10. Nora
10
NORA
W hat a rush.
We just finished recording the taco episode Alex requested, and I can’t believe how energized I feel right now. I should be getting tired after recording two back-to-back videos, but I feel like I’m just getting started.
We’re taking a lunch break to eat the tacos we made, and Alex is groaning in delight as he starts on his third one. “These are the best tacos I’ve ever had.”
“Funny, I seem to remember you saying something similar about the pancakes earlier.” Pancakes that he positively inhaled, lending credence to his claim. He’s taking his right to eat what we make seriously.
“It was true then and it’s true now. Something about making them yourself makes them taste better, I guess.”
I smile. “I’m glad you’re satisfied with yourself and the food.”
“I am.” He pauses eating to look up at me. “You’re a really good teacher. And your food is delicious. I never would have guessed how easy it is to make chicken soft tacos instead of the regular beef hard shell ones. Not that I know how to make those, either.”
His compliment warms me and makes me glad I decided to go for something a little different. I showed him how to use a store-bought rotisserie chicken by shredding the meat and mixing it with salsa and taco seasoning. We used the same griddle as the pancakes to lightly toast small flour tortillas and topped the chicken soft tacos with sour cream, shredded cheese, and avocado slices.
Alex wipes his mouth and sits back. “So what’s the plan now?”
“Now we clean up our taco mess, and after that depends on you. Are you up for one more recipe today?”
“I’m game. Gotta have something to eat for dinner tonight.”
“I think your taco leftovers will work for that.”
“Yeah, but if we make another meal, I’ll have enough leftovers for tomorrow too. Maybe even Monday.”
I laugh. “I guess it’s good that you’re planning ahead.”
Alex stands and begins to clean up, moving dirty dishes to the sink. I stretch plastic wrap over the bowl with the leftover chicken and start piling the remaining ingredients into the fridge. An extra wide, stainless-steel model of fridge that I’ve only ever seen in magazines.
“Why did you buy a house with such a nice kitchen if you never use it?” I wonder aloud.
Alex looks up from the sink where he’s rinsing plates and bowls to go into the dishwasher and shrugs. “I use it some. Mostly the fridge and the microwave,” he admits with a smile. “But I didn’t choose this house for the kitchen. I chose it because it’s close to the neighborhood Grant and Maddy both live in and for the backyard.”
“The backyard?”
“Yeah. As soon as we finish cleaning up, I’ll take you out there.”
Minutes later, he’s drying his hands. “Come on, Ellie, time for a tour.”
“Ellie?”
“Short for Eleanora. I’m just giving it a try.”
“Nora is already short for Eleanora. Why do I need another nickname?”
He stops in front of the French doors, his hand resting on one handle. “You can never have too many nicknames.”
“What if I don’t like that one?” I put my hands on my hips
“I won’t call you that if you don’t like it. Do you?”
I frown. “I’m not sure.” Something tells me I wouldn’t like it coming from anyone else, but for some reason, it seems kind of cute when he says it.
He smirks like he knows what I’m thinking. “How about you let me know when you decide?”
“And you’ll stop calling me that if I hate it?”
“I promise.” He holds a hand over his heart.
“Maybe I should give you a nickname.”
He grins. “I wish you would. But while you’re coming up with one, how about we take that backyard tour?”
I follow him as he twists the handle and steps outside. Pulling the door closed behind me, I survey the large gazebo-covered patio. The concrete floor is stamped and stained to look like stone and a set of navy-colored outdoor furniture makes the space look cozy and welcoming. A slight breeze swirls around us, fluttering the filmy curtains tied at each post and making the ceiling fan above us spin lazily. Beyond the concrete, I can see a flat, green yard and a stone walkway leading away from the house.
“Where does this go?” I don’t wait for him to answer, opting to follow it and find out for myself. As soon as I step out of the patio, I have a clear view of the rest of the yard, including an in-ground pool, sparkling blue in the early summer sun. A tall privacy fence lined with a variety of well-kept plants surrounds the entire yard which is very generously sized for this part of Nashville.
I pause at the edge of the pool and shoot a glance at Alex trailing behind me. “Wow. I can see why you like it out here.”
“Yep, my own little piece of paradise.” For an instant, I think I detect a hint of melancholy on his face, but it goes away so quickly I think I must have imagined it. “You want to go for a swim?”
“Um, no. Not in this outfit, and I don’t have any extra clothes.”
“Maybe next time?” His expression is hopeful.
“Maybe next time,” I concede. The pool does look awfully tempting. I pull myself away. “We’d better get inside and make that last recipe.”
As we cross the patio to go back inside the house, I notice a grill in one corner and remember what Alex said about grilling. I can see why he’d like cooking outside in an outdoor oasis like this. We definitely need to record a grilled meal soon.