by Cindy Kirk
“If Ami is cooking, I’ll skip a second scone and save room for a real breakfast.” Max popped the last piece of pastry into his mouth and glanced around, his gaze drawn to the group of women who’d just arrived.
He recognized them as Cherries. Apparently they’d been assigned the task of setting up chairs and spreading tablecloths. Disappointment surged when he didn’t see Prim among them.
“I just got a text. Prim finally called Ami and told her about the trouble in your neighborhood last night.” Beck’s casual tone didn’t fool either of them.
Beck had been as upset as Max about the almost break-in at Prim’s home. Max had given him all the details while they’d put up tables, but it appeared Beck wanted to revive the topic.
“I’m glad you were there for her.”
“I’ll always be there for her.”
If Beck found anything odd about the statement, it didn’t show. He rubbed his chin. “Makes me think I should get a dog.”
“Might not be a bad idea.”
“This guy still being on the loose isn’t good.” Beck tapped a finger against his leg. “If he isn’t caught by the day of the big parade, people might not show up to watch or might cancel their participation. Empty homes are ripe for the picking.”
Max swore. “That never crossed my mind.”
“We’ll just have to hope Len catches the guy before then.” Beck brushed some crumbs from his lap, then stood. “Those were some good thoughts you and Prim had on the parade.”
“Yours about having the lineup crew wear caps that say ‘parade’ for better identification wasn’t half bad.”
Beck grinned. “Just another moment of brilliance.”
“Who said anything about brilliance?” Max asked, then dodged a punch.
“You showed your own brilliance”—Beck grinned—“by not getting involved with Charlotte. She and Prim aren’t even in the same league.”
Max just smiled. It didn’t matter that Beck was operating under the delusion that what he and Prim had could turn serious. Despite the strong attraction, after seeing the urn Max feared he and Prim had as much chance of ending up together as Fin and her old high school flame, Jeremy Rakes.
And that was no chance at all.
After leaving the boys happily playing with their grandfather, Prim drove straight to her sister’s home. Later that morning she and Ami would work the pancake feed. Before they made the trek to the town square, she’d agreed to spend an hour helping her sister sort through their mother’s recipe cards.
Prim was of the mind that if her older sister hadn’t found the recipe for lavender cookies with rose water icing in the four years since their mother’s passing, it was not to be found.
After parking in the driveway, she followed the sidewalk around to the front porch. She still found it difficult to believe that her sister now called this grand house her home.
The stately Victorian sat at the corner of the highway and Market Street, an immense two-story white clapboard with green shutters. Stained glass topped each window. A black iron fence enclosed a yard that spanned two lots. Mature trees shaded a spread of sprawling green accented with clusters of colorful flowers and perfectly manicured bushes.
Red, white, and lavender-blue impatiens mingled with wax begonias and variegated ivy in the hanging baskets that decorated the porch. The scene was so charming that Prim found herself smiling as she climbed the steps and rang the bell. The chimes had barely sounded when the door flew open and she was enveloped in a hug.
“Ohmigoodness, I was so worried about you.” Ami hugged her tight. “I can’t believe that horrible man was in your backyard.”
“Boris and the deputies ran him off.”
“And Max made sure you were okay.”
Prim’s lips lifted. When she’d called and told her sister the whole story that morning, Max’s role had been Ami’s favorite part of the story. And, Prim had to admit, hers as well.
“All’s well that ends well. I doubt the burglar will be visiting our neighborhood again anytime soon.” Prim followed her sister deeper into the house, taking in the shiny hardwood floors that gleamed as if they’d been hand polished.
The dark wood paneling that had graced the foyer at Christmas had been painted a bright white. The Anaglypta paper that Ami had said was impossible to remove had been painted a blue gray. The color added a contemporary twist to the hall, while the antique rug retained the feel of an older era.
Prim lightly danced her fingers over the hand-painted porcelain bowl gracing an elegant foyer table. “Callum and Connor would have this on the floor in under three minutes.”
“I know better than that.” Ami chuckled. “My nephews are exceptionally well-behaved.”
“Keep your delusions.” Prim patted Ami’s arm.
She tried. God knew she tried hard to teach the twins manners. But they were rambunctious boys and could benefit from a man’s influence. Another plus for being back in Good Hope and near her father.
“Even though he’d just seen them last night, Dad was superexcited to have the boys over. When I got to his place, he was making them scrambled eggs. He said they needed protein to tide them over until the pancake feed.”
They reached the back of the house and Ami paused by the kitchen. “Did you have some?”
“I’m not hungry.” Prim stepped into the dining room and let her fingers trail along the massive sideboard graced by a multicolored floral arrangement that not only filled the air with sweet perfume but provided a nice splash of color. “Last night, well, everything threw me off.”
“The burglar? Or Max?”
She’d told her sister how kind Max had been, but knowing Beck had been with Ami when she’d called, Prim had kept the explanation of the events that had unfolded pretty basic. Taking a seat, Prim gazed unseeingly at the tabletop strewn with recipe cards and books and sighed heavily. “Both.”
“As I plan to drag every last detail out of you and I am hungry, I’m going to bring in some lemon chia oat bars for us to munch on.” Ami smiled. “And coffee. I just brewed a pot. Then the interrogation will begin.”
