The Prodigal Comes Home (5 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous, Matthew,” Gran clucked her tongue. “Your company isn’t a burden. Is it, Zoey?”

Zoey hesitated a split second too long. “No, not at all.”

Matt sauntered in, altogether too attractive for Zoey’s peace of mind. He peeled off a fleece-lined leather jacket that emphasized the width of his shoulders and draped it over the back of the chair. “In that case, I’d love to stay.”

“Wonderful.” Gran clapped her hands together.

Wonderful.

Zoey’s knees went a little weak at the thought of spending more time in Matt’s company.

She made a silent calculation in an attempt to steady them. And her nerves. It only took twelve minutes to bake a frozen pizza. With luck, the pastor would be gone in an hour. Maybe less.

Zoey scooted over to the freezer, wishing she could crawl inside, and scanned the contents. Towers of plastic containers, neatly labeled, crowded the small space.

“Where’s the pizza, Gran?”

Her grandmother chuckled. “You have to make it.”

“I know.” Zoey glanced over her shoulder and her gaze snagged with Matt’s. The slow smile he aimed in her direction shot through her like a comet. She tore her gaze away and focused on Gran. Much safer. “But I don’t
see
one to make.”

“I’m sorry.” Gran looked anything but. In fact, she looked as if she were enjoying Zoey’s confusion. “Matthew and I make the pizza from scratch.”

“From…scratch?”

“That’s right.” Matt answered the question. “But don’t worry. Liz and I will walk you through it. It isn’t difficult.”

Liz lifted her hand and covered a delicate yawn. “Actually, I’m feeling a little tired so I think I’ll sit this one out,” she said. “Let me know when it’s ready.”

“Gran!” Zoey choked on the word.

“Don’t worry. Matthew knows his way around the kitchen.” Gran toddled off without a backward glance.

That’s not what Zoey was worried about.

“I guess it’s just the two of us,” Matt said.

Zoey managed a smile.

“I guess it is.”

Z
oey didn’t look happy at the way things had turned out. Matt, however, didn’t mind a bit. Even though he had been willing to bow out of his standing Thursday night dinner invitation with Liz, he had secretly hoped she would invite him to stay.

On his way over from the church, Matt had had a lengthy conversation with God about Zoey.

Who, he suddenly noticed, hadn’t moved since Liz left the room.

What could he say to put her at ease?

“You changed clothes.”

Zoey’s eyes widened.

Okay, that wasn’t it. But he couldn’t help but notice that the oversized sweater had been replaced by a long-sleeved T-shirt that outlined the subtle curves of her slender frame. Apple-green ballet shoes peeked out below the hem of a multicolored, ankle-length skirt.

“Yes.” Color bloomed in Zoey’s cheeks. “What I was wearing this morning…that was my costume.”

“Costume?” To hide his surprise, Matt opened the refrigerator and pulled out a package of crisp green peppers and fresh mushrooms. Staples in Liz’s kitchen for what had become a Thursday night tradition.

“I left right after work last night. When my mother called and left the message about Gran, I wanted to get to Mirror Lake as soon as possible.”

The sincerity in Zoey’s voice was unmistakable, but Matt couldn’t help but wonder why it had been so long since she’d visited.

He wanted to know more about her, but he wanted it to come straight from Zoey, not someone else. Delia Peake had seemed more than willing to explain her negative reaction to the news of Zoey’s return had Matt given her the opportunity. But he would never encourage a member of his congregation, or anyone else for that matter, to spread gossip, no matter what the situation. So he’d declined to hear it.

“A costume.” Matt tilted his head. “What do you do?”

“I work at a dinner theater in the Wisconsin Dells.”

“That sounds like fun. In what capacity?”

Zoey’s lips parted but no sound came out. The sudden confusion in her eyes made Matt wonder if she’d had to defend her chosen career in the past.

“I’m part of the cast,” Zoey said after a moment. “We rotate shows throughout the year and offer special performances over the holidays. Everything we do is family-friendly.”

“I’ve heard that part of the state is a great vacation spot but I’ve never been there.” Matt leaned over, snagged a mushroom out of the bowl and popped it into his mouth.

Zoey nodded but appeared to relax a little. “I took a short leave of absence to come back and help Gran.”

“How long do you plan on staying?” Matt couldn’t explain how, in the space of a few hours, he’d gone from questioning Zoey moving in with Liz to feeling disappointed that it was only temporary.

“I wasn’t sure how long Gran would need me, so I asked for two weeks off. My understudy was thrilled, of course. She complains that she’s never going to be discovered by a Holly-wood talent agent if I refuse to get sick or take a personal day once in a while.”

Matt processed that information as he dumped the flour and yeast into a mixing bowl. Liz had taught him how to make the crust from scratch, and now he’d done it so often he didn’t need to look at a recipe anymore.

