Recipe for Romance (9 page)

Emily tipped her head. “You didn’t know your parents?”

“Not one bit.”

Emily studied him thoughtfully. “I remember the time your father saw us walking down Main Street, holding hands.” She shook her head at the memory. “I swear, he turned white as a ghost.”

Scott scowled. “He barely said hello to us. Typical.”

“Well, Lucy’s been like the big sister I never had.” She gave him a wan smile.

Scott nodded. “Lucy’s great. But my parents... It was a reflection of them, not you, Emily.”

A shadow darkened her gray eyes. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I was sorry to hear about your father’s condition.”

Scott stiffened, sobered by the shift in topic. “Thanks.”

“If you ever wanted to talk about it, I’m around.” She hesitated. “I...I understand.” Her eyes pleaded with his in a knowing connection.

“I appreciate that,” he said tightly. He hated that everyone in town knew why he was back. His father was dying; he couldn’t deny it any more than he could hide from it. It was a fact, and in a small town like Maple Woods, the truth had a way of seeping out and spreading like thick molasses. He grimaced to think of the secret he had only managed to harbor by leaving town all those years ago.

Nausea rose in his stomach as he sat in Emily’s presence. Even after everything he had done to her, she was still standing here, offering to be his friend. And he needed a friend, damn it. He needed a friend now more than ever.

The problem was that he wanted a hell of a lot more than friendship from Emily. He wanted everything he knew she could have given him if things had been different. But relationships couldn’t be founded on lies, and in twelve years he still hadn’t found a way to explain himself to her.

“It’s hard to lose a father,” she commented, her eyes once again warming with understanding and all at once Scott knew this was a bad idea. He shouldn’t be near her.

Shame bit at him, and he didn’t trust himself to speak. If he did, he might tell her everything just to set himself free of the weight that he had carried with him for so long. Every word he spoke to her felt like a lie, but the truth was too unbearable to say aloud.

His hand inched across the table. Searching her soft gaze, he saw a kindness there that tugged at his chest. She was compassionate, sweet, but everyone had their limits.

She was watching him closely, her expression so pure, her eyes so trusting and sure, that he had to snatch his hand back before he did something he would later regret.

Finishing her last bite of crust, Emily’s lips twisted with mischief as she eyed the pie. “Since you’ve had thirds, I suppose I may as well have seconds....”

“You don’t want me eating alone.” Scott smiled.

“No, that would be rude....”

“And it would give you a reason to stay and chat a little longer—”

A shadow crossed over Emily’s face but when her lips curled into a slow smile, his heart soared. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much, actually.”

Not tonight,
he decided as he placed another slice of pie on her plate. Tonight wasn’t the night to make up for the sins of his past. Tonight he was simply going to enjoy the present.

* * *

Julia was already home by the time Emily turned the key in the door, and she forced a sober expression as she stepped into the kitchen, where her sister was preparing a pot of tea.

“Want a cup?” Julia asked, barely sparing her a glance.

“I’d love one.” Emily slipped off her sandals while Julia stacked the teapot, two mugs and a plate of cookies on an old wooden tray and then followed her into the living room.

“You’re getting home late tonight,” Julia observed, carefully setting the tray on the coffee table—it rattled precariously from the weight and Emily reached out a hand to steady it. “Thanks.” Her sister settled back into the sofa and pulled a chenille throw on top of her pajama-clad legs. While the day had been warm with sunshine, a cool spring breeze filtered in through the cracked window. “If Lucy keeps working you this hard, you’re going to need to plan for early retirement.”

Emily smiled benignly and reached for the remote control. “I wonder what drama unfolded today,” she mused aloud, her tone ominous but laced with mock excitement. It didn’t feel good to skirt Julia’s comments. Her sister thought she was being worked to the bone, when really she had been enjoying a pleasant evening with Scott. There was plenty she would love to share, and she was sure that Julia would be thrilled to glean further insight into the elusive Scott Collins, but for some reason, she wasn’t ready for the spell to be broken just yet. It would seem like a betrayal in a way, to sit here talking about Scott when he was only twenty feet down the hall from where she sat. Besides, something about keeping the details of her visit with him to herself made it feel more special. Once she opened up to Julia, there was no telling what type of speculation and doubts her sister would inadvertently stir up. Not that there was anything to speculate about.

