Читать книгу A Recipe for Reunion - Vicki Essex - Страница 13
ОглавлениеSTEPHANIE CLENCHED HER JAW, sick to her stomach, heart pounding. As she drove away from Georgette’s, she felt as if someone were digging spadefuls of hurt and bile straight out of her gut.
Twenty minutes later she pulled over, realizing she’d been driving aimlessly, blinded by her need to escape. What was it her old babysitter used to say? Running away won’t solve your problems, Stephanie.
It was too soon to regret, she told herself. This wasn’t her fault. Walking out was the only way to show Aaron she needed to be taken seriously. She wouldn’t stand to be mocked and bellied...belittled.
That, at least, was what she’d tell herself until reality sank in.
She sat in the SUV, hands loose in her lap, the emergency blinkers on. She picked up her cell phone. Calling Maya was out of the question. After the pep talk they’d had, Steph didn’t want to disappoint her. She didn’t want to head back to her apartment yet, either. Stewing at her place alone would only bring the grief home quicker once she acknowledged she was out of a job.
There was only one place she could think of to go. She dialed, and after a brief conversation, turned her SUV back onto the road.
It was half an hour before she arrived. Mom and Dad lived in one of the big houses on the shores of Silver Lake. They had a great view of the water, and they owned a private strip of beach, which was why all the parties back in high school had been at the Stephenses’.
Though it was anything but, today the house looked low and small and sad against the gray-and-white world. The lawn was covered in thin patches of melting snow. Steph pulled into the long, paved driveway and parked in the four-car garage. Her mother met her in the interior doorway, beaming.
“I’m so glad you’re home.” Helen opened her arms in welcome. Steph leaned in for a brief hug, smelling cloves and Chanel No. 5 in her mother’s hair. “I’ve got so much to do, and I could really use your help before your father’s party.”
Steph didn’t reply. She hadn’t mentioned it over the phone, but she had a feeling Mom already had heard about her falling-out with Aaron. Gossip was a professional sport in Everville, and Helen was one of its MVPs. “I’ve got a headache coming on,” Steph said, not in the mood to be interrogated. Sometimes faking it was Steph’s only way to ensure her mother left her alone. “Would you mind...?”
“Of course, baby. Go right up to your room. Lucena’s already put fresh sheets on the bed and towels in your bathroom. Get some rest and I’ll check on you later to see if you want dinner.” She ushered her up the stairs.
Steph shut the bedroom door, and the cold, massive space closed around her. She waited three heartbeats to feel better, to feel safe, to feel that everything was going to be all right.
All she felt, though, was a leaden sense of failure.
* * *
“I’M SCREWED.” ACTUALLY, screwed wasn’t the word he was thinking of, but he was trying to shield Kira’s delicate ears from saltier language. He didn’t want to drive off his only other employee.
“Can’t Georgette come and bake tomorrow’s orders?” she asked hopefully.
Aaron gulped his black coffee and stared at the long list of standing orders. He hadn’t realized how many local businesses they supplied with pastries and desserts. They’d lose a lot of cash if they had to cancel. “My grandmother’s still recovering. I don’t want to trouble her.” He scanned what was left behind the counter. “Pack up what you can from the display case to fill these orders.” He handed her the list. “We’ll make what we have to once we see what we have on hand.”
“What about stock for tomorrow?”
“I’ll deal with it. I don’t suppose you can come in for the rest of the week?”
She bit her lip. “I have classes...”
He waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it, then. Come when you can, but don’t you dare skip school.” He paused. “Wait...it’s barely noon. Why aren’t you in school now?”
“I only go part-time.”
He began to ask her why, but decided it wasn’t his business. There were lots of reasons a young person might have for not going to school full-time, and right now having Kira here was a blessing.
He went back to the office and hesitantly picked up the phone. How was he going to explain this to Gran? She’d be furious, and then she’d insist on coming to fill the orders.
