Taming Theresa (22 page)

4 cups rolled oats (gluten free)

1/4 cup sesame seeds

3 cups pecans

1 cup maple syrup

1/2 cup brown sugar

1 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup butter

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 teaspoon almond extract

1/2 lb. dried cherries

Mix oats, sesame seeds, & pecans in a
large bowl.

Heat syrup, sugar, and salt until
boiling.

Remove from heat.

Add butter and stir until melted.

Stir in extracts.

Pour over the oat mixture and stir well.

Spread on a well-greased cookie sheets with
low sides.

Bake in a 350F oven for 30 minutes stirring
every 15 minutes.

Lower oven to 250F and bake another 30
minutes stirring every 15 minutes until crisp.

Cool and toss in the cherries.

Store in an airtight container.

John Paulding felt as though his chest would
burst with pride as the Commander of the Army, General George
Washington hung the Fidelity Medallion around his neck. He and the
General were of the same height and their eyes met and held as
Washington took him by the hand for a moment and gazed at him with
admiration. Paulding felt tears well up in his eyes.

"Thank you, Sir," he whispered.

"It was a great and noble act. You and your
fellow compatriots have the heartfelt gratitude of your country,"
said the General gravely.

Paulding could recall every moment of that
day, two years past, when he’d made the momentous decision to halt
the spy, Major André, and insist upon searching him. Having
completed his assignation with Benedict Arnold, André had been
riding to New York City and safety behind British lines when the
patriots stopped him. They could just as easily have let him pass,
losing their advantage, and possibly the war.

Washington moved on to his two companions.
David Williams stood erect, eyes forward, as he too was rewarded
with a medallion. Williams reflected on their determination to stay
their chosen course and rebuff André’s enticement of riches. I
wonder, would the British officer have truly carried out his pledge
of money, if they'd let him pass? The honor of this bestowal from
the General is worth more than any amount of gold.

As Washington shook Isaac Van Wart’s hand
warmly and thanked him for his service to the young country, Isaac
was overwhelmed by the tribute and could barely speak. The War was
all but won, with he and his friends counted among its heroes.
Tamsin had informed them of the conspiracy she had overheard
discussed at the tavern. Would they have been as vigilant that day
if they'd not been forewarned? Who could say?

After the ceremony, a celebratory feast was
held in their honor. They sat with General George Washington at a
long banquet table in the tavern. The young soldiers ate and drank
their fill, with numerous fine toasts commending their actions and
loyalty offered up by the many Continental and French Military
officers.

Following the meal, Washington stood and
thanked the men again for their service and presented each of the
three men with a handsome carved wooden box, containing a brace of
beautifully crafted silver mounted pistols, as a personal gift from
him.

From: Love in Rebellion, by Tori Baxter

"Terry said you shouldn't bring a present on
the day of the wedding. Now I see her point." John stood near the
back entrance to the tavern, looking over the mountain of wedding
presents in the storeroom.

"Yeah, my wife always said that, too," agreed
Ralph. "When they saw all this stuff, Jack and Vicky asked me to
store their gifts, but I'm gonna need this space. The wine leftover
from the reception and some other things are all in there too. They
told me you and Terry volunteered to take care of any wedding
business. I didn't think you'd mind taking this stuff off my
hands."

"Yeah sure, no problem," said John. "I'll put
it all in my truck and take it over to the farm, I guess." He
wandered back inside and sat at his favorite table near the back of
the tavern’s dining room.

Ralph brought him some coffee and dropped a
menu on the table. “You going to order something, or are you just
having some of my delicious coffee?”

“Coffee's good. After I load everything in my
truck, I'll get something."

Ralph started to leave, but John called him
back, "Hey Ralph, just between you and me, are you really planning
on selling this place soon and heading south?”

The big man fell silent, looked over his
shoulder at the tables and booths filled with the usual Sunday
evening crowd and the regulars at the bar arguing about sports.
Easing his bulk into a chair, he rested his massive forearms on the
table and replied, “I think the time is right, John." He leaned
forward and lowered his voice. "Fact is, I wasn’t planning on
selling right away, but I've got two different parties interested.
One offer looks really good. I can't pass it up. It’s more than I
ever thought the property would bring, know what I mean?"

