dumping me.”
“You’ve probably never been dumped in your life.”
“I have, but that’s another story for another time. Right now I want the low-down on collecting cookbooks.”
“Okay, but if your eyes glaze over, don’t blame me. It started when I went looking for a carrot cake recipe. At last count, I had over a hundred books. Some of my favorites are collections put together by groups, usually for fundraising purposes. They were very popular in the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. I like them because they aren’t recipes from famous or celebrity chefs. These are tried-and-true recipes from the heartland that have been handed down from one generation to the next.
“There’s another aspect of it as well. Each book tells a story about the person who owned it. Some look as if they were never opened, some have ear-marked pages, and some were used so much the paper has thinned to the consistency of tissue. Others have names written on the inside front cover along with when and where they got the book. I love the ones with notes written in the margins or handwritten sheets tucked into the back. I’ve found several where the owner kept meticulous records of her menus, the guests she had for dinner, and lists of their favorite foods.”
“So this is more than just finding recipes.”
“Yes. It’s like a portal into the past, or more specifically, into someone’s kitchen.”
“Where do you find these recipe collections? I wouldn’t think they’d be in a used bookstore.”
“You’re right. Most of the time I run across them at yard sales or mixed in with mass-produced cookbooks at thrift shops.”
“Do you have a favorite dessert?”
“I do. Bread pudding. I think of it as the dessert version of comfort food. Its yummy goodness and nostalgia rolled up in one.”
“I wonder why Sylvie has never brought me any from your place.”
Robin speared a scallop and dunked it in melted butter. “She may not realize we have it. It’s on the special order menu.”
“Have you and Kait ever thought of expanding?”
“We’ve talked about it, but right now, one shop is enough for us to handle.”
“If you did open another one, where would it be?”
“Closer to downtown, probably in the Avondale/Riverside area. You get the best of both worlds there: locals and tourists. The big hurdle would be finding a place we could afford. That’s prime real estate. We’d have to sell a lot of cupcakes and cookies.”
“Speaking of sweets, did you save room for dessert? Andre’s is known for macaroons, but their ice cream is really good, too.”
“I can’t eat another bite. Truly.”
“Does that mean the food here is as good as you remember?”
“It was better. I’m thinking the company had something to do with that.”
Reece grinned as he signaled for the bill. “That’s a relief. I was hoping to avoid being thought worse than a blind date who only talked about himself.”
That was never going to happen. Being with Reece was different from all of her previous experiences. He was fully engaged. She didn’t have the feeling that she was competing with anything else for his attention.
As they were leaving the restaurant, someone else was waiting to come in. Robin recognized Mr. Wonderful immediately. Her wish that he wouldn’t do the same wasn’t granted.
“It’s Reece and the cake decorator!” Hollis said, the same arrogant smile she remembered pasted on his lips. “Or as I like to think of her, ‘the one who got away’.”
“Do you two know each other?” Reece asked, looking surprised.
“No,” Robin said quickly before Hollis could answer. “We met briefly. At a wedding.”
The gleam of mischief in Hollis’s eyes had her fingers itching to slap him.
“But what a meeting! Sparks were flying.”
Robin drew in her breath at this blatant misrepresentation of the truth. Before she could set the record straight, history repeated itself. This time it was Reece who intervened.
“Something tells me they weren’t good sparks. How’s the new plane working out?”
“Great! I should have bought one years ago.”
Reece turned to Robin. “Hollis is a recent graduate of my flight school. He’s also a neighbor.”
She was quick to notice that he didn’t say they were friends.
Hollis peered into the restaurant. “My girlfriend is on time for once. I better not keep her waiting. Nice seeing you, Reece. And you, too, of course,” he said, winking at Robin.
“Have a good one, Hollis,” Reece said.
Robin couldn’t bring herself to echo the sentiment. Once they were in the parking lot, she muttered, “His girlfriend would be better off if he hadn’t shown up at