by Jae
Ash barely had time to put down the bakery boxes on the side table in the hall before her father engulfed her in a warm embrace. Casper jumped around them, demanding to be greeted too. She couldn’t help thinking of the hug she hadn’t gotten from Sasha. How ridiculous! So what if someone she was supposed to work with hadn’t hugged her?
“You okay, honey?” Her father released her and held her at arm’s length to study her. Concern flickered in his blue eyes that stood out against his fading farmer’s tan and his graying hair.
“I’m fine, Dad.” She squeezed his hand that rested on her shoulder.
He still regarded her carefully, as if not wanting to miss anything that might be going on with her.
Ash bit her lip. With Melissa, they had all missed the signs, and she knew that, deep down, her parents harbored the fear of making the same mistake with her. That was part of why she had become so good at playing the role of the perfect daughter over the years.
“How’s the shop doing?” her father asked.
“Wonderfully.” That was a bit of an exaggeration, but business was indeed picking up. Spring was in the air, and that put people in the mood to buy flowers.
Finally, her father seemed to be convinced that she was doing okay. He dropped his hand from her shoulder and bent to lavish attention on Casper.
Her mother stepped out of the kitchen, wearing the really ugly red-and-white-checkered apron that Ash had made her in middle school. “Hi, sweetie.” She engulfed her in a tight embrace. “So good to see you.”
Jeez, her mother made it sound as if they hadn’t seen each other in months, even though Ash came over for lunch every Sunday. Her mother always told her that she should come over for dinner more often, but Ash rarely took her up on it. Coming home was a double-edged sword for her.
She glanced at the stairs leading to the second floor. She knew what she would find should she ever venture upstairs—which she never did unless she had a very good reason. Her parents had left Melissa’s room exactly the way it had been, as if she would one day come home. Maybe it was soothing to her parents to be able to step into her room any time, but for Ash, it just kept the pain alive. That was one of the reasons she had moved out as soon as she could.
She hugged her mother tightly and breathed in the familiar gardenia aroma of her favorite perfume and something else that she identified as frying oil after a second. “Yum.” Ash licked her lips. “Are you making fried chicken?”
Laughing, her mom released her. “Are you sniffing my hair to find out what we’re having for lunch?” She, too, studied Ash with an imploring parental gaze. “Are you eating enough? I know you’re skipping lunch when the shop gets busy. I could always bring you some lunch, you know? A nice, home-cooked meal every day…”
“Mom, I’m fine. I’m eating plenty.” That reminded her of the two boxes she had put down on the hall table. She picked up the one on top and handed it to her mother. “Dessert.”
Her mother opened the lid and sniffed. “Oh, they smell heavenly. Like fresh out of the oven.”
“They are,” Ash said before she could stop herself. To distract her parents, she walked into the kitchen and started to carry the bowls and platters of steaming food into the dining room.
Her mother followed, set the box down on the counter, and tapped the logo on the top. “Since when is A Slice of Heaven open on Sundays?”
“They aren’t. Sasha wanted to try out new doggie treat recipes, so Casper volunteered to be a guinea pig.”
Her mother laughed and pointed at Casper, who was busy gobbling up some morsels that had dropped on the floor while she’d been cooking. “Oh yeah, I bet he did. He’s about as food-motivated as you were when you were a toddler. God, I had to watch you like a hawk, or you would shove anything into your mouth. Once, you bit into an onion, peel and all.”
For once, Ash didn’t mind the embarrassing childhood story. At least it got her mother away from the topic of Sasha and why she was spending time at the bakery on a Sunday morning.
She settled Casper down in the giant dog bed her parents had bought him, pointing out that he was their only grandchild, so they should be allowed to spoil him.
They washed their hands and then took a seat at the table in the dining room, with Ash choosing the same chair she had sat in all of her life.
Her father held out his hands. “Let’s say grace.”
Ash had to stretch her arms to both sides of the table in order to take their hands. The painful gap in their family was never as obvious as during mealtimes. She tightly held her parents’ hands—her father’s big, calloused one and her mother’s smaller one—and they gripped hers just as firmly.
Her father bent his head. “Lord, thank you for the food before us, the family beside us, and the love between us. Amen.”
At least he always kept it short, as if not wanting to prolong the moment of missing the feel of Melissa’s hand in his.
Her mother passed her the bowl of mashed potatoes, then the peas and the sweet corn, which she had canned from their own fields and garden last summer. She nodded down at the heaping platter of golden-brown chicken pieces. “What would you like, honey?”
For Ash, the answer was a no-brainer. “Breast, please.”
Her mother pierced a chicken breast and put it on Ash’s plate.
Her father chuckled and picked up a drumstick. “You always liked breasts best. I’m more of a leg man myself.”
The forkful of peas Ash had just taken nearly went down the wrong pipe. Coughing wildly, she lunged for her water glass.
Her father didn’t seem to realize what he’d just said. “You okay, honey?” He patted her back.
Ash nodded but couldn’t yet speak.
Her mother paled. “Oh no. Did I use too much pepper in the peas?”
