The Marriage Recipe (4 page)

One she'd left long ago.

“Hi, honey. I'm glad you're here,” Colin's mother, Loretta, said when he arrived at his parents' place later that evening. She accepted the kiss he planted on her cheek. “Your father's in the library. Dinner will be ready in about twenty-five minutes. Kristin's bringing the twins. She's running about ten minutes late.”

“Is Jack working?” Colin asked. His older sister's husband was a psychologist. They had two seven-year-old identical twin girls, who, while adorable, were a handful.

“He's got patients scheduled until nine, I think Kristin said. Now, shoo. No men here in the kitchen while I cook.”

Colin snagged a crouton from atop a plate of salad and laughed as he left the enormous kitchen, remodeled long ago. His mother loved to cook and her pantry was the size of a bedroom, and she kept it well stocked. When Colin and his three sisters had all lived at home, his mother had fed them and their friends.

She still fed her family, which now included spouses and a horde of grandchildren that multiplied every year. This time it was older sister Amanda who was incubating baby number three. His other sister, Anne Louise, already had four kids. She'd had one boy, then a set of twins and then another girl, who'd turned two in June. Her husband was currently Indiana's junior senator, and they were talking a total of six. Colin had always told his younger sister she was nuts, but she'd only laughed at him and told him to get a life.

Besides get-togethers, his mother cooked every year for the Morris family annual Thanksgiving celebration, which had over thirty people for the traditional turkey dinner and at least a hundred friends, associates and townsfolk stopping by the house throughout the day. Easter was coming in mid-March this year, and that holiday would be almost as crazy. The only difference was that the townspeople wouldn't stop by.

“Hey, Dad,” Colin greeted his father, entering the library. Whereas the kitchen was totally a woman's area, the library was a man's room. Reginald and Loretta Morris had always joked that their marriage worked because they kept certain rooms “one sex only.” They'd celebrated their thirty-eighth wedding anniversary last year, so Colin figured that whatever household arrangement they had was a good one. He'd never doubted the bond his parents shared.

“Hi, Colin,” Reginald said. He lifted his Scotch-and-water in salute. “Shall I pour you one?”

Colin shook his head. “Not tonight.” Ever since one of his and Bruce's friends had died during high school, driving under the influence, he and Bruce hardly touched alcohol, especially if either would be behind the wheel later.

“Ah,” Reginald said, nodding his understanding. “So tell me, how's the plane search going?”

Colin grinned. When he'd turned eighteen, his parents had given him a present of six flying lessons. The hobby had stuck. “We found one we like and we're buying it.”

Reginald tapped a forefinger on the glass. “Really?”

Colin's grin widened. It wasn't every day your son announced he was buying a half-million-dollar Cessna with a group of friends. “Yeah. We're drawing up the legal contracts now as to shares, usage, payments, insurance, etcetera. We'll keep the plane at the airport here.”

The Morrisville Airport was unmanned and uncontrolled. Colin had learned to fly at a regional airport with a control tower, but he'd become adept at flying in and out of an airport without towers.

“Your mother won't like this,” Reginald tried.

“She's finally promised to fly with me—this spring,” Colin said. “I'm good, Dad, and I'm safe. It's Bruce who got hurt, remember?”

“Hmph.” His father exhaled. In addition to being a lawyer, Bruce had volunteered as a firefighter, until the ceiling of Kim's Diner had collapsed on him. He'd suffered a broken arm but otherwise had been fine. He'd retired from the fire department right after the accident and married Christina. Colin had never had the urge to fight fires. Instead, his rush came from piloting. He could remember his first solo as if it were yesterday.

Sensing now was a good time to change the subject, he said, “I saw Rachel Palladia today.”

His father swirled the liquid in his glass. “I heard Rachel broke off with her young man.”

