Читать книгу Single Mum Seeking... - Raye Morgan - Страница 13
ОглавлениеJILL HADN’T RECOVERED from Connor leaving when Trini came bursting in. The boys ran to her joyfully and she knelt down and collected them into her arms, then looked up. Jill knew immediately that something was wrong.
“Trini, what is it?” she cried.
Trini was young and pretty with a long, swinging ponytail and a wide-eyed expression of constant amazement, as though life had just really surprised her once again. And in this case, it seemed to be true.
“You’ll never guess!” she cried, and then she burst into tears. “Oh, Jill,” she wailed, “this is so good and so bad at the same time.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” Jill asked, pulling her up and searching her face. But she thought she knew. And she dreaded what she was about to hear.
“Oh, Jill, I just got the call and...” She sobbed for a moment, then tried again. “I got in. I was on the wait list and they just called. I got accepted into the program at Chanoise Culinary Institute in New York.”
“But...hasn’t the quarter already started?”
“Yes, but they had two people drop out already. So they called and said if I could get there by tomorrow, I’m in.”
“Trini! That’s wonderful! You deserve a space in the class. I always knew that.”
But did it have to be today? She couldn’t help but wish the timing had been different. Still, this was wonderful for Trini.
“What can I do to help you?”
Trini shook her head. “You’ve already done enough. You wrote the recommendation that got me in.” She sighed happily, and then she frowned with worry. “The only bad part is I have to leave right away. My flight leaves at noon. The Jamison engagement party...”
“Don’t you think twice, Trini. You just get out of here and go pack and prepare for the best experience of your life. Okay?”
Trini threw her arms around Jill’s neck and Jill hugged her tightly. “I’m so excited,” Trini cried. “Oh, Jill, I’ll keep you posted on everything we do. And when I come back...”
“You’ll teach me a thing or two, I’m sure.” She smiled at her assistant, forcing back any hint of the panic she was feeling. “Now off with you. You need to get ready for the rest of your life.”
“I will. Wish me luck!”
“I’ll definitely wish you luck. You just supply the hard work!”
Trini laughed and dashed out the door. Jill reached out to put her hand on the back of a chair to keep herself from collapsing. She could hardly breathe. She saw Connor standing in the entryway. She didn’t know why he’d come back and right now, she couldn’t really think about it or talk to him. She was in full-scale devastation meltdown mode.
What was she going to do? What on earth was she going to do? She couldn’t think a coherent thought. Her mind was a jumble. She knew she was standing on the edge of the cliff and if she lost her balance, she was going over. She couldn’t let that happen. She had to get herself together.
But what was the use? She’d fought back so often. So much kept going wrong and she kept trying to fix things. They just wouldn’t stay fixed. She was so tired. Today, right now, she wanted to quit. There had to be a way to give up, to surrender to reality. She just couldn’t do this anymore.
Looking at her reflection in the hall mirror, she muttered sadly, “Okay. I get it. I’m not meant to do this. I should quit banging my head against the wall. I should quit, period. Isn’t that what a sane, rational person would do?”
She stared at herself, feeling cold and hollow. She knew Connor was still watching her, that he’d heard what she said, but she hardly cared. She was in such deep trouble, what did it matter if he saw her anguish? But a part of her was grateful for his presence—and that he was keeping back, not trying to comfort her right now. She didn’t need that since there was no comfort, was no real hope.
She stared at herself for a long moment, teetering between the devil and the deep blue sea. That was how it felt. No matter what she did, disaster seemed inevitable.
Then, gradually, from somewhere deep inside, she began to put her strength back together and pull her nerve back into place. She took a giant breath and slowly let it out. She wouldn’t surrender. She would go down fighting, no matter what it cost her. Let them try to stop her! She had glaze to prepare. She had cakes to bake. She would try her best to get this done and on time. She could only do what she could do—but she would do the best she could.
She looked at herself in the mirror again and gave herself a small, encouraging smile. She needed a joke right now, something to help her put things into perspective. She was a baking woman—hear her roar! They would have to pry her baking mitts off her cold, dead hands.
Revived and reinvigorated, she turned to face Connor. “There,” she said. “I’m better now.”
He still appeared a bit worried, but he’d watched her mini-breakdown and the instant rebuild in awe.
“Wow,” he said. “Jill, you are something else.”
She sighed. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”
“I’m glad I did. I’ve got more faith in you than ever.”
She laughed. “I’ve got to get back to work.” She frowned. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I’m not going to go while you still need me.”
“What makes you think I need you?” Turning, she headed into the kitchen.
