Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3) Page 6

  “TV. Detective shows, mostly.”

  Aimee nodded, and Edwina continued with her stream of questions. Their answers were surprisingly similar, until Edwina asked, “Ice cream or cake?”

  “Ice cream!” Frank answered promptly.

  “That’s tough,” Aimee said. “It would depend on the type.”

  “What’s your favorite flavor?” Frank asked.

  “Of ice cream? I love a good vanilla, but I’m partial to butter pecan too. What about you?”

  “Apricot custard.” At Aimee’s look of surprise, he added, “It’s my mother’s recipe.”

  “Apricot custard ice cream? I’ve never tried it.”

  “You should.”

  “Is it made with egg yolk?”

  “I’d have to get the recipe from my mother, but yes, I think so.”

  At Aimee’s urging, Frank described the process his mother used to make the custard, and the conversation soon turned to other foods. Edwina did not interrupt, just watched quietly as Aimee told how she had once made a Play-Doh birthday cake for her best friend and been disappointed when her friend wouldn’t eat it.

  Frank laughed. “So that put an end to your dream of becoming a baker?”

  “Not really,” Aimee said thoughtfully. “I still like the idea of opening my own bakery.”

  “Using real dough, I hope?”

  “Definitely! Now you have to share something you did to one of your childhood friends.”

  As the conversation continued, Edwina added a plate of cookies to the trays on the table and then quietly excused herself. Aimee and Frank hardly noticed. They continued talking until finally Aimee began to yawn.

  “Sorry, it’s not that I’m bored,” she assured him. “I just had to be at work really early this morning for the breakfast shift.”

  “I’m glad you wrote to suggest another meeting,” Frank smiled at her. “Maybe we could continue our conversation tomorrow?”

  Aimee appreciated the way he asked, hopeful but not over-confident. He was sincere and just a little shy, avoiding her eyes as he waited for her answer.

  “I’d like that.”

  Exactly on cue, Edwina reappeared at the door to the kitchen. “Did you have a good talk?” she asked as she began clearing away the trays of food Aimee and Frank had nibbled on during their talk.

  “It was nice. We want to see each other again.” He looked at Edwina as if for permission.

  “Are you two available tomorrow? I could use your help at a little charitable event we’re having.”

  Frank looked at Aimee, who shrugged. “Sure, we’ll do it,” he said.

  “Great.” Edwina beamed at them. “I’ll see you in the morning at nine. Wear something comfortable.”

  She didn’t allow Aimee more than a quick goodbye to Frank before ushering her out to the lobby. Aimee paused at the door.

  “Thank you. I appreciate getting a second chance with Frank,” she said.

  “That’s why I’m here,” Edwina smiled and waited at the office door until Aimee was on the elevator.

  Edwina hadn’t said what type of event it was, Aimee realized as she headed to the car. But did it really matter? She’d be spending the day with Frank. He wanted to see her again. They’d just had the best conversation she’d had with a man in years, and Aimee couldn’t stop smiling. She felt like a high school girl who’d just found out her crush wanted to ask her out. Sure, it was just one evening. Way too soon to doodle “Frank plus Aimee 4-ever” on her binder or start shopping for a prom dress, but much better than the crushing rejection she’d experienced on Monday. There was hope, anyway.

  As soon as she got home, she called Charlene. She and her friend had arranged to go for brunch the next morning, but Charlene would understand. In fact, she might be secretly relieved not to have to deal with the basket case Aimee had been earlier in the week.

  “Sorry, but you said to call after the meeting, no matter how late,” Aimee said when Charlene answered. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

  “No, I wasn’t asleep.” Charlene sounded distracted.

  “The meeting went well. Wonderfully, in fact. Frank and I had the best conversation, and we really clicked. We have so much in common! Frank said he wanted to see me again, and Edwina suggested we help out with an event A Time for Love is hosting tomorrow.”

  “That’s great, Aimee.”

  Now Charlene was sounding sleepy, so Aimee hurried. “Anyway, she wants us to be there at nine. Would you mind terribly if we rescheduled brunch? Maybe we could do it Sunday, after church?”

