fidgeted with a string on her apron. “It’s been busy at the store.”
Yes, she had been avoiding June. Kristine was mad at her mother for stalking Kevin at the juice bar, but she was also feeling guilty about the fact that maybe her mother was right.
Rather than risk June’s interference, she’d been avoiding her mother instead.
“It’ll be fun to make pasta,” Kristine said, her voice bright. “I—”
“Oh!” Chloe’s eyes focused on something behind Kristine. “I have to warn you,” she murmured. “The chef tonight is a little . . .”
“Hahl-lo,” a raspy voice cried.
Kristine practically jumped out of her shoes. Turning around, she was surprised to see a tiny man with a large nose and crooked teeth standing just inches away from her. He was dressed all in white, other than a bright blue apron filled with a variety of cooking utensils. When he moved, the spoons jingled together, making a sound like that bell Chloe’s cat always wore.
“I am Hannigan!” The rotund man stood on his tiptoes to kiss her cheek. “Oh, you are delicious.” He sniffed the air around her like a bloodhound. “You smell like coconuts.”
“Hello.” Kristine took a step backwards, trying to move him out of her personal space. To her surprise, Hannigan followed. She took another step back. He followed again, as though they were performing some odd number on Dancing with the Stars.
Kristine looked at her daughter in confusion, not quite sure how to get out of this.
Chloe grinned. “Hannigan is going to teach us about making pasta. Grandma met him through a mutual friend. Although he has asked her on a date, once or twice—”
“Three times, yes.” Hannigan nodded, vigorously.
“Hannigan has resigned himself to teaching us about cooking instead.”
“Yes, yes.” He abruptly abandoned Kristine’s personal space and invaded Chloe’s instead. Running his stubby hands through her ponytail, he proclaimed, “This one is already my sous chef.”
June bustled back into the room. Smoothing down her red polka-dot apron with white ruffles, she said, “Shall we get started?”
“Yes.” Hannigan bebopped over to June. “Let’s start the party.”
June gave a hearty sigh and pushed him away. Reaching for her Thursday night notebook, she cleared her throat and placed a pair of purple-rimmed reading glasses onto her nose. Two days ago, Kristine had picked up the exact pair to replace the pink ones. It was time to get a real pair of glasses.
June cleared her throat. “Harriet Van Horne said, ‘Cooking is like love. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.’ The Italians create their meals with love, creating dishes with few ingredients and enjoyed over a period of hours, to maximize time with family. Today, we will learn how to make homemade pasta in an effort to spend more time together as a family. And of course . . .” She cleared her throat again. “To honor Kristine’s upcoming trip to Rome.”
Hannigan whistled. He yanked Kristine over to the pots like a lobster he planned to boil. “We cook here.” Then, he dragged her over to an area with colorful plastic mixing bowls. “We create here.”
The three of them worked quickly to keep up with Hannigan’s instructions, dumping eggs, flour and a variety of spices into the bowls. The chef chose a whisk from his apron collection and whipped the ingredients together, while maintaining a tight grip on Kristine’s elbow. Thanks to the motion of his arm, she felt like a kid stuck on a merry-go-round. The ingredients transformed into dough and the chef cried, “Who would like to master the art of the roll?”
“Chloe would,” Kristine said, pointing.
As Hannigan raced to be by her side, Kristine approached her mother. “Thanks for doing this tonight. It’s really sweet.”
June sniffed. “You’re welcome.”
“I’m sorry I missed the past few weeks.” She kept her voice quiet. “The store’s been busy.”
“Work is the excuse Kevin is using with you,” June said. “Don’t you dare use it with me.”
“Mom . . .” Kristine sighed. “Look, what you did to Kevin was completely unacceptable. Our marriage is not your business.”
June eyed her over those purple frames. “If it involves you, it is my business.”
“You made me look like a child. Can you imagine what would happen if I talked to . . .” She wracked her brain. “Chloe’s dean? Without her permission?”
June’s eyes looked guilty. “I only—”
“You only wanted to butt in. I’m begging you, butt out.” Kristine reached up and tugged at the knot in her hair. Pulling it down, she rearranged it and tied it up