by Alex Bailey
“Wilhelmina Rapaport. Very nice to meet you.”
Ann got a good look at the woman running the thrift store. She looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine. Her deep bronze skin contrasted beautifully against a pale peach slim-lined designer suit, and matching blouse with satin-lined collar.
“I’m so glad you thought of us, Ann. We are truly grateful for all of our donations. I’d like to give you a tour so you can take a look around, and maybe decide to become one of our customers as well as a donor. Of course, if there is anything that catches your eye, you’d have to wait in line for it, like everyone else, unless you would like to schedule another appointment.” Wilhelmina had a proud look as she led Ann on a tour of the women’s section.
“This used to be a veterinary hospital, but when they moved down the street to a larger location, we were able to get it for a song. It has served us well for many years.” Wilhelmina headed toward the dressing rooms. “And here are the ladies dressing rooms. She pulled back a curtain to reveal a large open area with sleek lounge chairs, dim lighting, and a long hallway with closed doors on either side. Ivory plush carpet ran down the hallway and a clothing stand stood next to each door to hang unwanted items.
“So, where do the funds go from this store?”
“We donate our revenue to the women and children’s center on Oogalala Street. The old building is constantly in need of repairs. We’re proud to support the needs of battered women and their children.” Wilhelmina’s look of pride never waned.
“That’s certainly a good cause,” Ann said.
Wilhelmina continued the tour of designer clothes throughout the store. When she finished, Ann was convinced nothing she had to donate would be worthy of display.
With her eyebrows raised, Wilhelmina rubbed her hands together. “Let’s have a look at the goodies you’ve brought us, shall we? I’ve got so many customers each week, I can hardly keep up with the demand. But I do love finding treasures.”
“I’m sorry to say, I don’t believe I have anything that would quite fit in this store,” Ann blurted out. “My clothes are not this fancy. I usually run around in jeans.”
“Oh, stop that.” Wilhelmina grinned. “Let’s have a look. I’m sure…” She pulled out a pair of old footy pajamas and tossed them aside. Next, she held up a few of Ann’s spirit t-shirts from the days when her kids were on the track team. She had worn them to races to cheer them on. As she pulled them out one by one, Wilhelmina’s smile faded. But when she lifted out Ann’s wedding dress, adorned in crystals, her smile returned. “This is stunning! Was this vintage when you bought it?”
“No, it was new,” Ann said, perturbed by Wilhelmina’s insinuation her wedding gown was older than dirt.
“It’s wonderful!” Wilhelmina held it up close to her body and twirled around. “Yes, I think this will fit in nicely here.”
“I’m so glad you like it. What about the other items?” Ann asked.
“Don’t worry. Anything we can’t use here, the truck from Charities R Us swings by each week and takes all the items to their store on the other side of town. They also support the women and children’s center. So, you can leave it all here with me. Thank you for coming in. I’ll write your receipt.” Ann followed her hostess to the desk in the back. Whilhelmina slipped on her gem-lined reading glasses and scribbled a receipt.
“Thanks,” Ann said, hair still dripping wet. “By the way, I have a lot of time on my hands, since I just moved into town. Do you need any help around here?”
Wilhelmina leaned her head forward, peered above her glasses and gave Ann the once-over. “I think…we’re pretty set.”
Ann couldn’t believe she had been turned down for every job she’d been interested in so far, and now she’d even been denied a volunteer position. What did it take to get involved in this town?
On the drive home, Ann was so annoyed with the encounter at the thrift store she almost forgot about Gloria’s lunch date. She flew through her neighborhood and pulled up to the curb at the same time that Gloria arrived. It was convenient; she only had to hop out of her car and into Gloria’s Mercedes—reducing her chances of being drenched once again.
“Hi!” Ann said, glad to see a friendly face.
“Hi Ann. Hungry?” Gloria asked, as she sped away.
“Starved. You?”
“Famished. Anyway, I’ve got the perfect place.” Gloria drove to the Vinci Tavern in the middle of town. It was a charming brick structure with a mural painted on one side of the building that reminded Ann of the Tuscan countryside she had visited on her honeymoon.