  “Sure, that’ll be fine.”

  There was a pause, and when Charlene spoke again, all trace of sleepiness had left her voice. “Aimee, I’m glad for you. I hope the relationship with Frank works out. But for now, at least until you’re sure, don’t build your whole life around him, okay?”

  “Okay,” Aimee agreed automatically, but once she hung up the phone, she sat staring at the bare space on her wall where a portrait of her and Tom had hung until she had packed it away a couple of weeks ago.

  What had Charlene meant? Sure, Aimee’s life had been built around Tom. They’d built their lives together, around each other. But that wasn’t a bad thing, was it? When you loved someone, you made him an integral part of your life. It didn’t mean she was going to start rearranging her life for a man she barely knew.

  Even if she did think “Aimee Clare Elkins” had a nice ring to it.

  Chapter 7

  The next morning, Aimee dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, pulled her hair into a ponytail, and added just a touch of lipstick. Frank hadn’t seemed impressed by her glamorous style for their dinner date, so she might as well see if he could handle her normal, more natural appearance.

  “Call me tonight, and tell me all about it!” Charlene texted as Aimee was leaving, and Aimee responded with an OK.

  When Aimee pulled into A Time for Love’s parking lot, Frank was loading a stack of folding chairs into a white van, and she paused to watch. He moved smoothly and efficiently, transferring the chairs from a cart into the cargo area. When the cart was empty, he folded it and set it beside the chairs.

  As he closed the back doors to the van, he spotted Aimee and grinned. “Morning!”

  “Hi.” Aimee returned his smile. “Any idea what we’re doing today?”

  “All I know is, it involves kids, lots of chairs, and a local park.”

  “It involves far more than that,” Edwina said briskly as she came around the side of the van, arms loaded with boxes.

  Frank opened the side door of the van, took the boxes from Edwina, and slid them behind the passenger’s seat. The blond receptionist who always manned the front desk hovered behind her, with another stack of boxes. Frank wedged them into the van beside the first stack.

  Aimee couldn’t help noticing that the van had only two seats, and when the receptionist slid into the driver’s seat, Aimee waited.

  “Aimee, would you mind giving Frank a ride to Klausen Park? He has the directions, in case you don’t know where it is.”

  “Sure, no problem,” Aimee said casually, but she couldn’t help smiling.

  Frank looked pleased also. At least they’d have a few minutes alone, and if the event wasn’t too chaotic, maybe they could grab some quiet time to chat.

  “Park behind the community center across the street from the park,” Edwina instructed. “See you there.”

  Aimee joined the light Saturday morning traffic on the interstate and was relieved to see Frank appeared calm, hands relaxed against his knees. She hated driving a nervous passenger, especially a male who assumed all females were terrible drivers. When they’d first started dating, Tom hadn’t wanted her to drive, but he’d gradually learned to trust her behind the wheel and even designated her as the primary driver for their catering deliveries.

  But enough thoughts of Tom. He was gone, Frank was here, and they were going to have a great day.

  “You have to give me a clue about the ev
ent,” Aimee told Frank. “Did you load anything besides chairs?”

  “Boxes of unknown items,” Frank said. “And balloons and a helium tank.”

  “It sounds like a party. Maybe a kid’s birthday?”

  “Could be,” Frank agreed. “Do you like children, Aimee?”

  Was he asking indirectly whether she wanted any of her own? She chose her words carefully. “Yes, and I hope to have kids someday. But I don’t have much experience with them.”

  “You told me you’re an only child,” Frank nodded. “But you didn’t have younger cousins to play with or neighbors’ children to babysit?”

  “Not really. We didn’t have any other family nearby, and the neighborhood was mostly older families.”

  “Sounds lonely.”

  It had been, at times. The street where she lived had been quiet, with no kids riding bikes or playing basketball in the driveways. Aimee’s mother would wave at the neighbors as they passed by, but she rarely socialized. Aimee had spent most of her time alone until she was old enough to help her mother with the cakes she baked to earn extra money.