“So,” he said tentatively, following her. “Now your number one assistant has bailed on you. And your sister has bailed on you.” He shrugged. “Who you gonna call? You need someone else. Who can come to your rescue?”
She met his gaze. “There’s nobody. Really. I’ve tried to find backup before. There’s really nobody. This island is too small. There aren’t enough people to draw on.”
He nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He picked up an apron someone had thrown on the chair and began to tie it on himself. “Okay. Tell me what to do.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”
His face was so earnest, she felt her breath catch in her throat. He really meant it.
“How can I help you, Jill? What can I do?”
This was so sweet of him, but it couldn’t work. He didn’t have the skills, the background. And anyway, he wasn’t here for her. He was here for Brad. There was no denying it.
“Just stay out of the way.” She shrugged helplessly. He shouldn’t be here at all. Why was he? “Go back to your hotel. You don’t belong here.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Connor!”
He shook his head again. “You’re like a fish flopping around on the pier, gasping for breath. You need help, lady. And I’m going to give it to you.”
She shook her own head in disbelief. “You can’t cook.”
“The hell I can’t.”
Her gaze narrowed. “I don’t believe it.”
He stepped closer, towering over her and staring down with cool deliberation. “There are a whole lot of things about me you just don’t have a clue about, Miss Know-it-all.”
She shook her head, still wary. “Look, just because you can fry up a mean omelet after midnight for your Saturday night date doesn’t mean you can cook. And it certainly doesn’t mean you can bake.”
“I’m not proposing to be your baker. You’ve got that slot nailed. I’m signing on as an assistant. I’m ready to assist you in any way I can.”
He meant it. She could see the resolve in his eyes. But how could he possibly be a help rather than a hindrance? There was no way he could get up to speed in time. Still, she was in an awful bind here.
“So you can cook?” she asked him skeptically.
“Yes.”
“There’s a difference between cooking and baking.”
“I know that.” He shook his head impatiently. “Jill, you’re the baker. But you need a support staff and I’m going to be it.”
“But...what are you planning to do?”
“Prep pans, wash pans, drizzle on glaze, pack product for delivery, deliver product, go for supplies, answer the phones...”
She was beginning to smile. Maybe she was being foolish, but she didn’t have much choice, did she? “And the most important thing?” she coached.
He thought for a moment, then realized what she was talking about.
“Keep an eye on the boys,” he said and was rewarded with a quick smile. “You got it. In fact, I’ll do anything and everything in order to leave you room to practice your creative artistry.”
“My what?” She laughed and gave him a push. “Oh, Connor, you smooth talker you.”
“That’s what it is.” He took her by the shoulders and held her as though she was very, very special. “I’ve eaten some of your cake wizardry, lady. Magnifique!”
The word hung in the air. She gazed up at him, suddenly filled with a wave of affection. Had she ever noticed before how his eyes crinkled in the corners? And how long his beautiful dark lashes were? Reaching out, she pressed her palm to his cheek for just a moment, then drew it back and turned away so that he wouldn’t see the tears beginning to well in her eyes.
“Okay,” she said a little gruffly. “We’ll give it a try. As long as you turn out to be worth more than the trouble you cause.” But she glanced back with a smile, showing him that she was only teasing.
“I won’t get in your way, I swear. You just wait and see. We’ll work together like a well-oiled machine.”
She blinked back the tears and smiled at him. “You promise?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“Ooh, don’t say that. Bad vibes.” She shook her head. “Okay then. Here’s the game plan. I’m going to go back over all my recipes and check to make sure I’ve got the right supplies before I start mixing new batters. You go and see what the boys are up to. Then you come back and help me.”
He saluted her like a soldier. “Mais oui, mon chef.”
“Wow. Those sleepy-time French lessons really did do some good. And here I was a non-believer.”
He looked a bit nonplussed himself. “Every now and then a few French words just seem to burst out of me, so yeah, I guess so.”
He turned his attention to the twins not a moment too soon. There was a ruckus going on in the next room. The boys were crying. Someone had pushed someone down and grabbed away his toy. The other one was fighting to get it back. Happened all the time. They needed supervision.
But there was really no time today to deal with it properly. He went back to discuss the situation with Jill.
“If you can think of any strenuous activities, something that might make them take their naps a bit earlier...” she mused, checking the supply of flavorings and crossing them off a list, then handing the list to him to start working on an inventory of the flour she had in storage.
“Say no more,” He gave her a wise look. “I’ve got a trick or two up my sleeve. As soon as I finish counting up the canisters, I’ll deal with those little rascals.”
