But Gina was like a precious metal. A fragile piece of glass Charlie wanted to keep tucked in her pocket for safety and then displayed so all could admire.
Laughter erupted from the dining area. Charlie set down the chopping knife and went to the open doorway to check out the activity.
Gina stood at the end of the long table by the back wall of windows instructing a crew of kids on some project she had planned. Arts and crafts and painting crap gave Charlie a headache. Give her a sauté pan, a sharp knife, and a fridge full of food and she was in heaven.
“We’ll need to be careful and watch our surroundings while we search for our supplies,” Gina said, handing each child a paper bag. “Don’t worry about figuring out what you’ll do with your stuff. Anything you find interesting, a pinecone, a leaf, a pebble, a stick can be turned into art.”
She led the way to the door, and they all filed after her. All but one little girl who stared precariously at Charlie.
“Are you the cook?” she asked.
Charlie ran her fingers under the tie to her apron. “I am. I’m working on our lunch now. Do you have a favorite food?”
The girl scrunched her face as if in deep thought, and then nodded, her light brown ponytail swishing from side to side. “Baked macaroni and cheese, but only with the right cheese blend.”
Not the blue box. My kind of girl. “What are your favorites?”
“Well,” the girl started. “Gouda for sure, but it’s expensive. My brother will get it for me sometimes. Normally I use whatever we have on hand. Cheddar, mozzarella, jack.”
“Topping or no topping?”
Her eyes brightened. “The topping is like the icing on the cake. Ritz crackers are my favorite, but I’d like to try it sometime with something different.”
Gina poked her head through the door. “Olivia, are you coming?”
She bit her bottom lip and lifted her gaze to Charlie with the most adorable puppy dog eyes.
“Actually, I could use another pair of hands in the kitchen. Would you mind being my assistant, Olivia?”
“The kids came here to play, not to be your slave in the kitchen.”
“I don’t mind,” Olivia said to Gina. “Is it really okay if I help?”
“I’m pretty sure lunch will taste better and be ready faster with more hands. If that’s okay with your parents.”
“It is!” She scurried past Charlie and into the kitchen.
“I don’t know which ones are her parents but if they come looking for her, I’ll let them know she’s with you. Don’t let her take off without letting me know.”
“Yes, ma.” She saluted Gina.
“I’m responsible for this group of children and—”
“I know. I’m kidding. I’ll keep a close eye on her and make sure she doesn’t chop off any fingers.”
“How reassuring.” Gina left and Charlie returned to the kitchen. The little cutie was at the sink washing her hands.
“Something tells me this isn’t your first rodeo.”
“My mom owns The Black Fly diner and I help out a lot.”
“That’s cool.” Charlie picked up the knife she was using and ran it through the lettuce. “I’m Charlie, by the way.”
“Isn’t Charlie a boy’s name?”
“It can be. It’s short for Charlotte.”
“Like Charlotte’s Web?”
“Yeah, but I’m not a fan of spiders so Charlie it is. Mind chopping some tomatoes? There’s a bowl of them over there.” She pointed with her chin to the far end of the kitchen by another work counter.
“Sure.” Olivia carried the bowl over to the center butcher block island Charlie was working on. “Have these been washed already?”
“Oh, I like you Miss Olivia. Your mother has taught you well. Yes, they’ve been washed. So, tell me where this diner of yours is.”
“It’s in Pineland. We live in the trailer behind it, so my mom doesn’t have to worry about me when I’m home alone.”
Interesting. She’d have to look into Olivia’s family to see what kind of conditions she was living in.
Some of the families attending today’s ceremonies were community members who donated supplies, time, or money into the camp, and a few others were here by special invitation. It was open to the public, but they’d asked for an RSVP, so they’d know how much food to prepare and how many activities to have planned for children.
Since Charlie’s main role was to keep bellies full, she didn’t pay much attention to the guest list other than to see at how many adults and how many kids there’d be. She’d opted for an easy meal she could make by herself since their staff was still limited to the three of them.
