I got the feeling he wasn’t used to giving orders.
“I can potter around in here for a bit,” I said. “Get a head start on tomorrow. And I like to organise things.”
“Yes, well, tomorrow. I thought we could go over the menu you wanted to do, go over the equipment that I have, like pots and pans, and if there’s anything you need, we can go into town. We’ll need to do a grocery run as well. I’ve put in an order at the store. They agreed to wholesale prices, which is great. But you can check off what I’ve ordered with what you need.”
“Sounds good.”
“My aunt had a whole heap of pots and pans in here.” He opened one cupboard, then another, to reveal stacked cookware. And not just any cookware, but these were vintage enamel or copper and some cast iron. An old pudding steamer toppled out and I picked it up.
“This is cool! I haven’t seen one of these in years.”
Cass eyed it. “What is it?”
“A Christmas pudding steamer.”
He made a face. “Ew.”
I laughed. “Well, not just Christmas pudding. Any kind.”
He clearly wasn’t sold.
“What about a warm gingerbread cake with caramel sauce? That’s Christmassy.”
“Now, that kind of cake is something I can get behind.”
“Okay. Easy.” I held the steamer up. “It might not even work because this is about a hundred years old.”
He laughed and pulled out a cast-iron skillet. “So’s this. It’s old and heavy as hell. Might need to be cleaned up a bit, though,” he said, taking it to the sink.
I let out a squeal. “No!”
He spun around. “What?”
I took the skillet from him. “What you’re not going to do, is that.” It took a second for me to breathe right. “No water. The cooking gods will strike you down.” I turned the skillet over in my hands. “Lord, do you have any idea how valuable these are?”
He shrugged. “Uh, no. Apparently not.” Then he smiled. “Thought you saw a cockroach or something. Which I don’t have cockroaches, by the way.”
I put the skillet down and took a ceramic pot out of the cupboard that I was pretty sure was made in the 1950s. “I can’t believe you have a kitchen full of this stuff.” People paid a lot of money for these. “I’m going to give these all a clean.” I shot him a look. “The proper way. If that’s okay?”
“Sure.” I think he was a little embarrassed. “Like I said, I don’t cook too often. And I’ve never used any of those.” He made a face. “You don’t have to do that today. You just got here.”
“Would you believe me if I said I like to clean and organise for fun?” I chuckled. “I like things neat and tidy, plus it’ll be a good way for me to see if we need anything.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll let you alone for a bit now. I gotta go get a start on this sign.” Cass got halfway out the kitchen before he stopped. “Help yourself to anything in the fridge you want. Guess it’s lunch time now. Make yourself something, and there’s coffee. Look through the cupboards till you find what you need.”
“Will do, thanks.”
He left me alone then, and I heard him whistling as he walked outside and over to the barn.
The house seemed very quiet when it was just me.
And, because I just had to, I lifted the stovetop cover, and smiling, I shook my head. It was a ridiculous luxury when any normal kind of stove would have sufficed. But this hidden one, to match the cabinetry? Jeez.
How much money did this guy have?
I left my knife kit on the kitchen counter for now and decided to poke my head in a few rooms while Cass wasn’t here. The first bedroom was beautifully decorated; the wrought iron bed frame and white linens gave the room an elegant country feel. The second room was much the same, except it was a pale blue. The third room was a fawn colour with orange hints.
It was all beautiful. Like pages out of a magazine.
But the next room wasn’t made up yet. The linens were still in their packaging. An old-fashioned dresser had a door taken off. What looked like new blinds were still in their boxes on the bed and tins of paint. Wait . . . the painting wasn’t finished.
Was he not using this room?
The reading room was next, and my first glance was just wow. Tall built-in shelves along one wall were filled with books, two fancy looking chairs sat with a chess table between them. It was filled with natural light. French doors led out to the front veranda, a gorgeous cast iron and tiled fireplace took up one wall.
It was a stunning room, no doubt about it.
But there were boxes shoved in the far corner next to a display cabinet that looked like it was an original piece from when the house was first built. It was pulled away from the wall and there were newspapers and what looked like cleaning products in a basket next to it.
It seemed to me that there were little odds and ends left undone all over the house. Which was fair enough. If he was doing this all by himself, it was quite the undertaking.
I pulled the door closed and went back to the kitchen, figuring maybe some lunch was in order. And there, stuck to the fridge, which I hadn’t noticed before, was a to-do list. It had about thirty things written down, some with lines through them, some had ticks, some had asterisks.
He still had a bit to do, and he was taking his first clients in three days. I tried not to think about how he was going to do it all.
But lunch first.
I had no idea where anything was or what food there was or what I could even use. Cass had said I could help myself.
His fridge was pretty well stocked. Well, it was stocked for personal use. Not for commercial use. I’d definitely need to stock up before guests arrived. A quick look in the dry storage and I decided tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches were on the menu.
A quick rummage through a cupboard next to the stove produced a saucepan and a frypan. I gave them a proper clean and set about heating a can of soup and making toasties in the frypan. I found some insulated travel coffee mugs and poured the soup into two of those, wrapped the sandwiches in foil, bundled them into an insulated carry bag I found in the storeroom, and trudged out into the cold to the barn.
I knocked on the big front doors and pulled it open. The yellow lighting inside was dull compared to the sun on the snow, and I couldn’t see much. “Hello? Lunch delivery!”
Cass appeared from around his truck, wiping his hands and smiling. “Oh hey, you didn’t need to do that.”
“It’s no problem. It’s just soup and sandwiches,” I replied. He shut the door behind me and my eyes adjusted. The inside of the barn was much like all barns. It smelled of timber, sawdust, and dirt. There was a space for his truck where we stood and shelves down the right side of the barn. A huge ride-on lawn mower was parked at the back, plus various wood tools and equipment I couldn’t name. He had one of those big boards on the wall with pins that held hammers, wrenches, saws. He was obviously very handy.
“We can put it here,” he said, clearing some papers on the wooden shelf. There were also some screws and a small tin of lacquer. Pretty sure I could smell turpentine.
“I love the smell of barns and work sheds,” I said.
Cass grinned. “I’m liking the smell of whatever it is you cooked.”