Beyond Love - Chapter 37: Chapter 37

"SircanIworkhere?" Shin had blurted out an entire sentence in a second and I had to request for a repeat. He blushed. "U-uh...no, I just...I was thinking how it would be really nice. Working here. And learning from you."
It was my turn to blush and gush (!! That rhymed). Behind me, I could hear Penny and Shea gasp and shuffle about in the kitchen.
"I'm honoured that you would say that, Shin," I began, not knowing what else to say. "U-um, but you mean...learning from me? Here? I-I...but what about in school? Isn't it alright to learn there?"
"Yes but," Shin paused to chew on his lip. "I mean, I would like to...work here. As a part-time assistant. You know, like...after school. And on weekends."
I realized that I, too, had been chewing on my bottom lip. Thankfully, I stopped myself in time. Working here—and on weekends as well. What about school? Will he be okay?
"I...I don't think it's the best idea, Shin," was what I started with but upon his crestfallen expression and the droop in his shoulders, backtracked at once. "U-um, only if your father agrees. Maybe you should ask for advice from your parents! After all, wouldn't it be strange not to learn from a world-renowned pastry chef right beside you but choose a mediocre-me instead?"
"Sir, you are nOT mediocre," Nguyen interjected with an odd but adorable bob of her head.
I laughed, sheepish from compliments. "Well..pared to Shin's father, I guess I would be."
"But why not?" Poor Shin insisted with a ;A; face. "I promise I'll work hard. And I don't even need a high salary or anything i-in fact I don't mind doing it for free!" He started going further and further.
"No no Shin, don't worry! That's not the problem," I stopped him in time. "And we could never ask you to work for free! That would be terrible. It's just...you're still in high school, and having a part-time job right now would be, um, again, terrible! I-I mean, you're a junior, so you have college exams and you might get really busy with a job. Imagine if you didn't have your weekends free!"
At this, Nguyen gasped, turning to her friend in a whisper. "No more fanfics." Her expression was one of horror and absolute disbelief, as though having her weekends occupied was the worst nightmare one could ever have.
"But I cook and bake on weekends anyway," Shin explained with a shake of his head. "It wouldn't make much of a difference, sir."
"B-but the travelling? And homework? And tests and exams? What about club activities?" I voiced every concern I could come up with, afraid that he would make the wrong decision and mess up his grades. Not that I didn't have confidence in his abilities! I mean, anyone could get stressed and all...
Shin seemed adamant about his decision. "Don't worry sir. I can handle all of it—and I belong to the going-home club with Nguyen," he'd added pointedly, turning to her with a grin. Aw, cutes! ;v;
"Don't forget you managed all that when you were younger too, Angel." I turned to see my husband chipping in (o-oh, another pun) whilst finishing up his last hot cross bun. "You could give him a chance. If things go wrong, then he can do something about it later."
I listened to the solution that was so Xander-like: do first, think later. At once, I was sceptical. "U-um, but Xan..." I'd turned to the kids only to see them gazing at my husband as though he was their light and saviour. They looked far too precious and pure to have their bubbles burst.
"Well...wouldn't hurt if we had an extra hand or two," Shea popped her head out of the kitchen to say, reminding me that we were having a hard time hiring bakers partly due to the issue with ARCD from before.
I had to admit, that point made me rethink my decision. It didn't help that Shin was giving me a hopeful look, repeating that he was willing to learn and will be diligent when doing his job. All of which he didn't actually need to tell me because I'd already witnessed during class.
"I...well..." Nuuu not the puppy eyes! "A-alright, alright. You can start next week, I suppose."
Nguyen and Shin executed a hi-five without even looking at each other (pure synergy) and appeared very excited; Nguyen for Shin and Shin for...well, for himself. However, I was there to make sure the rules were heard.
"But that's only if you agree to stop working if you cannot juggle baking and your studies. And! And, you must tell your father about this. We don't want him finding out all of a sudden and fainting from shock or something," I quickly expressed, mainly concerned with the latter part. After all, Mr. Yamazaki did seem to be very close to his son.