Brooke was the face of it all, Gina the arts and crafts guru, since Skylar was still enlisted, she did more of the online stuff, and Charlie was most comfortable in the kitchen. Not like she was anti-social. Heck, she’d love to have the party in the kitchen, but she wasn’t good with small talk when she had to be good and proper. Her mouth had a way of running away with words which often got her in trouble.
With the camp being so new and there being a lot of media coverage around it, she’d voluntarily quarantined herself to the kitchen.
“What else are you cooking?”
“Spaghetti and meatballs. I have two ginormous pots of water on the stove heating up, another two pots of sauce simmering, and over three hundred meatballs in the oven. As soon as those come out, I’ll need help making another three hundred—if you’re up for the job.”
“I love spaghetti and meatballs. Are you making garlic bread as well?”
“The Rolling Pin donated more dinner rolls than I know what to do with. All I have to do is put them in a basket and set them on the table.”
“I can help with that too.”
“I sure do appreciate it.” She watched as Olivia sliced each tomato with care before she scraped them into the stainless-steel salad bowl.
“I can do more than cut tomatoes,” she said with an almost haughty air, as if the simple task was meant for babies.
“I imagine with all your years working in the diner you can do a million more things. Tell me about some of the other dishes you’ve made.”
“I know how to make pot roast and I can stuff a turkey. I make stuffing from scratch. My brother likes cranberry sauce from a can, but I made him fresh sauce with orange zest in it last year at Thanksgiving and he said it was the best cranberry sauce he’d ever had.”
“What a high compliment coming from your brother.” She didn’t know him, but she knew how siblings could be.
Well, knew as in past tense. She was only fourteen when she lost her brother. She’d been a pesky teen and he’d been too cool for her.
“My brother says I’m the best cook he’s ever known. Even better than my mom but I’m not supposed to ever tell her that.”
Charlie’s heart warmed. Olivia’s brother sounded like a saint. She pictured him an older teen like her brother was, only sweeter and kinder. A protector of sorts. Probably to make up for their mother who let Olivia stay home alone. The girl had to be eight or nine. Charlie hadn’t a clue. She didn’t not like kids, but she didn’t have much experience with them either.
They were cute little creatures, and she appreciated their blunt honesty.
“I’ll have to go by what your brother says then. Maybe one week this summer you can come to camp.” She’d have to figure out what week would fit best for Olivia. Their opening week was for children of veterans. The following week was for those with type 1 diabetes.
Planning for medical issues had been a tough since they needed nurses and trained staff to be there to support the kids. She, Brooke, and Gina went through an extensive training at the hospital two months ago, so they were trained to test for blood sugars, administer insulin, read the various types of insulin pumps, and know how to use the Glucagon shot.
It was sad and scary and life altering, learning what these children had to live with for the rest of their lives. An
d how many adults have been living with for their entire lives. During the winter months, they attended other trainings and workshops to help support their understanding of some of the other disabilities their campers would have.
One thing at a time.
The timer went off and she slipped on the hot mitts to take the meatballs out. “I’m going to plop these into one of the batches of sauce. Almost ready to start making the rest of the meatballs?”
“One more tomato.” Olivia chopped it with care, slid it into the bowl and then brought the knife to the sink.
Charlie took the meat mixture she’d already made out of the walk-in fridge and placed it on the workstation. “Let’s move the salad out of the way so we don’t risk the chance of getting any raw meat in it. Think you can carry the bowl over the other counter?”
Olivia curled her lip in a way that screamed, I’m not a baby! and carried it to where the tomatoes had been. Charlie resisted her chuckle and took out four plastic gloves.
“They might be a little big, but they’ll save our hands from getting too gross.”
“My mom doesn’t use gloves. She makes sure we wash our hands a lot.”
“Because we’re making so many, I figured it would be easier. We’ll still need to wash our hands when we’re done in case any raw meat is on our skin.”