John frowned. "How good?"

Lowering his voice even further, Ralph
mentioned a figure that astonished John.

"Whoa. That's unbelievable.” John shook his
head and asked, "Really? That much?"

"I know. I know. It sounds too good to be
true. They’re going to have the building inspected and look things
over before they'll give me anything in writing. There's a lot I
could do with that much money.”

The realization that the tavern could soon
change hands gave John a sinking feeling. “Did these people mention
what they want to do with the tavern? Are they going to change
things?”

“Geez. The guy didn’t say.”

“And the other offer wasn’t quite as
good?”

Ralph glanced around the room again, as
though he were afraid of being overheard. “Tell ya the truth, that
offer was from Mr. Buonadies, Terry’s father. I didn’t expect him
to be interested in the place. It was a good offer, but didn't
touch the other amount.”

John sipped his coffee. Sighing heavily, he
began, “Ralph, I hate to see you go. I don't want to see the tavern
sold to somebody who'll come here from out of town and change
everything. I’d really hate to see the place turned into something
entirely different. It’s got so much character, so much history
behind it.” He looked around the room. “If only these walls could
talk.”

The enormous bald head turned to follow his
gaze. “Some folks say it’s kind of run down looking. Can’t say I’d
disagree. Haven’t put much money into it for years. Maybe a change,
sort of a makeover, would help. Might even be good for business,
but it'll have to be somebody else's business.”

“Nah, I like it just the way it is. Every
time I come in here, I think of John Paulding and his friends,
drinking beer and talking treason against the King, right here on
this spot. In fact, Washington himself was known to have visited in
the original tavern. It might have been right here that he awarded
the Fidelity Medals to Paulding, Williams, and Van Wart. Not sure
of that though."

Ralph grunted. "Yeah, I know what you mean. I
love the old place. The customers, they're my friends, but I'm just
getting too old, John."

"Come on, Ralph. Why don’t you reconsider
this, maybe you’ll change your mind.”

Ralph shrugged palms up. “Sorry, but I gotta
do what I gotta do. I can’t take the long hours on my feet anymore.
I’ve got arthritis, and half a dozen other 'itises' whose names I
can never remember. Doc says I need to lose weight and stop working
so much, so....” He looked up. "Hey, John. Why don't you buy
it?"

"Thanks, I would if I could. Right now, I
guess I've got some work to do." After finishing his coffee, he
went back to the mountain of wedding things in the storeroom. He
wasn't sure if all the stuff would fit in the Explorer. Laying down
the back seat, he shuffled some of the smaller things aside in
order to get the larger packages and boxes in first. Carrying the
wine, he took three full cases out to the truck.

Finally, when the back was full, there was
still a half case of wine, one very heavy box, and an assortment of
smaller gifts. Enough for now. I'll have to come back for this
other stuff.

On his way back into the dining room, he
heard Ralph say, “No problem Terry. Kay will be over in a minute.
Enjoy your dinner.”

There she was, at his table. John walked up
behind her and stood there, remembering every moment of the night
they’d spent together. "Mind if I join you?"

Theresa looked up, surprised to see him.

Ralph answered for her. "Sure, have a seat,
John. Here comes Kay. You two enjoy your dinner."

They watched him retreat behind the bar and
disappear through the door to the kitchen. Theresa opened her menu,
but he left his untouched.

"I guess we're stuck with each other again,"
she said, sighing.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Hey, the wedding's over. We’re over. You
don’t have to do this anymore. Next week, I'll be back home and
that's that. Let's just order and eat."

"What about last night?" he said softly.

She lowered the menu and looked at him
briefly before dropping her gaze. "Last night was a mistake.
Please. Just forget about it."

"No, I don't ever want to forget making love
to you and I don't think you want to forget either."

