California Homecoming (11 page)

Sarah laughed, patted her dog and went inside.

She’d finished putting away the groceries when the doorbell rang. Dread clutched her heart. Had Rick returned so soon?

No, he wasn’t due until Saturday.

She opened the door to a raw-boned woman with a no-nonsense braid of gray hair.

“I’m told you need a gardener,” she said. “I can see from the looks of it that it’s true.”

“Um … who are you, exactly?” Daisy stood by Sarah’s side, alert, but not unfriendly.

“Gertrude. Unfortunate name, I know. My mother saddled me with it. I think she was reading
The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas
when she was pregnant.” She shifted on her feet. “Well, are you looking or not?”

“I … uh … ” Oh, hell. This must be Paul’s mother. And she did need someone to spruce up the place, if it wasn’t too expensive. “Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it?”

“No, thanks. I like being outdoors. You really want to know how much I charge.” Gertrude named a figure that was ridiculously low.

“Why so little?” Sarah was wary. She didn’t know the woman at all.

A thought flashed through her mind. She was opening an inn, inviting lots of people she didn’t know into her home. With her newborn.

Suddenly, the absence of a man in her life didn’t seem quite as smart.

Gertrude shrugged. “I like the work.”

The woman didn’t appear to be an ax murderer, and she would stay outside. Sarah should be safe. “When could you start?”

Gertrude looked at the sky. “How does today sound?”

“What can you do in the middle of winter?”

“Let me show you.” Gertrude walked over to the garden Sarah had been examining earlier, Sarah trailing behind. “Winter can be the best time to clear vines and prune bushes.”

“Oh, yes. My mother’s boyfriend is pruning his vines now.”

Gertrude nodded. “I’d cut back the ivy and prune the rose bushes. This garden has good bones.” She eyed Sarah. “Like you. You’re going to need to be strong for the baby and you have the spirit to do it.”

A chill washed over Sarah. Paul’s mother was definitely strange.

Gertrude laughed. “It’s not magic. Paul told me. I’m not sure how he found out. Costanoa can be a small town.”

“Have you always been a gardener?” Sarah followed Gertrude as the woman walked toward her enclosed truck.

Gertrude snapped the back open and pulled out a tote bag clanking with tools. She shook her head. “I spent most of my life teaching chemistry up at the university.” She shrugged. “Things change. I’ll let you know when I finish for the day.”

Dismissed, Sarah went back to the inn.

In spite of their differences over Rick, Sarah’s spirits lifted when she entered her mother’s kitchen Friday evening. A pot of minestrone was bubbling on the stove, filling the room with the sweet savory of rosemary and thyme. Baking bread added the tang of yeast.

Pavarotti soared from the living room and she could hear her mother’s laughter peal out. Sarah was glad for her mother’s happiness. It had been a long time coming.

“I’m here!” she called out as she hung her coat on the pegs provided by the kitchen entry. She slipped off her damp shoes and slid into the soft slippers she kept at her mom’s.

When Elizabeth reached the kitchen, she wrapped Sarah in a warm hug. “How are you doing? Are you taking your naps like the doc said?”

“Mom — ”

“I know, I know. You’re a big girl now. But I’m still your mom and you’re stuck with that.”

Sarah wiggled from her mother’s embrace to say hello to the man who’d come into the kitchen with Elizabeth. “Hi, Marcos.” She held out her hand, but Marcos pulled her into his arms. “Come. We are family, yes?”

She laughed. “Yes.”

“Your mother has been cooking all day. I told her I would take us to dinner after a hard week in the vineyards, but, no, she says she wants to make a home-cooked meal.” He leaned down to whisper with a grin. “I think she is trying to impress me, still.”

“Probably,” Sarah confided. “She is an over-achiever.”

“Stop talking about me!” Elizabeth said. “Sarah, set the table.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Yes, mother.”

Within a few minutes they surrounded the dining room table, a red soup tureen the steaming centerpiece. Marcos updated Sarah on progress in the vineyard and Elizabeth told her about the status on her products.

“When will you be going back to Italy?” Sarah asked as she helped herself to a second bowl of soup.

“Trying to get rid of me so soon. My heart is broken,” Marcos teased her.

Sarah chuckled.

“I go back in two weeks. My cousins are pruning our family’s vineyards in Italy.” He smiled at Elizabeth again.

