Bittersweet Moments

7 | Pasta A La Dessert

7 | Pasta A La Dessert

Their fridge was like a mini-grocery.

Seriously. Our fridges in the shop and in the house were nothing compared to this. It was loaded with practically everything. I could make twenty dishes with these ingredients and it would still appear full. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating, but emphasis was important.

The Dales' refrigerator was a sleek and shiny black and white one. It had those fancy double doors to allow more space, a freezer, chiller and everything. And they stocked up in different goods: from eggs, milk, butter, different meats to fresh vegetables like lettuce, cabbage and spinach.

I licked my lips, thinking about the menu tonight. I could already smell it.

"Mommy!"

I rolled my eyes. What's up with Brennan now? Last I left that big baby, he was watching Disney on the couch.

My questions were answered when I saw two people walk in the kitchen. One was obviously Brennan, and the other I figured was his mom.

Maira Dale didn't turn out as I expected her to be. Her hair was curled perfectly and pulled up in a bun. She wore a black dress that showed off her figure and a matching pair of heels. She didn't give off that strict and uptight aura I always imagined her in.

My eyebrows rose quickly. I couldn't believe this woman could clean a mansion, babysit two idiots and look pretty at the same time. I mean, she's got to be insanely blessed with mom powers. And, well, the Dales continued to surprise me.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my name. "Uh, sorry?" I looked at Brennan and Maira, who were staring at me.

"I said you must be the new cook, Oliver," Maira smiled kindly at me.

I nodded, "Yeah, that's me."

I glanced at the fridge, which I realized I left open. I quickly scrambled to close it. Mom always scolded me not to leave the fridge – or any fridge – open because it was a waste of electricity.

I remembered Maira saying in her note that she'll be home before dinner. But I actually haven't started dinner yet. It was only seven.

"Phineas and Ferb, I'm coming back for you!" Brennan gave his mom a quick peck on the cheek before he went back to his show. Such immaturity. If only his life was a reality TV show.

Maira headed to the counter and put her purse on it, "Did the boys behave?"

"Sure," I lied for Brennan's sake, "They were like angels." Except for the time when one of your sons choked on a chocolate ball, the other one at fault.

She cocked an eyebrow, "Really, like I'd believe that."

Ah, so she did know her sons well. Well enough to not believe that they'd never not cause trouble. I smiled sheepishly, "They behaved well, yeah. In a devilish sort of way."

"And where's Jackson?"

I shrugged, "In his room studying, I guess." He hadn't come out of his room since that little episode.

A knowing smile appeared on her lips as she shook her head lightly. "And what's for dinner?" she asked.

I wiped my hands nervously on my apron (or the apron I found around here, whatever). I wasn't used to be polite to my bosses, mainly because my only boss before this job was Mom. "I haven't started dinner yet. But . . . I'm thinking of chicken stew and beef dumplings."

Maira nodded, "That's alright. Do you need any help?"

"No, thanks," I said, "Please let me impress you with my cooking skills."