Funny? No, nothing is funny in the face of cancer. It’s a black hooded demon that raises up like the boogieman monster of childhood. Except, cancer is real, and pulling the blankets over your head doesn’t protect you from its invasion into the bodies of people you love.
“Sorry. Chef Stevens, everything is fine. I’m just having trouble processing the weird,” I finally said, sighing from the sadness of my sudden dark memories.
The chef nodded his head. “I am Fae, Miss Penelope. Is that what this outburst is about? Timothy is very secretive about his employees, but I know that you’re going to be part of his life. It’s one of my powers, so to speak. I can read into your heart.”
I slammed my butt back into the chair and heaved a great, big breath. “Ff.. . . fae?” I stuttered.
I reached for my mug of coffee, planning to take a big gulp of it.
“May I?” the chef asked, but he was already striding towards my mug. He touched it, then backed away. “It will now be at exactly the right temperature,” he said, giving me another brief head nod.
He turned and was about to go back to the kitchen when I called out. “But why do you stay with Timothy, or whatever his real name is? Does he force you to do so?”
The chef turned and glanced at Timothy, who shrugged, and said, “You will find that Penelope is strong-willed and extremely inquisitive, Ben. Give her a bite of information, and she wants a volume.”
I opened my mouth to argue with him, but Timothy was probably right. I did have a tendency to dig. I wanted the whole picture, not just the pretty outer shell.
Chef Ben turned back to examine me. “Those of us who live in the human world tend to stick now marked as supernatural, although ignorant still of our ways. I imagine that your husband-to-be will acquaint you with all that you wish to know as you are ready.
“Now if you will forgive me, I have things in the kitchen that need to be completed. I plan to serve a cherry and dark chocolate crostata for dinner, and it requires some preparation.”
I had no idea what a crostata was, but the fact that it had dark chocolate in it seemed drool worthy. I might have asked the chef about the recipe, but the door had already swung closed behind him.