Marcos’ plan to own vineyards and make wine from the world’s great winemaking regions was ambitious and kept him on the road. Sometimes Sarah wondered how that fit with her mother’s nesting instincts.

She couldn’t worry about their lives. Rick, Hunter, opening an inn, and a pregnancy were enough to keep her occupied.

Marcos continued. “I hope your mother will come with me to spend time with me at my French vineyards. She has become quite good with the pruning and there are more vines.”

Elizabeth groaned. “There are always more vines.”

“True. But then there are more grapes. And more wine. And … ” Marcos leaned over and gave Elizabeth a lingering kiss.

“Eww. Get a room.” Sarah groaned.

They laughed. “We’ve heard that one before,” Elizabeth said. “But I don’t think it’s wise for me to go to Europe now.” She gestured to Sarah. “What if something went wrong? I’d be so far away.”

“Mom. I’ll be fine. Besides I’ve got Mandy.”

“I promise I will put you on the next flight from Marseilles,” Marcos said. “But there is no reason to worry, is there? Isn’t your young man back in the picture?”

Sarah frowned. How would Rick handle a problem? Before the baby, their lives had been so simple.

Elizabeth seemed to be having the same misgivings. “I’m not sure Rick’s up to handling a crisis.”

“Why cannot he do this?” Marcos asked. “He is going to be a father. There will always be a problem to solve when you are a father.”

“True,” Elizabeth said.

“What do you think, Sarah?” Marcos asked.

“I think I’ll be fine.”

“You do not answer the question.”

She glared at him. “Rick and I are seeing each other again, but it’s just a trial. I don’t know if we’re going to really get back together.”

“Of course you are,” Elizabeth said. “He’ll step up once he realizes how lucky he is. This is just a bump in the road. You two will be fine.”

Her mother’s assurances held a false note, as if she was trying to convince herself along with Sarah.

“
Mom
,” Sarah said warningly.

Marcos put his hand on Elizabeth’s. “I have learned from my daughter that she is to live her own life without my opinion. Perhaps it should be the same with Sarah. Besides,” he cocked his head at Sarah, “I do not think she is so sure of her young man as you are.” Turning back to Elizabeth, he said, “So you will come to France with me?”

With another worried glance at Sarah, Elizabeth said, “Maybe.”

“Good. It is decided. We will go to France, prune vines, and I will court you more so you will think of nothing but us, and Sarah can figure out her own life.”

Later, after Sarah helped her mother clear the table and they were in the kitchen cleaning up, she asked Elizabeth, “Do you think you and Marcos will get married?”

The pan her mother was drying landed on the counter with a clunk. “Don’t you think it’s a little early for that? Besides, I’ve already been married once. That’s enough for a lifetime.”

Sarah groaned. “You can be so old-fashioned, Mom. Except I don’t even want to know what you and Marcos are doing when I’m not around.”

Elizabeth picked up the pot, gave it a few more swipes, and put it in the cupboard. “I’ve got other things to think about. You, for instance. I’m worried about you.”

“What about Annie’s wedding? The one you so helpfully suggested she have at the inn?”

Elizabeth smiled. “I figured it would be good publicity.” Her smile turned into a frown. “Will you be able to be ready in time? I mean, with Rick’s help, it should be doable.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Mom, Rick’s going to come down every other weekend. I’m sure he’s going to want to cook.”
And boss Mandy around in the kitchen.

Ugh. Trouble is coming.

“I’m sure he’ll do more than that.”

“Sure, Mom. Are you finished with the dishes?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s join Marcos in the living room and he can tell us what it’s like in France this time of year.”

Marcos obligingly described the upcoming pre-Lent carnivals in Italy and France. Soon Sarah’s mood lightened and the evening echoed the nights she’d shared with her mother in Italy the previous summer.

In spite of the pleasant mood, Sarah didn’t sleep well Friday night. Saturday morning’s decaf coffee didn’t make a dent in her fatigue. She ambled around the house, moving things from one place to another, not really accomplishing anything.

Truth was, she was at a standstill until she could get some furniture. Maybe she should work on the website. She turned on the computer and began to surf other inns’ sites for ideas.

An hour later, Daisy’s bark and the crunch of gravel let her know Rick had arrived.

Her chest tightened, but she rose and went to greet him.