Thankfully, Shin nodded. "I promise, sir. So I'll start next week? Do I bring my apron? How much do I pay for the cakes, by the way? I haven't paid yet."
I quickly declined, telling him that it was late and that most of the cakes would be given away to the nearby orphanage anyway, since they were leftovers. Unfortunately, Shin played his trump card.
"My father won't be very happy with me if he found out that I didn't pay for the cake. It's very impolite. Also, I would want to pay for something good as well." He handed me a ten-dollar bill and I calculated the change, handing it back to him with a sheepish smile.
For a moment, I'd assumed that my math had somehow gone wrong and that I had miscalculated his change because Shin had paused and stared at the amount I'd given him in return.
"Sir, I think you gave me an extra five-dollar bill," he squinted at the amount. I blinked, telling him that each slice of cake was a dollar and fifty cents.
My student looked at me as though I'd told him that the sky was a lie. "A dollar and fifty cents? Sir, that's...sorry for being rude, but I think it's a little too cheap for such a good cake. My father gave me an extra ten-dollar bill because he thought it was going to be expensive."
I saw Nguyen pinch his arm and Shin stifled a yelp, turning to her with a glare. "What?" They began hissing a conversation that wasn't actually very quiet at all. "Why are you complaining when Mr. Honeycutt's doing everyone a favour by keeping prices low? I thought you had common sense!" "But Nguyen, it's important to keep prices high! They are indicators of quality to people who actually have common sense."
Their banter came to a halt when they realized that everyone was staring at them. I laughed.
"It's alright, Shin. I think I know what you mean...it's just, I never really thought of raising the price!"
The Japanese boy shook his head vigorously, apologetic. "No sir, I didn't—I don't mean it in a bad way! I mean, it's amazing how you keep the prices low, even though the cake itself is perfect and, um, people like Nguyen and I can easily afford this. I mean, students, in general. Or even if I wasn't working or was poor and stuck in college, I still get to enjoy a really good cake."
His friend nodded along, looking between Shin and I whilst occasionally glancing at the cupcakes in the display.
"I'll definitely enjoy the cakes with my father, sir," he waved, looking slightly sheepish now. "Sorry I made such a rude comment. Sorry again. Sorry. U-um, we'll be going now. Thank you for the cake!" They left.
I looked at my husband and my husband looked at me and Shea looked at Penny who was looking at me look at Xander and we all sort of quietly celebrated the addition of a young talent.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Xander, Giselle and I were enjoying our Sunday walk in the park with Berry, savouring ice pops and walking towards the hot dog stand (yay!) when I spotted someone familiar standing at the edge of the sandbox, watching a bunch of children build a sandcastle.
"Isn't that Vanilla?" I turned to my husband, who had been watching me intently as I finished my ice pop. "The boy by the sandbox. In suspenders."
Xander followed my gaze. "Oh, Julian? Tiny lost boy who talks a lot?" He squinted a little. "Doesn't look like him to me."
"R-really?" We were approaching the sandbox and I could see that Berry was dealing with her urge to run into it and destroy the sandcastle. At the same time, I began to suspect that Xander might need a pair of glasses. "I didn't know you needed to squint, Xan."
"Yeah? Well," already, he was making up an excuse in his head. I could see it clear as day. "Maybe I'm getting old."
"Xan, you're only just turning twenty-five," I pointed out flatly.
Giselle was the one who took it further. "That is old. Are you closer to dying?" She had commented like she would, speaking her mind.
"Your brother's in good health Giselle, don't you worry," said Xander in return, flicking his sister on her forehead. She didn't seem very satisfied with that answer.
"Maybe it's the burnt food you always make..."
I left the siblings to their thing and made my way to the edge of the sandbox, just to see if it was Vanilla or if he wasn't, another lost child who needed help—
"Mr. Chocolate Chip?" It was him!
Excited, I walked a little faster as the boy turned around to greet me with a wave. "Vanilla! What are you doing here alone? Where's Uncle Al?"
