Chapter 3
Maria’s kitchen is small but incredibly cozy.
It’s about half the size of our kitchen.
Maybe even less. But that makes sense, since Maria’s house is about half the size of ours or maybe even less.
But the kitchen suits her. It’s small, no-frills, and everything seems very well organized.
I appreciate a well-organized kitchen. I even have an episode on the secrets to a well-organized kitchen.
“How do you take your coffee?” Maria asks as she gets the coffee machine going. “I’ve got milk and sugar.”
Maria’s coffee machine looks like the one my mother had when I was a little kid.
It’s old-school. She pours coffee grounds into a little filter and flips a switch to turn it on.
I have to admit, I’m very particular about my coffee.
A year ago, I bought a machine that makes espressos and cappuccinos right in the comfort of my own kitchen.
It was not cheap, but I justified it as a business expense by doing an episode of Sweet Secrets about the secret to making the perfect cappuccino.
The secret, in case you were wondering, is using ice-cold milk right out of the refrigerator to make the perfect foam. (And also purchasing a five-hundred-dollar cappuccino machine.)
“Milk and sugar would be great, thanks,” I say. I glance out the window at our own house, clearly visible across the way. I left the lights on in the kitchen. “Actually, I made some brownies for you guys. I’ll bring them by later.”
I’ll give her the brownies from my show today. I’ll make something else for Carrie tomorrow.
Maria’s eyes light up. “Owen would love that. I am hopeless in the kitchen, especially when it comes to baking.”
“I’ve always been pretty good at baking,” I say. “I have a little YouTube show about it.”
“Oh, I know!” When I look at her in surprise, Maria’s cheeks flush. “Sorry, a few people mentioned to me that you’ve got the show, and I watched it the other day. You’re sort of a celebrity around here, you know!”
Now it’s my turn to blush. “Am I?”
She nods eagerly. “The show is great. I tried to make your homemade chocolate chip cookies, but I’m so hopeless, they came out terrible.”
She rifles around in the refrigerator, looking for the milk.
I can’t help but crane my neck to look over her shoulder.
I know it sounds silly, but I am very curious about other people’s refrigerators.
Maybe it’s because I love to cook so much.
I feel like the inside of a person’s refrigerator tells you a lot about them.
For example, Maria’s refrigerator is just like the rest of her house.
It’s small and neat, without much inside, but very well organized.
I spy a few pieces of fruit in the crisper, a container of milk, orange juice, a loaf of bread, and some cold cuts.
I suppose they’re the sort of family that gets takeout a lot.
“So what brought you out here?” I ask, as Maria removes the container of milk from her fridge. I quickly peek at the expiration date—she’s got two more days.
She glances at the coffee machine. It’s still churning. “Our last apartment was in a terrible school district. There was a lot of bullying at the school, and nobody seemed to care. We wanted something better for Owen.”
I nod eagerly. “The schools are amazing here. Owen will love it. What grade is he in?”
“Second grade.”
I do my best to hide my surprise—based on his size, I thought for sure Owen was in first grade or maybe even kindergarten. “Same as Bobby! Who is his teacher?”
“Mrs. Reynolds.”
My heart leaps in my chest. “That’s amazing! That’s Bobby’s teacher. They’re in the same class!”
Maria clutches her chest. “That’s wonderful. I’ve been so nervous about Owen making friends, but it seems like he and Bobby are getting along great.”
This is incredible. I was hoping to have a neighbor that I could be more friendly with than elderly Mrs. Kirkland, but I didn’t dream of getting a neighbor with a little boy Bobby’s age and in the same class as him.
It will be so nice for Bobby to have a friend on the block whose mother isn’t…
well, Julie. Not that I don’t love Julie, but she can be intense.
And Leo is so overbooked with after-school activities, he never has time to play.
“Are you planning to join the PTA?” I ask.
She hesitates. “I wasn’t sure. I got a flyer about a meeting this week. Do a lot of people join?”
“Oh my God, yes.” I’m embarrassed to tell her how much of my life is consumed by the PTA. But at least I’m doing work for a good cause—my kid’s school. “And Julie—she lives on the other side of you—she’s the president of the PTA this year, and she’s going to push you to join. For sure.”
A funny smile plays on Maria’s lips. “Yes, I’ve already gotten a few notes from Julie. She says she’s the…block captain?”
