at Tasha. “My wife left me.”
Tasha’s thoughts drifted to her own break up. Though she and Roger had not yet married, for a time she was inconsolable. No wonder poor Mr. Cho looked so crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Thank you.” He nodded once and looked back to Jim as if it were still too difficult to dwell on.
“So,” Jim began, in an obvious effort to change the subject. “I take it your roof held up okay under that storm.”
Mr. Cho’s expression changed in a blink. He smiled. “Oh, yes, yes. No leaks for me. Of course, I always check my roof in summer. Wouldn’t want to have to climb up on a wet roof in the middle of a storm!” He laughed heartily, stopped abruptly, and looked at Tasha. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Tasha said. “I’m heading to work now. It was nice to meet you, Jim, and to see you again, Mr. Cho.” They both nodded but stayed rooted, as if they had plans to discuss her roof—or whatever—awhile longer.
She bent to give Courtney a pat, but decided against it when the animal whined and pulled away.
“She’s cranky today,” said Mr. Cho.
Just today?
With one more wave to the two men, Tasha drove off down the hill. At camp, on her way up the back steps to the kitchen, Jeremy’s whistle broke through her thoughts. She stopped, her hand resting on the railing. She knew he was full of hot air—she’d learned of his reputation in a very short time—but no one had ever directed a catcall her way. At least not to her knowledge. Certainly not her ex-fiancé.
“Wanna hold the door there, beautiful?”
She was halfway inside but stopped and held open the creaky wooden door. “Such a flirt,” she said.
“It’s not flirting if ya mean it,” he said with a wink.
Tasha’s mouth opened as if to say something pithy, but she couldn’t think of a thing. Instead, she stood there in the mudroom of the kitchen, her mouth frozen open, as Jeremy darted off to his next stop.
“He’s trouble with a capital T, my friend!”
Tasha shot a look through the open doorway to where Lorena stood with one arm in a sling, and the other stirring a pot of something with steam rising from it. “Wait! Let me do that!” She rushed over and took the spoon from Lorena, realizing with a sudden start that she’d forgotten to wear her apron. Strange. She hadn’t noticed it hanging by the front door where she’d normally left it.
“I still have one good hand, you know,” Lorena said, interrupting her detached musings.
Tasha gave the pot of beans a good stir, breathing in the smoky aroma of bacon. “Yes, and we need to keep that one safe. Thought you were coming in late today.” She gave Lorena a frown.
“Couldn’t sleep. Not complaining, but I noticed that I’m a lot slower at home with this thing on my arm.” She shrugged. “Figured I might as well get up here and get a head start. Kids’ll be here by noon.”
Tasha bit her lip, figuratively, at least. Lorena would probably smack her with a spoon if she expressed her regret one more time, so instead, she’d shown up here early herself as a sort of penance. For the next three hours, she followed Lorena’s instructions, making hot dogs with all the fixins for eighty campers. Several counselors joined in the fun and prepped tables with napkins, silverware, and condiments. And when lunch was over, Tasha herself instructed the kids to “scrape, stack, and sort” before leaving their tables when lunch was over.
She stuck around and did it all over again at dinnertime. By the time she collapsed in her car after work, she had splotches of every edible color on her clothes—and she smelled worse. She started up her car, letting it idle, and put on the air conditioner. True, the air outside was much too cool to need A/C, but she sort of hoped the circulation of air would help dissipate some of the smells. As she sat there, allowing that flowing air to hit her, she checked her email.
One from Marylu, the welcome
Tasha’s thoughts drifted to her own break up. Though she and Roger had not yet married, for a time she was inconsolable. No wonder poor Mr. Cho looked so crestfallen. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“Thank you.” He nodded once and looked back to Jim as if it were still too difficult to dwell on.
“So,” Jim began, in an obvious effort to change the subject. “I take it your roof held up okay under that storm.”
Mr. Cho’s expression changed in a blink. He smiled. “Oh, yes, yes. No leaks for me. Of course, I always check my roof in summer. Wouldn’t want to have to climb up on a wet roof in the middle of a storm!” He laughed heartily, stopped abruptly, and looked at Tasha. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” Tasha said. “I’m heading to work now. It was nice to meet you, Jim, and to see you again, Mr. Cho.” They both nodded but stayed rooted, as if they had plans to discuss her roof—or whatever—awhile longer.
She bent to give Courtney a pat, but decided against it when the animal whined and pulled away.
“She’s cranky today,” said Mr. Cho.
Just today?
With one more wave to the two men, Tasha drove off down the hill. At camp, on her way up the back steps to the kitchen, Jeremy’s whistle broke through her thoughts. She stopped, her hand resting on the railing. She knew he was full of hot air—she’d learned of his reputation in a very short time—but no one had ever directed a catcall her way. At least not to her knowledge. Certainly not her ex-fiancé.
“Wanna hold the door there, beautiful?”
She was halfway inside but stopped and held open the creaky wooden door. “Such a flirt,” she said.
“It’s not flirting if ya mean it,” he said with a wink.
Tasha’s mouth opened as if to say something pithy, but she couldn’t think of a thing. Instead, she stood there in the mudroom of the kitchen, her mouth frozen open, as Jeremy darted off to his next stop.
“He’s trouble with a capital T, my friend!”
Tasha shot a look through the open doorway to where Lorena stood with one arm in a sling, and the other stirring a pot of something with steam rising from it. “Wait! Let me do that!” She rushed over and took the spoon from Lorena, realizing with a sudden start that she’d forgotten to wear her apron. Strange. She hadn’t noticed it hanging by the front door where she’d normally left it.
“I still have one good hand, you know,” Lorena said, interrupting her detached musings.
Tasha gave the pot of beans a good stir, breathing in the smoky aroma of bacon. “Yes, and we need to keep that one safe. Thought you were coming in late today.” She gave Lorena a frown.
“Couldn’t sleep. Not complaining, but I noticed that I’m a lot slower at home with this thing on my arm.” She shrugged. “Figured I might as well get up here and get a head start. Kids’ll be here by noon.”
Tasha bit her lip, figuratively, at least. Lorena would probably smack her with a spoon if she expressed her regret one more time, so instead, she’d shown up here early herself as a sort of penance. For the next three hours, she followed Lorena’s instructions, making hot dogs with all the fixins for eighty campers. Several counselors joined in the fun and prepped tables with napkins, silverware, and condiments. And when lunch was over, Tasha herself instructed the kids to “scrape, stack, and sort” before leaving their tables when lunch was over.
She stuck around and did it all over again at dinnertime. By the time she collapsed in her car after work, she had splotches of every edible color on her clothes—and she smelled worse. She started up her car, letting it idle, and put on the air conditioner. True, the air outside was much too cool to need A/C, but she sort of hoped the circulation of air would help dissipate some of the smells. As she sat there, allowing that flowing air to hit her, she checked her email.
One from Marylu, the welcome
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