Recipe for Romance (6 page)

The spring air was cool and fresh on his lungs, and crickets chirped in the distance. He ran his hands down his face, staring at his ludicrous rental car, so sleek and bold and out of place. The image of his father lying in that bed was too clear to banish, but the words were what haunted him the most. What had he been expecting? He grimaced to think a part of him had wanted the same thing as Lucy. Closure. Peace. Some glimmer of relief to this endless, lifelong misery that hung over their family like a plague. And now he knew, perhaps he always had though, and that’s why he had stayed away. It just was what it was.

* * *

“I just don’t know what came over me,” Emily repeated, closing her eyes to the memory of her outburst that afternoon.

“Well, I do!” Julia declared. “The man had it coming, Emily.”

“But, Julia, I work there. That’s my boss’s brother!”

Julia waved her hand through the air. “Please. Lucy knows you and Scott have a history. Besides, she was the one who commissioned him for the contest.”

Emily considered her sister’s reasoning. “Maybe you’re right,” she said quietly.

“Maybe? Emily, Scott Collins is a
jerk,
” Julia said firmly. “I’m so sick of hearing everyone in town go on and on about his return. If it were up to me, he’d never have come back. Seriously, I mean who does he think he is, huh? He might have been Mr. Popularity back in high school, but he’s thirty years old now and he needs to get over himself. But one day he’ll see that he can’t just tromp around on his high horse, zipping through town in his fancy car, flashing that smile and expecting every woman in the street to just
swoon.
Oh, what I wouldn’t like to do to him...just kick that butt right to the curb, right out of Maple Woods, back to wherever the heck it is he’s been hiding all this time...”

Emily heaved a sigh and glanced at her sister, whose eyes had narrowed to green slits, her pink lips pinched in fury as she detailed the revenge she’d like to take on Scott Collins, and burst out laughing. It was the first good laugh Emily had enjoyed all day, and she needed it more than she’d realized. “Are you finished?” she asked, when she’d settled down.

“It’s not funny!” Julia exclaimed, shaking her head in disgust. She leaned over and took a long sip of wine from her glass and then set it back down on the coffee table with a scowl. She reached for her knitting needles and motioned to Emily to flick on the television. The sisters had just finished eating dinner and were getting ready to catch up on the soap opera that they recorded each afternoon and watched together each night. It was a cozy ritual, and one that Emily cherished, even if she sometimes did worry that she and Julia were destined to become two spinsters, living in a four-room apartment above the town diner for the rest of their lives.

Emily’s stomach tightened. There was still a chance that she would get into that school in Boston. Today’s mail had brought no news with it, but eventually an answer would arrive. The anticipation of opening the mailbox each day was starting to become almost too much. For so long she had dreamed of the opportunity to leave Maple Woods, to go out into the world and begin her own life, to put everything she hated about this town behind her. She longed to start fresh. She was a person in her own right, and the longer she still lived with the weight of her family’s past, the more she resented the town that had defined her by it.

She had applied to the school with big dreams and a flutter of hope that caused her heart to soar. Now that the thought of leaving Maple Woods and everyone in it was becoming a possibility, she began to wonder if she could really go through with it.

She glanced at Julia, then swept her gaze over the small room that housed a hand-me-down couch and coffee table, and an old television propped on some milk crates.
Be real.
If this was all Maple Woods could offer her, then she had no other choice. If she got accepted to the school in Boston, she was going.

“I guess Scott had it coming.” Emily sighed as she settled back against a couch cushion and tucked her feet under her. It felt so good to sit down. Between the anxiety of waiting for the mail each day, the stress of seeing Scott and the long hours at the bakery, she felt as if she could shut her eyes and fall asleep right then and there. And it was only eight o’clock!

“Oh, he had it coming,” Julia insisted, wide-eyed, and Emily bit back a smile at the indignation in her voice. She was a girl of principles, and Emily loved her for it. It was something she was going to miss if she left—she really needed to stop thinking that way.

“Still, I guess we can’t exactly call him a jerk for not being interested in me,” Emily summarized.