He put down the handset. No. He wasn’t going to tell her. Not until he’d found a replacement. The doctor had said it was vital that Gran rest and keep her blood pressure down.
He took a deep breath to calm his own hammering heart. He’d spent his youth in the bakery working alongside Gran, though she hadn’t let him in on her secrets. But he knew where everything was in the kitchen—at least he thought he did. All he needed were the recipes.
Which were in the safe at home. He drummed his fingers on the countertop. Georgette would know right away that something was wrong if he showed up at the house now. He would have to get the binder of recipes tonight after Gran had gone to bed. Well, no problem. He had his smartphone and a great data plan. He’d get some recipes off the internet and make those. They wouldn’t be Gran’s, but they’d be close enough, he was sure. A chocolate chip cookie was a chocolate chip cookie.
He glanced at his watch. If he started now, he could make a few batches. He rolled up his sleeves and headed to the kitchen. He could do this. Stephanie Stephens had, after all. How hard could it possibly be?
* * *
THE SATURDAY OF her father’s birthday party, Steph was tasked with serving punch and cake, even though Helen had hired wait staff for the day. Steph suspected her mom had put her behind the big crystal punch bowl by the window to make sure she was seen by all the guests, including those who knew some eligible bachelors.
She smiled wanly as Helen, dressed in a salmon-colored two-piece suit, picked up a glass of punch. “I still don’t see why you couldn’t have made Georgette’s coconut cake,” she murmured. “It’s for your father, after all. You know he loves her coconut cake.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t make Georgette’s desserts for anyone unless they pay for them.”
“If this was about money, I would’ve paid you.” Helen sniffed.
“And if you’d wanted the cake, you should’ve ordered it from the bakery before I quit. It’s her recipe, and I don’t work for Georgette anymore, so I can’t use it.” She didn’t know why her mother argued with her about this all the time. Helen knew very well Steph had signed a nondisclosure agreement that kept her from sharing her employer’s recipes. In one of her more melodramatic moods, Helen had once claimed her own daughter wouldn’t give her Georgette’s recipes to save her life. To her mother’s everlasting shock, Steph had agreed.
Leaving their argument dangling, Helen trotted away to greet some guests. Steph stifled a yawn. She’d woken up before the crack of dawn, still attuned to her baking schedule. She’d never slept much, but now that her internal clock was thrown off she had a hard time coping.
Truthfully, she worried about what was happening at Georgette’s. She’d stormed out before she’d gotten any of the next day’s baking done. But she snuffed out the impulse to call, because the next thing she knew, she’d be driving there to put a pan of date squares together. She firmly reminded herself that the bakery was no longer her concern. Aaron would have to figure things out himself.
Damn that stupid, stupid man. Calling her on poor math skills? Hitting her where it hurt? What kind of guy did that? He knew she’d struggled through school. Everyone knew. Telling her she had issues...
Well, she didn’t. She’d asked her parents about it once, and they’d assured her absolutely nothing was wrong. She’d simply been a little slower on the uptake.
Slow. As if she really wanted a reminder of how people saw her. Stupid and useless. But not to everyone: Georgette had seen what she could do.
Steph shifted restlessly. She hadn’t called her yet to explain why she’d left. The truth was she was too cowardly. Disappointing Georgette was worse than disappointing anyone else she knew. And she’d done it anyway.
“Pardon me.” A tall man grinned down at her, interrupting her brooding. The sun made his grass-green eyes shine and caught in his gold-brown hair, distilling it to bourbon in its roots. “I’m looking for Helen and Terrence Stephens.”
Steph smiled back. “They should be around here somewhere. I’m their daughter, Stephanie.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” He held out a big, weathered hand. “Wyatt Brown. Your folks were kind enough to invite me over to meet the neighbors.” He had the slightest accent, one she couldn’t place.
“Wyatt.” Helen hurried over. “So glad you could come. I see you’ve met my lovely daughter, Stephanie. You can call her Steph.”
Ah. Now Steph understood. This must be the rancher her mother had mentioned.