Ash shook her head. “No,” she finally gasped out. “They’re fine. I just inhaled at the wrong moment.” She picked up the chicken breast from her plate and took a big bite so they’d stop staring at her with those concerned gazes. Yum. Her mother’s fried chicken was the best. It was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside.
A lot like Sasha, she suspected.
God, where had that thought come from?
But it was true. With her sturdy six-foot frame and that pirate bandanna, Sasha might have looked tough, but her reaction when Ash had refused to take the cinnamon rolls had revealed that she was a big marshmallow on the inside.
“Great as always.” Her father wiped his fingers on his napkin and reached across the table to squeeze his wife’s hand.
Her mother beamed. “The trick is to soak the chicken in buttermilk overnight. That makes it much more tender. Karen told me she does the same.” She turned toward Ash. “Oh, speaking of Karen, isn’t her granddaughter adorable?”
With her mouth full of chicken, Ash just nodded. She had wondered how long it would take for her mother to bring that up.
“She didn’t cry at all when Vicky let me hold her. Such a sweet girl. I bet your children will be the same. When you were little, you never went through that stranger anxiety phase either.”
Ash let her mother’s talk about babies wash over her without really paying attention.
Predictably, she hadn’t made it even halfway through her piece of chicken when her mother started talking about Sheryl’s son. “I bet you’d barely recognize Derek, honey. He had LASIK a couple of years ago, and Sheryl says he started working out when he went through the divorce.”
Ash sighed. She hadn’t been attracted to him in high school, and a six-pack and the lack of glasses wouldn’t change that. “Good for him,” she said, hoping her mother would move on.
“I told Sheryl that he should join you and your friends at Johnny’s on Saturday.”
Ash dropped her half-eaten chicken breast onto her plate. “You did what?”
“Why i
s that a problem? Derek went to school with the rest of you, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but everyone else goes to the bar just to hang out with friends, not to pick up a date.”
Her mother put down her chicken wing. “So what if he asks you out? What would be wrong with that?”
Ash clamped her greasy fingers around her napkin. “Nothing, but—”
“I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn. If you don’t want to go out with Derek, fine. There are other men out there. But you refuse to even meet any of them. You’re thirty-three, honey.”
Ash let out a groan, but her mother continued.
“I don’t want you to end up alone. You need to—”
Her father tossed the bone of his drumstick onto an empty plate. “Leave the poor girl alone, Donna. You can’t force things like that. Don’t you worry.” He patted his wife’s hand. “She’ll find someone and fall in love, probably when she least expects it.”
The lines of concern on her mother’s forehead didn’t ease. “But what if that doesn’t happen because she’s not putting herself out there, always hiding behind work?”
“I’m not hiding behind work,” Ash said. “Running my own business really leaves me with little time to date.”
“Oh, but you seem to have plenty of time to spend with Sasha Peterson. Betty from the hair salon said you hang out with her a lot these days.”
What? Ash stared at her. “That’s not true! The time we’ve spent together was mostly for the wedding, and it was hardly a lot.”
The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them. First, because she knew her passionate denial would come across as over-the-top, and second, because it sounded as if spending time with Sasha would be bad. The truth was, she did enjoy spending time with her. She was just so easy to be around. That rarely happened to Ash. And what definitely didn’t ever happen was her opening up the way she had with Sasha this morning. If she found the courage to continue hanging out with her, Sasha could become the first female friend she’d made since Holly.
“Wedding?” Her mother paused with a forkful of mashed potatoes an inch from her lips. “What wedding?”
Oh shit. Now she’d done it. She had steered the conversation directly to the topic she’d wanted to avoid. “Oh, you know…” She waved her fork in a vague gesture. “Several, actually. Now that her aunt has handed over the bakery completely, we’ll probably work together a lot during wedding season. Sasha is making a name for herself as an excellent wedding cake designer. You should see some of her sketches. She’s really, really good.”
“That’s wonderful, honey,” her mother said. “Maybe she’ll do your wedding cake one day.”
Now they were back to her mother’s favorite topic. If her fingers hadn’t been so greasy, Ash would have covered her face with her hands and groaned.
Thankfully, her father steered the conversation to his newest tractor and the best time to start planting corn.
Ash breathed a sigh of relief, but she knew she’d bought herself only a little more time. At some point, her parents would find out about Holly and Leo’s wedding—and it would probably be sooner rather than later.
Chapter 8
The door to Johnny’s opened, letting in a gush of spring air.
Sasha looked up from the beer bottle she was cradling and craned her neck to see who it was.
Just Phil Eads and his son.
She slumped against the back of the booth.
Holly leaned across the table. “You okay? You’re not thinking about leaving already, are you? We just got here.”
“What? No. I can stay for a while.” It was only then that Sasha realized what she had been doing. She had been on the lookout for Ashley any time the door opened, but it had always been someone else. “Isn’t Ashley coming tonight?”
Zack shook his head. “I ran into her at the grocery store earlier, and she said she wouldn’t be able to make it tonight. Something about having to finish a wreath.”
A pang of disappointment flared through Sasha. What, now you suddenly can’t have a fun night out without her?
