by Elder, Jan;
Cassidy sipped her lemonade. “What else could top that?”
Hunter grinned wide. “Wait ‘til you hear this. You’ve been concerned whether this smallish town can support an upscale truffle shop. I can fix that.”
“Do tell. I’ve been wracking my brain. Even cheery Charity can’t sell if there’s nobody in the shop.”
“True, but the bakery deals wholesale with several restaurants in town. What if you start carrying our chocolate goodies at Savannah’s Sweets? A customer coming into the shop could buy a box of truffles and a piece of Black Forest cake. Or an éclair, or a slice of French silk pie.”
Cassidy’s mouth fell open. She’d often wondered why Savannah had designed the shop with café tables and chairs. No one sat in them. When people came in to buy a box of truffles, they didn’t linger. And there was plenty of room in the corner for a bakery display case. Maybe Savannah had been thinking along the same lines.
Blake chimed in. “Brainstorming here, but you could set up a free coffee station, one of those contraptions with single serving cups. That will bring people in and go nicely with the baked goods. They might even sit a spell.”
Hunter touched Cassidy’s shoulder. “What do you think, huh? It could work. And I’ll even—”
“Supply the cream!” Cassidy wrapped her arms around him, a generous smile stretching her cheeks.
25
Cassidy slapped the alarm and untangled the sheets binding her legs. What a week. She’d found homes for all of the extra furniture, many pieces going to the church. What she’d kept was an eclectic mix of Savannah’s favorite things plus her own. Somehow, it worked.
Last night she’d spent hours sorting through Savannah’s possessions. She packed up “give away” and “throw away” boxes and hung on to items with real sentimental value. She’d spent way more time on the project than she’d figured. And sniffled more than she’d meant to.
Today, she promised herself she’d tackle the hardest room of all. Since the moment she’d arrived, she’d studiously avoided the sanctuary of Savannah’s bedroom. If she had to darken the doorway, she’d walked around with blinders on and averted her gaze from anything personal. But today she would allow herself the release of grief.
Cassidy glanced at the clock. She needed coffee to help her though the task. Hunter mentioned he might drop by, but she’d spend some quality time on the project before he arrived.
A while later, with a tummy full of cranberry-orange muffin thanks to Hunter, and a second cup of coffee in her hand, Cassidy trudged up the stairs.
Gracey, sensing a game was afoot, scampered ahead of her with a toy mouse hanging from her mouth.
Cassidy eased open the bedroom door and treaded soft on the carpet, letting her toes sink into the cream-colored plush pile. She raised the blinds and threw open the windows to let the warm breeze flow through the space. The scent of freshly mown grass wafted into the room and blew out the slightly musty air.
Gracey dropped her mouse at Cassidy’s feet and meowed, obviously proud of her advanced hunting skills.
Cassidy lobbed the slobbery mouse to the other side of the room, and Gracey retrieved the damp felt and flipped it in the air. Who knew the cat could fetch? She seized the soggy bundle and tossed the mouse out into the hall.
Cassidy surveyed the yellow bedroom that had been Savannah’s. Flopping down on the bed, she fingered the appliqué on the bedspread, and ran her thumb over the quilt at the foot. In wintertime, the extra layer of warmth would be most welcome. Lovingly, she folded the quilt and carried it with near reverence to the linen closet. In the fall, when the temperature plunged and crisp leaves swirled to the ground, she’d pull it out again.
She wandered back into the room. She needed a plan. She always felt better when she had a plan.
Gracey followed on her heels.
Cassidy stroked her soft fur from nose to tail, scooped up her kitty, and perched on a chair patterned with pink and yellow roses. Why hadn’t she remembered that Savannah adored yellow?
That was simple. Because they’d never been devoted sisters.
She pushed off the chair, crossed the room to the maple dresser on the far wall, and dragged over an empty cardboard box. The key was to move quickly, clinically, as if she’d never met this woman who’d been her stepsister for a few short years. No emotion, no muss, no fuss, just box up her belongings, and de-clutter this last corner of the house.
