“Granddad turns ninety next month. I want his last years to be with someone devoted to him, someone who will stick around. The last thing he needs is a revolving door of caregivers as his health declines.” Emma watched Harriet carefully. “If your feet get better, say, in six months, will you go work somewhere else? Please be honest.”
Harriet bit her lip. “With this pay, and if your grandfather and I hit it off, I’d definitely want to stay for as long as you needed me.”
Emma gave an inward sigh of relief. “Follow me. Granddad is in the den. I’ll introduce you.”
Chapter 3♥This Kitchen is Getting Hot!
“So, you found someone. Congratulations.” George leaned across the kitchen counter with his can of Dr Pepper and clinked it against Emma’s glass of lemon water.
She eyed his soda can, looking judgmental.
“Stop it. Of all the vices I could have, one sugary drink every now and then is pretty tame.” Though every now and then had turned into multiple cans a day. He’d think about that later. “Tell me about Harriet Smith.”
Emma’s face lit up. “She’s perfect for him. Soft-spoken, but chatty, and eager to please. We start her one-week trial tomorrow to see if they suit each other, but I’m optimistic.”
“Does she live nearby?” George salted the popcorn as it poured out of the old fashioned popcorn maker on the counter. Mr. Woodhouse was convinced microwave popcorn would kill them all, so Emma never bought it.
“Yes. Ten minutes west of here. It’s perfect.” She put down her glass and threaded her fingers together. “There is one thing worrying me about her, though.”
Of course, there was. “Let me guess. She needs a makeover.”
Emma scoffed. “Well, yes. But I only makeover people who want it. Self-confidence is the most important part of fashion, and I can tell Harriet likes what she wears. I’d never want to mess with that.”
Self-confidence was an attractive feature. And an irritating one. All George had to do was glance at Emma, so comfortable in her own skin that he couldn’t help wanting to occasionally shake things up, open her eyes to things beyond her own opinion.
Her thick blonde hair, always so carefully done up, was now hanging down her back, and it swung back and forth as she moved around the kitchen. He had to stop watching her so much. They were friends. He was six years older.
When his brother married her sister, Emma was just beginning her freshman year of college. Back then, she’d been a mouthy, opinionated, freckled, skinny thing who liked to tease. If he let that picture of her go, what would he see in its place? He wasn’t ready to go there. Maybe he never would be.
“Hey, quit thinking about medicine for five seconds and help me carry this into the den.” She smiled as she handed him the popcorn bowl, and then balanced the two plates of various snacks on the palms of her hands like a diner waitress.
They settled everything on the coffee table, and she woke up the TV and went through her list of saved shows until she foundCooking with Strangers. It was actually kind of flattering that she hadn’t watched any episodes without him. Emma loved this stupid show.
“So, what’s worrying you about Harriet?” he asked.
“She’s named after Harriet Tubman, isn’t that cool?” Emma took a few kernels of popcorn and chewed them slowly. “If I ever have children, I want to name them after important figures in history. I just decided this today.”
George sat back in the leather couch and groaned. It felt nice to finally stretch out. “I’m named after George Washington, but I promise you, in elementary school I would have given anything to be one of the three Ryans or Michaels in my class.”
The show announcer started his spiel.“They thought they were here for a blind date reality show. Little did they know they’d have to work together as couples, using their prowess in the kitchen for a chance at splitting half a million dollars. Ten weeks. Ten meals. Will they fall in love, or kill each other in the process? This kitchen is getting hot!”
George picked up the remote and paused the TV. “Okay, hang on. You totally avoided my question.”
“What question?” Emma was staring at the paused TV as if she could turn it back on with her eyes.
“About Harriet. You know what, never mind.” It wasn’t even that he wanted to know. It was the way Emma had stepped around it that had him curious, as if she wished she’d never introduced the topic in the first place.
Emma bit her nail and then pulled her hand away and sat on it. She’d been trying to kick the nail biting habit for years. “She has a serious boyfriend who just moved to Reno, Nevada.”
“Ahh. You’re worried she’ll move there to be with him?”
“Yes. But let’s not talk about that right now. I want to see if Donny and Denise will admit their feelings for each other.”
“They ruined their pasta last episode. If they can’t even make pasta, they’re done.”
Emma looked at him as if he’d just admitted to treason. “But they’re my favorite couple. They can’t go.”
Her investment in this show was hilarious. She looked visibly shaken at the thought of losing Donny and Denise. Every episode began with an elimination so that they could end the show on a cliff-hanger question of who was leaving next.
