Page 249 of Seasons of Love
"Oh yeah, the chef. He's brought home some of your custard tarts. They're the best I've ever had."
There was something familiar about him, but I couldn't place it. He looked younger than Tiago, but not by much, so I wondered if it was my age and the fact I was dating his friend that was weird for him.
"Er… thanks. They're a special recipe I developed with my mom." He rubbed the back of his neck and then went back to what he was doing, so I moved to go around the island toward the door.
"I could use some help," he said. Well, he almost shouted. I was truly puzzled as to why the kid wanted me around when he was clearly uncomfortable with me for some unknown reason.
"I'd love to help. What do you need me to do?"
"Just weigh the ingredients on that list. I can prepare the baking tins while you do that. Can I get you a coffee?"
"That would be great, thanks."
I looked at the list. It seemed like a simple set of instructions for a marble cake.
David seemed to relax as we worked side by side. Tiago had told me about the workshops David ran, so when I asked him about it, he opened up immediately and our conversation flowed a lot better after that.
Tiago hadn't come back by the time David started his workshop, so he invited me to join in with the kids. I didn't need help learning how to make a cake I'd made hundreds of times, but something got me agreeing to it. The class was fun. And because I already knew what I was doing, I was able to chat to the kids and find out more about them.
They all played out like they only did the class because they were bored, but what I saw as David guided them through the recipe was something totally different.
David was very engaging and inspirational, and the kids hung onto every word he said. When the cakes were in the oven, we worked on the filling and then washed up while the cakes cooled down.
"Why are you making them wash up when there's a dishwasher there?" I asked David so the kids didn't hear me.
"It's about discipline and pride. Before my mom taught me how to bake, all I was allowed to do was watch her. It wasn't until I started asking more questions about what she was doing that she finally allowed me to bake with her."
"How old were you?"
"Ten."
There was sadness in his eyes as he talked about baking with his mom, and I wondered if there was a story there but didn't want to pry, especially as he was finally more relaxed around me.
"What do you do for a living?" he asked.
"I'm an architect."
"That's great. Have you designed anything I'd recognize?"
"Probably not since I've only recently moved here from Porto, so all of my work is there."
There was that look again. Curious, searching, and something else I couldn't put my finger on.
"They're finished, so it's time to ice the cakes and then the best part."
"What's that?"
"We get to try a little bit of each and give feedback."
"I can totally get behind that."
I was having a great time at the center, so much so that I almost forgot the reason I'd come. After David and the kids were gone, I left my boxed cake on the kitchen island and went out to the gardens to wait for Tiago.
The place was as magical as he'd described. I walked around and spent some time looking at the latest painting on the wall before I settled on the cushioned seats under an arch. I'd heard about the ever-changing piece of art created by the kids and loved it. Every time I looked at something in this place, my heart swelled further with pride for Tiago.
I knew he sold himself short when it came to his involvement with the center, but I was pretty sure if I spoke with Isaac, he'd tell me exactly how much work my gorgeous young man had put into it.
In the weeks since we'd lived together, I'd heard the one-sided calls from Isaac, and on one occasion, I'd even joined in a Skype video call when Isaac asked to meet me. He'd apologized for the confusion from the rental agency, but I'd shut him down immediately when I said I'd happily send the agency some flowers or a thank you card for their role in Tiago and I meeting again.