I groan. “Yeah, she pretty much made that up to feel important. It’s not like we voted for her or anything. At least, I didn’t. She organizes all the stuff on our block, like yard sales and the book club… That’s next Thursday, by the way, in case you want to come.”
“Yes, I saw the book was almost six hundred pages. That seems a bit…challenging.”
I lift a shoulder. “Honestly, I have no idea. We never discuss the book for more than a minute or two. We spend most of the time gossiping. Julie picks the books, and they’re always the longest, most boring books in the world.”
She laughs. “So it’s okay if I didn’t read it?”
“Heck yes. I sure haven’t.”
The coffee machine lets out an obnoxious buzzing noise that sets off a jab of pain in my left temple.
I’m already planning to buy Maria a new coffee machine for Christmas.
You can never start planning for Christmas too early.
During all of December, I usually do Christmas-themed episodes of Sweet Secrets.
Maria pours me a cup of coffee in a white mug with a little crack on the side. I pour in some milk and a few teaspoons of sugar, then take a sip. Just as I suspected—it’s awful. Barely drinkable. I’m definitely buying her a coffee machine. Something amazing. It will change her life.
Her eyebrows bunch together. “Is the coffee okay?”
“It’s fine!” I pour in a little more milk in an attempt to make it tolerable. “Delicious. But you know, the secret to a really good cup of coffee in any machine is grinding your own beans. It’s never going to taste as good if you buy coffee grounds at the supermarket.”
Maria nods politely. “Oh, okay.”
“Sorry!” I say quickly. “This coffee is fine. It’s just… This is what I do, and it’s hard to turn off the tips, you know?”
“Of course. And thanks for the tip.” Maria takes a sip of her coffee and seems to be genuinely enjoying it. Huh. “Anyway, I would love to join the PTA. I’ll just have to see if I can fit it in with my work schedule.”
“You work?” I can’t disguise the surprise in my voice. Most women in this neighborhood are stay-at-home moms. With my weekly YouTube show, I do more than most.
She flashes me a self-conscious smile. “I manage Helena’s.”
Oh my God! So that’s why she looks familiar!
She raises her eyebrows. “Have you heard of it?”
“Heard of it?” I shake my head. “I love Helena’s! Your clothes look so great on camera. I could buy the whole store, except it would wreck my profit margin.”
That’s not an exaggeration. The last time I went to Helena’s, it was a hide-the-credit-card-bill situation. They have incredible stuff, and it’s also expensive. Whenever I look at the price tags, I want to cry. It’s like a tease to admire such beautiful clothes that I can’t afford.
“Well,” Maria says, “I get a thirty percent employee discount that you’re welcome to take advantage of.”
“Are you serious?”
She nods.
Okay, this really is too good to be true. This lovely woman is my neighbor, and not only does she have a son the same age as mine, but she can get me thirty percent off at my favorite clothing store in the entire world.
“Thank you so much, Maria,” I say. “Believe me, I will pay you back in brownies. Or chocolate cake. Or scones. I make really good scones.”
She laughs, but I’m not kidding. I adore this woman. And I do make great scones. The secret is that you have to bake them close to each other. Scones like to be kissing.
I clear my throat. “So where is your husband? Is he at work?”
“Oh, no,” she says quickly, as if such a thing would be ridiculous. And it is ridiculous. I still can’t believe Elliot went to work after the scare we had. “Sean just stepped out to grab some groceries. He’ll be back soon.”
“What sort of work does he do?” I wonder if he’s a lawyer like Elliot and Julie’s husband. There are a lot of lawyers on this block. And bankers. Most of them commute into the city—I’m lucky Elliot has an office out on the island.
“He has a contracting business.” She lifts her chin. “He started it from scratch. And in the last couple of years, it’s taken off.”
As if on cue, the front door lock turns. I jerk my head around just in time to see a guy with light brown hair and a well-trimmed beard lumber into the living room holding a bag of groceries. That must be Sean.
“Daddy!” Owen screams.
He abandons his Lego creation and propels himself at his father. What follows is several minutes of pretty adorable roughhousing between father and son. Owen loves it. Bobby looks on with a crease between his eyebrows, which makes me realize that this is something Elliot never does with him.
When Sean finally disentangles himself from Owen, he looks up, and his eyes widen at the sight of me sitting in his kitchen. He clears his throat.
“Sean,” Maria says, “this is April and her son Bobby. They live next door.”