17. Alex
17
ALEX
I have a new morning routine, thanks to Nora.
Now, instead of chugging a bottled protein shake for breakfast on my way out the door, I make myself a smoothie bowl with lots of toppings. The second video we recorded after the salmon we made last week was a thick tropical green smoothie with orange juice and frozen pineapple masking the spinach and avocado flavors. When she poured it into a bowl and sprinkled coconut flakes and sliced almonds on top, I was skeptical. But I should know better than to doubt her by now. It was almost like eating healthy sherbet, and I have officially adopted it as a favorite for breakfast or as an after-dinner treat to satisfy my enormous sweet tooth. I’ve eaten it six separate times now, and I don’t think I’ll get tired of it any time soon.
Today is Saturday, and she’s coming over mid-morning for a full day of recording videos. She says we’re going to make some recipes that take a little longer this time and I’m excited about it. I also plan to ask for her help with an adjacent project: Operation Impress My Family with Really Good Homemade Food, or OIMFWRGHF for short.
My confidence in the kitchen has been growing steadily, to the point where I did a thing yesterday. Last night when Maddy called to check on me—something she does about once a week because she takes her role as the oldest sibling seriously—I impulsively volunteered to host a Fourth of July blowout at my house next week. Maddy sounded dubious, but I persisted when she asked if I was sure.
“Sure I’m sure. You don’t even have to do a thing except show up. I’ll take care of all the food and everything. The kids can play in the pool, and you can just relax.”
I then proceeded to text Grant and extend the same invitation to him and Annie. I was met with patent incredulity that only doubled my resolve. I will make this the best Independence Day cookout they’ve ever attended. I want my brother and sister to be miserable with guilt over their underestimation of my abilities. I want Grant to cringe in shame when he remembers how he laughed and said, “I’ll make sure to eat before I come.”
The thing is, I’m actually not even mad. My track record for being capable of something like planning a big celebration warrants their skepticism, which is to say that I’ve never even attempted such a thing in all my twenty-seven years. I’ve always been the guy who contributes a bottle of soda or a package of pre-made cookies at family gatherings, so I’ll extend them some grace in their doubt. But I’ll be a monkey’s uncle if they don’t walk away rethinking everything they know about Alexander Lockwood after this party.
But I think I’ll need a little help from Nora to pull it off.
“Why, if it isn’t my good friend Nora,” I greet her when she arrives around ten o’clock. I meet her in the driveway with an iced vanilla coffee that I made while I was waiting not-so-patiently for her. “How are you this fine weekend?”
She accepts the coffee but eyes me suspiciously. “I’m okay. You?”
“Oh, I’m great. Dandy, even.”
She narrows her eyes. “Have you been reading more comments about yourself on our videos?”
“No. Why, are there some good ones?” I make a mental note to check later.
She rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you make yourself useful and help me carry this stuff inside?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I salute and hurry to grab the first crate. “You know what, you should go inside and enjoy your coffee. I can handle this stuff.”
She looks like she has questions, but she’s too smart to turn down an offer to do all the heavy lifting, so she heads inside without argument.
“What are we making today?” I ask once I get everything inside. I notice she has her electric griddle with her again today, and I make a mental note to purchase one for myself, to make it easier to replicate the magic when she’s not here.
“Buffalo chicken quesadillas and lemon poppy seed cake cookies.”
“Nice. What can I do?”
She takes a long pull of her coffee and sets it aside. “We’re doing dessert first today so that it will be closer to lunchtime when we make the quesadillas.”
“Dessert first is my life motto,” I say cheerfully.
She smiles. “I believe that.”
“So what do you want me to do?” I repeat.
“Why don’t you set up the second tripod with your phone beside the oven so we can get shots of the cookies coming in and out. I’ll sort out these ingredients while you do that.”
We flow through our set-up and recording efficiently, falling smoothly into the grooves we’ve carved out for ourselves as we’ve worked together over the last few weeks. It feels like the chemistry we have on-screen continues to grow as we become more comfortable with each other, the playful banter flowing easily as I follow her instructions for the cake mix cookies.
“The first thing you’ll want to do is add the poppy seeds to the cake mix,” Nora tells me. “You need two teaspoons.”
“Right, two teaspoons.” I pop the top open on the tiny jar of seeds and tip it into the spoon. The seeds pour out much faster than I expected, however, and Nora leaps back with a yelp as the tiny grey balls overflow the spoon and rain down on her feet.
“Oops.” I grimace, setting aside the jar. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s okay, messes are part of cooking,” Nora says, looking back and forth between me and the camera with an amused smile. “The lesson to be learned here is to measure over the bowl. Go ahead and add those to the mix.” She points at the full teaspoon in my hand.
We keep rolling through the rest of the steps, ignoring the sandy crunch of poppy seeds being pulverized beneath our feet as best we can. I hope the sound doesn’t come through in the video. Finally, I slide the cookies into the oven, and Nora hits the button to stop recording.
“Thank goodness.” Nora drops straight to the floor. “I couldn’t take it anymore.” She pulls off her ballet flat and dumps poppy seeds out in a little pile with a little sigh of relief.
“Sorry about that,” I say again, shaking my head with a rueful smile. “Guess I know what I’ll be doing while we wait on those cookies.”
“Sweeping?” Nora says with a laugh. “You got that right.”
