Read Online The Long Journey to Jake Palmer by James L. Rubart - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James L. Rubart
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dinner guests?”
“What?” Peter kept his gaze buried in the stove.
“You’re cooking for five, not eight. Right?”
“Leftovers. Heat ’em, serve ’em.”
“ ‘Leftovers are beneath those with a cultivated palate.’ ” Jake whacked Peter on the arm. “I’m quoting you when I say that.”
“Better to have too much than too little.” Peter opened a cabinet over the kitchen counter and rummaged through it, found what he wanted, and sprinkled the spice into the pot.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Jake cleared his throat loudly. “You think I’m stupid?”
Before Peter could answer, his wife sashayed into the kitchen. Great. The moment Jake had been waiting for.
“Hey, honey.” Peter glanced up. “Good run?”
“I can’t believe this is it.” Camille blew out her obvious disgust. “How are we all going to fit in this place for a week?”
“The cabin is plenty big.”
“I mean this.” Camille waved her arms around the kitchen.
“It’s fine.” Peter sighed. “It’s only a little smaller than—”
“A little?” Camille spun in a tight circle and waved her hands. “Try half the size. Maybe less. We’re supposed to cook here?”
“We will cook in here.”
“I can’t cook in here.”
“Since you haven’t cooked a meal once in the nine years we’ve been gathering together, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I make the lunches.” Camille jammed her hands into her hips. “Same thing as cooking. Still have to maneuver around a kitchen the size of an outhouse. I’m not saying it won’t work, I’m just saying it’s going to be a pain in the butt.”
“You’ll survive.” Peter slapped a plastic grin on his face.
“What are you cooking, dear?” Camille sidled up next to Peter and scowled at the pans on the stove.
“Pasta. Alfredo sauce. What’s it look like?”
“I told you to save that dish for Monday night.”
Peter ignored the comment and Camille jabbed her elbow into Peter’s ribs.
“Ouch!”
“Well?”
“I know you said that, dear.” Peter looked up again and glared at her and pointed at his ear. “These work.”
“But you didn’t save it. Or you ignored me when I told you the order of the meals. We talked about this in detail. Hello?”
Peter and Camille both pulled out their dagger eyes. Jake was easing backward out toward the living room when Camille shifted her gaze away from Peter, fixed her eyes on Jake, and pranced over to him.
“Jake! So good to see you. You look wonderful.” She reached up and gave him a quick hug.
“Good to be seen. How are you, Camille?”
She raised her arms and flexed her biceps. They were taut and tan. “Not bad for a thirty-six-year-old, huh? Not bad for a twenty-six-year-old.”
Jake gave a weak smile and nodded.
“Did Peter tell you I’m going to do a triathlon this fall?”
Right on cue. Expected. Camille had brought up the one hobby Jake loved more than any other, the one he would never do again. Laryngitis would look so good on her.
“He didn’t mention it.”
Camille smacked Peter on the back. “Well I am. I’ve been training all spring and summer, and there’s no way I’m not going to break my personal record this time.”
“That’s a good goal. I hope you make it.” Jake started to move toward the living room again, but Camille blocked him.
“Should be hard, but really fun.”
“Yeah, should be awesome.”
“And how can I not be great in a place like this?” She swept her hand toward the kitchen window, which looked out over the deck and lake. “Plus we’re all together again for ten days of fun in the sun. I love it.”
“I hear you.”
Camille leaned toward Jake and lowered her voice. “I hope it’s not going to be awkward between you and me this week. I’m your friend too, you know.”
“I know, and it’s fine.”
“Good. I told Peter that’s how you’d feel.” She patted him on his upper arm.
Yeah, that’s exactly how Jake felt. He glanced at
“What?” Peter kept his gaze buried in the stove.
“You’re cooking for five, not eight. Right?”
“Leftovers. Heat ’em, serve ’em.”
“ ‘Leftovers are beneath those with a cultivated palate.’ ” Jake whacked Peter on the arm. “I’m quoting you when I say that.”
“Better to have too much than too little.” Peter opened a cabinet over the kitchen counter and rummaged through it, found what he wanted, and sprinkled the spice into the pot.
“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Jake cleared his throat loudly. “You think I’m stupid?”
Before Peter could answer, his wife sashayed into the kitchen. Great. The moment Jake had been waiting for.
“Hey, honey.” Peter glanced up. “Good run?”
“I can’t believe this is it.” Camille blew out her obvious disgust. “How are we all going to fit in this place for a week?”
“The cabin is plenty big.”
“I mean this.” Camille waved her arms around the kitchen.
“It’s fine.” Peter sighed. “It’s only a little smaller than—”
“A little?” Camille spun in a tight circle and waved her hands. “Try half the size. Maybe less. We’re supposed to cook here?”
“We will cook in here.”
“I can’t cook in here.”
“Since you haven’t cooked a meal once in the nine years we’ve been gathering together, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
“I make the lunches.” Camille jammed her hands into her hips. “Same thing as cooking. Still have to maneuver around a kitchen the size of an outhouse. I’m not saying it won’t work, I’m just saying it’s going to be a pain in the butt.”
“You’ll survive.” Peter slapped a plastic grin on his face.
“What are you cooking, dear?” Camille sidled up next to Peter and scowled at the pans on the stove.
“Pasta. Alfredo sauce. What’s it look like?”
“I told you to save that dish for Monday night.”
Peter ignored the comment and Camille jabbed her elbow into Peter’s ribs.
“Ouch!”
“Well?”
“I know you said that, dear.” Peter looked up again and glared at her and pointed at his ear. “These work.”
“But you didn’t save it. Or you ignored me when I told you the order of the meals. We talked about this in detail. Hello?”
Peter and Camille both pulled out their dagger eyes. Jake was easing backward out toward the living room when Camille shifted her gaze away from Peter, fixed her eyes on Jake, and pranced over to him.
“Jake! So good to see you. You look wonderful.” She reached up and gave him a quick hug.
“Good to be seen. How are you, Camille?”
She raised her arms and flexed her biceps. They were taut and tan. “Not bad for a thirty-six-year-old, huh? Not bad for a twenty-six-year-old.”
Jake gave a weak smile and nodded.
“Did Peter tell you I’m going to do a triathlon this fall?”
Right on cue. Expected. Camille had brought up the one hobby Jake loved more than any other, the one he would never do again. Laryngitis would look so good on her.
“He didn’t mention it.”
Camille smacked Peter on the back. “Well I am. I’ve been training all spring and summer, and there’s no way I’m not going to break my personal record this time.”
“That’s a good goal. I hope you make it.” Jake started to move toward the living room again, but Camille blocked him.
“Should be hard, but really fun.”
“Yeah, should be awesome.”
“And how can I not be great in a place like this?” She swept her hand toward the kitchen window, which looked out over the deck and lake. “Plus we’re all together again for ten days of fun in the sun. I love it.”
“I hear you.”
Camille leaned toward Jake and lowered her voice. “I hope it’s not going to be awkward between you and me this week. I’m your friend too, you know.”
“I know, and it’s fine.”
“Good. I told Peter that’s how you’d feel.” She patted him on his upper arm.
Yeah, that’s exactly how Jake felt. He glanced at
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