"He's over at the hotdog stand," Vanilla piped, pushing up his huge, round glasses as he gazed up at me. "There was a queue, so he told me to play at the sandbox. Are you here alone, Mr. Chocolate Chip?"
I turned to look over my shoulder and the boy in suspenders followed. Xander and Giselle were taking turns to play fetch with Berry, whilst continuing to argue about nothing. One could tell by the expression on their faces that coming up with comebacks was their favourite pastime.
"Oh! It's Mr. Handsome and Miss Red-coat with sweets," Vanilla reported, turning back to me nervously. "A-and a huge, huge wolf."
"Berry's not a wolf, she's a Siberian husky," I corrected him with a laugh. "Don't worry, she's really friendly. You can play with her if you want to! Ah, but if you want to play in the sandbox, that's alright too." I offered to look after his belongings (which consisted of an oddly complex book on objectivity in writing and a blue thermos) so that he could, but Vanilla had fiddled with his suspenders and hid his hands behind his back instead of agreeing.
"That's okay, Mr. Chocolate Chip. I'm alright just watching." His gaze drifted towards the kids playing in the sandbox, packing mounds and mounds of sand together, poking holes and scratching out moats and doors.
At once, I recalled what Miss Julie had said about Vanilla not having many friends at school, and his seeming difficult to make new ones.
"You know," I began, lowering myself to his eye-level. "I used to be alright with just watching other people play, too."
Vanilla looked slightly crestfallen at that, lowering his head and staring at the ground. "So you stopped being alright with just watching?"
"Hmm," I gave his question some thought. "Mostly, yes. Something so important came along that I realized I couldn't afford to...simply watch it happen. I didn't want it to go away, you see. So I had to stop being fine with just watching."
The tiny boy with huge glasses stared up at me with a blink before his entire face lit up. "Oh. Oh, that makes sense!"
I laughed. "So are you okay with leaving without getting to play in the sandbox?" Again, Vanilla was deep in thought.
"N-not really. But I'm not very good at talking to other people because I talk very weird, and I talk a lot. Miss Julie says that some children don't understand what I'm saying because I'm too clever, and I use big words and they get scared," he explained really quickly, as though being clever wasn't the compliment he was looking for, or a compliment that he would appreciate.
;-; protec this boi!
"You are very clever, Vanilla," I patted him on the head and stole a glance over my shoulder just to check if my husband and his sister were still going at it; only to see that Xander was already looking my way. I waved him over and he nodded. "There's nothing wrong with being clever. All I did when I was younger was cry! You're growing up fast and that's a good thing."
At last, Vanilla smiled shyly. He then proceeded to pose a rather disarming question.
"Can I make friends, then? Even if grow up fast."
Already, I was ready to burst into tears because the poor boy was simply too precious and vulnerable for my soft heart. Me, being the emotional cookie that I'd only just confessed to Vanilla, resisting the urge to cry was tough, tough and tough.
"O-of course you can," I sniffed, pulling him into my arms for a hug. "You'll definitely make lots of friends!"
His little arms hugged me back. "Are you crying, Mr. Chocolate Chip? Do you need a tissue?" I shook my head, hugging him a little tighter. Naturally, I was about to apologize for my strange behaviour and stop everything before I can embarrass myself further in front of poor Vanilla when his very own Uncle Al appeared.
"Vanille? Who is this—Honeycutt! What is going on?"
I stood up at once, vigorously wiping away my tears with the back of my sleeve. "Mr. Dempsey! Oh, I'm sorry. It's just... I was talking to Vanilla and..."
"Goodness!" Mr. Dempsey looked me up and down with an absurd expression on his face, stunned. He looked like he was about to drop the two hotdogs in his hands at any moment. "Why are you crying? Dry those tears at once! Vanille, use my handkerchief and help this hopeless man. It's in my back pocket."
Vanille did as instructed, reaching up to hand me his Uncle's handkerchief. "Please use this, Mr. Chocolate Chip."