“Oh, yes we can!” Julia slammed a bamboo knitting needle down on the coffee table and reached for her wineglass again. “You dated for three years and he up and disappears. Just...vanishes. Then he saunters back into town without so much as an explanation?” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Emily, but you’re too forgiving. I saw how crushed you were when he left, even though you tried to hide it from me.”

Emily eyed her sister coolly, taking a sip of wine from her own glass. Julia didn’t remember their father’s funeral as well as she did—she was only six at the time, while Emily was already eight. Emily had cried herself to sleep for at least a year after that day, and she knew that no other heartache could ever be as painful as losing her dad. When Scott had left, it didn’t seem right to cry for him—he had chosen to leave her after all, he wasn’t taken from her. He wasn’t worth her tears, she’d told herself firmly, but then today, after all this time, she finally released the pain she’d been holding inside.

“You’re right,” she suddenly said, flashing Julia a conspiratorial grin. Her sister’s eyes gleamed in return. “He is a jerk.”

“Thatta girl.” Julia winked and, satisfied, snuggled back on the couch with her sister as the opening credits to the soap opera started. They watched in silence, fast-forwarding through the commercials, occasionally gasping at some dramatic turn in events. They had grown up with these characters—had watched them every day after school together while they did housework and got dinner ready. Some people thought growing up in Maple Woods was boring. Small-town life. No excitement or fun. The Porter girls had enough uncertainty in their young lives to make up for the shortcomings the town experienced in general. This television show, while silly, was one constant they had over time.

“My prediction for tomorrow?” Julia reached for the remote and turned off the television. “Brad’s not the father.”

Emily’s mouth curled into a smile. “Ooooh. I like that!” The sisters giggled.

They began gathering up their dinner plates and glasses, both groaning as they sauntered into the kitchen and noticed the pile of dishes from what had seemed like such a basic pasta recipe, and begrudgingly started rinsing the pots when the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side of the door caused them each to freeze midtask.

Emily’s heart began to pound, even though she rationally knew she was being ridiculous. This was Maple Woods. There was no crime here. The last instance of a burglary had been at the penny candy shop on Oak and Birch, when little Molly Roberts plucked a lollipop from the counter and ran off to the park.

Standing at the sink, Emily glanced sidelong at her sister and met her fearful gaze. “Did Lucy mention that someone was staying in the spare room down the hall?” Julia whispered.

Emily shook her head and peered into the soapy water and tried to remember if Lucy had ever hinted at such a thing. Surely she would have mentioned something like this, even if it was just to ask Emily to give a friendly wave to the newcomer. Maple Woods was small, and in the six months since Julia and Emily had moved into the apartment above the diner that Lucy and George had lived in for the first five years of their marriage, no one else had come through the second floor of the building. There was only one other apartment and it was just a room really that Lucy kept on hand for guests.

Guests. The air tightened in Emily’s lungs. Without another glance at her sister, Emily wiped her hands dry on a dishtowel and tossed it on the counter.
Of course.

Straightening her spine, she lifted her chin, marched the eight feet to the front door of the apartment and flung it open.

Scott’s face blanched and his wide blue eyes shifted from her to the door at the end of the hall and back again. “Emily. What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” she said calmly, even though her pulse was doing jumping jacks.

He combed a hand through his hair and chuckled. “George and Lucy’s old apartment... I’m staying in the spare room at the end of the hall.”

“I figured as much. It was either that or a break-in.”

His frown deepened. “Oh. Sorry about that. I...Well, I should let you get back to your evening. You’re probably busy.”

Emily opened her mouth to respond but Julia’s voice purred smoothly from behind her. “Oh, but quite the contrary.”

Emily whipped around and flashed a warning look at her sister, who pretended not to catch it.

“It isn’t often we’re graced with the talk of the town.” Julia smiled sweetly, and Emily closed her eyes, bracing herself. “Please, Scott. Come in. We have a lot of catching up to do and I was just about to put the water on for tea.”

