Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Andie cleaned up a table after her morning students had left for the day. The latke mix had been a success, as the mess left behind surely indicated. She even inducted the students into the age-old “applesauce versus sour cream” debate. The morning class had applesauce winning by a single point, although Andie did need to add two new categories: plain and ketchup. She still couldn’t figure out where the student had found a packet of ketchup to begin with.
Sarah knocked once at the door and entered. “Did you hear?”
Andie tossed some towels in the trash. “Hear what?”
“About the appeal.”
Andie paused, chemical spray in hand, ready to give the table another rinse. Andie’s gaze slid up to Sarah. “No.”
Sarah pulled out a chair and slumped down to the child-sized height. “Another bust. And our last chance.” She glanced around, a somber note on her face. “Say goodbye.”
Andie dropped her items and joined Sarah. “At this point there wasn’t much hope. That’s why we’re all job searching.”
“I know. I know that. I just … had hope, you know? A holiday season miracle to keep my bestie nearby.” She reached out and squeezed Andie’s hand.
Andie squeezed back. A holiday miracle would be lovely right about now, but if those existed, she’d still have her father this Chanukah. “Want me to see if my new job is hiring?”
Sarah sat up straight, eyes wide. “You accepted it.”
“Not yet.”
“But you will.”
With no other strong prospects, she’d be a fool to pass on such a good match for her goals. “More than likely.”
Sarah slumped back down. “I can barely handle the winters here. If I move anywhere, it’s going to be for warmer pastures.”
“Don’t discount global warming, you might get your wish wherever you land.”
“Wow, you went dark there.”
Andie stretched out her legs. “Sorry.”
Sarah took two deep breaths, her mini-meditations method. “So tell me something good, like more about that date from last night that did not end in a kiss.”
Andie scraped her chair back and returned to wiping down her table. “I’ve told you everything. Nice meal, good conversation, a moment in the hall, then the neighbor interruption.”
“Way to make a date sound clinical.” Sarah stood and stretched. “You going to get a kiss tonight? It is the fourth night, just about halfway through.”
Andie thought of Leo, of him being in her apartment. No distractions. Tingles broke out on her arms and slid down lower. The two of them cooking side by side in her narrow kitchen, making it easy to brush up against each other. Was he thinking about her as she thought about him? “Why do you think I invited him over to bake in my tiny kitchen?”
Sarah laughed. “There. That is so much better than school closings or global warming.”
Andie finished cleaning the table and put her supplies down. “You’ll find something. Maybe even something better than this place.”
“I know. I know. There will be more options in the spring, too. I just liked it here.”
Andie glanced around at the many student drawings on her wall. “Me, too. But nothing in life stays the same.”
“Wow, you are gloomy today.”
Was she? The tingles faded to the heaviness of the brokenhearted. Leo gave her the holiday distraction she needed. It was hard to feel alone with him around. And yet, the memories pushed forward, her father’s smiling face over a game of dreidels. Oh, how she missed him. “First holiday without Dad. I was experiencing a lot of change before the school closing news hit.”
Sarah crossed the room and wrapped Andie up into a hug. “And because of that you get to spend Chanukah with your hot neighbor.”
“Are you saying hot neighbor makes up for being an orphan?” Andie spoke with alarm and pulled out of Sarah’s grasp.
“No. I mean you might not have taken Leo up on his offer if you already had plans with your father.”
Andie mulled that one over and couldn’t deny it held weight. For starters, she wouldn’t have been scrambling to find candles before sunset, she’d have been with her father. “Take some of that weirdly backward logic and apply it to your own job hunt.”
Sarah scrunched her nose, thinking. “I’ll pay off my student loans faster if I move back in with my parents?”
Andie shook her head. “What am I going to do with you?”
Sarah blew Andie a kiss as she headed for the classroom door. “Stay in touch, because if you don’t, I will.”
Alone in her room, Andie straightened a few chairs. Her heart felt heavy with everything and everyone she would soon leave behind. She took faith in Sarah being a forever friend. A year into the future would be so different from now—new people, new school, new relationships. There would be a lot of unknowns. Andie hadn’t always been a fan of the unknown. It led to holiday seasons like this, alone without her family. Sure, life could be better in a new location, but nothing in life came with guarantees. On the other hand, life really could be better. Maybe she’d find something, or someone, now missing in her life. Either way, Future Andie would have a story to tell.
“I’ll make it work. Just like Dad always did.” She’d carry on his legacy, especially during this transitional point in her life. Her father had the drive, and the heart, to make beanstalks grow from beans. He’d been a human service worker before he got sick. He’d made an impact on many lives, more than hers alone. She strived to do the same in her own way. Helping preschoolers develop a love of school allowed her to carry on some of his ambition.
Andie scrubbed a hand down her face. She had more boxed latkes to fry. And later, real latkes.
Leo shifted the paper bag in his arms in order to knock on Andie’s door. He’d spent several hours with Dean working on his curbside find, only to discover the item had more damage than originally anticipated. Not to the point of belonging on the curb, Leo could fix it up to something tangible, but it wasn’t the grand find they had both hoped for.