Soon enough, and at probably the worst possible time, Xander, Giselle and Berry arrived at the scene while I was busy wiping my tears. Naturally, my husband panicked and was starting to bare his fangs (f-figuratively, of course) at Vanilla and his Uncle when I quickly explained that I was only being sentimental.
A single glance at his nephew was all Mr. Dempsey needed to tell that he hadn't actually played in the sandbox. One would suspect that it had all merely been a ploy to get Vanilla some new friends. Mr. Dempsey passed the boy a hotdog and we all sort of ended up at a nearby bench, beside a drinking fountain because Giselle was thirsty.
While Vanilla sat obediently on the bench and ate his hotdog (successfully gaining the full attention of Berry, who was staring intently at the hotdog), Mr. Dempsey expressed his disbelief for coincidences but also his concerns regarding Vanilla and his lack of companions. You know, the kind of stuff that parents would be worried about! It's actually really cute.
"Do you think I should get him a dog?"
All three of us turned to the boy who was eating his hotdog in a protective fashion, faced away from Berry. Giselle stood beside Berry, holding his leash and doing her best to read the situation.
"How about a cat? Or a hamster," Mr. Dempsey began to backtrack. "I don't want him grow up alone. He has no family—having no friends would make matters far worse."
The rustling of leaves in the wind and the voices of children in the distance filled our silence. I glanced sideways at my husband, only to see that he was rather pensive as well. Xander's rather tame today, observed me to me.
Unfortunately, the observation was only accurate for a second.
"What do you mean he has no family?" Xander questioned without warning, serious. "Blood isn't everything. Aren't you his family?"
I could tell that Mr. Dempsey was mildly taken aback by Xander's disarming question. He appeared speechless for a good moment, wide-eyed. "Well, I...I suppose, but I'm not his...well I can't give him the kind of family that—"
"As long as you love him," my husband shrugged, not really waiting for Vanilla's uncle to finish. "There's no rule that tells you how many people a family should be. Sometimes, one person is enough."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Mr. Dempsey was strangely appeased by Xander's words; although I was secretly surprised and proud that it somehow ended up all good since my husband's blunt nature wasn't something that everyone would naturally be appeased by. Perhaps Mr. Dempsey's own honest nature had something to do with his appreciation of Xander's. Hehe, maybe they'd even become good friends! :>
Anywho, we spent an hour listening to Mr. Dempsey's subsequent worries about his nephew and his fiancé, Miss Julie, while Giselle taught Vanilla how to play fetch with Berry. It was all very new and exciting but Xander looked like he was regretting his decision of being honest with Vanilla's uncle. I could already see the gears turning in his head, complaining: we could have been cuddling at home by now.
By the time we'd wrapped up the conversation and called for Giselle and Vanilla to come back, it was past lunchtime and our tummies were rumbling.
Mr. Dempsey had promptly recalled that he'd just received the printed invitations to Mr. Yamazaki's recipe-sharing event and asked if we had the time to drop by Vanille's house which was only a street away. "That way, I don't have to send it to the bakery's address and you can receive it at once. As for lunch, Julie's making shepherd's pie so if you'd like to stay..."
I looked up at Xander because I was a tad too sure that it had been way past his limit of 'time spent with other people' but his eyes were on Giselle and Vanilla, who didn't seem like they wanted to part just yet. The boy was holding on to Giselle's hand and she was swinging it—back and forth in a calm and friendly manner.
"If you don't mind us intruding on your lunch..." My husband began, glancing at me for the green. I nodded and he went on. "I guess we'll drop by for a while."
!!! ;u; aw Xandie hehe.
"Of course," Mr. Dempsey appeared strangely pleased that we were coming along. "I'll lead the way—only a five-minute walk. Julie has a heavy hand when it comes to cooking. She's always making enough to feed an entire village."
I laughed. After all, they were a really cute couple. One of them's a grumpy teddy bear and the other's a sunflower!