* * *
Time was racing by. Her convection oven could accommodate four cakes at a time, but they had to be carefully watched.
“We’ve got to get these done by noon,” she told him. “I can’t start the mini Bundts any later than that. We’ve got to get the minis done by three, glazed and packed by four-thirty, and off for delivery by five.”
He nodded. He knew she wasn’t completely resigned to him being there with her. This was her biggest day and her eyes betrayed how worried she was. Her shoulders looked tight. She wasn’t confident that they could do it, even working hard together.
He only hoped he could—what? Help her? That went without saying. Protect her? Sure. That was his main goal. Always had been. If only he’d realized earlier that his vague distrust of Brad was based on more than jealousy. It seemed to be real in ways that were only now becoming more and more clear to him. It was a good thing she’d reconciled herself to accepting his help, because he knew he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave her on her own. He had to be here for her.
Meanwhile, he had to find a way to wear out the boys. He tried to recall his own childhood, but eighteen months old was a little too far back to remember much. Still, he had a few ideas.
He took the boys out into the backyard. There was a big sloping hill covered with grass. Improvising, he set up a racetrack with different stations where the boys had to perform simple modified gymnastic elements in order to move on to the next station.
They loved it. They each had a natural competitive spirit that came out in spades as they began to understand the goals involved. Each wanted to win with a naive gusto that made him laugh out loud. They were a great pair of twins.
They were so into it. Running up the hill took a lot of their time. Shrieking with excitement was a factor. And Connor found he was having as much fun as they were.
At one point, he had them racing uphill, each pulling a red wagon filled with rocks to see who could get to the top first. He’d brought along lots of prizes, including pieces of hard candy that they loved. He knew they were sure to rot teeth, but he would only use them today and never again. Or not often, anyway. He also made sure to keep the winnings pretty equal between the two of them, so that each could shine in turn.
But, as he told Jill a bit later, the one drawback was—no matter how tired he made them, he was even more so. He was pitifully out of shape.
But it was fun. That was the surprising part. The boys were a couple of great kids, both so eager, so smart. He wondered what Brad would think if he could see them. How could he possibly resist these two?
He brought them back in and settled them down to watch an educational DVD while he went down to the kitchen to see what he could do to help Jill. She had recently pulled four cakes out of the oven and she was ready to put on a glaze.
“Show me how,” he told her. “You’re going to need help when you glaze all those small cakes for the engagement party, aren’t you?”
She looked at him with some hesitation, and he saw it right away. Reaching out, he took her hands in his.
“Jill, I’m not here to take over,” he said. “I don’t expect to start making decisions or judging you. I’m here to do anything you tell me to do. You talk. I’ll listen.”
She nodded, feeling a little chagrined. She knew he meant well. He was just here to help her. Why couldn’t she calm her fears and let him do just that?
As she glanced up, her gaze met his and she had an impulse that horrified her. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, close her eyes and hold on tightly.
The same thing she’d felt before when he’d held her came back in a wave and she felt dizzy with it. She wanted his warmth and his comfort, wanted it with a fierce craving that ached inside her. She couldn’t give in to that feeling. Turning away quickly, she hoped he couldn’t see it in her eyes.
She was just feeling weak and scared. That was what it had to be. She couldn’t let herself fall into that trap.
“Okay. I’m going to teach you everything I know about putting on a glaze,” she said resolutely. “And believe me, it’s simple. We’ll start with a basic sugar glaze. You’ll pick it up in no time at all.”
He learned fast and she went ahead and taught him how to make a caramel glaze as well, including tricks on how not to let the sugar burn and how to roast the chopped pecans before you added them to make them crisper and more flavorful. She then showed him how to center the cakes on the lacy doilies she used in the fancy boxes she packed the cakes in before transporting them.
“Each cake should look like it’s a work of art on its own,” she told him. “Never ever let a cake look like you just shoved it into a box to get it where it needs to go. They should look like they’re being carried in a golden coach, on their way to the ball.”
He grinned. “Cinderella cakes?”
“Exactly. They have to look special. Otherwise, why not pick up a cake at the grocery store?”
That was when his phone rang. It made him jerk. He knew before he even looked at the screen who it was. Brad. Brad wondering how things were going. Brad, wondering if he’d talked her into committing to his plan. Brad, trying to control everything, just like always.
He put the phone on vibrate and shoved it into his pocket.
Once they’d finished the glazing, he went back to babysitting, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for the boys. They looked so good, he made one for himself. Then he raided the refrigerator and made a cool, crisp salad for Jill.
“Lunchtime,” he told her, once he’d set the boys down to eat at their little table in their playroom.