“I know.”
Again, Charlie couldn’t tell if it was sass or frustration at the reminder. One thing to be said for the mother, she taught her daughter well and Olivia seemed to respect the rules of the kitchen. They rolled the meatballs in silence until Olivia started humming.
“I should get a radio for the kitchen. I had one last summer, but the fire destroyed it. I could use some more aprons as well.”
She wished she had a spare for her little helper. Her kid-sized aprons wouldn’t be in until next week. One of the chores each camper would have to do was help prepare a meal and clean up.
The test run with Olivia gave her ideas. Music—not too loud so the children couldn’t hear her instructions. Stools for the little ones. Olivia was experienced and could handle the counter but having a stool to either stand on or sit on would make it easier for those less experienced and those who were shorter.
“You never told me how old you are.”
“I’m ten. I’ll be eleven in June.”
“Only a few weeks away. Any big plans for a party?”
“No.” Her face fell in a wall of sadness.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. She should know better than to assume kids had parents and parties and all the normal stuff kids should have. God knew she didn’t, and she even had two working parents at home.
There was a sad tale behind Olivia’s eyes, which were too mature for her ten years. Growing up too fast was something Charlie could relate to, and she didn’t like seeing the familiarity of this her mini chef.
No child should lose out on their childhood. She was walking in dangerous territory, but there was something about Olivia that pulled at Charlie’s heartstrings.
“What would you think about a cooking lesson for your birthday?”
“What would I cook?”
“Is there something you’d like to learn how to bake?”
“I’ve never made a birthday cake before. My brother usually gets one from the grocery store. My mom knows how to cook diner food, but she doesn’t know how to bake. We get our pies and cakes from a delivery truck.”
How sad. And too familiar.
“So, for your birthday we’ll make a birthday cake. What are your favorite flavors?” Charlie knew she shouldn’t be making promises she wasn’t sure she could follow through on. She’d do her darndest to make the birthday wish come true, but if Olivia’s mother or brother wouldn’t allow it the girl’s heart would be broken.
“I’d like a black forest cake, heavy on the cherries. I have a recipe saved on my brother’s computer.”
Interesting. Olivia deserved to have the birthday cake she’d been dreaming about. Even if her mother wouldn’t allow Oliva to come spend a day with her in the kitchen, Charlie would at least make her the cake and deliver it to her.
With candles and balloons and the whole works.
“Is your mom here today? I can talk to her about it.”
“Talk to her about what?” a gruff voice asked from the doorway.
“I helped Charlie make a salad and now we’re making meatballs. Want me to make you an extra-large one? He always asks me to make him special ones,” she said to Charlie.
“Owen’s your brother?” Charlie eyed the hunk in the doorway and then furrowed her brow at Olivia.
There had to be a twenty-something age gap between the two. Now it made sense with all the brother talk. Olivia mentioned him more than her mother. Interesting.
The sexy as sin carpenter who’d been working on the camp for the past year hadn’t mentioned an adorable little sister, and he didn’t seem too happy about Charlie interfering with her day.
“Can I speak with you for a minute?” Normally Owen’s deep voice and brawny muscles brought the flirt out in Charlie. She couldn’t help but drop the sexual innuendos and euphemisms when he was around. When a guy looks like Thor in every way but the Australian accent, a girl can’t be blamed for her actions. Or her words.
She’d been doing it for the past twelve months with zero headway. In fact, she’d say her flirting had a negative effect on Owen. She’d rattle off a sex euphemism right now if there wasn’t a ten-year-old impressionable young girl within earshot. Instead, she responded with the little bit of class her parents had tried to instill in her.
“I’d love to have a word with you, big brother.” She stripped off her gloves and tossed them in the trash. “You keep rolling. I’ll be right back,” she said to Olivia.
As soon as she was out of view he grabbed onto her bicep and ushered her to the far end of the mess hall where Gina had been instructing her group not long ago.