She gave him a once-over and decided her mother’s taste wasn’t terrible. In a pair of khakis, a green Ralph Lauren sweater and mud-stained loafers, he looked like a model out of a magazine. More Sears catalog than GQ, though. He was one of those big guys whose bodies were built for hard work. Thick muscles bulged as he shifted, stretching his clothes in interesting ways. Compared to the rancher, Aaron was a stick. Not that she was comparing the two.
Helen handed the rancher a glass of punch. “Stephanie, come out from behind there and show Wyatt around the house, won’t you? I’ll go get your father.” With that, she flitted off.
Real subtle, Mom. “Sorry about that. She can get overly enthusiastic at times.”
“I don’t mind.” His relaxed air put her at ease. He didn’t push, which was nice, but he wasn’t backing off, either. “Your mother’s talked a lot about you. Good things only, I promise.”
She was sure her mom hadn’t ever had a bad thing to say about her daughter to anyone.
She led Wyatt on a tour of the house with its many guest rooms, offices and her mother’s craft room. It had always seemed too big for the three of them, but they had friends stay over frequently. She and Wyatt chatted as they made their way back to the party. “My mom mentioned you’re a rancher and that you just moved here.”
“My folks have an operation in Australia, but we’re from Montana originally. I wanted to branch out, so I bought a nice piece of land not too far from here. We’re getting our first heads of cattle next week.”
“That sounds interesting.”
He chuckled. “You don’t have to be polite. Most people glaze over the moment I start talking shop.”
She stifled a laugh. Mom had always told her to look interested even if she had no idea what a person was saying, but she was glad she didn’t have to pretend too hard. Wyatt went on, “You’re a baker, right?”
“Well...I was.” She looked down.
“What happened?”
“I kind of...quit.” Ugh. She sounded like a total flake.
“What made you leave?”
“It’s a long story.”
The corner of his mouth hitched up, revealing a dimple. “I’ve got time.”
She shuffled her feet, embarrassed she’d even brought it up. “Well, it’s this guy...my boss, I guess you could say. He’s taking over Georgette’s Bakery—”
His eyes lit up. “That’s the place everyone keeps telling me to visit.”
“Oh, yeah. Bar none, the best baked goods in a hundred miles. People come in droves on the weekend and—” She stopped suddenly. This was the first weekend she hadn’t worked in months. Years, even. At this time of day, she’d be baking for Sunday. Regret gnawed at her and she worried her lower lip. “Anyhow, we don’t agree on some things.”
“About the business?”
“Well, that, and he thinks I’m stupid.”
His face darkened. “He said that?”
She winced, drawing out her response. “Not exactly.” She hugged her elbows. “But I know he thinks it. We went to high school together and he used to have a crush on me...” Good Lord, why was she even telling him this?
Wyatt’s crooked smile was knowing. “I take it you didn’t return the feeling?”
“I had a boyfriend at the time. Aaron was nice and all, but he was...” The word that automatically came to mind was pathetic. Dale had called him that a lot—a pathetic loser. Aaron had always been kind of intense around her, breathing down her neck to make sure she copied and returned his notes instead of letting her take them home, and looming over her to return those pens that one day. “Well, he wasn’t my type.”
Wyatt smirked. “So you think he’s getting back at you now?”
“Maybe.” She released another huff. “No. I don’t think he’s being mean intentionally. I think he thinks because I didn’t graduate and I’m still here in Everville and never went to college...” She was babbling. Mom had always warned her about boring people. She tossed her hair and gave a weak laugh. “I’m overthinking it. I’m sure it must sound silly to you.”
“It’s not silly to want to do something with your life that makes you happy,” he said seriously. “And from what I gather, this job made you happy.”
“It did.” Her shoulders slumped. “I screwed that up.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “If you love something enough, you’ll find a way to make it happen.”
She dipped her head self-consciously. Wyatt was only being nice, she told herself, though awfully touchy-feely considering they’d just met. “Thanks. I guess I need time to process it.”