Theresa looked startled and quickly lifted
the menu.

John ignored the menu and studied the scarred
tabletop, tracing some of the old carving with his fingertip. Her
stubborn insistence that their lovemaking didn’t mean anything was
getting to him.

And I’m losing the tavern. I can't blame
Ralph for wanting to sell out. It's his property after all. He can
do whatever he wants. For that matter, Theresa can do whatever she
wants with her life. He felt helpless.

“Not hungry? What’s the matter?” asked
Theresa.

He wondered vaguely how she knew something
was troubling him. He leaned back in his chair and took in a deep
breath, letting it out slowly. “Nothing. I know Ralph’s menu by
heart. Probably get a burger and a pile of onion rings. Why do you
think something’s the matter?”

"I know what I know." She picked up the menu
again.

Looking across at her, he saw what struck him
as genuine concern in her expression. Theresa was beautiful, smart,
and fun. He simply couldn't drive last night's memories of her
quivering with passion from his mind.

"How do you know what I'm feeling? I want to
know."

“I can just tell. Ralph said he talked to
you. What did he say? Bad news?” She looked at him with
interest.

“Oh, we were talking about him selling the
tavern. I hate to even think about it. Terry, if your father bought
Paulding's Rest, he wouldn't really turn it into an Italian
restaurant would he?"

"Hey, what's wrong with Italian? Didn't you
tell Ma that you loved Italian food and the women who cook it? You
said something like that, right?" She smirked at him.

Kay came over, hovering with her order pad
ready. "Hi guys. Are you ready, or do you need another minute?"

Theresa smiled up at her, "Hello Kay. What
kind of soup do you have today?"

"Ralph made some of his 'Ham and Bean'. It's
great."

"Would you bring us each a bowl and two
turkey clubs on toasted whole wheat with Swiss cheese and extra
tomato? Oh, and coleslaw instead of the fries." Theresa looked at
John inquiringly. "Will that be enough for you?"

"Sure, plenty."

Kay wrote quickly, and then asked,
"Drinks?"

Theresa looked at John. "How about some
wine?"

"Sounds good. Kay, how about a bottle from my
last trip? Not the red, but the white, the Villa Bucci. Ralph knows
where it is. Ask him to get it from the cellar and open it right
away. It likes to breathe a while. Put a little bit of a chill on
it too, okay?"

"Sure thing, John," she added and bustled off
toward the kitchen.

John continued, "Sure, I love Italian, just
not here. Not in the tavern.”

She smiled at him. “You know, onion rings
weren’t on the menu 150 years ago. Not to mention hamburgers.”

He laughed. “You’re right. By the way, Ralph
asked me to take Jack and Vicky’s wedding stuff to the farm. It’s
packed in my SUV, parked out back, but I still have another small
load of wedding gifts that were left here last night. As long as
you're here, would you mind helping me take it all back to the
farm?”

"Sure, I'll be glad to help. We'll get all
that taken care of." She looked at him curiously and asked, "What
did you mean special wine from your last trip?"

"I went to Italy last year. Found a couple of
wines I really liked and had some shipped back. I think you'll like
this one."

A pale figure walked slowly back from the
men’s room at the end of the hallway. His head ached, still
pounding from the effects of whatever those bastard’s had slipped
into his drink. His eyes burned and they still felt gritty even
though he'd splashed them with cold water.

Just outside the dining room, Tony stopped to
listen when he heard Theresa and John Van Wart talking. It wasn’t
difficult to hear every word, but when Van Wart mentioned wedding
gifts in his SUV, he paid closer attention.

What a piece of dumb luck, he thought. Now I
know where my money got to. It must be in that asshole’s vehicle
out in the lot. All I gotta do is break in and get the package.
Nobody will even know. I can get something to eat later.

Tony turned and hurried down the hall to the
back door that led into the parking lot behind the tavern. Walking
rapidly across the small parking lot, he looked around, reminded of
how Terry’s brothers had tricked him the night before. He didn’t
know how, but he’d find some way to get even.