Sam opened the door with flour on his cheek and his shirt stuck to his back.
“Don't say anything,” he told her.
“I've got several things ready.”
“The fan broke.”
“Were you baking inside it?”
He pulled her through the doorway and kissed her before she could say the next one. His hand was warm against the back of her neck. She dropped her bag by his shoes and put both arms around him.
“Food first,” he said against her mouth.
“You started it.”
“I know what I'm doing.”
From the kitchen came a sharp hiss. He let go of her.
“I know almost what I'm doing.”
Nell followed him in. The room was small, with a window facing a brick wall. He'd wedged a spoon under the window to hold it open. On the table were two glasses, a bowl of chopped tomatoes, and a napkin with a little drawing on it.
She picked it up. “Is this a dog?”
“That's a food stand.”
“Then why does it have ears?”
“Awning.”
“And a tail?”
“Person waiting to be served.”
“Incredible work.”
He took the napkin from her. “Get the plates. Be useful.”
She found them without asking. One had a chip in the edge. She always gave herself that one, and he always swapped them when he thought she wasn't watching.
The pan held folded flatbreads stuffed with cheese and onions. Sam cut one in half and lifted it between finger and thumb.
“Careful.”
“You say that after you hand it over.”
He kept holding it while she took a bite. Nell tried to look thoughtful. The cheese was hot and rich, the outside crisp.
“Well?”
“Probably needs testing again.”
He held it out for her second bite. “You're a terrible business partner.”
“You haven't hired me yet.”
They had been talking about Northbay for months. A three-month summer food-stand season by the water. Sam could cook. Nell could sell, count, clean, calm angry customers, and remember which regular liked which thing. He had a friend who'd worked there the year before, and he'd spent half the winter looking at photographs of busy evenings by the harbor.
The idea had started as something to say after hard shifts. Lately he'd begun bringing it up on good days too.
He put a plate in front of her and sat beside her instead of across the table. His knee touched hers.
“We could sell these,” he said.
“I'd sell these.”
“That's what I mean.”
Nell looked at the napkin again. She could picture herself at the counter, Sam at the hotplate behind her. Their days would be tiring and new. At night they could walk somewhere neither of them knew anyone.
“I entered the radio draw,” she said.
He turned. “Did you?”
“Iris did too. We've agreed to split anything either of us gets.”
“Then we can stop talking and go.”
“That's why I told you. To make it a sensible financial plan.”
“Winning money is very sensible.”
He pulled the napkin nearer and began drawing a second person.
“That's me,” she said.
“How can you tell?”
“Beautiful legs.”
He gave the little person an enormous head.
Nell snatched the pen from him. Under the drawing, she wrote NO CREDIT. Then she added, EXCEPT FOR KISSES.
“That's a terrible system,” he said.
“You'll be busy in the kitchen.”
“Absolutely not.”
He moved her plate aside and kissed the soft place below her ear. She laughed, then stopped laughing when he did it again.
“Your food's getting cold,” she murmured.
“You're a very difficult customer.”
She turned toward him. This time he waited for her to close the small space between them.
They finished dinner much later than they meant to. The plates ended up by the sink and the napkin under Nell's bag, where she could take it home without having to say why she wanted it.
Sam pulled his chair back and stretched his arms over his head. “You ever think about going somewhere on your own?”
“I used to.”
“The job you didn't take?”
She nodded. “In Calder. Bakery there had an opening. Not exciting, but different. I'd even found somebody renting a room.”
“What stopped you?”
“Jonah said he was coming back to Bellweather for the summer. He was working in Calder. I asked the bakery if I could start later, because I wanted to meet him here first.”
Sam rested his hand on the table beside hers.
“Then he never came,” Nell said. “So I went to him. After that trip, I didn't go after the job again.”
She hadn't even heard Jonah's voice. When she'd suggested a video call, he'd been working, or his connection was bad, or tomorrow would be better. She'd let tomorrow be better. She'd wanted to be easy to love.
“You could still go.”
“It's been four years. I imagine they've filled the job.”
“I didn't mean that exact job.”
He knew about Jonah. She'd told him early, before she could start measuring what he might think of her. He'd asked whether she wanted to talk about it. When she'd said no, he'd turned the television on and let her hold his hand.
She still liked him for that.
“Northbay's enough for now,” she said. “With you.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Good. Because the beautiful legs are part of the sales plan.”
Someone knocked at the door.
Sam closed his eyes. “If that's a man with a leaflet, I'm letting you deal with him.”
It was Iris with a paper bag and Nell's forgotten charger.
“You sent a message saying your battery was nearly dead,” Iris said.
Nell had sent Iris that warning before leaving the flat, in case her phone died before she got home. She hadn't meant it as a request.
“I can survive an evening,” she said, taking the charger.
“There's cake as well. Ben's working late. I wasn't going to eat all of it.”
Sam opened the door wider. “You could have.”
Nell had hated seeing them together for a while. Three months earlier, at a birthday, Iris had kissed him while Nell was out of the room. Sam had pulled away and told Nell that night. Iris had apologized, crying. Nell had forgiven her. Most evenings now, she didn't think about it.
“It's very dense,” Iris said.
He took the bag. “Tea?”
Iris came in and claimed the chair by the window. Nell went to the kitchen for another cup. Iris had bought the lemon cake Nell loved, marked down because the icing had slid off one side. She'd paid for it herself. Nell was glad to see her and sorry, briefly, that the evening was no longer only theirs.
“Look,” Sam said, showing Iris the napkin.
“Is that a dog?”
Nell laughed so hard she nearly dropped the mugs.
Sam set the drawing facedown. “You two deserve each other.”
They ate the cake in crooked slices. Iris asked what they would sell in Northbay. Sam cut her a piece of the leftover flatbread and stood beside her while she tasted it.
“Good,” she said. “Really good.”
He smiled. He liked hearing that from anybody.
“You could do it here,” she added. “Weekends. Keep your jobs to start with.”
“Could,” he said.
“There's people down by the pier every Saturday. You're always saying there's nothing decent to eat.”
“That's part of the problem,” Nell said. “We know everybody down there.”
Iris looked at her. “Is that so bad?”
“I want to go somewhere.”
“We could go for a weekend.”
“I want longer than a weekend.”
Sam put the pan in the sink. “Three months. She'll send you complaints every night.”
“Pictures,” Nell said. “Complaints are extra.”
Iris pushed a crumb around her plate. Then she smiled. “Make sure you get somewhere with a spare bed.”
“For visitors?” Sam asked.
“For when she gets sick of your cooking.”
After Iris left, Nell washed the cups while Sam dried. He bumped her with his shoulder until she flicked water at him. The dish towel landed on her head.
“You're making me regret the cake,” she said through it.
He pulled the towel off and set it aside. “Stay tonight.”
She glanced at the charger lying on the table, then at his mouth.
“You'll need to feed me again.”
“I've got cereal.”
“Terrible offer.”
“Toast.”
She took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. “Negotiations are closed.”