A Recipe for Reunion

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.

CHAPTER SIX

“MRS. LAWLER CALLED and said the chocolate chip cookies she ordered on Friday weren’t the ones we usually sell.” Georgette’s tone over the phone had all the pointedness of an awl gouging into Aaron’s good intentions.

He broke out in a sweat, pressing himself into the office chair as if he could disappear in the crumb-filled seams of the vinyl upholstery. He’d tried to keep this conversation from happening since Stephanie had left two days ago, but his time and luck had run out. “I know. I used a different recipe.”

“Why on earth would you do that?” Gran asked sharply.

“We were out of cookies. I had to whip up something I could make—”

“But those aren’t Georgette’s cookies. People don’t come to the bakery to get something they can make from an online recipe.”

“I know, I know.” He hadn’t thought his cookies had turned out that bad, even if they were a little hard and lacked the smooth, melt-in-your-mouth texture his grandmother’s were famous for.

He hadn’t had time to make another batch, though. All day Friday and well into the evening he’d thrown together recipes from the internet to fill the standing orders while Kira took care of the customers out front. By Saturday, all the premade pastries and batters had been used up and he found himself saying, “Sorry, we’re sold out” more often than “Thank you. Come again.”

Worse yet, he hadn’t been able to get the recipe binder from the safe—Gran had changed the code, and he couldn’t ask her for it without telling her why. Now they were almost completely out of stock, and he was scrambling to prep inventory for Monday. Flour dusted his running shoes and batter was caked on his jeans. He ached head to toe, and the lack of sleep after only two days was taking its toll.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t ask Stephanie to make more cookies.” Georgette waited for his explanation, and Aaron finally relented with a sigh.

“Stephanie quit on Friday.”

“Yes. I know.”

He sank deeper into the chair. He hadn’t really expected to keep such a huge secret in small-town Everville, but he’d hoped... “So you heard.”

“Betty told me when she came for tea yesterday. She said Stephanie stormed out in quite a mood. I thought I’d wait to hear the truth from you.” Every word lashed him with razor-sharp reproof. “How long were you planning to keep it from me?”

“I didn’t think you needed to know. I can handle it. You should be resting and recovering.”

“Don’t give me that,” she snapped. “That is my business, Aaron. I’m grateful that you want to take care of things. I put a lot of faith in you, waiting as long as I have to see how you’d solve this problem. But I told you from the start, didn’t I? You need Stephanie. You were supposed to work together.”

“Things didn’t work out.”

His grandmother’s stony silence on the other end of the line told him that was not a satisfactory explanation.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do for inventory?” she asked.

“Well, since renos are happening anyhow, we could close up for a week or two. It’ll give me time to interview for a replacement baker.”

“A replacement?” She said it as if he’d proposed they grind bones for flour. “Absolutely not!”

“Gran, be reasonable.”

“You don’t understand. I trained Stephanie. I trusted her with my secrets. I’m not going to hand over my recipes willy-nilly to some stranger. We’ve no guarantee they won’t take everything they’ve learned and start their own bakeshop in town.”

“You didn’t have that guarantee with Stephanie,” he pointed out.

He could almost feel her imperious glare through the handset. “Loyalty isn’t something you can teach, Aaron. It’s bred into you. Stephanie would’ve stayed if I’d asked her to.”

Would she have? Aaron wasn’t so sure. He’d been rude and downright patronizing toward her. He hadn’t meant to insult her. He simply couldn’t stand it when things were left unfinished.

One credit. That was all she’d needed. And he’d made a huge deal of it instead of dropping it and appreciating what she could do. Like keep the bakery in business.

Boy, had he ever screwed this up. He never would have anticipated Steph quitting over his stupid comments. He wanted to blame her for being overly sensitive and taking his words too personally. He’d only meant to be helpful, after all. Making suggestions that would increase efficiency and cut costs had served him well in his old job, but that tactic didn’t work here. Steph was a person, not a business. She’d taken his criticism personally because it was personal. And he’d completely disregarded her pride.