“Oh, look at you two!” Helen bustled up, face radiant. “I’m so glad you’re hitting it off. Didn’t I say she’d like you, Wyatt? You two are perfect for each other!”
Steph dropped the rancher’s hand as if it were a live grenade, blushing furiously. She wasn’t feeling anything beyond the beginnings of a friendship with Wyatt. He was a nice guy who’d been patient enough to listen to her ramble. That was all.
“Leave those two alone, Helen. You’ll scare the poor man off.” Steph’s father strode up and vigorously shook Wyatt’s hand in greeting. Steph had inherited his sturdy height and kind eyes, as well as his brass-blond hair, though his was going a distinguished silver at the temples. A splash of barbecue sauce glistened on his white shirt collar. When Helen spotted it, she exclaimed loudly and attacked him with a napkin.
“Happy birthday, Terrence,” the rancher said above Helen’s head. “You have a lovely home and a wonderful family. You’re a lucky man.”
“It’s true.” He gently extricated himself from his wife’s fussing. “Come on, I want you to meet some people.” He led him off, leaving Steph with her mother.
Helen crushed her fingers in her grip. “He’s nice, right? Didn’t I say he was?”
Steph shook her off. “He’s fine. But stop pushing for something that’s not going to happen.”
“Why not? Didn’t he tell you about his ranch? The man owns three hundred acres south of Everville, prime real estate. He’s worth upwards of a hundred million, you know.”
“Mom!” Steph was appalled. Her mother wasn’t usually this shallow. “How can you talk about him like some kind of...gold digger?”
Helen gave her a pooh-pooh look. “Nice is nice, but honey sweetens the pot. I’m simply looking out for you, baby.”
Steph glared. She grabbed her mother’s arm and tugged her into the empty den, temper reaching the boiling point. “I’ve told you, I’m not ready for a serious relationship.”
Her mother folded her arms. “I don’t see why not. You’ve quit your job. How else are you going to fill your time?”
Steph stared, so exasperated her mind had gone totally blank. She counted backward from five before she settled both trembling hands on her mother’s shoulders. “Mom. I’m an adult. I know you mean well, but you need to stay out of my personal life.”
Her mother inhaled sharply. She drew herself up and lifted her soft chin high. “I’d think you’d be more grateful for all the opportunities we’ve given you.”
Steph took two steps back, fingers curling. There was that tone again, the one everyone used to imply she was obligated to live up to their standards. She wanted to yell at her mother, but it was her father’s birthday, and she didn’t want to make a scene.
“I can’t talk to you right now.” Before she could say anything she’d regret, she hastened out onto the back deck and dug her nails into the wood railing, suppressing the scream climbing up her throat.
Gradually, her fury drained out of her as a damp gust of wind penetrated her dress and sapped away the heat of her anger. The lake glistened cold and silver beneath the pale orb of the sun. Its struggle to shine through the cloud cover was a flickering promise of warmer spring days ahead, but at the moment all she could see were the dirty, desolate snow drifts and ice-crusted puddles of mud.
The door closed quietly behind her. “Everything all right?” It was Wyatt. She didn’t really want to talk to him right now, not while her mother was pushing him at her. Any indication of interest—of which she could honestly say she had little—would only encourage Helen to drag out the pageant. They’d invite him over for dinner, then force him to spend time alone with her under some pretense. It’d happened before.
“I needed some fresh air.” She tried to keep her tone cool without being rude. He didn’t need to know about her argument with Mom. But either Wyatt didn’t get her message or was too gentlemanly to leave her alone. He pulled his sweater over his head and—good Lord, he was all muscles beneath his shirt—draped it across her shoulders. It smelled like leather and lemons.
“Thanks.” It seemed rude to refuse it.
Wyatt leaned against the railing. “Look, I want to apologize.”
“For what?”
“I think I came on too strong. To your parents.”
Steph blinked. “I don’t understand.”