She gave one last look at her boxed creations, snuck a peek at the new cakes in the oven and turned to him with a smile.
“So far, so good,” she said as she sat down across from him at the kitchen table. “Though one disaster can throw the whole schedule off.”
“Relax,” he said. “No disaster would dare ruin this day for you.”
“Knock on wood,” she said, doing just that. She took a bite of salad and made a noise of pleasure. “Ah! This is so refreshing.” She cocked her head to the side. “The boys are being awfully good.”
He nodded. “So it seems. I gave them their sandwiches.”
She frowned. “You left them alone with food?”
“They seemed to be doing great when I looked in on them.” He glanced toward the doorway. “Though they sure seem quiet.”
Jill’s eyes widened. “Too quiet,” she cried, vaulting out of her chair and racing for the playroom. Visions of peanut butter masterpieces smeared on walls and teddy bears covered in sticky jam shot through her head.
Connor came right behind her. He didn’t have as much experience with what might go wrong, but he could imagine a few things himself.
They skidded around the corner and into the room, only to find a scene of idyllic contentment. The peanut butter sandwiches were half eaten and lay on the table. The boys were completely out, both lying in haphazard fashion wherever they were when sleep snuck up on them. Jill turned and grinned at him.
“You did wear them out. Wow.”
They lifted them carefully and put them down in the travel cribs that sat waiting against the far wall. Jill pulled light covers over each of them and they tiptoed out of the room and back to the kitchen.
“They look like they’ll sleep for hours,” she said hopefully.
“Maybe days,” he added to the optimism, but she laughed.
“Doubtful. Besides, we’ll miss them if they stay away that long.”
“Will we?” he questioned, but he was smiling. He believed her.
She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time for a nice long lunch,” she said. “Maybe fifteen whole minutes. Those cakes have to be delivered by noon, but the church hall where they’re going is only two blocks away. So let’s sit down and enjoy a break.”
She watched as he settled in across from her and began to eat his sandwich. She was so glad he’d talked her into letting him stay to help. Without him, she would surely be chasing her children up and down the stairs by now, with cakes burning in the background. She raised her glass of iced tea at him.
“To Connor McNair, life saver,” she said. “Hip, hip, hooray.”
He laughed. “Your Bundt cakes aren’t all out of the fire yet,” he told her with a crooked grin. “Don’t count your chickens too soon.”
“Of course not. I just wanted to acknowledge true friendship when it raises its furry head.”
He shook his head and had to admit it was almost as covered with curls as hers. “Anytime,” he told her, then tried to warble it as a tune. “Anytime you need me, I’ll be there.”
Her gaze caught his and she smiled and whispered, “Don’t get cocky, kid.”
His gaze deepened. “Why not?” he whispered back. “What’s the fun of life if you don’t take chances?”
She held her breath. For just a few seconds, something electric seemed to spark between them. And then it was gone, but she was breathing quickly.
“Chances. Is that what you call it?” she said, blinking a bit.
He nodded. “Chances between friends. That’s all.”
She frowned at him. “Some friend. Where were you to stop me from marrying Brad?”
The look in his face almost scared her. She’d meant it in a lighthearted way, but being casual about a subject that cut so deep into her soul didn’t really work. Emotions were triggered. Her joke had fallen flat.
“I tried,” he said gruffly, a storm brewing in his blue eyes.
He was kidding—wasn’t he?
“What do you mean?” she asked, trying to ignore the trembling she heard in her own voice.
He leaned back in his chair but his gaze never left hers. “Remember? The night before your wedding.”
She thought back. “Yes. Wait. You didn’t even go to the bachelor party.”
He snorted. “I went. Hell, I was hosting it.” He seemed uncomfortable. “But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t take all the celebration.”
“Oh.”
“So I went off and left all those happy guys to their revelry. I got a bottle of Scotch and took it to a sandy beach I knew of.”
She nodded slowly, thinking back. “As I remember it, you were pretty tanked when you showed up at my apartment.”
He took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes. Yes, I was. I was a tortured soul.”
“Really? What were you so upset about that night?”
He stared at her. Couldn’t she guess? Was she really so blind? He’d been out of his head with agony that night. He knew what a wonderful girl Jill was, knew it and loved her for it. And he knew Brad wasn’t going to make her happy. But how could he tell her that? How could he betray a friend?
The problem was, he had to betray one of them. They were both his best friends and he couldn’t stand to see them getting married. And at the same time, he didn’t think he should interfere. It was their decision. Their misfortune. Their crazy insane absolutely senseless leap into the brave unknown.
