The way he did it, it reallywasa masterpiece.
Miss LaRue said, "Maybe the toaster doesn't belong on the countertop."
"Oh yeah?" I said. "Then wheredoesit belong?"
"Inside the cupboard."
I almost laughed in her face. "You can't make toast that way."
"You can if you pull it out and plug it in."
"Yeah, but if you do, you'll knock it off the moment you open the cabinet."
Through gritted teeth, she said, "Then I suggest youdon'topen the cabinet while you're making toast."
"But what if you need peanut butter?" I gave Brody a sideways glance. "Crunchypeanut butter, because itreallyis the best."
On Brody's face, I swear I saw the hint of a smile. And something about it – even as small as it was – went straight to my heart, making me long to throw myself into his arms.
How stupid was that?
And now I was all distracted.
As for Miss LaRue, she was focused enough for all of us. With a sound of annoyance, she lunged for the cabinet door and tore off my cardboard extension. She hurled it onto the kitchen floor and eyed me like I'd just crapped on the countertop.
I stared down at the cardboard. "Why'd you do that?"
"Because," she said, "your point's ridiculous."
"Mypoint's ridiculous?" I scoffed. "Well,yourpoint – no, youridea– iscompletelyridiculous."
She crossed her arms. "Is it now?"
"Of course it is," I said. "This is a house, not a showcase – which means that someone will actually be living here. And they'll be making toast. And coffee, too."
"I'll have you know," Miss LaRue said, "that Felicity St. James has counter-less cupboards inhernew kitchen, and she absolutely adores them."
"Felicity St. James?" I laughed. "The actress?"
With a smug smile, Miss LaRue said, "The very same."
I gave a snort of derision. "I'm sure shedoes'adore' them. And you wanna know why?"
"I'm sure you're about to tell me."
Oh yeah. I'd be telling her, alright."It's because," I said, "she probably has her own private chef."
"Of course she does. So?"
"So she doesn't make her own toast.Orher own coffee."
"Of course she doesn't," Miss LaRue said. "She's averyimportant person."
"Yeah, well so is Brody." As I said it, I realized how very true it was. He was beyond rich and famous. If he wanted, he could have a private chef of his own.
But he wasn't like that.
In fact, there'd been plenty of mornings when he'd made toast for the both of us. And bacon, too. As for myself, I'd specialized in pancakes, slightly crispy on the outside and fluffy in the middle, just the way Brody liked them.
