He shrugged. “There was a new recipe I wanted to try.”
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Angela handed him the containers and then got out a few plates and forks.
Opening the first plastic tub, Simon scooped some salad onto their plates. “I started taking cooking classes with the kids after Sarah died. It was something we could do together, and it was necessary since I could only make frozen pizzas and peanut butter sandwiches.” From the second tub, he pulled two sandwiches wrapped in deli paper and tied with twine.
“I’m not used to such fine food.” Angela unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite of the thick, rustic crust. “This is delicious. Thank you for treating me. It must have been a lot of work.”
He smiled. “Ella helped.”
His daughter hadn’t minded packing a dinner so her dad could spend time with a woman who wasn’t her mom? But perhaps Simon had reassured Ella this wasn’t a date. “Sometimes it’s like pulling teeth to get Kylee’s help in the kitchen. She hasn’t even spoken one word to me since Saturday night.”
Simon took a bite and chewed, his gaze thoughtful. “Have you tried talking to her?”
“Of course, but she just ignores me.” A drop of apple butter fell from the sandwich onto her jeans, and she rubbed it away with a napkin. “I just don’t know how to do this, and I hate feeling helpless. But there’s no Parenting 101, and even if there was, I’m not sure it’d cover how to walk your kids through the loss of a parent.”
“It’s definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“How do you do it?”
“One day at a time, I guess. Just when I think I’ve made progress, something new comes up and I have to navigate rough waters.”
“I know what you mean.”
Silence descended for a few moments while they both ate.
Then Simon polished off the rest of his sandwich and snagged the tarts from the basket. “Look, I’m no expert, but maybe you could find some special way to connect with your daughter. The cooking class started off as a way to learn how to cook, but it gave us time together and something to accomplish. Maybe you could ask your daughter to train with you. Does she like running?”
Huh. “Yes, actually. She’s very into it. But I’m not sure she’d say yes to running with me.” She bit into a tart and groaned as the flavors melded.
Simon’s eyes showcased his pleasure at her appreciation. “It doesn’t hurt to ask. Don’t you have that marathon coming up?”
The tart turned sour. “This weekend, actually.” It had snuck up on them all.
A few kids threw Frisbees along the water’s edge. The discs zinged through the air one moment and caught the wind the next, floating as if weightless.
Angela’s emotions did the same thing, angling toward hope, then crashing into a darkness she’d rather not examine. Would the marathon be a disaster or help them feel that the ultra was more than just a pipe dream?
“Maybe see if she wants to do it with you. If it wouldn’t interfere with your group dynamic, that is.”
Would her daughter say yes? Maybe Kylee would like to accompany Angela, even just as a pacer or for moral support. Why hadn’t Angela thought of that before?
As she considered the possibilities, they both finished their dessert and the breeze rustled the empty plates. Simon tossed them into a nearby trash can. “Would you like to stay here or walk a bit more?”
“The food was so rich that a walk sounds like a wise idea.”
After throwing on a light brown jacket, he helped her to her feet, and the moment their hands touched, her fingers tingled. Her brain warned her even as her heart leapt at the contact.
She turned her attention to the basket, tubs, and blanket on the ground. “Don’t we need to pack up?”
“Nah, no one will mess with it. We can gather it on our way back.”
The sun had begun to lower in the sky, and with it, the temperature. Angela wore jeans and a short-sleeved blouse, but had forgotten a sweater in her flurry to get out the door. Goose bumps rising on her skin, she crossed her arms over her chest.
Simon shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to her. “Here.”
“Oh, I can’t take that. You’ll be cold.”
“I won’t have a woman freezing on my watch.”
When she still refused to take it, he looped it around her shoulders. Instantly, warmth—and a woodsy,