He heard something thump on the other end of the line. “I’ll have to come in tomorrow morning to fill the orders.”

“Gran, you should be resting.”

“I can’t relax knowing my bakery is falling apart and my customers aren’t happy. I’m likely to have another stroke worrying and not doing anything about it.”

“Your blood pressure’s still too high. What if you fall or hurt yourself? You can’t lift all those heavy bowls and sacks of flour on your own.”

“And you can’t bake to save your life,” she shot back. “Listen to this. You hear it?” There was a loud tapping noise on the other end of the line. “Those are the cookies you sold Mrs. Lawler. God forbid I let you fill Monday’s orders. I may be old and my brain might be weary, but I still remember I’ll need to make three pies for Bartlett’s, two cakes for Sealy’s Bistro, and a flan for Mrs. Hendrick’s birthday. Do you know how to make flan?”

Aaron conceded that he did not.

“I’m going to bed now,” Georgette said waspishly. “I’ve an early start tomorrow, and you’re going to drive me to work.” She hung up, her anger and disappointment echoing in his ears.

He rested his head in his hands. He was supposed to be making Gran’s life easier, but instead he’d made a mess.

Kira appeared at his office door. “Hey, Aaron?”

“What’s up?”

Her fingers curled around the door frame. “Something’s come up. Would it be okay if I left early?”

He frowned. “I really need you here, Kira. What’s so important that you have to leave right now?”

“Family emergency.” She glanced at her toes. “Please, I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

The anxious look on her face said she wasn’t kidding around, so he waved her off. They were closing soon and no one was coming in anyhow. She thanked him and dashed out, backpack slung over one shoulder, her hairnet still clinging to her head.

He rubbed his temples. If Gran wasn’t going to trust her recipes to a replacement baker, he didn’t have any choice. He needed to get Stephanie back. He had a feeling it would cost him more than his ego, though.

* * *

AFTER HER FATHER’S birthday party, Stephanie returned to her apartment. She’d had enough coddling from her mother and was eager to be back in her own space. She was going to suck it up and get back her job at Georgette’s.

First things first: she had to organize herself. Making to-do lists would line up all her priorities. When she was a kid her babysitter, Kitty, had been all about lists, and she’d gotten her into the habit. She took out her phone and started typing, saying the words out loud as if it would commit her to the cause.

“One. Buy school supplies.” She’d left most of her old notebooks and the like back at her parents’ place. She might be able to dig them up, but she’d be more motivated to work if she had all new stuff. It was like working out in new gym clothes. Besides, it was an easy task, and Kitty had always said accomplishing small things would help get the ball rolling on bigger projects. She could get the basics downstairs at the pharmacy...or maybe she’d drive to a big-box store and get some new jeans while she was there.

She typed in her second goal: “Two. Buy jeans.” It was important that she treat herself now and again, after all, and she’d had a rough couple of days.

Number three on her list was a little more complicated. “Get high school diploma.” She typed it slowly and stared at the item.

Simple. Yeah. She wouldn’t even have to finish that one credit Aaron had harped on about. She could do a high school equivalency test and shove that piece of paper in his face.

She sucked a breath between her teeth. No, she was going to be mature about this. Getting her diploma wasn’t about Aaron. It wasn’t. And he hadn’t forced her out of Georgette’s, either. She’d walked out on her own. If she really wanted her job back, she was going to have to be honest with herself and her employer about it.

That was number four. She typed it out as she declared it to the empty room. “Get...job...back.”

Right. She looked at her list and decided now was as good a time as any to get things done. Carpet denim, or whatever that saying was.

She drove to the Target in the next town, picked up a package of lined paper, a couple of binders, a pretty notebook, some gel pens, pencils, erasers and a stylish pencil case, along with a sharp new teal-blue backpack. Oh, she’d missed back-to-school shopping.

She spent some time picking out a pair of jeans, and then added a couple of new spring tops and a pair of espadrilles.

She walked out of the store and started the drive home. Two out of four things done on her list. Pretty productive, if she did say so herself.