“Which play are you doing now?” He sat down across from her at the table, deliberately turning his attention to the task in front of him.

“We’ll be performing a musical called
Once Upon a Castle.
Kind of a modern Cinderella story,” Zoey explained. “Most of the performances are popular Broadway plays, but sometimes my director will use an original script when we want to put on a show with audience participation.”

“So which part do you play?” Given the fact that Zoey had mentioned an understudy, Matt had a hunch she had a major role.

“Ella Cinders.”

Matt laughed.

“Hey, don’t make fun! The children love it.” Zoey slapped the back of his hand when he reached for a slice of pepper.

The playful, completely unexpected, touch squeezed the air out of Matt’s lungs.

Their eyes met, and Zoey lurched to her feet.

“I’ll be right back,” she muttered. “I better go check on Gran.”

What on earth had she been thinking?

She hadn’t, that was the trouble.

Because if she would have been thinking, Zoey would have remembered that Matt was her grandmother’s neighbor. Her
pastor.

She hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of that heart-stopping smile again, let alone to be treated as if she were a person he was genuinely interested in getting to know rather than the town pariah.

Was it possible he hadn’t asked someone about her yet?

If that were the case, Zoey wasn’t quite sure what to do. It was only a matter of time before Matt found out the truth. Maybe she should simply tell him and get it over with…but the thought of seeing the warmth in those hazel eyes glaze over with disapproval caused the knot in her stomach to tighten.

Matt Wilde was a complication Zoey hadn’t expected to find when she’d returned to Mirror Lake. An all too
attractive
complication.

“Is the pizza done already?” Gran looked up from her knitting as Zoey burst into the parlor.

“Ah, not yet.” She felt the color rise in her cheeks. “I wanted to see if you needed anything.” And she’d needed to escape.

“Not a thing.” Gran looked perfectly content as the bright aquamarine knitting needles clicked together in her lap. “I’m so glad you and Matthew are getting acquainted. With your parents living in Africa and me all alone now, he’s been more like family…” She broke off with a look of dismay. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded, sweetheart.”

Zoey forced a smile. “I know you didn’t, Gran.”

Concern cast a shadow over Liz’s face. “I can be so thoughtless at times,” she murmured.

Zoey dropped to her knees by her grandmother’s chair. “You aren’t thoughtless at all. And I’m glad you have good friends who stop by to check on you. Have dinner with you. It must be lonely without Grandpa.”

“It is.” Gran’s eyes misted, as if the grief was still fresh.

As different as night and day, her grandparents had been one of those rare couples whose love had only grown stronger over time. Zoey remembered rolling her eyes when her grandpa would tease her grandmother until she dissolved into giggles like a school girl. The way they would reach for each other’s hands while walking down the street…or at the dinner table in prayer.

“I wish…” Zoey’s voice cracked under the weight of her regrets.

Liz squeezed her hand, as if she understood. “I appreciate your checking on me, but you better help Matt. He tends to make a mess if I’m not there to stop him.”

“I heard that!” A cheerful masculine voice called out.

Zoey winced, wondering what else he’d heard. She had forgotten how thin the walls were between the rooms.

“All right,” she agreed. “But if you need anything, let me know.”
Soon.

As soon as Zoey walked into the kitchen, she realized her plan had backfired. Matt had finished his assigned task and, with chef’s knife in hand, was armed and ready to help her.

She slid into the chair across the table from him and held her breath, waiting for him to pick up where the conversation had left off. Instead, Matt continued chopping up peppers. When she didn’t move, he raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t get your knife to work?”

Zoey almost smiled.

“I know they can be kind of tricky.”

Now she did smile.

“I’ll figure it out.” Zoey grabbed another pepper out of the bowl and set to work.

The silence should have been uncomfortable, but Matt seemed perfectly at ease. They worked together in a companionable silence. By the time the pizza was ready, instead of watching the clock tick off the minutes, Zoey couldn’t believe the time had passed so quickly.

The timer went off and Zoey jumped up. “I’ll take it out.”

She opened a drawer next to the oven and found it filled with measuring cups and baking utensils.

“The drawer on the left.”

“Gran was right. You do know your way around the kitchen.” To cover up her mistake—and the guilt that came from knowing how long she’d been away—Zoey tried to inject a teasing note in her voice. And failed miserably.

Matt looked down at her, a frown settling between his brows. Zoey braced herself, waiting for the attack. The “if-you’d-come-around-more-often-you’d-know-where-the-potholders-weretoo” reminder.

“The pizza looks great. I’ll get Liz” was all Matt said.

