Egg Whites and Blue

Chapter 2-3

“What’s so funny?” asked Katie, wiping down the counter. Yolks on You served a small selection of food items, and the smear of egg salad from lunchtime disappeared under her cloth.

“Dom’s making a pie for the contest tomorrow,” said Kiko, slipping his phone back in his pocket. He brought over two plates and an empty eggnog glass, still smiling. “He thinks he actually has a chance.”

“His cooking’s that bad?”

Kiko took the cloth she handed him to wipe down the tables.

“He can cook a few meals fine. Nothing complicated, but his baking…”

“Should I warn Elena?” asked Katie. She and Elena were friends—Elena had opened a chocolate shop in Mount Angus a couple years ago and was on the panel of judges for the Knee High Fourth of July Festival this year. Kiko chuckled.

“Now that wouldn’t be fair, would it? Tipping off one of the judges.”

“Oh, please. Even with Sander Koch on the panel, Jeremy and Hailey are allowed to enter in every category. How much do you want to bet every single one of their entries will be a recipe in their upcoming cookbook?”

“Would the Kidwells be working on their cookbook with Sander?” asked Kiko, remembering Dom had said something about this. Katie laughed.

“You wouldn’t hear any news if it weren’t for me,” said Katie, and Kiko smiled.

“True, and I am thankful every day for it.”

“Yes, yes they are. No idea how they convinced him, but he’s writing the foreword in the book, and of course his name on it will mean they have guaranteed sales.”

Kiko turned that over in his mind as he wiped down tables and then rang up a customer. Sander was normally very stingy about his time and what he agreed to do for others; that he was so involved with the Kidwells’ cookbook meant that they had somehow impressed him, or Jeremy had slept with him at some point. They were probably the reason Sander was showing up for the festival to begin with.

“So,” said Katie when there was a lull. She bit into one of the egg-shaped chocolates from the case. “How’s Dom taking it? Sander showing up again?”

“We all have our exes,” said Kiko, trying not to be annoyed. “Not everything has to be an issue.”

“It does if it involves Sander. You know how long it’ll take the library to forgive you once they find out he’s doing a book signing for you and not them?”

“Speaking of that, I have some books to order,” said Kiko, moving over to the computer. “And it’s not really my fault he’s not doing a signing at the library.”

“You’d think he’d try to promote more,” said Katie. “The Kidwells are planning on doing multiple signings at the library.”

“Sander doesn’t need to promote. And Jeremy and Hailey are young—they want to promote. They have a lot of energy. It’s their first book.”

Kiko was recalling how many hours he’d put into Yolks on You in the first year. He’d been overworking himself, definitely. He’d even slept in the store a few times, just to save the time it took to drive the ten minutes home. He’d lost a promising relationship, and even his mother, who lived in Minneapolis and didn’t often meddle, had gotten worried for him. Learning to scale back to something manageable had been difficult; he figured it wouldn’t be much different for the Kidwells. Jeremy and Hailey were twins, graduated from college two years ago, almost regular locals up until their father died last autumn. Now they were coming out with a cookbook, endorsed by Sander Koch, of all people. Kiko was not surprised how involved they were.

“If only the cookbook was already out, then you could have them show up on Sunday with Sander and really make some sales.”

“There’s always next year,” said Kiko, placing his order.

“Or not. Sander’s been back to Mount Angus how many times since his career took off? Three?”

“Four. Five, if you count this time.”

“Someone’s counting,” said Katie, eyeing another chocolate before deciding against it. Kiko tried not to cringe.

“It’s normal to be curious now and again.”

“I won’t tell Dom.”

“He probably searches all his exes online periodically,” said Kiko dryly, not particularly liking the thought. But Dom was nosy, and Kiko expected him to keep up with this idea of being somewhat of a detective. It was harmless.

“He’ll make himself miserable, comparing,” said Katie. “Trust me on this one. You think you’re doing well, then you see them getting a promotion or married, something you want but don’t have yet, and you’re grumpy the rest of the day.”

“I’d warn him but he wouldn’t listen,” said Kiko, pulling out his phone as it chimed. It was a text from Dom.

Uneven # socks, it read, then, Making spaghetti. When home?

Kiko smiled, shook his head, and responded.