“Looks nice,” Ann said. “What type of food do they have here?”
“Your typical tavern food,” Gloria had a curious gleam in her eye.
When Ann walked in, she thought she was walking into a trattoria. The floor and walls were brick, with another Tuscan-style mural on one wall. There were aged-wood tables and chairs in the center and booths along the walls. It was dark and cozy, with black wrought-iron chandeliers.
“This place is gorgeous!” Ann soaked in the warm ambiance.
Gloria led them to a booth by the wall opposite a long bar with several patrons. “It’s quite lovely at the bar but can get a bit loud.” She took off her jacket and rain hat and set them in the chair next to her. She looked fabulous as always in a form-fitting red dress and silk scarf with a poppy design. Once again, Ann felt underdressed next to her realtor. She’d worn jeans to Wilhelmina’s shop, with a black top and black jacket. But she felt she looked more like a fuzzy poodle after she’s gone for a swim. And Ann wasn’t incorrect in feeling that way.
A tall, good looking server approached their table. His hair was cut into a short flat-top and he had a close-cropped beard and narrow glasses. He beamed at Gloria and said, “Hey, pretty lady. How’ve you been?”
When Gloria looked up, the gleam returned to her eye, “Fantastic. This is my new friend, Ann.” Gloria glanced at Ann then back up at the server. “And this is Daniel. Zokaya Daniel. But he prefers Daniel.”
“That’s an interesting name,” Ann said.
Daniel smiled briefly in her direction, but then kept his attention solely on Gloria. “I was named after Daniel Boone. He was a man. He was a big man.” Daniel puffed out his chest and stood tall.
Gloria rolled her eyes, “I do believe Ann was commenting on Zokaya.”
Ann nodded.
“Yes, well, my parents are from Liberia.”
“But you don’t have an accent, not even a little one,” Ann noticed.
“That’s because I was born here. I’m a citizen, unlike some of your friends, Ann.”
“I beg your pardon,” Gloria huffed. “I am also a citizen. Became a U.S. citizen years ago. And you are quite aware of it too!”
Daniel gave Ann another quick glance and then back to Gloria, “It’s what she says. But have we ever seen her papers?” He appeared amused and winked at Gloria.
“Never mind. Let’s get on with it, shall we?” Gloria said.
With all the flirting, Ann wondered if there was something between these two and said, “Nice to meet you.”
Ann couldn’t take her eyes off Daniel watching Gloria. Or his stained used-to-be-white apron. She had no idea what those stains were. She swore they were blood stains. Why would the server wear an apron with blood stains?
“Ann, don’t be thrown off by our messing around, we’re really friends,” Daniel explained. “What’ll you have? The usual?” he asked Gloria, with pen and pad in his hand.
“Sure. But Ann here, she probably needs a menu.”
Without looking at Ann, he said, “Be right back.”
“Don’t bother, I’ll have whatever Gloria’s having and a cup of black coffee.”
“Are you sure?” Gloria asked.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. Besides, if you like it, then it must be good, right?”
Gloria took a small bow at the table. “That’s right, I do indeed have exquisite taste.”
As soon as Daniel stepped out of earshot, Ann whispered across the table, “He likes you.”
“What? Who?” Gloria waved off the remark.
“Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome. You know—our server. I saw the way he looked at you. I bet if you went in the kitchen right now, he would not be able to tell you what color hair I have. He barely looked at me! He couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“Oh Ann, you are a funny one. First of all, Daniel is the chef and owner of this tavern.”
“Well, that explains the blood stains on the apron.”
“And secondly, we’ve been chums for quite a while now. I should think if we were destined to be together, we would have been so by now.” Gloria said in a not-so-convincing tone.
Ann didn’t buy it. Gloria was a beautiful woman; any man would be clamoring for her attention. And the way Daniel looked at her—she had a sixth sense about these things, she could tell there was an attraction beyond friendship.
When Daniel returned with their food, he set water glasses, Ann’s coffee, and a bowl of black bean chili in front of each of them with a condiment tray for the table.
