“He’s a what?”
She sighed. “He’s a sourdough starter.”
“A sourdough starter.”
“Yes, it’s a mixture of flour and water that contains natural yeast. It needs to be fed so the yeast can leaven my bread. C’mon, you’ve had my bread before, how did you think I made it?”
“It just never occurred to me that people raised their own starters. People who aren’t pioneer homesteaders.”
Reena frowned. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. “Look, can you help me or not? It’s not that big a job.”
“No, of course. If you need me to feed your sourdough, I will. I’m just finding this to be the oddest favor a friend has ever asked of me.”
She rolled her eyes as she motioned him into her apartment. She took Brian down from the windowsill and placed him on the counter. “This is Brian. He’s pretty young. A rye starter…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m seeing a whole different side of you. So nurturing. How many kids should we have?” There was way too much mischief in his voice for this hour.
“I’m not marrying you. And I told you there’s more to me than bread and feet.”
He laughed. “Clearly…” He deliberately leered at her bare toes and waggled his eyebrows. “Those are your strongest assets, though.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Fine, fine. I’ll behave,” he said. “Teach me how to take care of Brian.”
She showed him the steps of feeding the starter: discarding half, then mixing in equal amounts by weight of flour and water.
“Why’d you throw away half?” he asked.
“Because you need it to double each time you feed it. If you don’t toss half, you’ll end up with too much starter. It’d grow exponentially, forever.”
“What a waste! What youshoulddo is—”
“Don’tshouldon me, buddy. I don’t normally throw it away. I make bread with it, that’s the point. And you’re this close to never getting any of that bread again.”
He smiled that charming smile. “I’m just kidding. This will be fun. Nice to have someone to keep me company while you’ll be gone. Does Brian prefer quiet nights at home or long walks on the beach?”
“Ha-ha. Smart-ass.”
***
After leaving Brian, a bag of flour, a bottle of spring water, and her kitchen scale with Nadim, she changed and packed for the weekend. Her phone rang just as she zippered the bag. She glanced at the call display.
Her father. Her father never called her.
“Hi, Dad. What’s going on?” She sat on her bed, body tensed in preparation for bad news.
“Your mother tells me you are going north for the weekend.”
“Yes, I took the day off work so I could head to Amira’s early.”
“Can we speak before you leave? I’m at the project site all day.”
“Today?” she asked. Also, alone?
“Yes. We can go for coffee. Nadim is at an off-site meeting with a restaurant developer this morning.”
Hmm. Why did Dad bring up Nadim?
