Chapter Twenty-Four
When Sonya came back in, she didn’t find Cleo in the kitchen. But she saw the top oven light on, and a bowl inside covered with a cloth.
Curious, she opened the oven door, peeked under the cloth. Then looked down at Yoda.
“Best guess? This is bread dough. Why it’s in an oven, that’s not turned on, but the light is, I can’t say.”
After she closed the oven door again, she got out a beef stick for Yoda. Like a very good boy, he sat, took it politely, then ran wildly away to enjoy it.
Grabbing a Coke for herself, she headed back to the library.
In just under an hour, Cleo came down from her studio.
“Kitchen duty?”
“It’s time to punch down the bread dough. If it did what it’s supposed to do. And I’m going to get the sauce on for the lasagna.”
“Sounds like kitchen duty to me.”
Sonya rose to join her.
“I can handle it if you’re in the middle of something.”
“I’m in a good spot. I picked up another book cover job, and I want to think about that one anyway. How come the dough’s in the oven with the light on?”
“It said that’s a good rising temperature. Now I punch it down, it rests a bit, then I divide it into three, let it rise again.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I’m just doing what I’m told. It’s science, and that’s not my area.”
“Mine either. You don’t have to know anything about carburetors or manifolds to drive a car. I don’t even know exactly what they are. Any movement upstairs?”
“Not a sound. Usually there’s some banging or bumping, but it’s dead—get it?—dead quiet.”
She gave Sonya an elbow bump as they walked into the kitchen. “You knocked her flat.”
“I did, but honestly, I think the laughing was the knockout punch. Bullies hate being laughed at.”
Cleo took the bowl out of the oven, set it on the counter. Crossed her fingers, and removed the cloth.
“Look at that!”
Sonya did. “It’s a lot bigger than when I looked.”
“Now I do this.” Cleo balled a fist, punched it into the dough. “Strangely satisfying. Now while it sits, maybe recovering from the shock, you can mince the garlic for the sauce. I’m going out for herbs. Oh, and I’m baking a cake,” Cleo added as she started outside. “I need a Bundt pan.”
By this time in her life as kitchen assistant, Sonya considered herself an excellent garlic mincer.
When Cleo came back in, Sonya looked up. “You didn’t say how many cloves.”
Cleo took a look at the tidy minced pile on the cutting board. “One more. Great, you found the Bundt pan.”
“I didn’t…” Sonya saw the pan on the counter. “I didn’t put that there, and that wasn’t there, which still gives me a little wow. But thanks, I guess that would be Molly.”
“She’s a time-saver.” Cleo washed her herbs, set them out on a towel to dry. “Okay, dough first. You’re not supposed to tear it, but cut it in three. Don’t ask me why. They make a tool for it, but until I have it, a good sharp knife does the trick.”
She lifted the dough onto another cutting board, and to Sonya’s eye looked at the pile of it with genuine affection.
“Slice it through,” Cleo murmured as she worked, “roll each into a kind of ball, and back in the bowl. One, two, three. Cover, and back in to rise.”
Once done, she set the timer.
“After this time, I shape them into like long footballs, put them on a greased, cornmeal-dusted baking pan, and let them rise again.”
“Three times?”
“Yeah, how does it know to do that? It’s fascinating.”
After getting out a pot, she added olive oil, swished it around, then set it on the stove, turned on the heat.
“And I really liked the whole kneading process. It’s meditative. You should try it.”
“Maybe. Someday. With adult supervision.”
In the butler’s pantry, Cleo chose a bottle of red, opened it for the sauce.
“Nice mincing, by the way.”
“I do have that skill.”
“Use your skill on the herbs now. Chop ’em up.”
Cleo added the garlic to the hot oil, gave it a stir.
She couldn’t claim fascination, but found it nice, very nice, to chop up herbs they’d grown themselves, to spend some time with Cleo.
She stopped to let them out when both cat and dog wandered to the door. And that? Also nice. Having a dog, a cat, a big yard with the late summer/early fall flowers blooming.
“Herb time, Son.”
“Coming right at you.”
She brought over the board where she’d carefully chopped herbs into tidy, separate piles, then looked in the pot where the sauce simmered gently.
“Well, wow, that looks great.”
Cleo swept all the neat piles together in the pot, stirred. “Now it looks even better. You know you can make the sauce from actual tomatoes instead of tomato paste. I’m just not ready to go that far. Yet.”
Sonya’s phone signaled a text.
It’s Hogan—Lotions and Potions.
It’s awesome! All the way extra. Go live!
Give me five minutes. Stand by.
“Got the seal of approval. I need to go up, go live with the website. Be right back.”
“Take your time.”
