The Marriage Recipe (5 page)

Rachel was in her room. He couldn't see her clearly without binoculars, something they'd both used until their teen years. But behind the sheer curtains he could see her silhouette as she stood there, staring across the way—right at him.

When he was a child, none of this was forbidden. He'd take his flashlight, let her know he was there, and they'd send Morse code messages across their yards until one of their parents would discover they were still awake and yell at them to go to sleep. Never once had there been anything sexual about their communication, even when he'd been in high school and realized his feelings for Rachel went beyond friendship.

So why did he have the impression that unlike when they were children, he was somehow a voyeur, a Peeping Tom? And as he saw Rachel lift her arms as if removing a T-shirt, try as he might, he couldn't get his feet to move one inch or his head to turn.

A light flashed across the way, a small circular beam like from a flashlight's. He froze. Had she spotted him? He hadn't been in his room long. He'd turned off the light and was hidden in the darkness and the blinds were only open a sliver. The beam flashed two short, then one long. Then a pause with no light, then one long flash before the light went off again. She'd communicated two letters.
U
then
T.
Their code for
You there?

She must have seen him moving around earlier. His silhouette certainly didn't match his mother's. If Rachel had watched him walk in, she would have recognized him. Is that why she'd signaled?

His eyes, accustomed to the room's darkness, sought the flashlight that had lived on the bookshelf. His fingers reached for it, but found nothing. His mother might have removed it.

Across the way, Rachel's flashlight had fallen silent. He could use lamplight to answer, but that would illuminate him. They'd never done that to communicate.

His cell phone would have to do. He drew the blinds, flipped the device open and held it open for a long, then short, then two long flashes. The letter
Y.

Yes. I'm here.

Funny, how easily the knowledge returned. When he'd first learned Morse code, he'd had to glance at a sheet of paper to spell out words. He hadn't used the code in thirteen years, yet the dots and dashes came easily as he and Rachel began to “talk.”

What did he say?
she asked.

Ninety percent yes,
Colin flashed back.
Will know for sure by noon.

How was dinner?
she sent him.

Great. Nieces here. Been invited to a school feast. This is like old times. Fun.

Agreed,
she returned.

Colin stood there for a second, trying to figure out what to say next. He was supposed to be a professional, and here he was acting like a child and sending messages with his cell phone's display light. Heck, years ago they hadn't had cell phones. Now he could just dial Rachel up and talk to her that way. But here he remained, in the dark, enjoying the illicit thrill of communicating this way.

“Colin? Are you up there still? Did you find it? Do you need some help?” his mother called.

Colin quickly flashed three letters,
G-T-G,
his and Rachel's code for
Got to go,
which usually indicated one of their parents was about to bust them.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. He was thirty-one years old, and his mom was about to discover him in his old bedroom, flashing his phone at the girl next door. She wouldn't understand. He grabbed the yearbook off the bed, and as he left his bedroom, he ran into his mother as she rounded the corner. “I found it,” he told her, taking four steps down the hall.

“Oh,” she said. “I was starting to wonder what was keeping you. I mean, I thought I'd seen your yearbook last on the bookshelf.”

“It was in my closet,” Colin fibbed, glad he was behind his mother, who'd already turned toward the stairway. He clutched the book to his chest and followed her down into the kitchen. “I've got to get going. It's getting late,” he told her.

“Okay,” she said. She gave him a quick hug. “Stay safe.”

“I will.” With that and a quick goodbye to his father, Colin was soon outside and climbing into his sedan. The driveway was on the opposite side of the house from Rachel's window, so he couldn't see if she was still in her bedroom. Once he backed out, a maze of tree branches should block any clear view.

But somehow, he saw her standing in the window as he drove by.

 

R
ACHEL SIGHED
and set her flashlight down on the bed. Her mother was one of those home-safety types who had flashlights that also served as night-lights plugged into at least one outlet in every bedroom. Rachel had grown up knowing an evacuation plan for fire, tornado and earthquake. Considering that fire had destroyed the diner, maybe her mother's better-safe-than-sorry attitude wasn't so hard to understand.

She glanced around her bedroom. Little had changed since high school. The antique white canopy bed had been in the room for years. The wallpaper was Victorian—faded cabbage-rose wallpaper that had become cream colored with age. Only the white lacy bedspread was new.

Growing up, Rachel had always wanted something more modern. Her apartment decor had leaned toward black and chrome, befitting a New York City studio whose only view was the building next door.

A knock sounded, and her mother entered. Rachel stood five-seven; Adrienne Palladia topped out at five-two. “I brought your laundry,” she said.

“You didn't have to do that,” Rachel said, rising from where she'd been flopped on the bed.

“It was no problem,” her mom insisted, setting the white circular basket on a small, upholstered chair and walking back to the doorway. As she did, she noticed the flashlight on the bedspread. “What's that doing out?”

“Uh…” Rachel stammered.

Her mother frowned. “Were you flashing Colin again? He doesn't even live there anymore.”

“Um…” Rachel fought to think of something plausible. Although she'd never told Colin, on a long-ago visit home from New York City she'd confessed her nocturnal childhood activities. “I was just trying to see if I could peer into his room the way I used to do. Call it curiosity. I saw him today when I went to catch Bruce.”

That was safe and reasonable.

“You saw Colin?” Her mother had moved to the doorway and she paused.

“Yes, he was walking into the law office as I was walking out. He asked me what I was doing there, so I told him. Bruce is in Houston with Christina.”

“And…” her mother prompted.