I start off with the broom, but quickly switch to the vacuum when I realize that sweeping is just spreading them out. It takes me far longer than I would have anticipated to track down all the tiny seeds—and I’m positive I didn’t get them all. I’ll probably still be finding seeds here and there for the next year.
But the important thing is the cookies turned out great, despite my clumsiness. They are pillowy soft with a burst of lemon flavor, like clouds of citrus delight. Nora won’t let me have more than one until we make the second recipe, which turns out just as good as the first—better if you take into account that I don’t spill anything this time. The quesadillas are perfectly golden brown and crispy, with a hint of heat from the buffalo sauce that plays well with the cool blue cheese dressing we dip them in. It’s the most satisfying meal I’ve had since the last time she was here.
Nora is in a particularly good mood today, buoyed by the still-rising views and subscribers on our channel. I do my best to feed into her happiness with generous coffee refills and copious compliments, as well as an update on the progress I’ve made designing her website. I have a few more tweaks to make, and then it will be ready to go live with copies of all the recipes we’ve recorded so far. She seems happy, oohing and ahhing over the sample screenshots I show her on my phone.
As we clean up after lunch, I decide it’s a good time to broach the topic that’s been in the back of my mind all morning. I glance over at her from where I’m loading the dishwasher.
“Hey, so I have a question for you.”
She doesn’t look up from wiping down her griddle. “Shoot.”
“Actually, I guess you’d say it’s more of a favor.”
Now she looks at me, interested. “What kind of favor?”
“Well, I might have gotten a little carried away the other night and invited my brother and sister and their families to my house for a Fourth of July party.”
“Okay...”
“And the thing is, I really want to impress them. I’ve never hosted something like this before, and they think I’m just their kid brother and that I can’t do it, so I want to stick it to them. In the nicest possible way, of course, because my nieces and nephews will be here.”
“Of course,” she agrees, pressing her lips together like she’s on the verge of laughter. “But what does that have to do with me?”
“I need help planning the food,” I admit. “I want to cook everything myself, but I don’t know what to make. I was hoping you could help me pick some easy foods that I can handle.”
“Sure, I can help with that. Do you have any idea that you want to start with?” She sets the clean griddle next to the empty crate to be carried to her car.
I rinse and dry my hands, then lean against the counter. “I was thinking burgers because grilling on the Fourth feels mandatory. But I don’t know what else.”
“Okay, how about…” I can see the gears turning and I can’t wait to hear what she comes out with. “How about salads? Not lettuce salads, but the other kind. Like potato salad, fruit salad, tomato salad. Those are all dishes you can prepare ahead of time, and they’re cool and refreshing in the heat of summer.”
I rub my chin. That does sound pretty good. The heat and humidity in Nashville can be pretty rough this time of year. The shade and fan on the patio, along with the option to dip into the pool will keep it manageable, but having the right food will help too.
I nod. “I like it. And you think those are easy enough for my meager cooking skills?”
“Your skills aren’t bad.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “You’re learning and getting better and better. So yes, I think you can handle those no problem.”
“Aw shucks,” I say with a grin and an exaggerated Southern accent.
She ignores me and continues. “Then for dessert, I’m thinking a tres leches cake. It’s super easy but so good, and it’s cool and refreshing so it fits your theme.”
I’m liking this menu more and more. “So that’s a meat, veggies, fruit, and dessert. Sounds like a well-rounded meal to me. Where do I find recipes for this stuff? Google?”
“Google is a good resource, but not as good as me.” She winks and my heart flips. “I have recipes for all of those that I can send you. I’ll do it tonight so you have a few days to look over them and ask me any questions you might have.”
“Thank you so much,” I say sincerely. “I’ll definitely owe you one. You’re like a kitchen fairy, making my food wishes come true.”
She laughs. “I wouldn’t go that far. Just a friend helping a friend.”
“Hey,” I say, a thought occurring to me. “You should come. I mean, if you don’t already have plans for the Fourth.”
“I’m working until three, but I’m free after that.”
“That’s perfect because I told Grant and Maddy to be here at four. We’ll have all evening to hang out and eat, and then we can watch the fireworks. You can actually see the ones on the Cumberland River pretty clearly from my backyard.”
“That sounds great, but…will that be weird? It’ll just be your family, right?”
“Yeah, but they won’t mind if I include a friend. And I promise they aren’t that bad.”
“I’ve already met them at book club, remember? I’m not worried that I won’t like them. I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
I frown. “The wrong idea about what?”
“About us. What if they think we’re seeing each other because you invited me? Won’t we look like a couple if I’m the only non-relative there?”
“I mean, they already know we’re friends,” I say, unsure why she’s concerned. Would it really be so bad if people did think I was her boyfriend? “Annie was there when we met, remember? And they see our videos together.”
“Yes, but that’s all in a professional capacity. We’ve never just hung out, especially with other people.”
“If it’s important to you, we’ll make sure they know we’re just friends. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”
“It just seems like a big leap. I hope they don’t jump to any conclusions.”
She looks stressed with her wide eyes and pinched lips, though I still don’t all the way understand why. “Sleepy kitty.”
She freezes and blinks for several seconds before her face softens. “You’re right. I’m overthinking this. You’re a good friend to invite me, and I don’t have any plans, so I’ll be there.” She nods as if to confirm it with herself.
“Wow,” I say with a wide smile. “I wasn’t expecting that to work so well.”
She gives me a withering look. “Just you wait. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until I get to say ‘armadillo’.”