Page 20 of Heartland

“You can’t,” she says. “Caramel is just basic science. You have sugar and fat. We’re boiling the water out of the milk, and then the temperature keeps rising until things start to caramelize. Which has something to do with carbon. The only variable is how high to go, and when to stop.”

“How do you know all this?” I ask, looping the apron over my head.

“YouTube. And the people in those videos didn’t look any smarter than we are. Find the heaviest pot, would you? Look in that drawer.” She points. “We’ll start with two quarts of goat’s milk. I had to get vanilla extract because I couldn’t afford a vanilla bean.”

“That’s okay. We don’t need to be so fancy, right?” I open the drawer and take out the largest pot. “Making money on food is all about walking the line between premium and too expensive.”

“True. You can rein me in if I get too ambitious.” Chastity lifts her eyes to mine, and I smile for nothing. I always have fun with Chastity. She just gets me. She doesn’t look at me and see broken fences and unmilked cows and a guy who’d rather mess around on his fiddle than make a five-year-plan. She isn’t always trying to change me into someone else.

Even as I form this thought, my pocket buzzes with a text. When I pull out my phone, I see Kaitlyn’s name next to a long string of messages. I tuck the phone away again. I’ll deal with her later. Maybe if I take her out to dinner on Sunday night she’ll get over her snit.

If I’m honest, hanging out in a kitchen with Chastity is a better Friday night than listening to hipsters try to sling poetry. I like poetry just fine, but I like it to begood.

“Pour in the milk, okay? Two quarts.” Chastity is measuring sugar into a bowl. “And we’re going to need a wooden spoon.”

“Sure thing.”

We work in companionable silence for a while, with me stirring the milk over the flame while she adds the sugar and the salt. And then we switch jobs, with Chastity watching the temperature slowly rise on a candy thermometer, while I butter some baking pans and then wash and dry various tools and the surfaces.

“Does it matter that nothing seems to be happening in that pot?” I ask. It still looks like milk.

“Just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not happening,” Chastity says. “It takes time and heat.”

“Nobody said I was a patient man.” I turn on Leah’s speaker and play some music from my phone. I take another turn at the stove. The kitchen is warm, and the air is beginning to smell sweet.

Leah pokes her head in the door. “Can you two stop for dinner?”

“Dylan could,” Chastity says. “But someone has to stir, so it doesn’t scorch.”

“I could make you both a tray,” she offers.

“That’s a great idea,” I say, passing the spoon to Chastity. “Let me help.”

I follow Leah into her farmhouse. “Hi, Dylan!” her preschooler says from her booster seat at the table.

“Hey, shorty.” I ruffle the little girl’s hair. “How’s business, Isaac?”

“Can’t complain,” he says from his dining chair. “Awful nice of you to help Chastity like this. We’re grateful for all that you do for her.”

I just shrug. “You know me, Isaac. I’m not really that nice a person. But I like caramel as much as the next guy.”

He laughs, but it’s just the truth.

Leah loads two plates up with chicken, homemade mac and cheese, and salad. And while she does that, she quizzes me. “Do you think Chastity is doing okay in her classes? Can she pass algebra?”

“Yeah,” I say. “She probably can. It’s all new material for her, but she can get it. And she loves that business class.”

Leah glances toward the door, as if making sure that Chastity can’t overhear her. “I shouldn’t have pushed her to go full time. If it doesn’t work out, I’ll feel terrible.”

“It’s only been a few weeks,” Isaac says from the table. “Give it a little time?”

“I know,” Leah agrees, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “But next semester she has to takefivecourses to maintain her status as a full-time student.”

“Because of her scholarship?” I ask.

Leah’s head bobs. “She can’t get room and board if she’s part time. I should have steered her toward community college. I just got so excited about the financial aid package.”

I pick up the loaded tray in two hands. “Thank you for dinner, Leah. And try not to worry, okay? She doesn’t have to make the dean’s list. It’s all good.”