In Skein Sight
Blog Tour
January 13 – Jody’s Bookish Haven – SPOTLIGHT
January 13 – Sapphyria’s Book Reviews – SPOTLIGHT
January 14 – Christy’s Cozy Corners – REVIEW
January 15 – Salty Inspirations – AUTHOR GUEST POST
January 16 – Books, Ramblings, and Tea – SPOTLIGHT
January 17 – Maureen’s Musings – SPOTLIGHT
January 18 – Sarah Can’t Stop Reading Books – REVIEW
January 18 – Sarandipity’s – SPOTLIGHT
January 19 – FUONLYKNEW – SPOTLIGHT
January 20 – Cozy Up With Kathy – REVIEW, CHARACTER GUEST POST
January 21 – Escape With Dollycas Into A Good Book – REVIEW
January 22 – Ascroft, eh? – AUTHOR INTERVIEW
January 23 – Guatemala Paula Loves to Read – SPOTLIGHT
Read the First Chapter
Chapter One
“This spot over here is my favorite part of the kitchen.” I winked at the camera as I stood by the ridiculously complicated machine Leandro used to supply me with coffee every time I visited the resort. Even when I didn’t stop by the kitchen, Leandro seemed to know I was there and tracked me down with a steaming cup.
On cue, the head chef handed me a cup of the fresh brew. “For you.”
I took a sip and grinned. “Chef Leandro has agreed to give us an exclusive tour of his kitchen here at the resort. Where do you think we should start?”
Usually my vlog watchers can’t answer questions, but since I’d decided to make the kitchen tour one of my rare live videos, besides holding the camera, Brandon was manning the screen where comments were popping up as fast as people could type them. “We seem to be split between the walk-ins and the work space.”
“Leandro, what do you think?” I asked.
He waved an arm toward the gleaming work stations. “The magic, it happens over here.”
I followed Leandro to the prep tables, and Brandon followed me, as Leandro talked about the chopping and breading, and everything else that happened in that part of the kitchen.
“It doesn’t look like there’s a lot of space for each of the staff members,” I offered.
Leandro’s eyes twinkled. With any luck, the camera would pick that up and help bring him even more to life for the viewers. “Many kitchens, they have barely room for staff to stand. We hold elbows in —” Leandro demonstrated tucking his elbows to his sides “— to keep our own space. Here, there is much space! Our elbows, they can flap like little bird wings.”
After spending a bit more time in the prep area we moved to the stoves and ovens where the braising, searing, and cooking happened. At the stove Leandro used for himself, his lips twitched. Hopefully he wouldn’t tell everyone how he’d asked me to stir something for him once and it ended up boiling over and making a huge mess.
As if he could read my mind, he told a different story — complete with props of cooking pots and bottles of seasoning — where instead of laughing at my abysmal cooking skills I, at least, ended up in awe of Leandro’s ability to make minuscule adjustments to dishes that completely changed the flavor.
After sipping my coffee, I caught the sleeve of his chef jacket. “I don’t think any of my viewers are missing a sweet tooth. Can we take a look at where the desserts are made?”
“But of course.”
Had we planned this ahead of time? Yes. Leandro had made sure to let me know his pastry chef had put together a dessert for the video, and I wanted to make sure to showcase everything I could. If I got to taste something delicious in the process, I certainly wouldn’t complain.
Leandro grinned and led the way to a corner of the giant room that felt like a separate kitchen. “Most people, the desserts are what they wish to see.”
A quick tour through the area, where Leandro pointed out the specially made ovens, the marble bench, and an additional room that housed everything from sheet pans to cake stands, and my mouth was watering.
“And for you, something special.” Leandro’s excitement was contagious.
I leaned across a workbench and watched as he opened a walk-in dessert fridge. Then I looked back at the camera. “Does anyone want to guess what Chef Leandro has for us?”
Brandon read off the guesses as people listed their favorite pastries: eclairs, and tarts, and mille-feuille, and at least a dozen others.
Leandro, standing half in and half out of the fridge, shook his head to each suggestion. “They did not guess.”
“What is it, then?” I asked.
Leandro’s smile grew wider, and he set a covered tray on the workbench between us. He reached for the silver cloche, lifting it with such flair I wondered if he’d ever studied to be an actor, or done a stint as a magician.
On the tray in front of me was a cake made to look like a camera. With a wink, Leandro slowly turned the camera. On the back, where a real camera would display the picture that had been taken, was a perfect replica of Black Sheep Yarns and Woolies, the yarn shop I’d been running for the past year after inheriting it from my grandmother.
“It’s amazing, Leandro.” Words didn’t do the creation justice.
Brandon moved in with his camera, getting close-up shots of the amazing cake as Leandro explained what skills the pastry chef had used in the design. After showcasing the cake from every angle, he backed up.
Leandro held out a knife with the handle toward me.
I shook my head. “I can’t cut into that. It would ruin it!”
“What is cake for, but to enjoy?” he asked, nudging the knife closer to me.
Leandro had taken my inability to cook as a personal challenge. After the Christmas cookies he’d watched me make — and approved every step of — had failed in a way even he didn’t understand, we both admitted defeat. But as part of those lessons, Leandro had taught me enough knife skills that I should be perfectly comfortable cutting a cake on camera for thousands of live viewers.
Willing my hand not to shake, I took the knife. Refusing to think about all the people watching, I slid it into the cake and placed a large slice on the dessert plate Leandro set in front of me.