Ann’s stomach growled at the sight of it, and the fragrance of the spices mesmerized her. She couldn’t wait to dig into the bowl.
“Thanks, Daniel; you simply are the best chap!”
“And please tell the chef this looks fabulous,” Ann joked.
“You heard the woman, chef,” Gloria quipped. “She said this looks fabulous. And you already know how I feel about it.”
“Do I Gloria? Do I know how you feel?” Daniel said with a sly grin.
“Oh, go on with yourself.”
“I suppose that’s my queue to exit. You ladies enjoy your lunch,” Daniel said and he turned to leave.
When the chef departed, Ann urged, “I think you should ask him out.”
“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing. Can we talk about something else?”
Ann decided to give up for now, but she’d work on Gloria another time. “So, how long have you been in the knitting club?”
Gloria’s eyes turned dark and serious. “Ann, when Freda said we weren’t to discuss the knitting club outside of the meetings, she was serious. We aren’t to discuss such things. I won’t discuss it. Now, let’s have a jab at another topic, shall we?”
Ann was stunned. She’d never seen a reaction like that from Gloria. Or anyone else for that matter. What a sudden change in demeanor. She wondered why everyone was taking this club so seriously. The rules, the rituals, the indoctrination. It was all so strange and mysterious. But Ann would heed Gloria’s warning for now. She changed the subject, “So, what do you know about gluten free food?”
“Nothing. I’m not a cook, I can barely boil water. My husband was the handy one around the kitchen. Sorry, can’t help you there.”
“Ah, I know. I’ll ask Daniel when he comes out to check on us. He will, you know. Any excuse to see you.”
Gloria grinned and said, “Ann, every server returns shortly after you’ve been served to ensure you’ve got catsup for your chips, and to fill your water goblet.”
“That’s true. But he’s coming out to see you. You watch,” Ann said just as Daniel popped back to their table.
“You ladies okay? Can I get you anything?” Daniel smiled in Gloria’s direction.
“We’re fine, thanks,” Gloria said.
“Actually, could I ask you a cooking question?” Ann broke in.
“Shoot,” Daniel said, finally turning his gaze to Ann.
“What do you know about gluten-free cooking?”
“Lots. What would you like to know?” he glanced over at Gloria. Probably just to make sure she hadn’t disappeared.
“I’m looking for a cookie recipe. No, actually, I’d like to know how to adapt my cookie recipe to be gluten free. Do you think you could help?”
“Sure. I can do that. Do you have it with you?” he asked, grabbing his pen from his jeans pocket.
“Uh, no, I sure don’t.”
Gloria snickered, “You’re probably not going to believe this Daniel, but regular folks don’t actually make it a habit of carrying recipes around on their person.”
He looked sideways at Gloria, “Are you sure about that?”
Ann didn’t want to get in the middle of their love spat, but she also really wanted his help. “Can I come by later?”
“Tell you what. Come by Sunday around ten; I’ll be here early, and we can make a batch together. See how you like them.”
Ann nodded, “That would be awesome.” She was excited to adapt her recipe and thought it would be great to work in Daniel’s kitchen. She had never even been in a restaurant kitchen before.
He turned to Gloria, “And do you think your friend here, when she comes ‘round on Sunday, might actually carry the recipe on her person?” he mocked Gloria by emphasizing the word, “person.”
Gloria swatted the air in Daniel’s direction and turned to Ann, “He’s so funny, that one there.”
“Thanks, Daniel. I’m happy to come with recipe in hand.”
“Which is part of your person,” Daniel pointed out.
Chapter 9
Ann woke early Sunday morning with excitement over her cooking venture. She could hardly wait to get to the Vinci Tavern. She pulled out her grandmother’s recipe and stuck it in her jeans pocket. But first, since the sun was shining, she grabbed a cup of coffee and took Honey for a walk. Or, rather, Honey took Ann for a walk.