Emily pinched her lips and glanced sidelong at her sister. Beside her, Julia was happily munching on a cookie, her eyes wide as the opening credits of
Passion’s Crest
rolled. It was then that Emily realized she hadn’t even checked the mail yet today, and that for some reason she didn’t really want to. For today at least, she had everything she wanted right here in Maple Woods: a job she loved, her sister and the man she had loved for as long as she could remember.

As she stirred two lumps of sugar into her tea and cupped it in her hands, her stomach began to stir uneasily. She tried to force her concentration on the television and the gripping ups and downs of her favorite characters, but it was no use.

“Emily? Emily?” Startled, Emily turned to see Julia motioning to the remote next to Emily. “Are you going to fast forward through the commercials or make me sit here stuffing my face while I wait for the next scene?” She held up a cookie to drive her complaint home.

Emily chuckled, picked up the remote and did as she was told.

“I thought I smelled a pie when I walked in here tonight,” Julia said casually a few seconds later, her eyes shining. Emily looked away as her sister continued, “Since you weren’t at the bakery when I passed by, I thought maybe you had made some dessert for us tonight.” She held her gaze steady, her expression blank. “Guess I wasn’t the lucky recipient.”

A heavy pause fell over the room and Emily bit back a wave of frustration laced with amusement. Pursing her lips, she paused the screen just after the last commercial of the set and placed the remote control on the coffee table so she could give Julia her full attention. “If you knew I wasn’t at the bakery tonight, why did you make that comment when I came in the door?”

Julia shrugged and her lips curled with mischief. “It seemed easier than asking what the view is like from Scott’s window.”

Emily’s eyes flung open. After the shock had left her, she tossed her head back in laughter. “I can’t get anything past you,” she said ruefully, wagging a playful finger at her sister’s triumphant expression. “How’d you guess?”

“
Guess?
I heard.” Julia arched a brow. “The walls here are very thin, you know,” she said pointedly.

Discomfort tightened Emily’s chest at the thought of Scott still so close by. Lowering her voice and hoping Julia would follow her lead, she confessed, “Fine. I stopped by Scott’s room this evening.”

Julia’s grin lingered. “How’d that go?”

Emily shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Doesn’t sound just fine to me.”

Emily sighed. She leaned back against the couch and blew on the steam rising up from her mug. “The truth is that it doesn’t matter how things went, Julia. The guy’s only passing through town. He’s made it very clear he doesn’t want to stay any longer than he has to.”

“Unless he can be convinced otherwise.”

“Please,” she said, but despite her protestation, Emily couldn’t help but feel her hope becoming somewhat restored by Julia’s words. She pushed the thought aside immediately and locked her sister’s eyes. “This isn’t like our soap opera, Julia. This is Maple Woods, not
Passion’s Crest.
I’m not Marlene and Scott isn’t Rafe Turner. I can’t stir up some drama and twist things around to keep him here. Real life doesn’t work that way.”

Julia just tipped her head mildly, and said, “If that’s how you want it to be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily shot back.

“Seems to me that you sat back and let Scott walk away from you all those years ago. And now you’re about to do it all over again.”

Emily’s temper flared. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? What Scott did to you was wrong, there’s no doubt about it, but I don’t remember you asking for his whereabouts, demanding an explanation or trying to understand why things didn’t work out. Seems to me you made it pretty easy for him then, and you’re making it just as easy now.”

Emily’s chest was heavy with the pounding of her heart and she set the cup of steaming tea down before her shaking hands caused it to spill. She turned to glare at her sister. “What do you suggest then, Julia? Last I checked, you were up in arms about the way Scott treated me, and you made sure he knew it last night, too. Why the sudden change of heart?”

“Scott’s no angel, but you like him and you always have. You’ve never been good at opening your heart since Daddy died. Then when Scott let you down...”

“This isn’t about Dad,” Emily said sharply.

Julia stared at her, unconvinced. “I just think that if you want something enough, you have to go after it. Take the risk.”

Unbelievable.
“And going over there tonight wasn’t a risk?” The pitch in her voice caused Emily to wince.

Julia paused. “I just don’t want to see you spend the next twelve years the way you’ve spent the last, that’s all.”

Oh, believe me,
Emily thought with newfound resolve,
I don’t plan to.

She stood and handed the remote control to Julia, ignoring her younger sister’s pleas to sit back down. “But we still don’t know if Brad’s the father!” she protested.