  When Samantha, her best friend in fourth grade, had a new baby sister, Aimee had been intensely jealous, both of the baby and of the time Samantha spent helping with her. She used to wish her mother would remarry so she’d have brothers or sisters or fantasize that somehow a baby would turn up on their doorstep, and they’d have to take care of it.

  “Sometimes. I did help in the nursery at church occasionally, but once everyone knew how much I liked to cook, I got drafted for kitchen duty most of the time. What about you?”

  “With five older brothers and sisters, I had a constant stream of nieces and nephews to play with. Sometimes more than I could handle!” he laughed. “I loved it. I’d like to have three or four of my own.”

  “Three or four?”

  He shrugged. “If I’m blessed enough to find a wife who agrees.” He changed the subject. “How did you get interested in cooking?”

  “I helped my mother with the birthday cakes she used to make. We decorated them with princesses, fire trucks, dinosaurs, whatever the customer wanted. At first, I would just help stir the batter or pour the sugar, but I wanted to learn how to do the whole thing. When I was in high school, my mother got a better job, and I took over making the cakes.”

  “You ran it by yourself?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t exactly a million-dollar business, but it did pay for my prom dress.”

  They chatted about her cooking until they arrived at the small concrete-block community center. When A Time for Love’s van parked beside them, Frank begin carrying the chairs and boxes inside the community center. Other volunteers were setting up tables and booths around the park, and Aimee followed the receptionist inside, where they unfolded the chairs Frank was unloading.

  Once all the chairs and boxes had been brought inside, Edwina gathered the group for a briefing.

  “We’re partnering with the police department and Klausen’s Kids, an organization that helps at-risk and disadvantaged youth, for a kids’ fair. We’ll have food booths, carnival games, craft demonstrations, and competitions. Each booth will give out either a small prize or a ticket the kids can use towards a larger prize. The prizes aren’t the usual carnival trinkets; they’re items area crafters made and merchants donated. This is the third year for the fair, and we expect it to be the largest yet.”

  Aimee nodded. Who wouldn’t be excited about an event that helped kids? And maybe a little nervous too, if she had to interact with them.

  “Aimee, I’ve got you and Whitney working one of the refreshment stations, where kids can learn to make their own Belgian waffle. It may get messy,” she warned. “Frank, you’ll be helping with the carnival games outside.”

  She sent them off on their assignments. Aimee was disappointed she wouldn’t be working with Frank, but maybe they could catch up during a break. She headed for the table Edwina had indicated, and the blond receptionist joined her. Whitney. Aimee sent the girl a silent apology for not remembering her name.

  “What do we do?” she asked.

  Whitney set the box she was holding on the table. “Pick up a tablecloth from over there,” she pointed, “and we’ll get the station set up.”

  They spread out the leaf-patterned tablecloth and set up half a dozen waffle irons at one end of the table. A volunteer delivered a blue cooler, and when Aimee opened it, she found jugs of waffle batter and containers of toppings—whipped cream, fruit, powdered sugar, nuts, and an array of syrups.

  Once the table was arranged to Whitney’s satisfaction, she said, “Since you’re the cooking expert, and I’m more the microwave-dinner type, you’re in charge of the waffle irons. I’ll help if we get busy.”

  Aimee nodded. Hopefully they wouldn’t get too busy. She was relieved when Edwina called Whitney over to help at another table, and she took the time to rehearse the instructions she would give to the kids. Spray the waffle iron with cooking oil, pour the batter, close the lid, and wait for the waffle to cook. Simple enough. She could do this.

  “Are you ready for the fun? We open in less than ten minutes.”

  Aimee turned to see Frank beside her. “I hope so.”

  He glanced up and down the table and grinned. “Need a practice run?”

  “Sure.”

  Aimee sprayed the waffle iron with oil and then showed how to pour the batter in. While the waffle was cooking, she explained, “Belgian waffles are typically made with a yeast batter, rather than the baking soda in traditional waffles, and they’re thicker, with deeper indentions. Great for holding yummy toppings! Sorry, that’s the spiel I plan to give the kids.”

  Frank sniffed the air. “It smells delicious!”