Rick grinned when she opened the door. “Here I am! Right on time!” His arms were full of bags with feathery carrot tops, large chard leaves, and a baguette sticking out.

She moved aside to let him in. Daisy stayed by her side, not giving Rick the warm exuberance the dog had bestowed on Hunter.

Rick strode toward the kitchen, whistling. By the time she got to the sunny room, he’d pushed her computer to the edge of the table and plunked the bags of food on the table.

“Where are you stowing your pots?”

She pointed, knowing what his reaction was going to be.

“This is it?” He stood and grinned. “Good thing I know you, Sarah. I’ll be right back.”

As he went by her, he gave her a brief kiss on the cheek. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Sure.” They’d been intimate enough to produce a baby; surely a peck on the cheek was fine.

Then why was she fighting an urge to wash her face?

Daisy trailed him to his car and back, as if making sure he was behaving himself. He returned to the kitchen with a huge box of pots, pans, and kitchen utensils.

“We’re going to have to start stocking this kitchen,” he said, arranging his tools on the counter.

“Mandy and I are going to an auction in a few weeks.” Sarah plucked her computer from the table, shut it, and put it on an old cabinet that had come with the house. Slumping into one of the chairs, she realized her lack of sleep was beginning to catch up with her.

“Who’s Mandy?” Rick started putting the groceries away.

“She’s the chef I’m hiring.”

Rick paused with two red peppers in his hands. “But I’m going to be your chef. You don’t need another one.”

“We haven’t decided that. We’re dating, remember?” The words sounded strange to her ears. Dating her baby’s father? Shouldn’t they automatically be together? Wasn’t that the best for her child?

Did it really matter whether or not Sarah was in love with him?

Peppers clattered into the refrigerator’s vegetable drawer. “We just have a few kinks to work out. I’m sure we’ll be back to the way we were in no time.” Rick put his hand on her shoulder. “You look tired, hon. Why don’t you lie down and I’ll write up a list of what else I need, go down to Grenaldi’s and get it. By the time you wake up, I’ll have a good, nutritional lunch for you and the baby.”

Her eyes wouldn’t stay open another minute. “Okay.” She stood. “Thanks, Rick. It’s nice of you to do this.”

He crossed and took her in his arms. “I’m not doing this to be nice. We’re partners, remember? We’ve just got one more in the partnership now.” He patted her stomach. “Now, get some sleep.”

She slipped from his arms. “C’mon Daisy.” The retriever padded after her into her bedroom.

Before she lay down, Sarah locked the door behind her, a shiver of unease climbing into bed with her.

Sarah awoke to clanging pots and pans. She slowly got out of bed and went to the bathroom to wash her face, the scent of lavender soap soothing her. The mirror told her the bags under her eyes had diminished, but her face was still pale.

Unlocking the door, she followed the savory scents to the kitchen, Daisy a shadow at her heels. A glimmer of hope emerged when she saw Rick’s familiar figure at the stove. He stirred, tasted, cocked his head, and then added a bit of salt.

She cleared her throat.

“Ah, there you are! It’s almost ready? Sit!”

He grabbed one of her two garage-sale soup bowls, ladled the thick soup into it, and placed it and a spoon in front of her.

She stirred the liquid, releasing finely-melded aromas. “What is it? Smells delicious.”

He smiled and sat down with his own bowl. “Chicken soup — good for what ails you.”

She took a sip. “Better than any chicken soup I’ve ever tasted.” She returned his grin.

Their eyes met and she relaxed. This was the old Rick, fun-loving and hard-working. She could fall in love with him again. She knew it.

“What would you like me to work on after lunch? It’s a beautiful day. Maybe take a walk on the beach after lunch and then go to work?” The energy of his increased enthusiasm filled the kitchen.

She shook her head. “I have to be careful how long I stay on my feet.” She spooned another delicious mouthful. With Rick as their chef, the inn would make an impact more easily than working with Mandy’s unknown expertise.

Maybe Rick would take Mandy on as a
sous
-chef. Sarah studied Rick as he ate his soup, knowing he was analyzing the flavors as he ate.

Probably not. Rick liked to work alone. That’s why they’d decided on an inn. Sarah could help out in the kitchen when he needed it.

Would the change ruin her friendship with Mandy?

“Well?” Rick asked. “I can hear those wheels turning. What are you thinking?”