Mark places a plate of chocolate chip and pecan cookies on my desk. Did I ever tell you that I adore my brother? The truth is, he’s trying to buy me. We've both been working on the presentation he wants to make to my parents for hours, so I deserve a little pick-me-up. It’s even quite possible that I suggested to him—not in a very subtle way, by the way—that I wouldn’t be against checking his talents as a cook (or pastry chef in this case). And he, so happy to allow me some time to struggle with the figures for the presentation, rushed straight into the kitchen.
I show him the result of my last few minutes of work.
“Great! Maybe we should then insert the plans for the redevelopment of the dining room and the kitchen.”
“The plans?” I was rightly surprised.
We haven't worked on this part