He rubbed his chin and chuckled ruefully. “This...this is going to sound crazy.” He sucked in a breath as if steeling himself. “I’ve spent my whole life helping my folks on their ranch to the exclusion of everything else, which is how I found myself at age forty-two single and childless. I don’t mean to sound like a sad and lonely cowboy...but I haven’t gone on a lot of dates.” He peeked over at her. “This is the part where you start to get suspicious.”
A handsome, rich cowboy like Wyatt didn’t date? “Suspicious, no. Surprised, yes.”
“There’ve been women. Just not women I was really all that into, or who were more into my family’s money than they were into me.” He scratched the side of his nose. “When I met your parents at the country club and got to know them, they seemed like really great people. They mentioned you a lot. They didn’t know I was single at the time...but after a bit, I told them I wanted to meet you.”
A prickly feeling climbed up her arms, as if the sweater were creeping over her skin. She furtively shrugged it off her shoulders so it clung loosely to her elbows. “Um. Okay.”
“Look, I don’t want to sound weird. We’ve just met, but...I like you.”
“That’s...” Clumsy words weighed down her tongue. Too many confusing thoughts assailed her, first and foremost being that this was not something she wanted to hear right now. But instead of saying so, she said, “Thank you. I like you, too.”
Smile lines carved pleasant valleys into his sun-weathered face. “I’d like for us to get to know each other better.”
“Oh. Well...” Her pointed words of warning to back off wouldn’t come as easily with Wyatt as they had with her mother. She knew she should tell him she wasn’t interested, but the guy was too damned nice. The worst part was that despite his other attractive qualities, nice was the only word that kept coming to mind.
“I know I’m moving too fast.” He took a step back, hands raised. “But I’ll admit I like what I see and hear. And frankly, I’m not the kind of man who has the time or patience to play games.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “Might as well go for broke.” He blew out a breath and looked her full in the face. “My parents are getting older. I’m looking for someone to settle down with, and I mean to start my family as soon as possible.”
Steph choked on a breath she tried to inhale and swallow at the same time. She supposed she should appreciate how up-front he was being, but alarm bells sounded a warning in the back of her mind. Maybe at some other point in her life, she would have loved hearing those words, but not now and not from Wyatt.
She coughed and cleared her throat. “Look, Wyatt...you seem like a great guy. Really.” The corners of her mouth strained as she tried to lift her lips. “But I’ve told my mother the same thing I’m going to tell you. I’m still trying to find myself. And I don’t think I can do that if I’m with another person right now.”
“I’m not hearing an absolute no.”
She gave him a tight smile. “I need time to figure things out for me.”
He tilted his chin down, thinking. “All right. I’ll give you time.” He pushed off the railing and touched his forelock as if he were wearing a broad-brimmed cowboy hat. “If you wouldn’t mind some advice...?”
Warily, she said, “Go on.”
“They say do what you love, the rest will follow. But if that were true, I’d be sleeping and eating Wagyu beefsteaks at all hours of the day.” He chuckled. “If you want to be a success, you gotta do what you have to do before you get to do what you love. Pay your dues, as it were. It isn’t always pretty or fun, but it’ll make what you love all that much sweeter in the end.”
He was talking about her job. It was almost a relief to hear after their intense relationship talk. He wasn’t even being condo...condescending. And his advice made sense.
A little salt to bring out the sweetness—that was something Georgette had taught her early on when it came to baking. “Thanks. That’s helpful, actually.”
“I’m glad. I’ll let you think about that,” he said, then flashed a grin. “But I suspect you’ll see more of me soon.”
He went back indoors, leaving her alone on the deck once more. Steph’s chills deepened. She started to pull the sweater around her, but then stopped herself. She took it off and headed back into the party.
The rancher was right. She had to make things happen for herself. She wasn’t going to get what she wanted by wishing for it. Everything came at a price, and she had to be willing to pay it. It looked as though she was going to have to eat crow if she was ever going to own Georgette’s.