In the past, she had never paid much attention to whether Ashley made it to their Saturday night get-togethers. But now that she had spent more time alone with Ashley, away from the gang, she was starting to realize that Ashley was different from Sasha’s high school image of her. While she clearly had some issues and cared a little too much about what people might be thinking, she wasn’t the superficial, egoistical person that would do anything to be popular, as Sasha had thought.
The door opened again.
Sasha couldn’t stop the reflex of looking up, even though she now knew Ashley wouldn’t be coming.
A man entered and walked up to their table. “Hey, guys. Good to see you.”
Sasha stared at him. Was she supposed to know him? He did look kind of familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Travis jumped up and gave the stranger a man hug, thumping his back repeatedly. “Derek Hatchfield! Man, it’s great to see you too. I didn’t know you were in town. Visiting your folks?”
“No. I’m back for good. Mr. Mitchell is retiring, and I’m taking over as the branch manager of the bank.”
Travis let out a piercing whistle. “Wow. I bet you make good money.”
Derek shrugged. “Can’t complain.”
Sasha recognized him now. He’d been a year ahead of her in school, but he had changed a lot—and definitely for the better.
Derek pointed at the horseshoe-shaped booth. “My mom said that this is where you all hang out on Saturday night. I guess not much has changed, has it?” He laughed and looked at Leo. “Well, except that you’re famous now.”
“Not here,” Leo said firmly. “Here in Fair Oaks, I’m just boring, old Leo Blake.”
“Please.” Holly, who sat next to her, lightly bumped her shoulder. “You couldn’t be boring if you tried.”
“C’mon, join us.” Travis waved at Sasha to slide over in the booth to make room for Derek.
When he sat next to Sasha, his broad shoulder brushed hers, and the scent of his aftershave or cologne teased her nostrils. With his athletic body, wavy, dark hair, and kind smile, he might have normally been her type, but now she couldn’t help thinking how much nicer it would have been if Ashley had been sitting next to her instead.
Derek ordered a beer. Once he had it, he let his gaze sweep over his former schoolmates. “Where’s Ashley? My mom mentioned that she still lives in town.”
“Yes, she does. Never left,” Zack said. “But she’s working late tonight.”
“Oh.” Derek might have been a good banker, but he would have made a lousy poker player. His disappointment was obvious.
Truth be told, Sasha was a little disappointed too. She had seen Ashley a couple of times during the week, when she had come in to get her three o’clock cupcake, but with other customers in line behind her, they hadn’t been able to have much of a conversation.
“Well, I guess I’ll catch up with her later.” Derek looked from one to the other. “So, catch me up on what’s new with you guys. Marriages, babies, divorces?”
“No divorce yet, but sometimes, it’s tempting,” Jenny said with a teasing grin.
Travis frowned. “Hey!”
Jenny leaned her head against his shoulder. “Just kidding, hon.” She straightened. “As for marriages… You probably heard already that wedding bells will be ringing for Fair Oaks’s most famous daughter.”
Derek swiveled to face Leo. “What? You’re getting married?”
A happy smile lit up Leo’s face as she nodded.
“Wow.” Derek shook his head. “Not that I read the tabloids or anything, but why didn’t I hear about this before?”
“Oh, you know how people in Fair Oaks are,” Holly said. “They might gossip, but they’re not talking
to outsiders about one of their own…well, two of their own.”
“So your fiancé is a local?” Derek asked. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
Silence settled over the booth for a moment.
“Man, you really don’t read the tabloids, do you?” Travis slapped Derek’s shoulder. “It’s a lucky gal, not a lucky guy.”
Derek put his beer down with a thump. “I knew it! It’s Ashley, isn’t it? That’s why she wouldn’t go out with me in high school.”
“Oh please.” Lisa rolled her eyes. “Why do men always think if a woman refuses to go out with them, she must be gay, like that’s the only reason she could possibly resist you?”
“Yeah,” Sasha mumbled into her beer. Talking about Ashley behind her back didn’t sit well with her. “Ashley probably didn’t go out with you because you behaved like an idiot every time you talked to her.”
Derek let out an awkward chuckle and rubbed his neck. “Yeah, well, there’s that.”
“No, it’s not Ashley,” Leo said. “I’m marrying the most beautiful, intelligent—”
Holly blushed and covered Leo’s mouth with her hand. “She’s marrying me.”
Leo kissed her hand and then entwined their fingers. “Lucky me.”
Playfully, Zack covered his eyes with his hand. “See? That’s what Ethan and I are currently having to live through every Sunday, when the family gets together at Mom’s. PDAs at the dining table and endless talk about wedding invitations, guest lists, and the color of table linens at the reception.”
Holly and Leo groaned.
“Hey, cut us some slack, big brother. We’re the ones who are having to suffer through most of that.” Holly looked at her friends. “Our moms have caught the wedding-planning fever. They want everything to be picture-perfect.”
Leo sighed. “They don’t get that it’ll be perfect because we get to marry each other. Everything else will be just…”
“Icing on the cake,” Sasha finished for her.