Lifting her chin, Emily excused herself to bed, denying the little part of her that really did want to know who had fathered Fleur’s baby—Brad, or his evil twin brother, Chad? The suspense was killing her, but she thickened her determination. It could wait.

As she passed by the stack of mail Julia must have brought in with her, she glanced through the contents halfheartedly—nope, nothing for her except bills—and then wandered back to her bedroom. The week had caught up with her, but it would not keep her awake. No, tonight she would dream, but not of girlish hopes or unfilled dreams. Tonight she would dream of the future. The one she could control and make her own. Even if Scott would never be a part of it.

Chapter Six

J
ulia’s words still haunted Emily the next morning as she walked down Main Street, holding an umbrella over her head as shelter from the morning drizzle. Leave it to her sister to voice every sinking sensation she had tried desperately to ignore for so many years of her life. Sometimes it was easier to put your head in the sand and keep going than to the face the truth. Even about yourself.

The soft glow illuminating from the Sweetie Pie Bakery was warm and inviting on this dreary day, and despite her equally drab mood, Emily felt herself perk up as she opened the door and stepped inside. The sweet scents of butter and sugar teased her as she shook out her umbrella. “Hello!” she called out.

“In the kitchen!” cried back Lucy’s familiar voice.

Emily propped her umbrella in the stand near the door and wiped her feet on the mat before heading back to the kitchen. Lucy’s face was flushed, her eyes bright, and Emily immediately noted it wasn’t from the heat of the oven.

“Is everything okay?” she asked gently, tilting her head in concern.

Lucy blinked a few times and managed a watery smile. “Sorry about this. It’s just...” She inhaled sharply, unable to finish her sentence.

Slowly, Emily retrieved her apron from the hook on the door, taking time in tying it around her waist. Lucy and Scott had always had a complicated relationship with their parents from what Emily knew, but that didn’t mean they didn’t love them. Mr. and Mrs. Collins rarely ever came into the diner or town, but the few times they did, Emily couldn’t help but notice the way Lucy fluttered around nervously, clearly hoping to meet her parents’ approval. She wanted them to be proud of her, even if she hadn’t chosen the path they had wanted for her.

“I stopped by my parents’ house last night to drop off a casserole,” Lucy explained, her back to Emily as she carefully set a pie on a cake pedestal. “My dad looked even worse than the night before.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.” Despite the hard edge to Mr. Collins and the standoffish, cold nature of his wife, Emily couldn’t wish any sorrow onto her friend. Or Scott.

“I’m afraid there might not be much time,” Lucy continued, and Emily frowned. “All the better that Scott came back when he did, though I’m not sure what good it’s done.” She hesitated, rubbing her brow. “At least I can know I tried.”

Emily nodded slowly, working up the courage to ask the burning question she had harbored for so long. It was one of Maple Woods’s greatest mysteries. “Why do you think he stayed away so long?”

Lucy shrugged heavily and shook her head. “Oh, who knows really.” She sighed, whisking some chocolate mousse. “I was out of the house and married with a kid when Scottie left. All I know is that he and my parents got in some huge fight that summer after he graduated from high school. I thought going off to college would help him calm down, let things blow over on both sides, but the distance only seemed to become permanent then. And he never came back.”

Emily narrowed her eyes in concentration as she added some heavy cream to a stainless steel bowl and whisked in a few teaspoons of confectioners’ sugar. She tried to connect the events, but to her frustration, she couldn’t make sense of them.

As the cream began to hold peaks, she mused, “Did your parents ever tell you what the disagreement was about?” Deep down she’d always assumed it was about her. Though Scott had never said it, she’d known his parents hadn’t approved of their relationship. They’d wanted him to go to college and take over the family company. Not marry a girl whose father had used to work for them.

“No, never.” Lucy stopped stirring as a shadow crept over her face. “It was strange, actually. I tried to talk to them about it at first, but the more I pressed, the more firm they grew in their insistence that I stay out of it. I was so stunned by the intensity of their reaction that I never directly approached Scott about it, either.”

“And he never opened up?”

Lucy shook her head. “Nope. I always gently encouraged him to come home—God knows how much I missed him and wanted him back. Each time he turned down the suggestion, I knew that was my answer. He wasn’t ready. He hadn’t gotten over whatever had happened between him and our parents.”

“Do you think he has now?”