* * *

Scott cupped his tea and saucer in his lap and glanced up at Julia. She’d grown up from a freckle-faced, scrawny little teenager into a striking beauty with creamy skin and distinct coloring. Deep auburn hair and green cat eyes stared back at him.

“So, Scott,” she said, setting down her mismatched cup to pick up her knitting. “I heard Emily really let you have it today.”

She arched an eyebrow as her lips curled mischievously, and it was then that he realized she was talking about the pie toss. He chuckled, feeling some of the nervous energy roll off him. “Ah well, it was all in good fun. It washed off.”

Julia’s eyes were sharp. “Not quite the same as a dagger to the heart, I suppose.”

“Julia!” Emily snapped, but Julia just pinched her lips and casually returned to her knitting.

“You’ll have to forgive my sister,” Emily said, reddening.

Scott shrugged. “I probably deserved that one.”

“My goodness!” Julia snorted. “Is that actual remorse I detect?”

“Julia!” Emily said sharply. “Don’t you have to finish knitting those cashmere socks for the window display at the shop?”

Julia let out a sigh. “I know when to take a hint.” She stood, gathering her yarn in her hands. “Besides, you two have unfinished business to discuss.”

She held Scott’s gaze as she retreated from the room, and he made a mental note to steer clear of her until she’d calmed down.

He waited until he heard the door click shut, but as he looked down the hall to make sure, he noticed the brass handle silently turn, and the door to Julia’s room remained open exactly an inch after that.

“Sorry about that,” Emily said as he settled back against his chair. She rubbed her forehead, something he remembered she did when she was feeling stressed.

“She’s protective of you,” he said affably. “I think it’s sweet.”

Emily dropped her hand, spearing him with a sharp look. “I can fight my own battles.”

She sat less than three feet from him, but the distance felt much greater as she stared at him flatly, her eyes sad and tired, her face pale. She looked weary and exhausted and Scott had never felt like a bigger jerk in all his life. He had intruded on her home, interrupted her evening and now he was sitting in the heated silence of her living room like an unwanted piece of furniture.

He glanced around the small room, sweeping his view into the adjoining kitchen. A small hallway led to two rooms that scarcely qualified as bedrooms and a shared bathroom. He hadn’t been in this place in years—not since Lucy and George moved in when they were first married at barely the age of twenty. It seemed bigger then. Special and grown-up.

“So how long have you lived here?” he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.

Emily heaved a sigh. “Julia and I moved in about six months ago when our mother sold the house and moved down to Florida to be with our aunt. It’s small, but it’s convenient.”

He stole another glance at the living room. It was cramped but cozy, but not cozy enough to make him wish this on her. If she’d been able to go to college, instead of sticking around to support her mother, she would have had more options. Instead... He set his cup on the coffee table.

“I should probably get going,” he said, pulling himself to his feet. “Please thank your sister for the tea.”

“Are you kidding me?” Emily’s tone shattered the silent chill of the room. “That’s all you have to say?”

No, it wasn’t all he had to say. He had a lot more to say. A hell of a lot more. Things he’d been aching to say for years. Things he’d kept bottled up. Things he’d tried to bury.

Scott drew a ragged breath. “It’s late,” he settled on. He would make things right with Emily, but what that entailed he wasn’t yet sure. All he knew was that tonight the best thing he could do was to walk out the door and leave her alone. “I should go.”

“This seems to be the way you operate.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Against the well-worn floorboards, her bare foot tapped expectantly. Unable to resist, Scott let his gaze trace the curve of her calf to her toes. He swallowed hard and forced himself to look back to her face as heat rushed to his groin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Emily’s shadowed gaze remained cool and steady until she abruptly shifted her eyes to the clock on top of a nearby bookshelf. She shook her head and, standing, muttered, “Forget it.”

“No, I can’t forget it,” Scott said. “I’ve never forgotten it. Any of it. Emily, I can explain—” He stopped himself. He could explain, of course he could, but explaining why he had so abruptly broken up with her would entail telling her about the horrible, tragic, irreversible thing he had done.

She chewed at her bottom lip, sizing him up, deciding perhaps if she wanted to hear what he had to say, or if she’d rather let it go.