Because Of You. Kristina O'Grady

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СКАЧАТЬ the same time she now knew she also couldn’t imagine running a B&B for the rest of her life either. Before Rachel got sick and money wasn’t so tight and Beth thought dreams came true because she wanted them to, she’d wanted to be a chef.

      Beth went straight to the bathroom when she got into the house and set to work trying to wash the dirt off her hands. It took a few scrubs of the brush and some elbow grease to get them clean. She then went to her favourite room in the whole house. Her kitchen. She absolutely loved being in here. The sun washed the wooden countertops in gold and the open white cupboards displayed all her crockery and glasses. The stainless steel of her gas hob and fridge sparkled in the sunlight. The butter-yellow walls and the bowl of fruit on the table welcomed guests to sit down and make their selves at home.

      Beth poured herself an iced tea and sat down at the table. She still needed a shower to wash off the dirt but first she needed to rehydrate.

      In Bassville there was a little café she’d fantasised owning ever since the cooking bug bit her. When she was a teenager she’d spent every available moment at the Cat’s Whiskers Café. She’d always wanted to work there but there was too much to do on the ranch after school and over summer holidays for her to have a part-time job. But that didn’t discourage her dream of owning it one day.

      Rachel’s death did that.

      After Rachel died, Beth felt guilty about the pleasure cooking gave her. She shouldn’t feel happy when her sister was dead. And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from cooking either. It was the only time during the long days after Rachel passed away that she was able to forget the pain. She felt guilty for that too.

      Her mom had suggested she open up the Old House to visitors. Beth admitted that it was the idea of having someone to cook for that persuaded her to open the guest house.

      And having Helga around and cooking for her every day was great. Never once since she arrived had Helga acted like an actress. Not that Beth knew any actresses and therefore didn’t know how they behaved. She supposed she was guilty of believing what the gossip magazines said. But Helga was lovely.

      Speaking of Helga, Beth glanced at the clock on the wall. She had just enough time to take a quick shower before she started to think about making dinner. It was her favourite time of day when she could take a moment and sit down and decide what she would cook.

      In the shower, inspiration struck. Back downstairs, freshly showered, Beth knelt down next to her sideboard, a gift from her grandmother, opened the door and reached all the way to the back of the bottom shelf. She smiled when her hands brushed the rough cover of her recipe folder. She pulled it out from behind the bottles of liquor and brushed the cobweb that clung to the corner. It was her secret stash of recipes she wanted to grace the menu of her own café one day.

      While she was there, she grabbed a bottle of red wine from bottom shelf for good measure and poured herself a glass, leaving the bottle open on the table for when Helga got back from today’s set.

      She sat at the table and, with reverence, opened the cover of the folder. The first page was filled with pictures she’d snipped out of magazines of the interiors of cafés and restaurants. She ran her fingers over the clippings. Some of them she no longer liked. She’d started the folder years ago and some of those places she’d so coveted were now really out of style. She grinned at the bright-orange walls of one of the cafes and she plucked at the corner of the picture but decided to keep it there as a reminder.

      She turned the page.

      Stuffed button mushrooms with blue cheese sauce was the first of the hors d’oeuvre. She slowly read the ingredients and in her mind’s eye prepared them for a restaurant full of customers. Her stomach growled. She shook her head and laughed. She didn’t need appetisers tonight.

      She flipped further into the folder, past the starters, salads and luncheon dishes. Rare roast beef with fresh horseradish cream, buttermilk garlic mashed potatoes and steamed seasonal vegetables was the perfect thing for a trial run. Roast beef was the very first thing she had ever cooked. She could still remember putting it into the oven for the first time. She could make this dinner blindfolded. She’d make Yorkshire puddings too. Ben loved those and she was sure he’d be joining her and Helga for dinner a lot more since this weekend when they’d disappeared together. Beth was happy for them. Ben hadn’t had a lot of joy in his life the last couple of years and, by the sound of it, Helga was in need of happiness too.

      She took a large drink from her glass, relishing the tartness of the wine as it bit into her palate. She had another sip, this time smaller and set to work getting all the ingredients together. She hated starting a recipe only to find that she didn’t have everything handy. It had the potential of ruining a dish if she had to stop to find something crucial to the outcome of the dish. After checking everything on her list, she was satisfied she had everything she needed.

      She stood at the counter and looked out the window at her garden in the back. She loved that her sunflowers were starting to come up. They were her favourite thing out there and she could hardly wait until she could watch them follow the sun.

      Her eyes shifted to the vegetables in freshly weeded rows next to the sunflowers. The corn had barely broken the surface of the dirt, the peas were still flowering and the tomatoes were still just greenery. The broccoli and cauliflower was no better and her carrots and beets wouldn’t be big enough yet either. She hated to admit that she had no fresh veggies in her garden yet. In a few weeks it would be a different story, but for now she’d have to resort to what she’d picked up from the grocery store on Friday.

      She opened her onion box on the counter and grabbed two onions and a head of garlic. She rolled an onion across the countertop until the skin crackled and peeled it with a sharp knife and did the same to the other one. She quickly quartered them and put them in the bottom of a roasting dish. She wacked off the top of the garlic, put it in the corner of the dish and drizzled olive oil over it.

      She pulled another head of garlic out of the onion box and pulled off six cloves. Flattening them against the cutting board with her knife, loosening the skin, she carefully peeled them before slicing them into slivers which she studded into the roast and put it on top of the onions.

      She sprinkled salt and pepper over the meat and a small smile touched her lips as the familiar dinner stared back at her. Comfort food tonight.

      It didn’t take her long to peel the potatoes and put them into a pot of water while waiting for the oven to heat. Once the roast was in the oven, Beth headed back outside to her patch of horseradish. The year Rachel died they had picked some out of the ditch on a trip to Saskatchewan and planted it into a pot in her back yard. That trip was the last time her sister had left her home town. It was always with a touch of sadness that she pulled out a long root.

      She took the trowel and loosened the dirt around the root and pulled it free. The air filled with the spicy wasabi scent and fresh dirt. She tipped her face up to the sky again; her garden could sure do with some rain, but there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.

      ***

      Beth’s phone rang as she was pouring buttermilk into the potatoes. She snuck a peek at the roast on the way to answer it. The aroma of the roasting meat filled the kitchen when she cracked open the door. Yum. It was looking good.

      ‘Hello,’ she said absentmindedly into the phone. She was still focused on her meal. She couldn’t wait to slice into that beef.

      ‘Beth?’ The soft voice on the other end of the line snapped her attention away from dinner.

      ‘Kelsey. СКАЧАТЬ