Colin glanced out the library window. Night had fallen, and because of the dense trees, he couldn't tell if any lights were on at the Palladia house next door. “That's true. Rachel told me the whole story. Did you hear that he's threatening to sue her for her recipes? Says they belong to him.”

“Hadn't heard that part,” Reginald said, setting his Scotch down. “What a damn shame. Is that what you and she talked about today?”

“Yeah. She says the recipes came from Kim. Since there's no specific work-for-hire contract regarding her recipes, meaning they didn't have a payment plan for those, I'm pretty convinced he's just bullying her. He's not happy she broke off the engagement and is probably smarting from having to change his menu.”

“Maybe he should have kept his pants up,” Reginald said sharply. He caught Colin's shocked expression. “What? Told you I knew everything.”

“Well…” Colin felt embarrassed. Sometimes being man-to-man with your dad was awkward, even if you did work with him. He regained his composure. “I'd like to take on Rachel's case. I told her I'd discuss it with you first. I don't think he'll go as far as a court filing.”

“Okay,” Reginald said easily. “We've been handling the Palladia family's legal matters for years. Adding Rachel as a client is only logical.”

“There's one little catch.” Colin paused and rubbed the back of his neck. “Rachel doesn't have a lot of money. She says she's pretty close to broke, which is why she's back living at home.”

“I'd heard that, too,” Reginald said. “Kim told me Rachel won't accept anything from either her mother or grandmother. Kim offered her an outrageous salary and Rachel said no. She's a Palladia, all right. Take nothing from anybody if you don't know you can repay it.”

Colin's chin itched and he scratched the stubble. His five-o'clock shadow was arriving. “Could I lower my hourly rate for her? Do some of her case pro bono? You're always saying the firm should do more of that, give back to the community.”

Reginald paced for a minute. “I'd have to discuss this with the partners, but as longtime clients, I don't foresee a problem waiving some billable hours.”

Colin poured himself a glass of water from the small bar sink. “I told her I'd go over at lunchtime tomorrow and let her know.”

“Then I'll work on getting an answer first thing in the day and give it to you by noon. I'm not missing prime rib, either.”

“Great. I can put in something myself, if that helps,” Colin said, meaning taking a cut in salary on this case. His bungalow was almost paid for. His car was paid in full. Except for the really expensive plane he would be a quarter owner of, he didn't have any superhuge monthly bills.

Reginald's eyes narrowed, wrinkling the skin at the corner. “I do have one question before you accept Rachel as a client. Will you be able to maintain your professional objectivity?”

The question caught Colin off guard and his heart seemed to stop. “What do you mean by that?”

Reginald coughed, as was his habit when addressing a delicate matter. “You and Rachel were always good friends. She practically lived over here. She's like a fourth daughter to your mother and me. Since you two were so close, it's natural that you want to rush to her defense and be her knight in shining armor.”

Colin stared at his father for a moment, processing his words. He had wanted to throttle her ex this afternoon. But that didn't mean he would be reactive. He and Rachel weren't…Then Colin understood his father's concern.

“Oh, I get it,” he said. “You think I…She. No. No, it's not like that. She was always over here because she had a crush on Bruce, not me. If you're like a parent to her, I'm like her brother. She never thought of me as anything else, or as anything more than a buddy.”

Reginald arched his left eyebrow. “Even if you did?”

Colin shifted his weight, crossed his arms and simply waited, as if doing so would deny the truth. He'd always liked Rachel, and now a beautiful and intriguing woman had replaced the gangly girl of his childhood.

“Son, it was so obvious to your mother and me that you had the biggest crush on her,” Reginald said quietly. “Kim, Rachel's mother—Adrienne—your mother and I would joke that someday the two of you should get married, you were so like peas in a pod. You even finished each other's sentences. We said it would finally unite our families. After all, we've been living next door to each other for generations. Your mother had the whole thing thought out.”

Colin sputtered on the water he'd been sipping. “That's morbid.”

