Country Heaven (13 page)

Mix sugar, cornstarch, flour, and salt. Add boiling water.

Cook over stove until the mixture boils and thickens, about 2 minutes. Temper the egg yolks with the hot mixture and add to the saucepan. Cook for 2 additional minutes and remove from the stove. Add butter, lemon peel, and lemon juice. Pour into crust.

Meringue
5 egg whites
½ tsp. vanilla
¼ tsp. cream of tartar
½ cup sugar

Beat egg whites with an automatic beater until they form peaks. Slowly add sugar until dissolved.

Add meringue to the pie and seal it to the corners.

Cook at 350 degrees for 12–15 minutes until meringue is lightly brown.

Tory Simmons’ Simmering Family Cookbook

Chapter 7

T
ammy Hollins Morrison clutched her buttercream Coach handbag, surveying the line of tour buses wedged behind the auditorium in Richmond, Virginia. Her hands shook violently as she dialed Rye’s cell phone again. Amelia Ann had given her the number. When it immediately went to voice mail, she pressed it to her stomach. She would have to find him on her own.

Fans, mostly women, clustered together behind the cordon in the hot July sun, all of them hoping for a glimpse of their hero. The Fourth of July had come and gone a week ago, yet his fans were still decked out in T–shirts with American flags on them, tied at the waist to show their bellies. A shocking spectacle. She wrinkled her nose at a woman in a short, stretchy jean dress and cowboy boots—sans panty hose, of course, and likely sans panties as well. In her conservative celery green linen dress, Tammy was receiving more than a few stares of her own. The scene was exactly what she would have expected of her black sheep brother.

Fiery resentment rose up in her belly, but she took a deep, calming breath. Daddy wanted to reconcile with his son after his brush with death, and he firmly believed you couldn’t deliver that sort of message over the phone. It had taken Daddy three weeks to wear Mama down, and since she hadn’t wanted to hurt her husband’s recovery by forbidding it, she’d finally agreed. But she’d put her foot down on one thing.
She
would not be the messenger. Daddy had thought it would be a more significant gesture if Tammy came calling rather than Amelia Ann, so here she was.

The whole idea was insane after everything Rye had done to their family. And then there was his recent brush with the law…

Tammy had seen Rye only once since he broke his engagement with Emeline Williams, her dear friend and the perfect Southern debutant from a respected Natchez, Mississippi, family, and left Vanderbilt law school just weeks before graduating. All to launch a record label as a bad–boy, low country hick, shaming the family.

He’d come to Granddaddy Crenshaw’s funeral three years ago, but he hadn’t stood with the family. And he’d mocked them by wearing a black cowboy hat with his suit.

She caressed the bruise on her arm, concealed by her long sleeves. Soon it would be too hot to wear concealing clothing, so she’d have to be more careful not to provoke Sterling. Her husband hadn’t liked the idea of her making this trip alone and leaving their two children behind, but he never went against her family’s wishes. The value he placed on their connections was too high.

As she strolled through the crowd, looking for someone official to help her, she thought of what she knew of Rye now. In his interviews, he always said he was happy to be living his own life, not letting anyone else define him. Secretly she envied that. Her husband and Mama had her wrapped around their fingers. More like clutched in their claws. Conforming was her only recourse.

She smoothed back her hair and made sure her dress seams were in perfect alignment. With a posture courtesy of Mrs. Augusta Keller’s Comportment School for Girls, she went to find her brother and execute her duty like a good Hollins girl.

***

Tory was pulling a mile–high lemon meringue pie out of the oven when Georgia walked in with a well coiffed blond woman in a light green linen dress.

Georgia’s worry lines showed through her heavy make–up. “Tory, this is Rye’s sister, Tammy. Rye’s still in rehearsal, so I’d appreciate it if you’d give her a glass of sweet tea while I get him.”

He had
another
sister? And from the looks of her, this wasn’t going to be a happy family reunion. Apparently, the family matter had plopped right into the middle of the tour.

“I’d be happy to,” Tory forced a smile at Tammy. “Please sit down.”

Georgia escaped before she had the refrigerator open. Tory walked over with the tea, and when she handed it to Tammy, she noticed the woman’s flawless French manicure and the large diamond winking in a shiny white gold setting on her wedding ring finger.

