“See you soon, bro.”
A moment later, RJ pushed through the swinging door. The kid’s hair stood on end even more today. He had a grease stain on his gray T-shirt, and there was a red smudge on the knee of one of his pant legs. A paper bag swung from one fist.
“I hope that’s ketchup.” Zach gestured at RJ’s leg.
RJ ducked his head. “Yeah. Sorry. I came straight from work. Today was a hard one.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
The kid shrugged. “I’m used to it. I wish I could work more, but they just cut my hours. I take every shift I can.”
“I get that. But cleaning yourself up shows respect for yourself and for others.” Zach put his hand on the kid’s shoulder.
RJ’s face brightened. “I brought you something. Tell me if it’s any good. Be honest.”
Inside the bag was a white foam container of soup. “Two spoons?” At the kid’s nod, Zach grabbed each of them a spoon and lifted off the lid. With the first bite, an explosion of flavor hit him. “This is really good.” RJ had balanced sweet yellow tomatoes with savory leeks and onions. “Seriously, this might be the best tomato soup I’ve ever eaten. A little browned butter in there?”
RJ ducked his head. “I’m playing with the recipe. My mom likes it, but I needed the opinion of someone who…isn’t my mom.”
“RJ, you know these classes aren’t really meant for people who are serious about a career in cooking, right?” He handed him an apron. “They’re more for dabblers. You seem like someone who wants more.”
“I’m saving every penny that doesn’t go toward my mom’s rent for culinary school.” RJ tied the apron on. “I was accepted at Kendall, but I couldn’t afford it yet. They said there would be a place for me anytime I can come up with the tuition money.”
Huh. Zach remembered those days. When his parents had cut him off because they didn’t agree with his decision, he’d barely put himself through culinary school too. If it hadn’t been for the scholarship…“Have you ever heard of the Silver Platter?” RJ shook his head. “It’s a nonprofit that provides scholarships to low-income or at-risk people who are interested in pursuing a degree in Culinary Arts.” He pulled out his phone and navigated to the Silver Platter’s website.
Together they hunched over the small screen. Zach tapped on the Apply for Scholarship tab. The message “Awaiting Funds” in bold letters scrolled across the top of the page. In a smaller font the website informed them that they had awarded all available funds and were waiting for more generous donors.
“Well, that stinks.” RJ ran a hand through his hair before shoving his hands in his pockets.
“I’m sorry, man.” Zach tapped a few more areas on the website. “The Silver Platter really helped me out. It’s not great to see that they’re out of funds. I’m going to be in a charity cooking competition in a few days, though. The winner gets to name a charity to receive ten thousand dollars. I’d already chosen the Silver Platter even before I knew they were out of money.”
Hope shone in RJ’s eyes. “And you’re a shoo-in to win, right?”
He laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I sure hope so.” Resolve straightened his back. Helping other young chefs while also securing himself a better job? Talk about a win-win. “Here, give me your cell phone number and I’ll text you the info for the scholarship. Let me know if you need me to write you a reference.”
As they exchanged information, the kitchen door swung open to admit the bachelorette party. Following close behind them trailed Ava Harper.
He almost admired the nerve it took her to dare show her face again. Though he noted that she’d chosen a spot farthest away from him.
Fine by him.
His conscience had nagged him all week about some of the things he’d said to her.
Okay, it probably was the Holy Spirit and not just his own conscience, but every time he thought about what she did to him, his blood felt like it was on fire. He shoved those thoughts to the back burner and pulled himself back into this class. He’d take a moment to apologize later.
“Welcome back, everyone. Tonight, we will be learning how to make a quick ratatouille, a twist on a classic French dish. You can get a ratatouille at nearly any French restaurant,but tonight’s recipe is simplified for cooking at home.” He’d developed this recipe for his main dish at the cooking competition, where he wouldn’t have access to a gourmet kitchen, and practiced it every day this week. Now, he could almost make it in his sleep.
He watched the class chop their vegetables, guiding them as needed, then walked them through cooking the dish. He kept his distance from Ava. She didn’t do too bad. She probably was exaggerating about how little she could cook. When one of the bachelorette party couldn’t figure out the electronic kitchen scale, Ava showed her how to use it. Pretty soon their heads were bent together as they giggled over their ingredients. Later he spotted her soothing one of the women who was having trouble with her sauce.
The class passed in a blink. They all shared the fruits of their efforts, laughing and talking until one by one the group began to disperse.
“Ava, could you stay a moment?” Yeah, he caught the quick widening of her eyes, but to her credit, she squared her shoulders and then nodded.
“Thank you for class tonight.” She pulled her apron over her head and tossed it into the laundry basket provided. “And for not telling everyone who I am. My reputation is safe.”
He waved off her words. “I have some standards. I’m not about to betray you. Even if we don’t get along.”
“Thanks?” Her eyes darkened. “I guess the feeling is mutual.”
