I leave the frying pan I’d been washing to dry in the sink and hand Skyler some money for the groceries.
She pockets the bills in her cut off cargo pants and looks around the room.
I almost laugh at how hard she’s trying to keep her sun-tanned face blank. Skyler spends her weekends surfing, so she catches the sun, and boy does the sun like her. The bronzed skin together with her choppy blonde hair has her looking like a beach model, which honestly, only makes my apartment seem worse.
Skyler finishes her perusal of my new home. “So, uh, nice place you’ve got here.”
“Don’t start.” I snag the apples out of the bag and run them under the now clean faucet. “I’ve already had to convince Roman it won’t kill me to sleep on a rundown mattress.” I grab a tea towel and dry off the apples.
Skyler perches on the edge of said mattress, brushing away a pile of sawdust with the back of her hand. She cuts me a look, a glint in her blue eyes and a smile teasing her lips. “And what, pray tell, was Roman doing here?”
My eyebrows dig down. “He gave me a lift.”
Skyler hums and makes a show of nodding her head. “I guess that makes sense, given how much like a brother he is to you.”
I withhold the urge to groan. I never should have made friends with this woman. We were getting drinks at the Lagoon one night when Roman came in and, apparently, I insisted he was like a brother to me one too many times. Skyler’s been on my case ever since.
I pick up the utility knife I found to cut the apples and point it at my new friend. “I could fire you.”
“But then who would bring you apples, sugar, cinnamon, corn flour, and oil without questioning your sanity?”
I grin. “Geniuses don’t have to be sane. You know the number one rule I learned doing the business degree my parents still don’t know I have? Unique Selling Point. Every business needs a USP.” I toss an apple in the air and catch it. “This is mine.”
Skyler quirks a brow. “Apples?”
I set the frying pan on the small, two ring electric hob next to the sink, add enough oil to deep fry, and turn on the heat. “Apple fries.”
Skyler gets up and watches over my shoulder as I cut the apple. “You say that like it’s a thing.”
“It is a thing.” My tongue pokes out as I wrestle with the utility knife. The blade keeps wobbling, but I just about manage to slice the apple into fry shaped rectangles. “I had them in London at a Christmas market.”
Skyler watches with distaste as I dip the apple pieces in the corn flour then drop them into the hot oil. They sizzle, the aroma of deep-fried sweetness pushing away the dust that clings to the air.
“I’ve gotta say, right now, I’m not a believer.”
I pour sugar and cinnamon into a bowl, ready to coat the fries when they’re done. “Don’t worry, I’ll convert you.”
“I’ll try them on one condition.”
My skeptic bone tingles. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
Skyler grins. “You tell me more about Roman.”
Chapter Seven
Lola
What- what happened? Mom?
You’re okay, baby. You’re in the hospital but you’re okay. Just take it easy.
I– why? What happened?
- Conversation between Lola, age 18 and her mother
“Holy moly, these are incredible.”Skyler moans as she takes another bite of her apple fries.
My heart un-squeezes a little. I put on a good show a lot of the time but my entire coffee shop concept hinges on the whole apple fry thing taking off. There are plenty of cafés and restaurants in Pine Rock, especially down by the beach front. If I want to be successful, I need to stand out. I’ve got a lot riding on fried apple sticks in a cute paper cone.