She’d start from the bottom drawer and work her way up. The sticky drawer creaked as she hauled it open. Socks. A drawer full of socks, many the muted colors of the rainbow sherbet her sister had favored, along with a smattering of critter themed cozies, predominately cat. She grabbed a handful and flung them into the box. A second handful and then a third followed until the pads of her fingers touched a faded cloth book at the bottom of the drawer. Savannah’s baby book.
The deluge of tears arrived right on schedule. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the pale pink baby book balanced in her lap, she turned pages full of photos, moisture slipping down her cheeks. She’d never seen this album before, hadn’t even known Savannah had a baby book.
Someone had written captions above several of the pictures, perhaps Savannah’s mother, who’d died when Savannah was five. Pictures of her first birthday party complete with a lemon-yellow frosted cake with one big fat candle on the top. Savannah, age two, giggling while her father tickled her tummy. Savannah when she was three holding a striped gray cat. And Savannah on her first day of school all dressed up in sparkly shoes with a magical grin plastered on her pudgy face. Savannah, the sister Cassidy hadn’t realized she’d loved so much.
Slowly, she turned the pages, her emotions tangled like yarn teased by a room full of cats. She turned the last page to find an envelope splashed with butterflies tucked into the back of the book. She sucked in air, barely daring to breathe. With fancy script, the envelope was addressed to “My Sister.” With shaky hands, Cassidy drew out a crisp page written in her sister’s own exuberant hand.
Dearest Cassie,
As I write, I’m picturing you sitting on the floor in my bedroom with your legs crossed, the way you always used to sit, your fingers sweeping your fabulous, long strawberry-blonde hair from your eyes. I always loved your lustrous hair.
There’s so much I want to say, but first I need to wipe the slate clean. Please, please forgive me for hurting you so long ago. I may have been young, but that’s no excuse. I knew better. And please forgive me for not trying harder to reconcile. I could hide behind the fact that I tried to contact you a few times and pin the blame on you. But here’s the thing. I should have flown to Chicago and camped out on your doorstep until you talked to me. I wish I had. Not having my big sister around to share my hopes and dreams is my greatest regret.
You were always the unflappable one, and I hope you’re not crying because I’m gone. Please don’t cry. I want you to know that I tried that little church you used to go to and all is well with my soul. I’m looking forward to meeting my Lord face to face. I imagine walking with Jesus along a moonlit beach, hand in hand, laughing when the tide splashes over our feet. It’s going to be glorious.
When you are old and gray, if it’s allowed, I want to be the first one to greet you when you get to heaven. I’ll be the one holding the gray cat.
Please always remember, I love you, and I wish you nothing but joy.
Always your little sister,
Savannah
P.S. Gracey’s a sweetheart and I know you’ll fall in love with her. She’s especially fond of a good snuggle, catnip mice, and long naps in the exact center of the bed.
P.P.S. And speaking of sweethearts, I found out after I moved here that hunky Hunter lives next door. Coincidence? I think not.
The note fluttered to the carpet. Cassidy picked it up, slipped the cherished letter back in the envelope, and pressed it to her chest. She held on tight as she bawled with abandon, her heart squashed flat and barely beating.
She ha
d no idea how long she sat there, but her feet were falling asleep. She had one box half-full of socks, but that was all she would get done today. She reached over to close the lid and found Savannah’s cat, her cat now, curled up sleeping on top of the pile. She couldn’t help but laugh. Savannah would have been pleased.
The faint noise of knuckles on wood caught her attention. She twisted to find Hunter poking his head in the doorway.
“Cassidy? Are you all right? I called your phone, but when you didn’t answer I came on over.” His jaw tightened, coffee-colored eyes chock-full of compassion. Hunter stood on one foot balancing precariously on his crutches.
“How in the world did you get up here?”
“Very carefully.”
Cassidy sniffled and offered a watery smile. “I am awed by your prowess.”