Reginald waved dismissively. “Oh, it's a thing parents who are friends do. You'll understand someday. You like to pretend you can somehow predestine your child's future. You do it although you know your plans won't come true. You went to college, she went to cooking school, and each of you moved on with your lives. That's just how things go.”

Reginald set his empty glass on the side bar. “As much as your mother and I would love for you to settle down, we know you'll do that when the time's right. I just want to be sure you'll be objective in Rachel's case.”

Colin forced himself not to cross his arms across his chest after he placed his glass in the sink. “As you said, we've both moved on. She's planning on going back to New York. Her life isn't in Morrisville anymore. And I'm not going to be anyone's rebound guy, so even if she did choose me, which, may I remind you, she never has and won't because she's never thought of me as anything more than a friend, nothing's going to happen. Client relationship only.”

“If you're sure,” Reginald said. Colin didn't have a chance to further refute his father's doubt, because his sister Kristin arrived and seven-year-old twins bounded in with yells of “Hi, Grandpa! We're here. Can you tell us apart today?” To which Reginald promptly said Libby was the one with the red bow and Maggie was the one with the blue. He was right, of course, and within minutes all had taken their seats at the breakfast-room table, a more comfortable venue than the massive dining-room table, which sat sixteen.

“So, Uncle Colin, will you be there?” Libby asked, and Colin focused on his niece.

“Be there for what?” he asked.

“We're doing a St. Patrick's Day feast at our school. St. Paddy's Day is on Monday this year. We've already started making our leprechaun traps. Anyways, we get to invite someone special. I have to bring cupcakes. They have to be from a bakery. Something about hepa something.” Libby said.

“Hepatitis,” her sister finished.

“What about your mom and dad?” Colin asked. He didn't want to be usurping anyone's invitation.

“Dad's got patients and Mom's already volunteering, so she doesn't count. I thought I'd bring you. I keep telling my friends you have a plane.”

“Not yet,” Colin said.

Libby frowned. “But you fly a lot. Remember, you took us up. That wasn't your plane?”

“I rented it,” he said. He'd flown both twins and Kristin, providing them an aerial view of the town and their house. Colin smiled. “But that doesn't matter. You name me the dates, and if I'm not required in court, we'll go flying. And I will definitely be at your feast.”

“Good.” Libby seemed satisfied, and dinner continued. Afterward everyone hung out in the family room for a while before Kristin took the girls home around seven-thirty.

“Hey, Mom, do you still have my high-school yearbook?” Colin asked, walking into the kitchen. “I was looking for it at my place the other day and couldn't find it.”

“If I do, it's in your old bedroom,” she said. She loaded the plates into the dishwasher.

“You know I would have helped with that,” Colin said.

“Yes, but I told you I had it.” She straightened. “What do you want your yearbook for?”

“I realized I had the other three but not my senior year's,” he said. “Thought I'd just grab it while I was here.”

His mom wiped her hands on her apron. “I think it's on your bookshelf.”

Colin climbed the back stairs two at a time to the second floor. The house had a third floor, but that was mainly a big playroom that only the grandchildren now used.

His mom had redecorated some of the other rooms, making them more kid friendly for the grandchildren, who stayed over on occasion, but Colin's room remained largely untouched. He'd left behind his old childhood furniture, opting to buy a new king-size bed instead of keeping the twin he'd grown up on. He had removed most of his childhood mementos from the room, although they were stored in a box in his basement instead of holding a place of prominence in his own home.

Since his old room was located on the east side of the house and faced the side yard, he had one four-foot-wide window instead of two or more like many of the Victorians. He flipped the light switch, activating the lamp, and moved toward the bookcase, situated near the window and still lined with high-school and college texts. The shelves also still held aviation magazines, a golf trophy from a charity match and, on the bottom shelf, his yearbook. He leaned down, removed it and straightened. As he did, a flash of light caught his eye. He stood there in the window, clearly in view, before reaching down and turning off the lamp.