Lucy’s brow pinched and she huffed, “No. I don’t. I had to practically beg him to come back to town and when he came to the house the other night, it was very clear he wasn’t ready to forgive them. A dying man, can you imagine?” Her eyes flashed on Emily’s, and Emily, startled, stopped whisking the cream. This was very odd, indeed.

“What did he say?” she murmured, trying to imagine the scene.

Lucy threw up her hands and a dollop of chocolate mousse splattered against a wall. “I couldn’t hear. It was muffled through the door and the next thing I knew Scott came flying down the stairs, telling me that I never should have made him come back, that it had just made everything worse.” She sighed, and Emily noticed her hand was trembling as she reached for a dishrag. “Maybe he was right.”

“He loves you,” Emily said, and Lucy granted her a brave smile.

“In his own way,” Lucy said with a bob of her head.

“How were your parents afterward?” Emily asked carefully, sensing Lucy was on the verge of tears.

Lucy considered the question. “I don’t think they were surprised,” she said simply. She turned to the oven and bent down to check on the status of a meringue.

A tight knot formed in Emily’s stomach and she set her whisk down on the counter, staring into the thick peaks of whipped cream. If Scott couldn’t even handle being in town after all this time, what made her think he would even consider staying in Maple Woods a day longer than he had to?

All the more reason to get out of town herself, she decided, her mouth thinning to a grim line as she began crushing chocolate cookies for the crust with the back of a rolling pin. Today’s special was Chocolate Truffle and so help her, she would pound her emotions out on the cookie crust if it took all day.

The phone trilled and Lucy walked over to the counter to answer it. Emily bit back the wave of disappointment that their conversation had been interrupted. All for the better, she knew deep down. The more she thought about Scott, talked about Scott, schemed about Scott, dreamed about Scott, spent time with Scott...well, the bigger this rut would get. It was time to start living her own life and stop worrying about what Scott did with his. He had chosen his own path for reasons she might never understand but would simply have to accept.

From behind the wall, Lucy murmured a few words and then set down the receiver. “They’re short staffed at the diner,” she explained. And then, before Emily could comment, her expression collapsed. “I don’t think I can handle going over there today,” she admitted, her eyes pleading.

Emily searched her friend’s face in bewilderment. “Of course not,” she said, realizing that Lucy’s Place required too much energy and pep when you were feeling as low as Lucy was this morning. She set down her rolling pin. “Why don’t I cover the diner today and you can stay put? It’s quieter here, and baking is therapeutic.”

Lucy managed a smile and placed a hand on Emily’s arm in affection. “Thank you.” The intensity of her tone struck Emily and she frowned as she wordlessly untied her apron and placed it back on the hook. The diner was one of Lucy’s favorite places to be—she usually loved chatting with the regulars that stopped in. If the thought of going there was this unbearable, then things with Mr. Collins must be very bad indeed.

How, then, could Scott still be so hardened to it all?

* * *

It was nearly eleven o’clock by the time Scott looked up from the pile of papers he’d been studying all morning. The large, polished mahogany desk in his father’s office was strewn with blueprints and spreadsheets. Scott had been staring at them for hours, and he still didn’t feel any closer to knowing how best to handle the information in front of him.

Collins Construction had been around for generations, serving as one of the largest businesses in Maple Woods, and it had always been a sound and financially secure company—his father had made sure of that, Scott thought bitterly. Judging from the books, business was now at a standstill, and the company had downsized in the past twelve years, resulting in two sets of layoffs already. Scott knew that the local economy hadn’t been strong, and of course there was only so much building a town like Maple Woods required, but the surrounding towns that had once called on Collins Construction to bid seemed to be opting for larger, more modern companies, and the only project even scheduled was the rebuilding of the town library.

Scott reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of antacids. Popping one into his mouth, he couldn’t help but reflect on the irony of the situation before him. This was exactly the situation his father had wanted to avoid—financial ruin of his beloved company. Everything he had done—or failed to do—had been in a vain effort to avoid this exact scenario.

What a waste.

As darkening thoughts encroached, Scott rolled up the blueprints and tucked some papers into a file folder, opting to take the back door to his car to avoid any potential exchange with the staff. The last thing he needed was someone inquiring about the health of his father, or wanting to engage in a conversation about how it felt to be back in town after all this time. It felt lousy. And confusing as hell. But try telling them that.