Before heading back to her apartment, Steph stopped at Maya’s consignment shop. She’d told her briefly about meeting Wyatt, but still hadn’t said anything about quitting Georgette’s. She hoped to get her job back before Maya found out.

The bell above the door jangled. The familiar mixed scents of old leather, patchouli and mothballs were strangely comforting.

Steph made a beeline for the back room, where she found Maya steam-ironing a silk blouse. “Hey, you.” The shopkeeper hung up the steam wand. “I thought you’d be at work.”

“I took a day off to get some errands done.” The lie came too easily, pricking Steph’s conscience. “Actually, I came to ask you a favor. I want to get my diploma—my GED or whatever it’s called now. But I’m not sure how to do it.”

“That’s great.” Maya’s tentative smile should’ve made Steph feel indignant rather than sad. It’d always galled her when people told her what she could and couldn’t do. But Maya had witnessed her give up on a lot of projects: learning to play the guitar, rock-climbing lessons and knitting classes, to name a few. She had a right to be cautiously optimistic. “I’m sure you can find lots of study guides and stuff online.”

“I haven’t looked yet. I only made the decision today. What I meant was...”

“You need someone to help you study.”

Steph ducked her chin down. “I know you’re busy, but this is something I really want.”

“Of course I’ll help.” Maya squeezed her friend’s shoulders. “You should totally go for your diploma. To be honest, though, I’m not sure how much help I can be. I wasn’t exactly a straight-A student.”

“But you know how to get things done, and I need that more than anything.” Steph knew she lost focus easily and would give up in frustration when things got too hard. “I need you to breathe down my neck and make sure I do my homework. It’ll only be one night a week to make sure I stay on track. I promise to keep you in cookies and pies until I pass.”

Maya gave a snort of laughter. “Wow, my hips won’t thank you for that. But if you promise to stick with it, then you can count on me to scream at you like a drill sergeant.”

“Thank you.” She hugged her tight. “I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You know I can be a taskmaster.” She held her away. “Topic change. You owe me some gossip. Has this Wyatt guy called you yet?” Maya prodded slyly.

“It’s only been, like, two days. Don’t guys usually wait at least three?”

“From what you told me, it sounded like he was raring to go.” Maya snickered. “I bet he’ll ask you out sometime this week.”

Steph shrugged. “Well, he’s nice, but...”

“Nice butt is all I need to hear.” Maya slipped on her cat’s-eye glasses as she hung the blouse on a rack. “Tell me honestly—is he hideous or something?”

“No, he’s pretty good-looking. Great body. Kinda like if Bradley Cooper and Hugh Jackman had a love child.”

Maya gaped and fluttered her lashes. “You’re sure you don’t want to date him? ’Cause if you don’t, I will.”

“You’re welcome to him. Honestly, I’ve got other things on my mind.”

Maya peered closely at her. “Like getting your diploma? Does this have something to do with Aaron Caruthers?”

Steph flinched. “No.”

Maya waited, crossing her arms over her chest. Steph exhaled gruffly.

“Okay, maybe. I want him to stop thinking I’m stupid.”

Her friend frowned severely. “You’re not stupid, Steph. You have to stop saying that about yourself.”

Steph grimaced. The truth was there were times she felt dumb. Sometimes she had trouble understanding what people were saying. She’d think she was listening only to realize that she wasn’t, and was too embarrassed to ask for clarification. In her freshman year of high school, she’d asked her geography teacher, Mr. Wiltshire, to repeat something she hadn’t understood. He’d called her a “bimbo” and an “airhead” who should stick to cheerleading.

She got that some people, teachers included, had a hate-on for the “popular kids,” the ones who got special treatment because of their status on sports teams. But Mr. Wiltshire had been exceptionally judgmental. For a moment there, Aaron had reminded her of him, with his disapproving looks and buttoned-up facade. He’d made her remember the difference between her and the other kids in school.

Maybe that was why she’d left Georgette’s, even after she’d told herself she wouldn’t. She’d thought he was making fun of her, so she’d bolted. It’d always been easier to give up than risk failure and utter humiliation.

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