Ann cleared her head and lost track of time but arrived home just in time to give Honey a treat before jumping in the car with her package of cookies. She’d brought a batch for Daniel so he would know the flavor and texture she was aiming to duplicate. She wondered what ingredients he would use to create gluten-free cookies that had the same taste as her gluten-containing cookies. She knew nothing of gluten-free cooking but was willing to learn for Mindy’s sake. Mindy had looked like she could use some cheering up and gluten-free cookies might just be the cheering up she needed.
Ann arrived a few minutes early, and a red Jaguar was already prominently parked in the lot next to the restaurant. She hadn’t noticed it the other day when she’d eaten there with Gloria, so she didn’t think it was Daniel’s car. The driver wasn’t in the car, so she decided to take a chance to see if the restaurant was unlocked.
Since the front door was open, Ann let herself in. The sweet sound of Italian opera wafted through the dining room and she followed the sound straight into the kitchen. When she stepped through the doors, she felt like she had entered a different era. The bright and airy kitchen was a stark contrast to the Tuscan dining room. The kitchen was cheerful, with golden yellow walls and shiny stainless-steel cabinets and counters. It was far roomier than she’d imagined a restaurant kitchen would be. She was drawn to the paintings of the Tuscan countryside hanging on the walls and a colorful cornucopia carved from wood hung over the entrance to the dining room, making Ann feel warm and welcome.
Daniel was busy mixing something in a large bowl. She walked around the counter and set the tin of cookies down and said, “Good morning! I take it that’s your car outside? Nice ride you got there.”
Daniel glanced up and smiled; his teeth gleamed against his dark skin. “Oh, hey, Ann. Yeah, she’s a beauty.” He continued mixing, “I’ll be just a minute. I want to get this ready to marinate the buffalo. Makes it nice and tender.” He turned the volume down on his cell phone.
“What are you making?”
“Burgers.” Daniel finished his chore and put the bowl in the refrigerator. When he turned to see Ann’s quizzical expression, he said, “Never had buffalo?”
“No,” Ann said, “What does it taste like?”
“Tastes like chicken,” he grinned. “Nah, just kidding. Tastes like beef, but not as much fat, so I need to add some extra flavor. When we’re done with your cookies, I’ll cook one up for you.”
&n
bsp; “Sounds like a deal.” She was an adventurous eater and loved to try new things.
“You bring the recipe on your person?” Daniel grinned.
“Yup. And some samples. I figured you probably needed to try them to taste the flavor we need to copy.” Ann opened the tin and offered it to Daniel.
He washed his hands, then took a cookie. When he bit into it, he said, “Damn!”
Ann wondered if he meant, “Damn good, or damn I need to wash my mouth out.” It reminded her of what she would have said after tasting Freda’s cake if she could have spoken while gulping the horrid taste away.
“Daaaamn,” he said. “These are kick-ass good! Can’t say I’d be able to eat them on a daily basis, with me watching my waist-line and all,” he placed his hand behind his neck as if modeling in a magazine. His biceps stretched the limits of his white t-shirt.
Ann blew out a breath she hadn’t realized she held. “I’m glad you like them. It was my grandma Smith’s recipe. I remember her making them when I was young. I’d help her and she let me sneak some of the batter, along with some of her whiskey she had hidden in the bread basket.”
“Sounds like my kind of granny. Where’s the recipe?” he asked.
She pulled it from her pocket and handed it to him. “Here you go.”
As he glanced at it, Ann took notice of the pictures on the far wall of an alluring Italian countryside.
Daniel looked up and followed her gaze. “I interned in Italy. Poppi, a small town in Tuscany.”
“I assume the pictures are from there? Why didn’t you stay; it looks beautiful.”
“They are. And yes, it is quite extraordinary. But we need to get started before the customers come barreling in wanting food and drink.”
He gathered bowls and ingredients and laid everything out on the counter. He then turned on the fryer and added peanut oil. “It takes a little while to heat up; it should be ready when we are.”
“So what ingredients in this recipe are gluten?” Ann asked.
“The flour. The vanilla can be, and the chocolate chips can be too. I use pure vanilla and organic chips, so I’m fine. The flour though. I may need to experiment some to get it right. I’ll tell you what. I’ll make a small batch of a few with rice flour, cornstarch, and tapioca flour and see how it goes.”