By the time she got back, Cleo had the stand mixer going and had started on her bread dough footballs.
“All right, fascination is beginning.”
“Want to do one?”
“Well, maybe. Yeah, actually.”
Sonya washed her hands, came back, and picked up a dough ball. After a study of the shape Cleo formed, she started.
“I actually consider Hogan the primary client, which makes him my youngest client ever. I’m thinking of offering him an internship next summer. Depending on how the business goes.”
“I think that’s a great idea. You’ve got this. I need to get back to the cake batter. You know you could do that every year with a high school or college student.”
“That’s a thought.” Pleased with it, Sonya set the second football on the pan. “And I like it better than a full-time assistant. I really like working alone. Which is strange, I guess, since I loved working in an office, with a team. The structure,” she said as she formed the third loaf.
“You’ve made your own structure.”
As she formed a bread dough football, Sonya gave herself a mental pat on the back.
“Looks like I did. And I honestly think I’m more creative on my own. I really like bouncing around from little jobs like Hogan’s, to solid accounts like Baby Mine, and hey, let’s do a book cover, or bag ourselves a major, national client like Ryder Sports.
“You’re the same.”
“Completely. And thanks to Collin Poole, and you, I’ve got more freedom than ever. Taking the summer off to paint?”
Cleo paused to smile and sigh. “Just paint what I wanted, when I wanted? I can’t tell you how that pumped me, and at the same time relaxed me.”
“Under two weeks till your show.”
“And I’m ready for it. It’ll be fun. Those go in the lower oven now. I’m preheating the top for the cake. Just set the timer for twenty minutes for this last rising. It needs thirty, but I want to take it out for the last ten to preheat that oven.”
Sonya carried the loaves over. “There’s a bowl of water in here on the second shelf.”
“It needs the steam when I bake them. And no, I don’t know exactly why. I didn’t want to forget, so I stuck it in there.”
“Twenty minutes. Done. What else can I do?”
“Go ahead and spray the stuff in the cake pan. And you could get out the cooling rack for the bread. Oh, and you could go out, pick a couple of tomatoes, get some basil.”
“Sure. What for?”
“I’m going to slice the tomatoes, put basil on them, then drizzle them with olive oil and some pepper. You could just put the basil in some water till I’m ready. It’ll save me a trip.”
“I’m here to serve.”
She sprayed the pan, got the rack.
“Are you done with the measuring cups and all that?”
“I am now.”
Sonya carried them to the sink on the way outside.
Still marveling they’d actually grown them, she plucked two fat red tomatoes, snipped basil. Sniffing both, she took them inside.
She put the basil in water. “Next?”
“You’re relieved of duty.”
“If you’re sure, I’m going down to start poking in the basement.”
Carefully pouring batter into the pan, Cleo paused and looked up. “Really?”
“I said I was in a good place, workwise. I’m going to take an hour or so to get started down there.”
“Let me put the cake in, and I’ll go down with you.”
“Cleo, you’ve got bread, sauce, cake. Your current mode is kitchen goddess. And I’ll be fine.”
To prove it, Sonya squared her shoulders.
“She’s got one room. I’m not giving her any more. Plus, she’s up there sulking or brooding or whatever she does. And I have my phone.”
“Clover’s going with you. Right, Clover?”
She instantly answered with Bruno Mars and “Count on Me.”
“See? Not alone. I’m taking a sketch pad.” Sonya pulled open a drawer for one, took a pencil. “I’m going to take a good look at the area where we want that game room. Sketch out a basic layout.”
To placate a little more, Sonya went to the back door. Yoda romped across the yard and into the house, and Pye followed at her leisure.
“I’ll take them with me, too.”
“All right. When the bread’s done, I’m coming down to check. I might have some ideas about the game room.”
“Fair enough.”
When the oven timer dinged, Sonya walked over. “Take them out, right?”
“And set the temp to 450.”
She set the baking sheet on the counter, set the oven.
“I have to peek.” Then lifted the cloth. “They puffed up!”
Now Cleo had to look. “They really did! Before I put them in to bake, I score them three times diagonally across the top. I don’t know why.”
“They look fat and fantastic. I’m loving this celebration dinner. Just text if you need any more help.”
“Everything is under control. I’ll be there in about a half hour.”
She waited until Sonya had walked out. “You tell me, Clover, if I need to go before that.”
Sonya checked herself at the door before going down.
Not afraid, she decided. Really just not afraid.
Downstairs, she made herself go into the gym, walk around. She wouldn’t give up the room, wouldn’t let Dobbs ruin it for her.
Studying the line of exercise bands, she stepped closer, reached out.
Pulled back.
“Okay, we’ll work on that.”