Page 197
Story: Hidden Nature
“Came out good.” He opened and closed it. “Damn good fit.”
“Of course. It’s Made by Cooper.”
“How’s your bedroom coming?”
“Scraping didn’t take as long as I thought, so I’m getting the walls primed. I’ll let the ceiling dry overnight, though the texture was such crap it didn’t take much to soften it.”
“Man, that door’s a beauty,” Theo said as he walked in from the back. “I’m grabbing another Coke, Sloan.”
“All you want.”
“Baby, you can’t stay in that bedroom tonight. You can bunk in your old room if…”
Sloan saw the light dawn on Dean’s face, and the slight discomfort with it. And adored him.
“Yeah. Right. Fine.”
“It’s okay, Dean.” All cheer, Theo took a swig of his Coke. “Drea’s making dinner at our place for the four of us, then we’re going to have a gin rummy marathon.”
“Right,” Dean repeated. “Elsie and I have those, too.”
“Dad.” On a laugh, Sloan rolled her eyes.
“Anyway. We’ll get the other door in tomorrow. Time to head out,” he said, and clamped a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Just me tomorrow. This one’s busy.”
“We’ll help you get it in. Just me and Nash. Robo’s got a family thing. Taking his girlfriend.”
“That’s another first.” Dean gave Sloan a kiss, then went out, whistling for Mop.
Because she wanted to try out Nash’s kitchen—and possibly pick up some practical ideas for her own—Sloan made Sunday breakfast. She found both bacon and eggs in the enormous fridge. And some Drea additions.
Yogurt, coconut milk, arugula, spinach, Diet Pepsi, San Pellegrino.
Very Drea, Sloan thought, as were the lemons filling a glass cylinder, a vase of daffodils, and a wooden bowl of bright red apples, all artfully placed.
“Born to make a home,” Sloan murmured.
Her sister could hammer a nail, but she’d much rather arrange flowers.
Sloan took out the eggs, the bacon, the butter, and because it was there, a block of cheddar. She hunted up a skillet, found it stored logically in the lower by the glorious range.
And discovered the Littlefields’ cookware ran several levels above her own.
It didn’t seem quite fair.
She’d beaten the eggs and started grating cheese when Nash came in.
“My contribution is bacon and eggs,” she said as he headed straight for the coffee station. “I’m taking a leap and assuming since you proved you could boil water, your culinary skills include making toast.”
“I can make toast. After coffee.”
“I decided to make breakfast to spark ideas for my own kitchen. I know I want the spice pullout—which I’m confident Drea filled. I don’t have room for a coffee station or your magnificent machine, the appliance garage, and probably not the microwave drawer. And since your pantry is actually bigger than my entire kitchen, this has been a series of frustrations and disappointments.”
“Bad start to the day for you.” Nash shoved a hand at his hair as he drank coffee.
“Not entirely, as I’ve decided to make my kitchen a study in smaller space efficiency and innovative style. When the time comes. I like a challenge.”
Tic wagged his way in seconds before she heard Drea and Theo’s voices. She turned the flame on under the skillet, tossed in a slice of butter. “Better get on that toast, chef.”
“Of course. It’s Made by Cooper.”
“How’s your bedroom coming?”
“Scraping didn’t take as long as I thought, so I’m getting the walls primed. I’ll let the ceiling dry overnight, though the texture was such crap it didn’t take much to soften it.”
“Man, that door’s a beauty,” Theo said as he walked in from the back. “I’m grabbing another Coke, Sloan.”
“All you want.”
“Baby, you can’t stay in that bedroom tonight. You can bunk in your old room if…”
Sloan saw the light dawn on Dean’s face, and the slight discomfort with it. And adored him.
“Yeah. Right. Fine.”
“It’s okay, Dean.” All cheer, Theo took a swig of his Coke. “Drea’s making dinner at our place for the four of us, then we’re going to have a gin rummy marathon.”
“Right,” Dean repeated. “Elsie and I have those, too.”
“Dad.” On a laugh, Sloan rolled her eyes.
“Anyway. We’ll get the other door in tomorrow. Time to head out,” he said, and clamped a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Just me tomorrow. This one’s busy.”
“We’ll help you get it in. Just me and Nash. Robo’s got a family thing. Taking his girlfriend.”
“That’s another first.” Dean gave Sloan a kiss, then went out, whistling for Mop.
Because she wanted to try out Nash’s kitchen—and possibly pick up some practical ideas for her own—Sloan made Sunday breakfast. She found both bacon and eggs in the enormous fridge. And some Drea additions.
Yogurt, coconut milk, arugula, spinach, Diet Pepsi, San Pellegrino.
Very Drea, Sloan thought, as were the lemons filling a glass cylinder, a vase of daffodils, and a wooden bowl of bright red apples, all artfully placed.
“Born to make a home,” Sloan murmured.
Her sister could hammer a nail, but she’d much rather arrange flowers.
Sloan took out the eggs, the bacon, the butter, and because it was there, a block of cheddar. She hunted up a skillet, found it stored logically in the lower by the glorious range.
And discovered the Littlefields’ cookware ran several levels above her own.
It didn’t seem quite fair.
She’d beaten the eggs and started grating cheese when Nash came in.
“My contribution is bacon and eggs,” she said as he headed straight for the coffee station. “I’m taking a leap and assuming since you proved you could boil water, your culinary skills include making toast.”
“I can make toast. After coffee.”
“I decided to make breakfast to spark ideas for my own kitchen. I know I want the spice pullout—which I’m confident Drea filled. I don’t have room for a coffee station or your magnificent machine, the appliance garage, and probably not the microwave drawer. And since your pantry is actually bigger than my entire kitchen, this has been a series of frustrations and disappointments.”
“Bad start to the day for you.” Nash shoved a hand at his hair as he drank coffee.
“Not entirely, as I’ve decided to make my kitchen a study in smaller space efficiency and innovative style. When the time comes. I like a challenge.”
Tic wagged his way in seconds before she heard Drea and Theo’s voices. She turned the flame on under the skillet, tossed in a slice of butter. “Better get on that toast, chef.”
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