“He'll let me know tomorrow if Lancaster and Morris will take on my case. He's meeting me at the diner around noon.”

“Then I'll keep my fingers crossed for good news. I hope it all works out, especially since you won't let us help you.”

Rachel shook her head. “You and Grandma are already doing enough, although there is one thing I want to talk about with both of you. I'd like to maybe use the kitchen.”

Adrienne's brow creased, as if she was confused about why her daughter would ask a question with such an obvious answer. “Of course you can. This house is too big for the three of us, but it's been in the family forever. Who knows, maybe one of these days I'll move in with you the way Kim did with me.”

“I guess you're lucky that you get along so well with Dad's mother.” Marco's mother had accepted Rachel, but she hadn't been overly friendly.

“We're best friends,” Adrienne said, and Rachel knew her mother meant it. “I'm closer to her than I was to my mom, God rest her soul.”

Rachel smiled. One of her mother's foibles was to add
God rest her soul
when speaking of the dead, as if not doing so might bring someone back to haunt her. “Amen,” Rachel quipped. “But back to the kitchen. I wasn't talking about here. I'd like to use the one at the diner after it closes. I'd like to begin baking. Maybe fill up the display case in the front. My dream is to get a small Internet bakery business going, although I haven't pursued that yet. This could help me begin. I'll pay you both for the usage.”

Her mom leaned her hip against the doorjamb. “If you're a little strapped for cash, we could do an exchange. You give us some desserts to sell during our business hours and I'll give you use of the kitchen. That's probably a fair trade. I doubt Kim will mind.”

“Mind what? I'm hearing my name. Is this a meeting?” Kim slid by Adrienne and entered Rachel's bedroom. It always amazed Rachel how thin and spry her grandmother was. Turning seventy hadn't slowed her down at all. Her grandmother still did yoga and tai chi to keep her five-foot-four body flexible.

“Rachel wants to use the diner's kitchen in exchange for giving us some goodies to sell in the front display case,” Adrienne said.

“Can you make my bear claws?” Kim said, peering at her granddaughter.

“Actually, yes,” Rachel confirmed. “And cakes, pies and other pastries. I thought I'd test some new recipes, and look into what it would take to open a cyber bakery.”

“Don't know what the world's coming to.” Kim shook her head in disbelief. “Still don't understand why anyone wouldn't just go to their local store for something fresh baked. Heck, you can get cakes decorated in Wal-Mart and they're quite tasty. The girls at the diner bought me one for my last birthday. Not as good as mine, but not half-bad, either.”

“So can she use the kitchen or not?” Adrienne asked, bringing Kim back to the real subject.

Kim nodded. “Of course. It's a great idea. I'm sure you'll have plenty of orders. Closest Wal-Mart is in Greensburg and closest supermarket is in Batesville. The way the price of gas is, if your desserts are any good, you'll be swarmed with buyers.”

“I hope so,” Rachel said. “I could use the money. This will also give me a chance to develop some new recipes if Marco does end up winning.”

“He won't,” her mother reassured her. “Rachel saw Colin Morris about Marco's demand letter,” she explained to Kim. “He's going to let her know tomorrow whether he can take the case. He probably has to discuss it with the partners.”

“If Reginald says no, I'll go next door and give him a piece of my mind. Loretta will let me, too. Either that or I'll add hot-pepper sauce to his prime rib tomorrow.”

Rachel laughed. She loved her feisty grandmother. “There won't be any need to poison Mr. Morris. Colin just wanted to discuss fees with him. I'm sure everything will be fine.”

“Of course it will. Colin's turning into quite a good lawyer,” her mother said.

“Not that anyone but him doubted he would,” Kim interjected. “The boy has to believe in himself more. He's always had to play second fiddle to Bruce. Now, that boy was smart. Highest bar score in the state.”

“I asked for Bruce, but he's on vacation with his wife,” Rachel said.

“Oh, she's a pretty thing, too,” Kim said. “I told you that story already, right?”

“Yes,” Rachel said. Kim knew everything that went down in Morrisville.

“I'm sure Colin will do a good job on your case,” Adrienne said.

Kim blinked rapidly—she was still all fired up. “Why wouldn't he? Heck, you'll probably get more personal attention having Colin as your lawyer. That boy had a crush on you for years. And you certainly didn't turn into an ugly duckling in New York.”

“What?” Rachel asked, not sure she'd heard her grandmother correctly.

“I said you didn't get ugly when you moved to New York,” Kim replied, shifting her weight.

“No, before that. That Colin had a crush on me,” Rachel said.

“He did,” Kim replied with a nod. “We all thought you had to be crazy to pass him by.”

We? Who was we? Unsettled, Rachel probed on a different front. “He didn't have a crush on me. Remember? Prom? I told you, he didn't ask me. I just heard him wrong. He went with someone else.”

“I thought
you
turned
him
down. You know, you two really should discuss that,” Adrienne said. “Get it out in the open and put it behind you.”

“It is behind me,” Rachel argued, realizing that the moment she'd stepped foot in Morrisville her past had roared to life. In New York, Colin Morris had been her previous life. All women had some man who broke their hearts, intentionally or not. It was simply a rite of passage, a part of growing up. Now she was face-to-face with him, and the truth was, he hadn't ever liked her as more than a friend, no matter how deep her feelings for him.

That he might have fallen in love with her had been a wild fantasy of hers, and a terribly misguided one at that. She'd learned of her mistake the hard way. “Besides, whatever he might have felt, that was high school. Years ago. Way too long to worry about now. And remember Marco? I believed I was getting married. It's not even been three weeks.”