Worth the Risk

aunt’s death and the judge’s decree had merely formalized the arrangement. But at fourteen, Amber believed she was old enough to take care of herself.
    Seeming to realize Lexi was thinking about her, Amber turned and flashed playful green eyes that were exactly like Lexi’s. Then she turned back to the two boys who would be her partners for the cooking assignment. How could Amber be so sure of herself? Lexi wondered.
    Lexi was almost ten years older than her sister and had excelled in school, especially in math. Amber never worried about her grades or about having diabetes. She took everything with an “oh, well” attitude. She didn’t seem to realize—or care—that they lived one step from being homeless.
    When Aunt Callie died, she’d left them the house. It no longer had a mortgage, but there were property taxes and utilities, plus college tuition to be paid. Lexi worked two jobs to make ends meet while she attended college. The last thing she needed was for Amber to become ill from an improper diet.
    “Do you sell vegetables to Mr. Westcott?” whispered Mrs. Zamora. She was one of the mothers who regularly volunteered to help Mrs. Geffen on cooking days.
    “No. I think Black Jack’s is more casual, less gourmet,” Lexi responded, although she wasn’t really sure. She couldn’t afford to eat out so she’d never been in the trendy restaurant.
    “That’s too bad,” Mrs. Zamora said almost wistfully, with a glance at the visiting chef.
    Lexi didn’t need to look at him again to know that most women—not just girls Amber’s age—would find the guy attractive. He was tall and powerfully built with a ready smile and blue eyes that radiated a certain sparkle.
    “Black Jack’s probably doesn’t serve baby vegetables and exotic greens,” she told Mrs. Zamora. Lexi was justifiably proud of the unusual vegetables she raised in the backyard behind the house they’d inherited. It was in an older part of Houston where homes had large yards. Most of the neighboring houses had been split into multifamily homes with shared rear yards.
    Luckily, Aunt Callie had kept the family home intact and used the yard to raise market vegetables to sell. After her death, Lexi had realized there was more money to be made in smaller baby vegetables that could be sold directly to restaurants.
    “I was at Black Jack’s once,” Mrs. Zamora said. “For my husband’s company party. Great ribs.”
    “Right,” Lexi responded, her eyes on the chef. Ribs and steak. Texas food.
    Right now Brad was showing the class how to roll the chocolate mixture into small balls. “Does anyone know what a truffle is?”
    Lexi doubted many of the students would, but to her surprise Amber’s hand immediately shot up. Brad nodded at her and Amber answered, “A truffle is in the mushroom family. It’s brown and grows mostly in deep forests. Pigs hunt them by sniffing them out. They’re very expensive.”
    The class laughed uproariously, as if Amber had just told an off-color joke.
    “That’s right,” Brad’s voice cut through the noise. “Truffles are hard to find and rare. That’s why they’re so expensive.”
    Amber must have read about wild truffles in one of her cookbooks. Why she couldn’t devote as much attention to her other studies mystified Lexi.
    “We call this chocolate a truffle because it’s brown and roundish,” Brad continued. “You don’t have to roll a perfectly round truffle. Just make them about the same size.”
    Lexi, Mrs. Zamora and Mrs. Geffen walked around the room helping any students who were having problems. It was a simple assignment. The only ones who asked for help really wanted attention. Lexi often found this true when she volunteered.
    After they formed the truffle balls, the class was shown how to roll them in cocoa powder and place them on cookie sheets for cooling in the commercial- size refrigerator. It was a simple assignment, considering some of the more intricate recipes guest chefs had prepared, and everyone seemed to be having a lot of fun. Of course, that meant the noise level in the cafeteria shot into the stratosphere.
    Brad Westcott didn’t seem to mind. He made his way around the room to speak encouragingly to the students. Lexi caught him looking at her several times.
    “I hear he’s one of the chefs being featured on a television program about rising stars in the restaurant business,” Mrs. Geffen whispered as the students lined up to put their cookie sheets into the