She tried to rise and thumped down on the carpet when wobbly legs refused to function.
Hunter hopped to her side and landed on the floor next to her. He scooped her up and gathered her in his lap. With gentle fingers, he wiped away the tears with his t-shirt. “Hmm. Grieving Savannah?”
“Yeah.” She clung to his neck, burying her face in the crook of his shoulder. Her chin connected with a book-shaped thing he had slung around his neck. She ran her fingers over the flat object through the plastic bag. “What’s this?”
“I came over to return something.” He reached into the bag and tugged out a slim purple paisley book. “I believe this is yours?”
With a shallow gasp, she lifted her head and searched his face. “My journal? From high school? Where did you get it?”
“Late last night it came to me that I must have thrown it in a box in my closet and forgotten all about it. I can’t apologize enough.” His gaze hit the floor. “I have no excuse for my behavior.”
Cassidy tapped his chin with her finger. “No. More. Apologies. Did you…?”
“No, I did not read your diary. I like to think I’ve learned a little something.” Hunter grabbed her fingers and brought them to his lips. “I came over for another reason, though.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“To invite you over to dinner tonight. Please?”
Cassidy angled her head and laughed. “Well, if it means that much to you. What time?”
26
Hunter piped the cream filling, with extra chocolate chips, into the cannoli shell. After he salted the water for the pasta, he gently stirred the simmering pot of Alfredo sauce. He searched the ubiquitous junk drawer for matches, and lit the candles on the kitchen table. For the final touch, between the flickering candles, he arranged a crystal vase full of wild flowers. He’d debated on whether to make this dinner extra-fancy and have it in the dining room, but nixed the idea due to crutch logistics. He didn’t think Cassidy would mind.
Linus stood on his hind legs and pawed Hunter’s thigh.
“Yes, you can have a taste. Maybe later, OK?” Hunter held onto the counter with one hand and reached down to scratch his cat between the ears. “Now be on your best behavior. Cassidy should be here any minute.” He submerged the pasta in the boiling water and swished just as there was a light knock on the back door. Cassidy’s face appeared in the glass. “And there she is now.” He grinned at his cat. “Door’s open. Come on in.”
And there she was in his kitchen with an angelic smile on her face.
A warm glow started in his toes and traveled upward, heating him from the inside out.
“Surprise! I brought…wait for it…raspberry truffles. Your favorite, right?”
“Yum!”
“Something smells wonderful. What are you making?”
“Pasta primavera with Alfredo sauce. Store-bought pasta, though. Making fettuccine was a little beyond my limited capabilities at the moment.”
She whistled. “You make your own pasta?”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody? I did manage to sauté the vegetables and make the Alfredo sauce, though. It’s my own recipe. It’s got…”
“Let me guess. Extra cream?”
“You’re on to me.”
“If I keep eating like this, it’ll be forever on my hips.”
“And very shapely hips they are.” Hunter chuckled and folded the vegetables into the sauce. “Would you mind grabbing the colander from the lower cabinet next to the fridge? I don’t squat well.”
“Sure. Anything else you need?”
“You could set the table. The china’s in the buffet in the dining room.”
“China? My, aren’t we chic. What’s the occasion?”
“Today’s my favorite day of the year—the first day of summer. Maybe it’s the farmer in me, but all of the extra light makes me happy.”
“Me too. I could do summer all year round.”
“Besides, any time spent with you is occasion enough.” He turned back to his task hoping she’d think the beads of perspiration on his brow were due to the steaming pots.
“You’re sweet.” Cassidy lightly ran her hand down his back and then traipsed into the dining room. The clatter of dishes carried through the doorway.
Hunter poured the pasta into the colander in the sink. “Oh, I don’t have any napkins,” he called over his shoulder,
Cassidy wandered back into the kitchen with the plates and tore two sheets off the roll of paper towels on the counter. “Now I know what to get you for Christmas. I love the flowers, by the way. Where’d you get them?”
