Chef Charming by Lyn Ellerbe

strange
reason, he obeyed.
    As he folded himself into
the tiny front seat, he wiped the rain from his face . She was obviously rain-soaked, too, but not as bad
as he was.
    “What did you call me?”
Marcus turned to her, still not believing he had gotten into her car.
    “A
stubborn oaf.” She thought he laughed, but she wasn’t sure.
    H is apartment was only a couple of blocks away.
Thankfully the rain let up slightly just as she pulled up to his building.
Still Marcus hesitated before getting out of the car. Rori had no idea that he
was grasping for an excuse to extend his stay. After what seemed like hours to
him, but was in fact only a second, he remembered overhearing a conversation at
her station tonight.
    “Tell me the cream puff
story,” he said. “I heard the laughter but your little incident distracted me
so I forgot to ask before class ended.”
    Rori smiled at the memory of
her dad’s culinary misadventure, but was somewhat confused by the chef’s
attention.
    “Are you sure?” she asked.
“It’s just a silly story about my dad.”
    “Yes, please,” Marcus said. Hopefully the desperation was not evident in
his voice.
    Rori recounted the story. It happened during her home church’s
annual Dad’s Dessert Contest. Professor Sinclair had won the previous
year with an orange cake and was expanding his culinary skills with the more
difficult cream puffs. Unfortunately, his wife and daughters were out shopping
when he began his production. Not realizing that you should measure flour quite
differently from brown sugar, he carefully packed down each of the four cups of
all-purpose flour. As the cream puffs baked, they looked marvelous. As he
pulled them out of their molds to cool, he realized something had gone terribly
wrong. They were as heavy as baseballs. In fact, when his neighbor, a fellow
dessert challenge competitor, came to the door later that afternoon, Dr.
Sinclair tossed him one of the perfect looking creampuffs. Thankfully, the
neighbor ducked, otherwise the cream puff would have
knocked him out. Needless to say, Rori’s dad made
another batch.
    “So your da d likes to cook?” Marcus asked.
    “We call his cooking,
‘creative’,” Rori said. “He made a delicious homemade soup one time, mainly by
combining various vegetables and spices. It was fantastic. Unfortunately, he had just grabbed random things from
the cabinet and hadn’t bothered to write anything down. There was no hope of
duplicating it.”
    “He sounds a lot like my
brother James,” Marcus said. “I would love to meet him.” Realizing too late to stop the words that conveyed more of his
feelings than he was ready to acknowledge, he quickly opened the door of the
car.
    “See you tomorrow night ,” he said as he leaned in the open door. With no hint
of command, but a sense of concern, he added, “Please try to eat before you
come to class. Thanks for the ride, and for the story. ”
    Who are you and what have
you done with my disagreeable, mean chef? She wanted to ask. S he stared in wonder.
    “You’re welcome,” she said
as he hauled himself out of her small car.
    He seemed to hesitate,
almost as if he wanted to say something more. Instead, he only added,
“Goodnight, Aurora.”
    “Goodnight, Marcus,” she
said as he closed the car door.
    -------------------------
    When she got back to her
apartment, she turned on her computer immediately. The email message box
blinked at her. He had already sent a message.
    Dear Aurora:  Thanks
for the ride . Your carriage was exactly
what I pictured yours would be. But it looks a little like a pumpkin. Aren’t
their rules against borrowing from other fairy tales?
    Dear Marcus:  I was glad to be of service. I would
hate to think of you lying in a puddle in front of the Tech Building. Being made of sugar and all, I’m sure you were likely to
melt. ~ Aurora.
    Dear Aurora: You are very
funny...
    His fingers hesitated over
the keyboard. He decided to venture out on the proverbial