This
was Rye’s sister? She looked nothing like him and had all the warmth of block of ice. Her sleek blond hair was swept carefully over her shoulders, and pearls glowed at her neck and ears. Her understated make–up showcased a classically beautiful heart–shaped face.

“I’m Tory Simmons. Rye’s cook.”

The woman eyed her outstretched hand like it was a rat before loosely grasping it. “I’m Tammy Morrison.” Her tone was dismissive.

Had she seen the pictures of them or was just being rude?

“It’s nice to meet you.” Tory shifted on her feet. “I know it’s a little early in the day, but would you like some pie? It’s fresh out of the oven.”

Tammy’s mouth tightened a fraction. “No, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Rye’s sister looked like she could use a piece of pie. Perhaps it would chip away at that rigid posture of hers. It made Tory’s muscles hurt to look at her.

“It’s no trouble. Really, I insist. There’s nothing better than lemon meringue on a hot day.”

“My mama says the same thing,” Tammy murmured. Her voice was like fresh cream shot with a touch of Southern Comfort.

After serving her a thick slice, Tory went to work on Rye’s dinner, rubbing the chicken with fresh lemon and rosemary before shoving it in the oven. From the corner of her eye, she watched Tammy eat the pie in small bites. Unlike Rye, she didn’t show any enjoyment in eating. And she wiped the corners of her mouth as regularly as clock–work.

“This is wonderful pie,” she said after a moment. “Rye is lucky…to have you.”

The words were at odds with the tone. Yeah, she must have seen those pictures at Cowboys Red River. Great. Now she was being judged by this all–too–proper woman.

“Thank you.” Tory took a step toward her. “So, did you have a good trip? Where did you come from?”

“I took a plane from Jackson—Mississippi.”

“Oh, I’ve never been there. Is that where Rye’s from?” Okay, so sue her, she had to ask.

The woman’s spine went ramrod straight. “Rye doesn’t like to acknowledge where he’s from.”

Even though she’d been prepped by Rye about his family problems, her eyes widened at the woman’s harsh tone. Clearly Tammy didn’t like to talk about “the family matter” anymore than Rye did. “Do you have children?” she said, changing the subject.

Tammy clutched her hands. “Yes, I have two.”

“Do you have pictures?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” And Rye’s sister gave her first genuine smile.

In the picture she pulled from her billfold, two children were smiling in their Sunday best. Both had blond hair like their mother and looked picture–perfect. They could have modeled for a box of Southern grits.

“What are their names and ages?”

“Rory is six. Annabelle is four.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?” She slid into the booth before Tammy could reply. “They’re beautiful kids. Is this your husband?” Tory ran a finger over another picture. “He’s very handsome.”

Tammy didn’t smile this time. “Thank you.”

Boots pounded down the hall, and then Rye appeared in the doorway of the bus. Georgia was right behind him, but she retreated quickly after giving his bicep a squeeze.

The look on his face was as dark as the clouds in the sky before a thunderstorm.

“What the hell are you doing here, Tammy Lynn? Is Daddy all right?”

“He’s better,” she responded, the muscles in her face not moving a millimeter.

His frown loosened a fraction, his relief palpable. “Thank God.”

“Please remove your hat, Rye. You’re inside.”

“You sound like Mama when you say that.” He swept the hat off and bowed, his mouth curling. “Is that better?”

“Rye, where are your manners?” Tammy said, hoisting herself out of the booth.

He strode forward. “You’re on my turf, Tammy, so don’t start spouting off about
manners.
I’ll throw you out on your finely pressed linen ass.”

Tammy’s hand flew to her throat.

The tension between them crackled, and Tory’s stomach rippled with unease. “Rye—” she said.

“Stay out of it, Tory,” he spat. “So, if Daddy is fine, why are you here?”

“If you’d act civilized, I’d tell you,” she responded.

Tory jumped up from the booth and put a hand on Rye’s forearm. “Come on, Rye, why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you some sweet tea and a piece of pie, and your sister can tell you why she came all this way to visit you.”

His hazel eyes regarded her for a long moment. “All right. No reason we can’t be
civilized
.” He gave the word a hateful emphasis, but he sat down all the same, and so did Tammy.

