She swears she doesn’t remember doing that but kissed me about ten times while thanking me for it. It was for some sort of blueberry dish that had to do with a crust. I wasn’t exactly sure. It did sound good, though.
Watching Ellie work in the kitchen, doing what she does at The Red Table, no wonder people go to her for her work. This is some straight-up fancy shit. I don’t necessarily understand why she needs to break something that was placed perfectly on a plate. But it’s a thing.
I watched her make a key lime tart with berries and white chocolate, and it was interesting. It took her an hour just to perfect one. She made dough, key lime filling, raspberry foam (I told her that sounded like a cleaning product, and she rolled her eyes at me), and a whipped white chocolate ganache.
After she completed putting everything together and made it look like a fancy building you would see in New York, she took multiple photos, wrote it on the menu, and then had us try it.
I was wrong about the foam. It was awesome.
“Okay.” Ellie claps her hands and flour puffs in the air. “I have four out of five desserts. We have the key lime tart, the mini blueberry mousse cakes, the caramel apple mascarpone vanilla mousse cake, and the three chocolate plaisir sucre.” She lets out a breath after naming off all four of the dessert names. “I just need one more, but my mind feels like mush.”
“You have time to think about the last one. You were able to get all of these done in almost a week. Take this extra time to give yourself a break.” I lean on the marble counter.
“I can’t. I have a rhythm now, and I don’t want it to stop.” She continues to move things around: bowls, plates, whisks, spoons.
“Okay but you can’t think of anything else, so you should take this time to let your mind recharge. Don’t force it, or it won’t be something you’re happy with.”
Ellie slumps her shoulders and tilts her head back. “I know. I just don’t want to stop.”
I walk around the kitchen counter and pull her into my arms. “I know, but it’s healthy to give yourself a break. And a shower.”
Ellie pulls away and tilts her chin up to look at me with squinted eyes. “Are you saying I smell?”
I pinch two fingers together. “Only the tiniest bit.”
She deadpans and starts to walk away toward the stairs. “Well, I’ll go scrub my ass nice and clean just for you,” she says over her shoulder.
“I can help with that if you want,” I reply while I stay back in the kitchen, watching her take the first step on the stairs.
She looks at me with a glare, and I laugh, holding up my hands. “I’m joking.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not. But I will clean up the kitchen for you.”
She leans against the railing, exhausted. “Ugh, thank you. I love you. You’re the best.”
“I will never get tired of hearing you say that.” I smile at her, and we lock eyes until she makes it upstairs.
* * *
An hour later, Ellie is sparkling clean and wearing a smile. “Ah, that feels much better.” She sits next to me on the couch while I scroll through my phone.
“I’m glad.” I give her a kiss on the side of her wet hair and look through my phone some more.
She lays her head on my shoulder before asking, “What are you looking at?”
“I’m looking at the line-up of vendors for the Taste of Dove Point.”
“Shit, it’s already coming up?”
I nod and say, “Mm hm.”
She peeks to look at the list I have pulled up. We have about fifty businesses taking part, which is more than I thought we’d have this year. Addie even rented a table to offer free tastings to the tourists who will soon be pouring into town.
“I think you should do it. It couldn’t hurt to see where it takes you. What else would you be doing now that you’ve decided to stay here?”
“Crap,” she whispers. “I didn’t even think about what would happen after. I just knew I wanted to be back home and fuck everything else.” She waves a hand.