  When the waffle was ready, Aimee slid it onto a plate and pointed him to the end of the table. “Help yourself to your favorite toppings.”

  “Thanks.” Frank looked over the selection of plastic bowls and bottles. “What do you recommend?”

  “You can’t go wrong with strawberries and cream.”

  He spooned toppings onto the waffle and took a bite. “Wow, it’s delicious!” He closed his eyes to savor the taste.

  “You’re supposed to tell me it’s the best one you’ve ever had,” Aimee teased.

  “It’s the only one I’ve ever had,” Frank answered. “But not for long, I hope! I’ll be back for seconds later,” he added hastily as Edwina bore down on them to steal him away.

  The time with Frank had helped Aimee’s nervousness, and when someone opened the double doors at one end of the community center and called out that the carnival was officially underway, she braced herself for the first customer. But no crowd of eager kids burst inside. Instead, the first arrivals stopped at the games stations, and she could hear laughter as they tried their luck.

  A tall teenager, his reddish brown hair flopping over his thin face, wandered into the center and glanced at all the food booths. He headed for the popcorn stand and was munching when he stopped beside Aimee.

  “What’s that?” He gestured to the table.

  “A waffle maker. Would you like to make a Belgian waffle?”

  “Sure.”

  Aimee coached him through the steps and then stood awkwardly, not knowing what to say, as they waited for the waffle to cook. Whitney filled in the silence by asking the boy about foods he liked to eat and telling him about the other booths.

  He slathered butter on the waffle, drenched it in maple syrup, and consumed it in about three bites. “Cool,” he said before he moved on.

  “Cool?” Aimee echoed, and Whitney shrugged.

  After their first client, a group of teens wandered in together. “Is all this free?” one of them asked, and Aimee nodded. They scattered to the various stations, and Aimee stayed busy with a steady stream of hungry kids that grew to a mob as lunchtime approached. Whitney fetched them both bottled water, and they kept the line going as fast as they could. One boy went through the line three times, and everyone s
eemed to enjoy the waffles.

  When the crowd finally thinned, Edwina appeared. “Go, take a break,” she urged Aimee. “Get some refreshments. See the rest of the carnival. I’ll fill in for you.”

  Aimee thanked her and made her way outside. The day was warm, but the fresh air felt good. She wandered past a wood-carving station and a clown who was making balloon animals. The carnival games were crowded, and she spotted Frank encouraging a little boy who was trying to toss a ring over the neck of a bottle. The little boy was thrilled to land one ring, and Frank handed him a coloring book and Crayons as his prize.

  “Your turn,” Frank told Aimee.

  “Me? I’m hopeless at games like this.”

  He held the rings out to her. She shrugged and took them. After she missed on all three tries, Frank retrieved the rings, came around the booth, and stood beside her to help her with her throws.

  “I think this is cheating,” she said when he gripped her arm to guide it.

  “It’s strictly exhibition play.”

  “Okay.”

  Together they landed all the rings on bottles. Then Frank signalled to the man running the game beside him and offered Aimee his arm.

  “Would you like to tour the carnival?”

  “Is it okay for you to leave?”

  “Edwina lined up someone to cover for me. She told me to take a break when you came, so I’m just following orders.”

  Aimee smiled. “In that case, I’d love to see the carnival. Where do we start?”

  “The food booths?” Frank asked hopefully. “I’m starving!”

  Aimee was enjoying the fresh air, but she couldn’t resist Frank’s pleading expression, so she agreed. They made fruit and yogurt parfaits, mini sandwich wraps, popcorn with Parmesan sprinkled on top, and cookies decorated with swirls of icing. Frank got his second waffle and then stained his fingers as he made a blue raspberry shaved ice.

  They took their treats outside and wandered through the craft booths. Aimee watched a woman knitting at what seemed an incredible rate and pointed her out to Frank. He nodded. “She’s almost as fast as my mother.”

  “Your mother knits?”

  “Yes. The joke is that if you tell her your sock is worn out or your mitten has a hole in it, you’ll have a new one by morning, so she even knits in her sleep!”