He still had some time. He hoped. Not a lot, but it would be enough. He’d make it so.
The door swung open and Andie stood before him. She wore a casual sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing her cuff and three beaded bracelets tied together with thick orange string. Her cheeks were flushed and she blew some hair off of her face. “Hi, sorry, I’m not much of a baker normally, so I’m on the hunt for my grater. Come in.”
She turned and headed into her unit and he followed, depositing his bag on her kitchen table. He found Andie in the corner of her living room, on her hands and knees, rummaging in a box. Her jeans-covered rear up in the air, calling him to the soft curves on display.
Leo swallowed and forced his gaze away, realizing the box had been stored under a desk. A very old desk. One that had seen better days, but no doubt was worth something.
Andie leaned back on her heels. “Aha! I found it!” She held up a red grater, smiling wide.
He was too caught up in the desk. A spinet, in what appeared to be solid mahogany. He’d guess from around the early twentieth century, based on other items he’d worked with. “That’s a nice desk.” His manners forgotten, he walked over, brushing a hand along the ornate detailing. If this had been Dean’s curbside find, they’d be guaranteed their win.
“Oh, yeah. That belonged to my mom.”
Leo faced her and saw the sentimental look on her face. “Then it’s more valuable than whatever I could get it appraised for.”
Andie smiled. “Not with all the nicks in the wood. Or the leg being propped up with a book and duct tape. Or the drawer that has been fused shut for so long I keep forgetting it’s supposed to open.”
Leo studied the item, and all of Andie’s complaints. Sure, the wood had yellowed with age and had the markings of many mugs and cups. He’d bet his salary that it had been cleaned with chemicals that caused more damage than good, but he knew better than to get into that argument now. Still, the piece looked solid and he knew a few things about restoration. Perhaps a concern for a regular person, but he wasn’t regular, not when antiques were involved. “I could fix it.”
Andie laughed and headed to her kitchen. “That’s sweet, but I’m okay.”
He followed her. “I mean it. This is what I do. I can fix it for you.”
She faced him, brown eyes large and wide. “I’m sure I can’t afford you.”
“I’m not asking you to pay me. Let me do this for you, as a parting gift.” He wanted it to be a gift to bring them closer together, to show her how he cared, not to send her off into her next adventure. But he could do this one thing, for this moment in time. He needed to leave her with some piece of him, as foolish as that felt.
She didn’t have a family anymore and she was more than worthy of one. He wanted to fix that. Restoring her desk, bringing back this part of her mother, that he could do. He’d used that excuse to cover up this foreign feeling of wanting someone so deeply, like he felt for Andie. It was just the years of longing, that’s all it could be.
“I don’t part with valuable items lightly.”
He placed a hand on his heart. “I won’t let anything happen to it. Except for bringing it back to its former glory. Stronger, so it can withstand the trip and won’t need a book to stand upright. Only if you promise me to stop using whatever you’ve been using to clean it.”
Andie bit her lip, eyes on her desk. “It would be nice to have it look as good as it means to me.” She turned to him. “Are you blaming my cleaner?”
“I’m …” Crap, there was no way around this. “Yes. In part. Not fully. I’ll get you something that won’t damage it.”
“Are you sure?”
He smiled. “It would be an honor to work on an item like that.”
She gave a quick nod. “Well, okay then.” She held out a finger. “If anything happens to it—”
He took a step closer and wrapped his hand around her finger. “I will guard this with my life.” He wanted to kiss her finger, even with the slight red dye lingering under her pink nail. Instead, he let her go.
“Thank you.”
“I believe I have a cook-off to win.”
Andie laughed, the heavy moment lightening. “Oh, I don’t think so, Mister.” She gestured to the outside windows where the sky had begun to darken. “But aren’t you forgetting something?”
“Latke cook-off by candlelight?”
“The best kind of cook-off.”
They lit the candles and said the prayers, and soon four teal candles and the shamash cast half the menorah in the glow of the flames. Leo watched the lights flicker across Andie’s face, bringing out the pink in her cheeks, and in that moment, nothing else mattered.
“It never gets old. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching the candles burn.”
I don’t think I’ll ever tire of watching you in the glow of candlelight . “It does hold a special kind of magic.” His phone chimed. “Speaking of magic, that is probably my niece, who thinks my new menorah is magic.”
Andie looked away from the candles. “Really?”
“There’s some Hebrew writing on it, we think the translation is ‘miracles happen everywhere.’ And she’s a precocious ten-year-old.”
Andie moved toward the kitchen and Leo followed. “What kind of magic?” Andie reached for a bag of potatoes.
“Light the candles and make a wish type of magic.”
Leo’s phone chimed again.
“Is she asking what you wished for?”
Leo debated his answer, but decided on honesty being the best policy, nieces excluded. “She’s checking on my previous wish and wants to know how my date with my neighbor is going.”
Andie paused with a potato in her hands and Leo realized he took honesty one step too far.
He scratched his neck, trying to get his foot out of his mouth. “I, uh, might have talked about you often.”
