“Wow. This is great.” She indulged in another bite.
“Thanks. I like it too. I’m pretty happy with the results,” he said, putting another forkful in his mouth.
“So how does a man like you learn to cook like this?”
“Well, my mother was never much of a cook. When my dad died, my mother fell into a depression; she couldn’t get out of bed, let alone cook so my older sister and I took over the cooking duties. I was so young. My mother’s only joy was the meals we would make for her. I’ve enjoyed cooking ever since.”
“Well, she’s a lucky woman, your mother.” Ellie enjoyed another bite.
“How was your weekend at the cottage? I never asked.”
“It was great.” Sudden images of him kissing Angela’s soft lips danced in his head. He pushed them away. This was not the time for such thoughts.
“How did Angela enjoy her stay?” she asked, inquisitive and slightly mischievous.
He looked down at his plate.
“I think she enjoyed it. She got along famously with the kids.”
“So...if I may ask...without being too blunt...” She took a drink of her water. “Tell me if I’m being too nosy... but is there a story between you two?”
He was going to deny it at first but quickly realized he was speaking to Ellie. He could tell her anything and she wouldn’t judge him. He did really need to confide in someone. No sense beating around the bush. He had tried to confide in his mother but she just didn’t understand. She told him to go barge in and steal her away. It just wasn’t that easy.
“I’m crazy about her,” he said plainly.
Ellie hadn’t expected such a monumental confession.
“Wow. And she’s crazy about you, I’m sure.”
“I think,” he said, equally as plainly.
“Then, what’s the problem?”
“She’s engaged to another man.”
“Oh, I see. Classic love triangle I see.”
Ellie was not exactly an expert at love. She was at a loss for words. She thought about it for a few seconds.
“Well, you two should talk. Communication is key,” she offered. “Have you really talked? Who does she really want to be with? Have you asked her?
Maybe it’s you.”
He didn’t answer.
“Well, I’ve said enough, I don’t want to mettle further. What a soap opera.”
They ate the rest of his wonderful home cooked meal in silence as Michael pondered what Ellie had said.
Angela was quite flustered and stressed. Nothing was going according to plan. This art show was extremely important to her, to the foundation and the kids who participated; especially to Sacha. This was Sacha’s project and Angela told herself she would do her best not to mess it up.
The art display boards rental fees had been generously discounted – Angela had negotiated fifty percent off rental; for a good cause. Each two piece display board could display sixteen pieces or so; all the block canvases had been donated by a local art supplier.
The children had used acrylic paints and pastels to create beautiful pieces. They had worked with Krysten Johnson, a local art teacher who gave night classes and donated her guidance. The results were wonderfully surprising. They had wanted to achieve pieces that were vibrant and meaningful and beautiful enough to hang in any show home.
As Angela unloaded the canvases from the boxes, she could admire a job well done. Each canvas was matched with an information card, which included their name and age and picture. Angela had created all the 84 cards. All seemed in order with the art but they were short one display board, Angela would have to rearrange the art to make everything fit, she wasn’t sure she could get all this done on time; thankfully she had the help of three volunteers, among which was Beth; a woman in her fiftieswho had been with the foundation for years and was the mother of a grown daughter with Cystic Fibrosis.
They had managed to get the boards up, the first proving to be quite challenging. Once they had the first one done, the remaining ones were easier.