Vanilla had skipped in front to hold his Uncle's hand while his other remained occupied with Giselle's. With the three in front and distracted, I tiptoed to plant a kiss on my husband's jaw (I can't reach his cheek unless he bends down ;-;). He turned to me, surprised.
"What was that cute little kiss for?"
I laughed. "Brownie points for Xan, since you were unusually nice."
My husband raised a brow, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
"How many points to redeem more than that kiss?"
I pouted, poking his abs. "That's not what I meant."
*
Miss Julie did not look a tad surprised when she had three additional guests at her doorstep. In fact, she looked a hundred percent ready for an entire village—just like Mr. Dempsey had said.
"Ooh! Mr. Honeycutt! And this is the famed husband of yours that I've heard about? And, oh! Miss Red-coat with sweets? Vanille's told me all about the sweets," she had thrown a wink in Giselle's direction and laughed heartfully.
"Sorry for coming over without much notice," I flashed an apologetic smile, guilty that we'd come empty-handed. "Hope you don't mind."
Miss Julie laughed. "You could make up for it by finishing all the food I made," she ushered us into the house and got us to wash our hands. For some reason, I felt like I was back in elementary school.
"Alright. I'll need you four to wait in the living room while Vanille and I set the table."
I shook my head at once. "Please let me help!"
"Of course! Entertaining Alfred would be doing me the biggest favour already," she whispered with a laugh, to which her fiancé responded with a roll of his eyes. "Please let him show you around."
Mr. Dempsey quickly separated the groups, seemingly embarrassed. "Let's not stand around. I'll show you to the living room."
The house was furnished rather strangely for Mr. Dempsey's tastes. There was a garden right beside the patio from the living room which could be accessed by the sliding glass doors to the left. I'd noticed earlier that the front lawn was filled with shrubs and potted plants as well, including what looked like an apple tree with a rope swing attached to one of its branches. Curious, I asked if gardening was his favourite pastime.
"Gardening?" Mr. Dempsey appeared thrown-off by my question. "Oh. Oh no, these aren't—they belong to my sister. Vanille's mother. She adored gardening. This isn't my home, actually. Julie and I moved in so that Vanille wouldn't have to cope with too many changes in his life."
O-oh no. I touched on a heavy subject. Chip, why do you have to be so bad at conversations? ;-;
I quickly apologized, commenting that the gardens appeared very well taken care of, regardless.
"Vanille has been very patient in teaching us the ropes." Aw! Little Vanille doing the gardening...such a precious child!
Mr. Dempsey slid open the glass doors and showed us into the garden, emphasizing certain key features. My husband looked quite as though he hadn't seen a garden ever before, and was wide-eyed when Mr. Dempsey showed him the pumpkin vine that snaked across the ground. He'd muttered something along the lines of 'I thought pumpkins grew on trees', to which I'd laughed and made a mental note of.
"Recently, we've had a new addition," Mr. Dempsey brought us into a corner of the garden, slightly hidden behind some shrubs and bushes. "Alpine strawberries. They surprised us, really. I didn't think they were actually white. Ripened ones, at that!"
Indeed, the strawberries were a shade of cream, a hint of blush nearing the top of the fruit where the leaves were. They looked exquisite and strangely attractive, although red strawberries were often associated with better taste and sweetness. It was my first time seeing white strawberries, and judging by the expression on Xander's face, it was his, as well.
It was at this very moment that the image of a white strawberry shortcake surfaced in my mind, resolving the conflict between food for the eyes and the balance of taste. It was never the case that I'd ever intended for dessert to be a considerable luxury; or that it was any different from savoury meals or ordinary bread. That desserts were something additional on top of everything else never did cross my mind—I hadn't intended for people to pay the price of a luxury.
Desserts were never meant to be food for the eyes. Never meant to be thought of something only the rich could afford and so there was no need for it to look luxurious, or whatever it was that Monsieur Moreau had posed.
There's nothing wrong with what I had now but expanding the spectrum of customers was not wrong either. Should they wish for food for the eyes, then perhaps these white strawberries would...