“The field behind the barn.”
She planted her hands on those shapely hips. “Don’t tell me you picked them yourself. That’s a long way to hop.”
“I managed.”
Cassidy touched his arm, her eyes searching his. “You remember when you said women like it when men make a real effort?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Thank you. All of this trouble makes me feel special.” She hummed as she set the table and poured tall glasses of iced tea.
Between the two of them, they put dinner on the table and sat down to eat.
Hunter said grace and dished up the pasta, serving her a generous portion on his grandmother’s china.
Cassidy wound a noodle around her fork, speared a broccoli floret, and shoved the bite into her mouth. “Indescribably delicious. How’s the rehab coming, by the way?”
“Pretty good. Blake drove me twice this week. You still OK to take me next Monday and Thursday?”
“You’re on my calendar.”
Linus jumped into the chair across from Cassidy and rested his chin on the table. A tentative paw poked the tablecloth.
“Linus, we’ve talked about this. No cat paws on the table.”
Linus’s head disappeared, and he reappeared on the floor by Hunter’s thigh.
“OK, but only because you’re incorrigible.” Hunter dabbed his finger in the creamy sauce and shared a small portion with a grateful Linus.
“I thought you weren’t supposed to give cats people food.”
“Don’t tell Dr. Kimberly, but every now and then Linus gets a taste. At sixteen, since he’s in those feline emeritus years, I’m trying hard to pack them with treats.”
Cassidy laughed. “I won’t tell Gracey because she’ll want some, too. Have you talked with Hillary about the employee switch yet?”
“Sometimes it seems like she enjoys arguing, but yes. After a bit of persuasion, she reluctantly agreed. Since she was the last piece of the puzzle, we’re good to go.”
They made small talk and cleaned their plates. Hunter wiped his lips with a paper towel. “Did I mention I made dessert?”
“You should have told me before I had a second helping of the pasta. What did you make?”
“Cannoli. With extra chocolate chips. Why don’t we move into the living room? Would you like coffee?”
“Sounds divine. I’ll handle the dessert if you start the coffee.”
With cannoli and coffee taking their place on the coffee table, Hunter lit a match, lighting yet more candles. He grabbed Cassidy’s hand in his and face
d her. “I’d like to ask you something.”
The candles shimmered, the low light shadowing Cassidy’s pretty face. “This sounds serious. Ask away.”
With a thumping heart, Hunter clasped Cassidy’s hands in his. He rubbed her fingers with his thumb and willed himself to relax. “It is serious. I’m not very good at flowery speeches so I’ll just ask you straight out.”
Cassidy bobbed her head. “Please. By all means.”
“OK. You’re probably going to say this sounds quaint, but would it be all right if I courted you? Would you be my one and only?”
He reached into his pocket and tugged out a small box. He flipped it open and the fiery opal ring flamed to life in the candlelight.
~*~
Where did this man come from, or more specifically, what decade? Court her? His face held such hope. Cassidy was thoroughly charmed.
Hunter balanced the box on his palm. “We can call this a promise ring, sort of an engaged to be engaged ring.”
She sent him a smile designed to chase away his fears. He slipped the ring on her finger. The light from the candles caught all the colors of the rainbow. She tilted the ring this way and that, marveling at the stone’s internal fire. “Hunter, I can’t think of anything I’d love more.”
He grabbed her hand and smoothed a fingertip over the surface of the ring. “This belonged to my grandmother. After she passed away a few years ago, Mom let Hillary and me choose some of her jewelry. I’ve held onto this ring, just waiting for the right person to give it to.” Hunter draped an arm around her and pulled her against him.
Warmth seeped into her soul at his touch. She wanted to stay right there forever, comforted by his strong arms and gentle hands. This was no schoolgirl fantasy. This was as real as it got.
He brushed his lips against hers, his kisses as light and feathery as duck down. He grazed her cheeks, her eyelids, her temples. And then he tightened his grip and kissed her so deeply she grew dizzy.