He left the kitchen and Zoey finished getting the table ready. She put out a bowl of fresh spinach with chopped tomatoes and a gelatin salad, one of several lined up like colorful jewels on the shelf in the refrigerator. Her grandmother’s friends had dropped off enough food to feed a small army.

On impulse, Zoey lit the pillar candle in the center of the table. It cast a warm glow in the room.

“Everything looks lovely.” Gran swept in on Matt’s arm, not looking nearly as tired as she’d claimed to be when she left them alone on kitchen duty.

Zoey’s heart started beating in double-time as a thought suddenly occurred to her.

No, Gran wouldn’t dare…not a woman who believed it was God who brought a couple together, without any help from earthly matchmakers. Or well-meaning grandmothers.

“What would you like to drink, Liz?” Matt pulled a chair away from the table.

“Water, please.”

“I’ll get it.” Zoey was pretty sure she remembered where Gran kept that.

As she opened the refrigerator door and reached for the pitcher, she heard the front door open.

“Hellooo! Is anyone home?”

Matt’s head jerked up. Something in the look that he and her grandmother exchanged sent off warning bells inside of Zoey’s head. She heard a staccato
tap tap tapping
noise against the hardwood floor. Ten seconds later a woman appeared in the doorway.

Zoey hadn’t recognized the voice but she remembered the face.

Delia Peake.

“Liz, I thought you’d be finished eating supper by now.” Somehow Delia made the statement sound like an accusation. She leaned on her cane, her sharp gaze sweeping over the three place settings grouped around the steaming pizza. “This is certainly a cozy scene. Hello, Pastor Wilde.”

“Mrs. Peake.” Matt rose to his feet with a smile. “I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.”

The circles of rouge on Delia’s cheeks deepened in color and expanded. “I brought over the new pattern that Esther picked out for our next knitting project.”

“You didn’t have to go to all that trouble, Delia,” Liz protested.

“It was no trouble at all.” Delia might have been speaking to Gran, but she was looking straight at Zoey. As if she couldn’t believe she was really there.

“You remember my granddaughter, Zoey,” Gran said.

“Hello.” The frosty look on Delia’s face said that yes, she remembered her.

“Mrs. Peake.”

They both remembered.

Delia had been opposed to Zoey moving in with her grandparents right from the start, arguing that a teenage granddaughter, and a rebellious one at that, would only turn their lives upside down. It hadn’t helped that all her fears had come to pass, and then some.

She knew that people like Delia Peake would regard her with suspicion. People believed what they wanted to believe. Zoey had discovered that following the accident. It had been easier to lay blame on the Decker’s troubled granddaughter, an “outsider,” rather than on Tyler Curtis, the charming, popular teenage quarterback who’d grown up in Mirror Lake.

Even now, the memory continued to cast a shadow over Zoey’s life. Her physical injuries from the accident had healed within weeks. The bruises on her soul were taking longer.

Zoey had resented Delia’s interference at the time, but now she understood the woman’s concern stemmed from her longstanding friendship with Gran.

It was natural to want to protect the people you cared about.

She knew it wouldn’t be easy seeing her grandmother’s friends again, but facing Delia was even more difficult than Zoey had imagined.

One step forward, right, Lord?

She took a deep breath, set the water pitcher down on the table and summoned a smile. “Would you like to join us for dinner, Mrs. Peake? We have plenty.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Zoey saw that Matt looked as taken aback by the invitation as her grandmother.

“Join you?
Well.
” Delia leaned on the word. “I’m afraid I can’t. My son will be stopping over tonight to fix a leaky faucet in the bathroom. But…thank you.” She cleared her throat. “And Liz, let me know if you need any help with the new pattern. You should have plenty of time to work on it because Esther is going to postpone our next meeting until you’re feeling better.”

“That’s very sweet, but I don’t expect everyone to tailor their schedule to mine,” Liz said.

“We don’t mind waiting. It wouldn’t be the same without you anyway.” Delia’s expression softened.

“You could meet here.”

Three pairs of eyes turned in her direction.

Oh, no. She’d actually said it out loud.

Nice going, Zoey. So much for your plan to avoid people.
But that didn’t mean she wanted Gran to be cut off from her friends and some of the activities she enjoyed.

She could always…hide.

“Here?” A thoughtful look came into her grandmother’s eyes.

“Why not?” Zoey said faintly, although she could come up with a hundred reasons. None of which had come to mind, of course, when she’d made the impulsive suggestion.

“Delia?” Liz’s gaze shifted to her friend.

“I suppose that would work. I could make the phone calls.” Delia appeared to warm to the idea as Zoey’s feet got colder. “I
would
love to see everyone,” Gran said. “All right, Delia. Tomorrow night. Seven o’clock. In my parlor.”

Tomorrow night?

Zoey swallowed hard.

She’d hoped for a little more time to get used to the idea.