closer to Angela but because he wanted room to stretch his legs. Also, from this distance, without his glasses, he couldn’t see her eyes as well. Wouldn’t be so distracted.
“I’m used to it. When I worked at the lodge, I had a staff of a twenty-three in the kitchen, not to mention all my other employees out front, yet I seemed to be the one working eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. Until I had Sarah. Then it changed, at least as far as I was concerned. But not as far as the lodge was concerned. They still needed those hours from me, and I had a nice, very competent sous chef who was more than eager to step up into my position when I could no longer give them what they wanted, or needed.”
“Do you miss it?” he asked, trying hard to keep the conversation limited to neutral topics. He was too tired to argue with her right now. In his frame of mind, she’d probably win.
“Some. I mean, my duties here are so different from what they were at the lodge. I’m doing a lot of administration work and planning, as well as coordinating individual diet plans and doing consults, which means I’m not going to get to cook as much as I did. And I really love cooking. But my job here is… important. It makes a difference. Besides, I have a friend who’ll turn over her restaurant kitchen to me any time I feel the hankering to get back to my basics. Catie Lawrence, from Catie’s Overlook. Have you eaten there yet?”
“Catie knows me pretty well already,” he replied, pulling a chair up in front of the one in which he was seated then propping his legs up on it. “I’m a regular for breakfast every morning, and a semi-regular for dinner. Nice place.” Translated to mean nice place to be alone. He sat at an isolated table, didn’t have to see people or be bothered by them. It was a situation that suited him just fine since he wasn’t in White Elk to make friends, which seemed to go against the unspoken motto of just about the friendliest place he’d ever been in his life. Everybody here wanted to make friends. They radiated sincerity and caring, and he sure as heck didn’t want all that mishmash coming near him.
“White Elk is filled with nice places. But what’s good at Catie’s is that while I’m cooking, she’ll look after Sarah for me. In fact, she’s set up a little nursery in her office for whenever I stop by, or Gabby Ranard stops by with her babies.”
“You’ve been a single mom for a while?” He already knew the answer to that, but asking seemed like the next logical step in the conversation.
“He left me when he found out I was pregnant. But Sarah and I are doing pretty well without him. It wasn’t what I’d planned, but life happens, doesn’t it? When the bottom drops out of it, you replace it and start over. Being a single mom works quite nicely for both Sarah and me, and I have a lot of support here in White Elk. So, do you have any children?”
“No,” he said too quickly, too gruffly. “One marriage on the rocks, no children.” And no desire to talk about it either. Just to let her know, he folded his arms tightly across his chest, leaned his head against the chair back, and shut his eyes. This conversation had already gone much further than he’d intended, bordering on private things he didn’t get into with anybody, not even with his best friends, and he wanted to end it before it went any further. So, nothing like some nice, rigid body language to convey the message.
“You’re not very subtle, you know,” Angela said.
“About what?” he asked, instantly regretting that he had. Because asking would lead to more conversation, which he didn’t want. Not with anybody, but especially not with Angela. She made him think too hard, made him come too close to the edge of wishing for something he couldn’t let himself have. Or even dream of.
“About what you don’t want to talk about. You’re the one who brought up the subject, in case you’ve already forgotten that.”
He refused to open his eyes, refused to unfold his arms. “How did I bring up the subject?”
“You asked how long I’d been a single mom. Which led to me asking if you had children. It’s a natural flow to the conversation we were having, Mark. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’d suggest you don’t initiate the topic.”
Damn, she was a spitfire! Soon to be a thorn in his side, too, if he wasn’t careful. “I was making pleasant conversation. Not trying to bring up any particular thing. Saying the first thing about you that came to mind.” Well, that was a whopper of a lie. Over the course of the day too many things about Angela had come to mind. Things that had no business being there in the first place but, apparently, had implanted themselves pretty deeply anyway. “You know, trying to be polite.”
“Well, your definition of pleasant conversation and mine sure don’t agree, because mine doesn’t end with my conversation partner turning all grouchy on me, the way you’ve done.”
She just wasn’t going to give up. “That might be the case if I were your conversation partner. But I’m not. I’m just a doctor who came in here to put his feet up and rest for a few minutes. Not to be disturbed.”
“But—”
“Not to be disturbed,” he interrupted.
“All I was going to say was?”
“Not to be disturbed,” he repeated. Eyes still closed. Arms still folded. “Disturb. From the Latin disturbare, meaning to break up the quietness or serenity of. In other words, break up the quietness or serenity of… me!”
Rather than taking offense, Angela laughed as she pushed herself off her chair. “Look, Sarah is spending the night with her cousins since I’m getting off way past her bedtime, and I’ll be headed down to Catie’s Overlook in a while. I’m going to cook for a couple of hours, testing my recipe for Chilean sea bass puttanesca with seared fingerling potatoes. Catie’s thinking about adding it to her menu. So, if you’re not quite so disturbed by then, feel free to come and have dinner with me. My treat. Actually, you’ll be eating by yourself, but you will be eating my cooking. Which will probably suit you rather nicely, since you’ll be dining undisturbed.”
“Is that a dinner invitation?” he asked, ready to turn her down.
“As in a date for two people, no. As in, if you’re hungry, I’ll have food, yes. That’s an invitation. And normally after my Chilean sea bass puttanesca, no one stays grouchy.”
He opened his eyes to respond, to turn her down good and proper, in such a fashion that she’d leave him alone from now on, but she was already gone. Which was just as well. Because he had no intention of more interaction with Angela Blanchard, since interaction seemed to lead to… thoughts.
“Damn,” he muttered shutting his eyes, then opening them immediately, when the first image that popped into his mind was…“Damn.”
“It’s crazy,” Angela said, handing the diaper bag to her sister, who was already holding onto Sarah for dear life as the toddler struggled to get loose. Which was being encouraged by the twins, Paige and Pippa, who flanked their mother’s side, literally bouncing up and down with excitement. Six years old, and they had more energy than Angela had ever seen in any one spot. “He’s barely even nice to me, and what do I do? I invite him to Catie’s for dinner.”
“You’re cooking tonight?” Dinah asked.
“Later, after I get off work from the hospital. Trying out a recipe for her.”
“So it’s not like you two would be sitting down, having a meal together, would it?”
“The
