. God, I hated that.

“This all looks great, Michael,” Mr. Slater said. “Wow you’re quite the chef.”

“Claudia helped,” Michael offered, and I managed a shy smile. Mr. Slater glanced over at me.

“My mom taught me a few things,” I added. “She loved to cook.”

Mr. Slater looked impressed.

“I’m not as great as her or Michael. I just know a few things,” I softly said, feeling embarrassed that Mr. Slater’s eyes were staring over at me.

“Wow, Miss Belle. Have you been holding back on me? I thought you said you didn’t know how to cook.”

I tried not to turn red when he said that, and he winked and smiled.

“Just the rice and beans,” I timidly added. “And the cake, of course.” I smiled.

“Well, it looks great, and I bet it tastes just as nice,” Mr. Slater added, helping himself to some Mexican rice and charreo beans. Then he motioned over at me for my plate. I nodded as he took my plate and put charreo beans and Mexican rice on my plate for me.

I thanked him as he handed me the plate. He then lifted the platter with the chicken and beef fajitas and offered me some. I nodded, taking a few strips of chicken, and he did the same. He lowered the platter and lifted the basket holding the flour tortillas; Michael had made some good homemade flour tortillas. I hated to admit it, but they were just like the ones mom used to make. God, I missed them both, but I didn’t want to think of sad things right now. I just wanted to enjoy Mr. Slater’s return dinner.

Mr. Slater offered the basket first to me, and I smiled up at him, taking a few tortillas onto my plate. He took some himself and lowered the basket back onto the center of the table.

He now motioned to the chile relleno, and I nodded, and he put one on my plate. He put one on his own plate just the same and lowered the platter back on the table again. He then took the napkin from the side table, as I’d watched him do in the restaurant, and he placed the napkin on his lap very properly. I watched for a moment as he sat up straight, elbows off the table.

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