Little Fox Cottage by Barbara Cool Lee

Author:Barbara Cool Lee [Lee, Barbara Cool]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pajaro Bay Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

LUNCH WAS COMING ALONG WELL. Bree had stopped at Sophie's house to invite her over, and now the two women waited patiently in the living room while she finished up a fresh pasta with artichoke crème, zucchini curls, and a raspberry mousse to follow.

There was a knock on the cottage's front door.

Maisy barked and went to the door, but Bree didn't hear either Sophie or Helena getting up, so she went to answer.

When she opened the door an elderly woman in a blue pantsuit and matching hat (complete with peacock feather), stood on the porch. Slightly behind her stood a chubby little man.

"Yes?" Bree said. "Are you here to see Helena? She's just in here." She stood aside to let them enter.

"I'm here to see you, Bree Taylor," the woman said in a voice that brooked no argument.

"Okay," Bree said slowly. "I have lunch on the stove, so you'll have to come in the kitchen if you want to talk to me."

The man went over and sat on the sofa by Sophie. She patted his hand, clearly knowing who he was. He nodded to Helena, and she smiled back.

"I'll be back, dears," the elderly woman said. "I need to have a chat with your chef."

Bree shrugged and went back into the kitchen. At this point, nobody's strange behavior seemed surprising anymore.

She stirred the artichoke crème in its little copper saucepan. Sure enough, the Chambers stove's slow simmer had allowed the sauce to thicken without curdling, and it was perfect. She turned off the burner and let the sauce rest there for a minute.

"You seem quite at home in this kitchen," the woman observed.

"I didn't move in. I'm just visiting."

"Don't get snippy, young lady. If you care about Helena, you shouldn't object to her friends looking out for her."

"You could do a better job of that."

An elegantly groomed eyebrow was raised. "Really? In what way?"

"She's very thin. Both of them are. She isn't eating. That's why I'm in her kitchen, cooking."

"Both of them subscribe to our senior meals program for shut-ins."

"Have you eaten their meals?"

"Not personally."

"Maybe you should try them sometime." She glanced up from her work. "I need to drain the pasta now," she said, noticing the woman was watching her with an eagle eye. "You're welcome to stay for lunch. I made plenty."

"Thank you, but we already ate lunch."

"Okay. And I'm sorry I got snippy, as you put it. I'm a little stressed."

The woman smiled wisely at Bree. "I think you're being quite patient under the circumstances."

Bree laughed at that. "Because someone who hasn't introduced herself is grilling me? I figure you'll tell me who you are and why we're having this conversation in your own time."

She took the drained pasta and divided it between three bowls. Then she ladled the artichoke crème gently over the pasta in the dishes, spooned the steamed zucchini curls along the side, and sighed. It should have an accent, something red or orange to pop against all the green. Oh, well. It would do.

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