But he knew a thing or two, didn’t he? He knew some things he was pretty sure she didn’t know. But how could he hurt her with them? How could he explain to her about all the times Brad had cheated on her in the years they’d all been friends?
She would chalk it up to pure jealousy, and in a way, she would have been right. He was jealous. He wanted her. He knew Brad didn’t value her enough. He knew Brad didn’t deserve her. But how could he tell her that? How could he tell her the truth without ending up with her despising him more than she now did Brad? If she really did.
Besides, what could he offer her in place of her romance with Brad? He wasn’t even sure he would ever be ready for any sort of full-time, long-term relationship. Every now and then he thought he’d conquered his background and the wariness he felt. But then he would see examples among his friends that just brought it back again. Could you trust another human in the long run? Was it worth the effort, just to be betrayed in the end?
And so—the Scotch. The alcohol was supposed to give him the courage to do what had to be done. But it didn’t work that way. It made him sick instead, and he babbled incoherently once he had Jill’s attention. She never understood what he was trying to say.
He couldn’t even tell her now. She’d asked him a direct question. What was he so upset about that night? And still, he couldn’t tell her the truth.
Because I knew you were marrying the wrong man. You should have been marrying me.
Reaching out, he caught her hand and looked deep into her eyes.
“Jill, tell me what you want. What you need in your life to be happy.”
She stared back at him, and he waited, heart beating a fast tattoo on his soul.
“Connor,” she began, “I... I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but I...”
But then she shook her head and the timer went off and they both rose to check the cakes. Whatever she’d been about to say was lost in a cloud of the aroma of delicious confections.
* * *
The last full-size cakes came out and were set to cool and they began to fill the large mini Bundt cake pans. Twelve little cakes per pan. And each had to be filled to exactly the same level.
“They’ll take about fifteen to twenty minutes,” she told him nervously. “Then the ovens have to be back up to temperature before we put the next batch in. If we time it right, we might just make it. But it’s going to be close.”
One hundred and ten little cakes, she thought with a tiny surge of hysteria. Oh, my!
Connor left to deliver some of the full-size cakes. Jill checked on the babies. They were still sleeping in their travel cribs. She was thankful for that. Back to the kitchen, she began to prepare the rectangular boxes with the small dividers she was going to put the mini cakes in once they were ready to go. Then Connor was back and they pulled a batch out.
“These are perfect,” she said with a sigh of relief. “You get the next batch ready. I’ll make the Limoncello glaze.”
They both had their eyes on the clock. Time seemed to go so quickly. Minutes seemed to evaporate into thin air. Jill was moving as fast as she could.
And then the phone started ringing. People who hadn’t had their deliveries yet were wondering why.
“We’re working as fast as we can,” she told them. “Please, every minute I spend on the phone means your cake will get there that much later.”
It was starting to feel hopeless. A batch overflowed its pan and they had to pull it out, clean up the mess and start again. She mixed up three batches of glaze and accidentally knocked them over onto the floor. That had to be done again.
And the clock was ticking.
She felt as though the beating of her heart was a clock, racing her, mocking her, letting her know she wasn’t going to make it. Biting her lip, she forced back that feeling and dug in even harder.
“Last batch going in,” Connor called.
She hurried over to see if it was okay. It was fine. Connor was turning out to be a godsend.
It was almost time. The phone rang. It was the Garden Club wondering where their cake was.
“Their party isn’t until seven tonight,” she said in full annoyance mode. “Can’t they wait?”
“I’ll run it over,” Connor offered.
“You will not,” she told him. “The engagement party is next. We have to deliver to them by five or we will have failed.”
The twins woke up and were cranky. Connor tried to entertain them but there was very little hope. They wanted their mother.
Jill had to leave Connor alone with the cakes while she cuddled her boys and coaxed them into a better mood. She knew they needed her and she loved them to pieces, but all the while she felt time passing, ticking, making her crazy. She had to get back to the cakes.
Connor had his own problems. His phone was vibrating every fifteen minutes. Every call was from Brad. He knew that without even checking. He had no intention of answering the phone, but every time it began to move, he had that sinking feeling again.
Brad. Why couldn’t he just disappear?
Instead he was texting. Connor didn’t read the texts. There was no point to it. He knew what they said.
Brad wanted answers. He wanted to know what was going on. He wanted to get the latest scoop on Jill. All things Connor had no intention of giving him. But knowing Brad, that wasn’t going to satisfy him. He was going to intrude, one way or another. And he wouldn’t wait long to make his influence felt. Connor looked at his phone. If only there was some way to cut the link to Brad and his expectations.