He grinned wryly as he imagined the shock of his father’s white-haired assistant if he gave her such a retort, and with a newfound smile on his face, he slipped into the red convertible and revved the engine. The familiar sound eased his mind, reminding him of the life he had waiting for him back in Seattle.

Even if it was a lonely life.

The drive to town was short—less than eight minutes—and he forced his attention on the road as he drove down Main Street, doing his best to ignore the ogling from the townsfolk strolling past. Let them think what they would. They’d probably already come up with some tantalizing speculation for what had kept him away and what had brought him back. He smiled grimly. Their wildest imaginations would never beat reality.

Or so he hoped.

After parking the car in a spot behind the diner, he pulled open the door of the establishment and glanced around. In a brief phone call with Max Hamilton that morning, they’d agreed to meet at noon, but he hadn’t thought to ask for a description. He’d assumed he’d notice an unfamiliar face, but his recollection of the locals had faded. He struggled to remember names, and a dozen years had turned old neighbors into strangers. He swept his eyes to the back of the room, interest causing his pulse to take speed as he spotted Emily cheerfully chatting with a customer. The man was laughing at something she was saying, and he reached out and patted her hand in a friendly way. Too friendly, Scott thought, frowning.

“Emily. Hi.” His abrupt tone forced her attention from the other man and Emily’s sharp gaze darted to his, brightening as he closed the distance between them. He broke her stare to size up the man who was casually sitting on the barstool as if he owned the place. The man’s familiarity with Lucy’s diner and with Emily unnerved him, and he clenched his teeth at the sudden disadvantage.

Regret, he realized, owning the emotion. But then, neither his sister nor Emily were his to be so possessive over. He’d given up that right twelve years ago.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” He stared grim-faced at the man beside him, disturbed by the easy grin his opponent wore.

“Max Hamilton,” the man said, extending a hand.

His shoulders relaxed. “Scott Collins,” he said. He gave a firm shake. “Good to meet you.”

“Emily and I were just talking about the Spring Fling this Saturday,” Max explained. “Apparently they need a few volunteers for the pie-eating contest.”

“You up for the challenge?” Emily asked from across the counter. She shared a grin with Max, clearly a good friend, and then drifted her gaze suggestively to Scott.

“I think I’ve had enough of pie contests for one week,” he bantered, and Emily’s cheeks grew pink.

“Ah, yes,” Max chuckled. “I heard you stood in for the mayor this week. Made you a bit of a town hero, from what I gathered.”

Some town hero all right. Even after his disappearing act, somehow he was still the football champ in the eyes of the locals. Still the kid who had put Maple Woods on the map.

If they only knew.

“Needless to say, I think I’ll stick to watching from the sidelines from now on.” He grinned, and catching Emily’s eyes, gave her a wink.

Emily’s face flushed. She turned to Max, refusing to meet Scott’s eye again. “Well, Max, it looks like it’s all you, then.”

“What can I say? I think I’m as in love with Lucy’s pies as I am with my own fiancée,” Max joked. Then turning to Scott he explained, “It was actually right at this very counter that I first realized I was in love with Holly.”

“Let me guess,” Emily said, “you were eating a slice of pie while you were at it?”

Max lifted his hands helplessly. “I was smitten.”

“You know, I probably made that pie,” Emily said. “Lucy and I always share the task.”

“Well, then I’ll give a toast to you at our wedding,” Max said gallantly. Elbowing Scott he said in a loud whisper, “Clearly, the woman knows her way to a man’s heart.”

That she does,
Scott thought as his chest tightened. He shifted his gaze to Emily, whose face showed no sign of losing its pink glow anytime soon. He smiled to himself, looking down at his feet to spare her further attention. She hadn’t outgrown it, in all these years. He used to love to tease her in school until she blushed, until he knew he’d gotten to her.

“Or at least the way to his stomach.” Emily refilled Max’s coffee and poured a fresh mug for him.

“Is Lucy at the bakery?” Scott asked, glancing around the crowded diner for his sister.

Emily’s face took on a worried expression. “She felt like avoiding the hustle and bustle, and they were short-staffed here today.”

Scott felt his brow furrow with concern, and he peered out the far window, hoping for a glimpse of his sister in the storefront across the road, wishing he could make things better. She was probably upset about their father, and why shouldn’t she be? She didn’t know who he was, not like Scott did.