Tory hurried to serve him. He grunted in acknowledgment and downed the tea in three gulps, wiping his mouth with his hand, barely restrained rage in his every gesture. He didn’t touch the pie. Backing out of the kitchen seemed like a great plan, since she was sure he wouldn’t want her to know his business.

“Good to meet you, Tammy. I’ll let you two catch up.”

“No, please stay,” Tammy said, her eyes locking with Tory’s, her fear visible. “Please.”

Rye’s eyes narrowed, and in that moment, he looked trapped. Like he didn’t want her to stay, but couldn’t see another way to assuage his sister’s discomfort.

“Well, seems my sister wants you to stay, so sit on down, honey,” he drawled. “We know you’re trustworthy. Seems you’re going to join our little program of family dysfunction.”

When she reached the booth, his hand clamped around her forearm and pulled her down beside him. Yeah, there was a warning there.

“Rye, our family is not dysfunctional,” Tammy countered. “We’re just not terribly close.”

His laughter was hard edged. “Oh, that’s rich. Is that what you tell your country club friends?”

Tammy’s mouth trembled. “Rye, Daddy wants you to come home and make peace with him.”

His body turned into a wooden statue, and he glanced at Tory for a long moment before responding. “Mama made it clear she doesn’t want that.”

“I know. But Daddy’s had a change of heart since his hospitalization, and Mama will do anything to help his recovery.”

Tory wanted to crawl under the table to escape their discussion. Only family should be around for such a personal conversation. Witnessing it was awkward, and her eyes tracked to Rye to see how he was taking the news. His whole face had tightened in pain.

“Why you?” he hissed. “Why not send Amelia Ann?”

She looked at her watch. “Because Daddy’s asked me to reconsider my feelings about you.”

“That won’t take long, right?” he growled, mean as a rabid dog now.

“I knew you wouldn’t come,” Tammy said, standing up. “You walked away from this family long ago. Daddy will be crushed, of course, and I can only pray it won’t hurt his recovery.”

Tory moved to stand so Rye could slide out of the booth, but his hand gripped her thigh, holding her in place. “Don’t pull this kind of bullshit on me.”

“I need to get back to the airport.” Tammy picked up her purse. “You know, Rye, perhaps Mama was right about you all along. You’re a lost cause, unwilling to do anything for anybody but yourself.”

With that parting shot, she pirouetted and walked out of the kitchen. Tory tried again to slide out, and this time Rye’s hand fell away.

“Do you want me to find Georgia or Clayton?” she asked.

The arm he slung across the back of the booth was meant to convey disinterest, but his eyes told a different story. “Why?”

She cleared her throat. “So you can make arrangements to leave and see your father. I know it will be hard with the tour, but you’ll work it out.”

Silence descended, thick and suffocating.

“Honey, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not leaving the tour.”

For some reason, she’d hoped for a different answer. If her father had survived his car crash and wanted to see her, she would have dropped everything to go to him. “What? How could you not after what Tammy said?”

“Didn’t you hear?” he scoffed. “My daddy’s going to live. There’s no reason for me to go home. And I don’t want to remind you not to say a word of what you just heard…to anyone.” He dug his fork into the pie, tearing the meringue into shreds.

Tory put her hands on her hips, not even bothering to respond to the implied insult. “But he wants to make peace, Rye.”

“Too bad.” He shoved in another bite and choked.

She pounded his back until he cleared his windpipe and then yanked the plate away. There was no way he could eat pie right now. Not after this news.

“Rye, it’s your
family.”

“Darlin’, you don’t know nothing about my family.”

Oh that odious endearment. “You’re right, I don’t know much, but I do know that your dad, who just had a heart attack, is asking to see you. If I had the chance to see my father again, I wouldn’t hesitate.”

There, she’d said it, and there was no unsaying it.

He stood up and towered over her, his boot tips touching her toes. “Don’t confuse my family with yours, honey.”

His snarl pushed her over the edge. She shoved his chest to make him step back. “You only use words like
honey
and
darlin’
when you’re pushing the image of the impenetrable Rye Crenshaw. Well, screw you. You’re right! I don’t have a family anymore, so there’s nothing to confuse.”

He swore, reaching out for her, but she darted away.