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“You’re not giving me confidence,” Delaney joked as the steam from her plate rolled over her face. She scooped a bite onto her fork and slipped the tines in her mouth. The ginger and garlic came immediately, spicy and hot. Nice crunch to the broccoli, which was bright green in color so had delivered on its promise. The tofu squished on her tongue, imparting less of the ginger flavor than the veggies, but still had a creamy feel that wasn’t unpleasant. “The sauce is great,” she said. “And who can resist baby corns?” She stabbed one with her fork and stuck it in her mouth. “Remember that scene fromBig?”
The lines around Sean’s eyes crinkled. “When Tom Hanks is at the cocktail party?”
“And he nibbles on the little corn?” Delaney finished.
Sean leaned back in his chair. “Tell me the secret, Delaney.” The way he used her first name so casually, all formality stripped away, sent a tingle up her spine. “Tell me the secret of this tofu. Because I’m eating this stir-fry and all I’m thinking is how good it would taste with some chicken.”
Delaney choked on her food, giggling. “Okay,” she said, setting her fork down. “First, let me just say that I think you went above and beyond on your end of the deal. You agreed to cook me dinner if you lost the race and you did that. In spades. You made a sauce and chopped up veggies and...and...bought a wok.”
Sean forked in some more of his food and chewed through it, a half smile on his face. “Guilty,” he said. “But. Tell me your secret with this stuff.” He played with the cubes of tofu with his fork. “Be honest. I can take it.”
“I’m being honest.” Delaney took another bite and legitimately enjoyed it. “This is all amazing. But we vegetarians aren’t as complicated as we seem. I’m actually really easy to please. If you had served me a grilled cheese sandwich, I’d still be a happy girl.”
“Damn.” Sean slammed his fist playfully on the tabletop. “I knew it! Soon as you texted ‘peanut butter’ I knew I had overcomplicated things.”
Delaney sipped her wine and smiled into her glass. “Let me simplify this,” she said, leaning back and swirling the rose-colored liquid around. “You can give me bread and cheese. Pasta. Peanut butter. A simple salad with a splash of lemon juice and vinegar. Popcorn. Cheese and crackers.” She shrugged. “People act like vegetarians are hard to please, but I’m quite the opposite. It’s a lot easier to smear peanut butter on whole wheat bread than it is to grill a steak. But, if you’re going to get fancy and make tofu, I can offer you some tips.”
Sean lifted his glass and drained his wine. “I’m all ears.” He poured some more blush into both their glasses, then leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head, making his heavily muscled torso strain against the Nationals T-shirt. “I sincerely want to know the mystery of this substance.”
Delaney cleaned the last bite off her plate, enjoying the ginger and garlic and the crisp broccoli, before she laid her fork down and leaned forward on her elbows and whispered, “Paper towels.”
Sean narrowed his eyes, a smile tickling the corners of his mouth while he sipped his wine. “Wait. What?”
Delaney wished she had more peanut butter, but resisted telling Sean how he could have worked it into the dish by making it Thai stir-fry. “I know you marinated your tofu,” she said. “I can taste the delicious sauce. But, in order for tofu to take in the flavors you have to get all the moisture out first. You can do that by wrapping the tofu in layers of paper towels and plopping something heavy on top. I usually use a cast-iron pan. Let it sit half an hour. You’ll be surprised how much moisture comes out. Some brands are drier than others.”
Sean was quiet a moment, sipping his wine, his face straight and thoughtful. “That makes a lot of sense,” he finally said. “My recipe didn’t mention that.”
Delaney shrugged. “Your dish was delicious anyway. This is just an insider tip from a woman who’s been around the tofu block a few times.”
Sean smiled at her joke. “A tip I will not need unless you want to have dinner with me again. Because I stick to my guns.” He gestured at his empty plate. “This would have been amazing with chicken.”
Delaney loaded her plate with more rice and more stir-fry and lifted her fork. “I think it’s amazing just like it is.”
“The flowers are beautiful,” Delaney said, after she’d cleaned her plate for the second time. “I’ve never seen roses this color before.” She studied the bouquet in the center of the table and looked like she wanted to say more, but didn’t. Had she noticed that Sean had chosen flowers that matched that quilt on her sofa? All soft pinks and mint greens. He’d seen that quilt and had known that there was no way the blanket was resting on the sofa in her studio apartment unless she loved the colors. She didn’t have enough evident female family to have made the blanket and handed it down, which meant she’d bought it somewhere because she found it comforting, a feeling she’d had to cultivate on her own most of her life. Sean both did and didn’t want her to notice that he’d noticed.
“Thanks,” Sean said. “They caught my eye when I was food shopping. There’s a flower shop near the grocery store.” He offered Delaney his untouched spoon of peanut butter and she didn’t even pretend that she didn’t want it. Once she’d polished that off, Sean faced her with a little more seriousness. “I checked a few things out after our run yesterday, and this morning before I started my tofu adventure.” He paused to smile. “The cigarette butt from Walt is the same brand—Newports—as the butts we found out back of your shop. I wanted to find out more about him, but Walt notably left off his last name when he introduced himself the other evening and he didn’t sign your registry. None of that necessarily means anything. A lot of people smoke Newports, and Walt doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that would sign your registry anyway.”
“You don’t think old Walt had anything to do with this?”
Sean shrugged. “I suspect everyone. It’s my job. Just give me time. I also made a phone call to each of the guys who worked with your father at the shop in Omaha. Not only do I know they had nothing to do with the theft, I take pity on the fool who ever messes with you. Those guys were more interested in making sure I was doing right by you than in that missing bike.”
Delaney flashed a knowing smile. “Yeah. My uncles are something else. But hey, I didn’t expect to talk about the bike tonight. You’ve been working your butt off, even when you’re not on shift. I really appreciate it, especially since I know the odds...” She trailed off, not finishing a sentence that Sean knew wasn’t hopeful.
“Hey.” Sean wanted to reach out and cover her hand with his, where it rested on the table, just long enough to get her to look at him and stop staring sadly into space. But he held back. “I’m going to find that bike. Mark my words.”
Delaney nodded. “I trust you. And not to sound ungrateful, but it would be amazing if we could find it before the Classic Motorcycle Show. I was really counting on entering ’33 to get that exposure for my shop. Like,bankingon it, if you catch my drift.”
“I’ve been to that.” Sean remembered going with Kim many years ago. She’d complained about the heat and the bad food from the vendors and the day spent staring at “stupid machines.” Her attitude had killed any joy Sean might’ve otherwise found in the event and he’d never gone back.
“It looks like a fun time. I’m going either way, but my plans to enter Dad’s bike are obviously shot to hell unless it magically reappears. And the local show was the clincher that made me buy the shop. I thought with the cash prize and the exposure in the magazine, I could pull it off.” She sort of laughed at herself, but there was no humor in it. “Anyway. Moving off the bike.” Delaney stuck her fork into the stir-fry bowl and snagged another piece of tofu, chewing it slowly.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying your victory. You earned it.”
“I’ve been enjoying my victory for two days now,” she admitted. “I went to Red’s house and got a massage today.”
“Red’s the best,” Sean said. “A massage is a massage, I guess. I haven’t had enough to know. But there’s something different about her. She really seems to know exactly what your muscles need.”
“Not just the muscles.” Delaney sipped at her second glass of wine. “I felt like I was in this unusual kind of altered state. Not exactly sleep but definitely not awake. I remembered things I’d forgotten about but I was able to view them with a different lens. Kind of like an onlooker rather than being immersed in the moment. It was really...” she tilted her head from side to side “...cathartic.”