“Olivia came her to play. To make friends,” he growled in her ear. His piercing blue-green eyes turned down in the corners and showed a side of him she had yet to experience. “She shouldn’t be slaving away in the kitchen.”
“Easy now, big bro. It’s not like I’m condoning slave labor. Your sister loves to cook and asked to help out with the food prep rather than gather nuts and berries or whatever Gina’s doing in the woods with her critters.”
“Olivia needs to have fun.”
“And what exactly is your idea of fun? Pumping iron? Hammering nails?” She squeezed his biceps—it was only fair since he still held onto hers—and cocked an eyebrow.
Sighing, he dropped his big, burly hand from her and stepped away. The superhero wasn’t so super today. She’d never seen him like this before. Not that she’d spent a ton of time with Owen. Not nearly as much time as she’d like.
Sundays had been her free days, so she’d come out on Saturday nights staying at Brooke and Drew’s. A few times last summer she’d come up mid-week and had the opportunity to cast her feminine glances Owen’s way, secretly praying he’d pounce on her and have his way with her behind some tree. Against a tree. On the ground.
Or in a cabin. In the lake. Heck, in the dirt parking lot, she didn’t care. Owen was pretty to look at. No, not pretty. He didn’t have those elegant angles in his cheeks and jaw to make him pretty.
At first glance, he had that rough, exotic, sexy exterior but those laughing green eyes and crazy sense of humor brought him down to human-like status. Seriously, all Charlie wanted was some fun and a bit of sex on the side. Maybe an opportunity or two to tangle her fingers in his hair. To rake her nails down his back. Was it really too much to ask?
Owen had given off some messages—or so she’d thought—in the past like he was sort of maybe interested. He flirted back and wouldn’t move away when she’d put her hand oh so coyly on his Superman chest, and he’d grinned hard, like wicked hard, when she’d crack a dirty joke.
They were a match made in heaven. She’d asked Brooke a dozen ti
mes if Owen ever asked about her. Brooke would roll her eyes and change the subject to something about the camp.
Owen had his back to her as he stared out the window at the pond. She shouldn’t be noticing how well he filled out his Levis, but she was only human.
And single.
And lonely for way too long. No, she didn’t need a man to make her happy. Ick. She and Brooke were one in the same there, until Brooke ruined it all and fell in love.
Charlie wasn’t opposed to the happily ever after. It was great for those who were searching for it. Like Gina, not that Gina would admit as much.
was a woman with a strong sexual appetite and an even stronger appreciation for a man who knew how to take care of his body. Holding back the growl in the back of her throat, she joined Owen by the window.
“No response, huh?”
He waited a beat before answering. “To what?”
“My question.” He narrowed his eyes as if searching for it. Charlie shook her head in fake annoyance. “Fun. What do you do for fun? What does Olivia normally do for fun. Besides cook. Which is totally fun, by the way.”
“Cooking is a chore.”
Charlie covered his kissable lips with her hand. “Don’t speak such madness. Dishes are a chore. Cooking is... an experience.” Tempted as she was to leave her hand on his lips, on his face, on his body forever, she let it fall. She couldn’t help if her fingers had a mind of their own and gently caressed his cheek and neck on their journey back to her side.
“You can’t screw up dishes.”
“You can’t tell me you’ve never dropped a plate or scrubbed a nonstick pan with a scouring pad?”
“Maybe.” He shrugged and a panty-dropping twinkle sparkled in his emerald eyes. “But I’ve done worse damage on the stove.”
“So, the cooking gene skipped over you. Any other siblings you’re hiding away somewhere?”
A ghosted expression crossed his face and he brushed past her and rested his fists on the window. “I know Livy likes to cook, but she needs to be playing with girls her age. Not older women.”
“Ouch.” Charlie pretended to stab her heart.
“That’s not what I mean. You’re not old.”
A Thousand Sunsets (Band of Sisters) Page 2