Beaming, Leandro stabbed the slice of cake with a fork, then motioned to me. “You must eat. It’s —” He interrupted his words with a chef’s kiss.
I laughed. Like everything he did in the kitchen, Leandro’s kiss was picture perfect. I glanced at Brandon, who nodded. He’d gotten it on camera.
Perfect.
Since I’d already “ruined” the cake by cutting it, I didn’t feel bad about tasting it. I put a bite in my mouth, and my eyes closed in bliss.
Whatever the pastry chef had done, it was perfect.
When I could form coherent thoughts again, I cut slices for Leandro and Brandon, then looked at the camera. “Chef Leandro has generously offered to answer some of your questions, so while we enjoy this amazing treat, go ahead and type them in. We’ll get to as many as we can.”
Brandon took a minute to savor his first bite, then went to the list of questions pouring in. “It looks like we have several people asking similar things. Leandro, what advice do you have for people who’ve never cooked from scratch and are wanting to try? Where should they start?”
Leandro’s eyes were dancing again. “Begin with a recipe. Many people, they think cooking is about throwing anything they like into a dish. But no, there is science to it. Baking is a good teacher. You must measure exactly to get the ingredients to react properly. Only when you know the way things are meant to work can you make the recipe your own.”
Since the camera was fully on Leandro at this point, I didn’t bother saying anything.
“We have questions about the next step,” Brandon said. “When you’re ready to experiment with changing recipes, how do you go about that and still end up with something edible?”
“Make the recipe without adjustments at least once. Many times is better.” Leandro tasted the cake again. “When you cook, the science, it turns to art. When you know flavors, and what ingredients are good together, a recipe you know well can be changed. You begin to measure with your heart. But never change many things at once or learning what the mistake was becomes impossible. When it becomes a mess you want to be able to play detective, as Jemma sometimes does.”
Brandon hurried to read out the next cooking question, hopefully before people started asking about that. I hadn’t exactly kept my involvement in a few investigations secret, but it wasn’t something I really talked about on my vlog.
Several questions later, it was time to wrap things up. Brandon zoomed out so the camera would show me standing next to Leandro.
“If you’ve enjoyed visiting with Chef Leandro, I wanted to let you know that he’ll be teaching a cooking class next week in Clear Creek. If you’re going to be in the area and want to come, follow the link Brandon’s putting on your screen to sign up. Thanks for joining us today, and if you want more behind-the-scenes looks at some of the local businesses, go ahead and tell us in the comments.”
Brandon ended the video. “That’s a wrap.”
“Thank you so much for doing this, Leandro. I know you don’t like people invading your kitchen.” I gave him a quick hug. He’d never tried to kick me out of the kitchen, always saying I was welcome, but bringing cameras in was something else entirely. Especially since Leandro had closed the kitchen to normal operations for the hour. “You were amazing.”
I was glad the hotel manager knew he was lucky to have Leandro. He hadn’t blinked when Leandro insisted on closing the kitchen for the tour, even though it meant the restaurant would be opening late for the resort’s Saturday lunch crowd.
“You were both amazing. You two should definitely think about doing more of these. The commenters all agreed you had great chemistry,” Brandon said as he started packing up the camera. He chuckled. “Just don’t listen to the ones who think you should be a couple.”
I couldn’t deny Leandro and I had gotten along incredibly well from the first day we met, but even if I weren’t engaged to Brandon, Leandro and I didn’t have that kind of a spark.
Leandro waved the idea away. “Bah, they say this only because Brandon hasn’t been on the screen with you.”
“No one needs to see me.”
They may not need to see him, but my viewers were sure to love Brandon if he ever decided to join me on camera. Everyone loved that man. I was just the lucky one he loved back.
“You’re welcome to join me for a video anytime you like,” I told Leandro.
“Maybe you should put together something short right before the cooking class,” Brandon suggested. “Let people see what they’re missing out on.”
Leandro agreed immediately. “For the two of you, of course.”
I hated feeling like I was taking advantage of Leandro’s friendship, but one thing living in Clear Creek had taught me was that you couldn’t stop friends from stepping in to help even when you didn’t think you needed anything. “I really do appreciate you letting me bring a camera into your kitchen. And somehow, I’ll find a way to thank you for agreeing to do the cooking class.”
“I should be thanking you, for giving me something exciting to look forward to. Things, they have been —”
As Leandro paused, my mind provided several possible words. Quiet. Uneventful. Maybe a little humdrum.
When you’re nestled in a little valley high in the Rocky Mountains, winter can be long. The sun goes behind the mountain peaks early, making the days feel shorter than even mid-winter days should. The snow piles high enough that sometimes you have to step up when you leave through the upstairs snow doors — because the snow you move out front so visitors can get to the shops has to go somewhere.
Leandro sighed. “Boring. Every day the same. Even you haven’t discovered any bodies in months now. There has been no adventure.”
It didn’t seem like the right time to say I was glad we’d had five months without any dead bodies.
Brandon didn’t hesitate. “Not having a murderer running loose is a good thing.”
“There are other kinds of adventure. Maybe you need a vacation,” I suggested. After all the places I’d traveled in my years of living out of a suitcase, surely I could find somewhere my friend would enjoy. Maybe where he could explore a spice market, or discover a local ingredient or cooking technique that hadn’t trickled out into the world yet.
Before Leandro could reply, the kitchen door crashed open.
“I’m here!” A short, chubby man in a chef’s jacket stepped inside with his arms thrown wide. The bright overhead lights reflected off his bald head as he looked around. His arms drooped a little. “Where’s my staff?”