“So what does your niece think?”
His phone chimed again, and he held up a finger to check on it.
Millie: Happy 4th Night!
Millie: Did you make another wish?
Millie: How’s your date going?!?!
Leo held up his phone for Andie to see.
Andie’s laughter filled the air. “Oh, she really is a handful.”
“That she is.” His phone chimed again.
Millie: Is she coming to the Chanukah party? She should come!
“More of your niece?” Andie asked.
Leo nodded and quickly fired back a response.
Leo: Happy Chanukah. No. Good. I don’t think so.
“She wants you to join me in volunteering for the Hebrew School Chanukah party tomorrow night.”
“I see. And what do you want?”
He put his phone on the table. “I want this holiday with you. And if you would enjoy Millie’s Chanukah party, then I’d be honored for you to join me.”
“I guess we better get cooking latkes so I can judge your skills.”
“So you’ll only go if I win?”
Andie turned on the water to rinse a potato. He stepped closer to hear her over the faucet sounds. “Or if I win. You’ll have to take the gamble.”
Leo laughed and began emptying his bag. “Just so you know, in case you do meet Millie, she thinks I made the wish last night and this is our first date.”
Andie turned off the water and patted the potato dry. “She wastes no time, does she?”
“No, she does not.”
Andie took in his supplies, a note of surprise on her face. “Sweet potato latkes?”
Leo nodded. “Are you up for a challenge, Andie?”
“On that, you are on.”
“I can’t believe we have dueling burners going on!”
Andie laughed as two very different batches of latkes sizzled, spurts of oil jumping out and attacking any arm within reaching distance.
“You did say this was a cook-off, didn’t you?”
Leo grinned at her. His shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, even with the threat of oil stings. His sturdy arms were dusted with hair, and Andie hadn’t realized how one could drool over a forearm before.
The kitchen had two areas prepped with paper towels and were nearly filled with warm oily potato pancakes. The smells filled the air, of oil and potatoes, onions, and the sweet cinnamon Leo used on his.
“I never expected this to be a savory-versus-sweet competition as well.” Andie flipped her last latke, golden side up, sizzling side down.
Leo turned off his burner. “Now is probably not the time to mention where this recipe came from.”
“Oh?” Andie shifted her attention from her latkes to Leo.
His cheeks sported a blush that had nothing to do with the heat in the kitchen. “High school girlfriend. I think she’s a chef in a five-star restaurant now.”
Andie moved a latke to the paper towel. “Oh, so now you tell me your recipe has won awards or something?”
He smiled, bringing his skillet over to settle his last few pancakes to cool. “I can safely say this will be the first thing I’ll win with the recipe.” His eyes found hers. “If I win.”
Andie turned off her burner and got the last of her batch cooling. “And the high school girlfriend?”
“I’m not sure how far her latkes took her, but I never made it quite as good.”
Andie laughed and tore off a piece of one of the first ones Leo cooked. She blew on the still warm latke, then popped it in her mouth. Sweet potatoes, cinnamon, and that classic latke feel exploded on her tongue. “Oh my.” She closed her eyes, savoring the rest as she chewed.
“I don’t need to win, watching you is my reward.”
Her eyes popped open, finding him standing there, attention full on her, and suddenly she wanted to taste a different type of sweet. “It’s good,” she managed to whisper.
He stepped closer to her and reached past to grab a piece of one of her latkes. He didn’t close his eyes as he chewed like she did, but a smile lit his face.
“This is delicious.”
Somehow, she wondered if he had other things than the latkes in mind. She certainly did.
“I’m not sure how we choose a winner here.”
He held out a hand. “A tie. Or yours is the best savory, mine is the best sweet.”
She chuckled, placing her hand in his. “I guess those work.”
He shook her hand once, then tugged, sending her stumbling into him. “I bet you taste delicious as well.” Her pulse kicked and he loosened his grip. “Sorry, that was probably—”
She placed a finger on his mouth, cutting him off. They stared at each other and she cataloged his face, the hint of stubble, the way it gathered a little thicker under his bottom lip. Then she pushed up on her toes and meshed her mouth to his.
He kissed her back, slick and sweet, a shared breath. His arm snaked around her waist, holding her closer but not trapping her, his lips pressing firmer. He tasted like Chanukah, and like something much more potent, better than the best latkes she’d ever tasted.
Andie wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed in close, and opened just enough to take the kiss from sweet to smoking. His hand bunched in the fabric of her shirt, and her internal burner came to life.
Leo lightened the kiss, then put some air between them. He smoothed back a lock of her hair. “Forget the tie, your lips win.”
Andie laughed and pulled away, grabbing two plates. “I’ll take the win.” She handed him a plate.
“So does that mean you’ll join me tomorrow for the school Chanukah party?”
They grabbed a few of each latke and settled at her table. “Depends.” She sat down and grabbed a fork.
Leo joined her. “On?”
“Whether or not there will be more kisses.”
“Andie, for you, take all the kisses you want.”
She leaned forward and did just that.