“Oh, goody,” Prim drawled, but found she was eager to share her confusing feelings with her sister.
While she waited for Ami to return, Prim picked up a recipe book. Flipping it open, she found pages of recipe cards tucked into little plastic slots, all transcribed in her mother’s neat, precise handwriting.
Tears stung the backs of her eyes. Prim hadn’t completely blinked them away when her sister swept into the room. The folk art serving tray she carried held a carafe, two mugs of coffee, and a plate of bars.
Ami paused, her gaze dropping to the book Prim still held. A look of understanding filled her eyes. “The cards bring back memories. See the ones with the stars in the corner? Those were the ones everyone in the family liked.”
“I miss her.” Prim stared at the card in her hand. “I wish I could talk with her now.”
Ami placed the tray on the table, handed Prim a mug, then nudged the plate with the bars closer. “It’s hard when there’s something in your life you want to share with her. I think of all those confusing feelings I had when I first met Beck. I really wanted her at my wedding.”
“We were lucky to have had her for our mom.” Prim sighed. “We could talk with her about anything.”
Ami nodded. After taking a slow sip of coffee, she wrapped her hands around the cup.
“I used to believe that things would make more sense when I got older. I’ve discovered sometimes life just gets more confusing.” Prim ran her finger around the edge of one of the recipe cards, her thoughts returning, as they had all morning, to Max.
“Mom may be gone, but you can talk to me. About anything.” Ami reached over and gave Prim’s hand a squeeze. Instead of releasing it immediately, she held on, those green eyes steady on Prim’s.
“I think I’m falling in love with Max,” Prim blurted out. “Or maybe I always have been, just a little.”
If the admission shocked Ami, it didn’t show.
“He’s so great. So good to me and the boys. We share so many interests and we have fun. He seems to genuinely like spending time with me.”
“Of course he does, why wouldn’t he?”
“Rory didn’t.” Prim dropped her gaze to the recipe cards. “Or, he did, but not as much as he liked his adventures with his friends.”
“Max isn’t Rory.”
“I know, but I’m still scared.”
Ami’s fingers tightened on her hand. “Tell me what you’re scared of?”
“That Max will grow tired of me.” Prim whispered the words though she and Ami were alone in the house. “That I won’t be enough to keep his interest.”
“Oh, honey.” Ami reached up with her free hand to brush a lock of hair back from her sister’s face, the gesture reminding Prim of something their mother might have done. “You’re a wonderful woman, and any man would be lucky to have you in his life.”
“I’m scared, Ami. It’s not just me this time, it’s Callum and Connor who’d suffer if things go bad.”
“They’ll also benefit from having a father in their life.”
“I’m not sure if Max even wants a serious relationship.”
Ami sat back, startled surprise blanketing her features. “What makes you say that?”
“He told me he doesn’t do casual relationships with single moms.”
Ami brought a finger to her mouth. “I believe the key word here is ‘casual.’ Max isn’t the kind to go in and out of a child’s life. He knows what that feels like.”
Prim was embarrassed to admit the thought gave her a spurt of hope. She flipped the recipe card over in her hands.
“And it isn’t as if you’re walking down the aisle tomorrow.”
Prim dropped the card to the table as if it had suddenly turned red-hot. “I didn’t say anything about marriage.”
“First comes love, then comes marriage . . .” Ami said in a singsong tone, her eyes dancing before turning serious. “All I’m saying is give it time, trust your heart.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it.” Prim began riffling through the loose recipe cards. “We’re looking for the recipe for lavender cookies with rose water icing, right?”
Ami sighed, obviously sensing the heart-to-heart had come to a close. She picked up one of the recipe books but didn’t open it. “I’ve been through these dozens of times. I’m hoping it’ll be like that bottle of ketchup you’re searching for in the grocery store aisle you can’t find. You ask for help and discover it’s been right in front of you all along.”
The cookies had been Sarah Bloom’s favorite. Though Ami and their mother had made them every year together, once their mother died, Ami had struggled to recall the exact ingredients. None of the variations she tried measured up to the original.
For several minutes, the two women worked in companionable silence as they pored through the books and individual cards.
“I hope you found a way to suitably thank Max for coming to your rescue last night.”
Seeing where this was headed and knowing she couldn’t stop it, Prim set down the cards in her hand. “I said thank you.”
“That’s all?” Ami put a hand to her chest and adopted a faux-shocked expression. “You pull the guy out of bed in the middle of the night and all he gets is a peck on the cheek and a thank-you?”
“It was a nice kiss,” Prim muttered. A very nice kiss.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Curiosity danced in her sister’s eyes, and for a second Prim was reminded of the nosy older sister who was always trying to steal her diary. “Open mouthed or closed?”
Prim’s lips twitched. “MYOB.”
“Open. Good.”
Prim laughed. She couldn’t help it. “I don’t know how your husband puts up with you.”
Ami leaned forward. “I’m great in bed.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes.”
“Don’t be such a prude. And don’t tell me having sex with Max didn’t cross your mind.” Ami’s tone invited confidences.
Prim flushed. “Regardless of how, ah, enticing that might sound, you forget I have two little boys in my house.”
“You forget you have a sister in town.” Ami shot her a sunny smile. “Anytime you get the urge, bring them here. Beck and I would love to watch them while you have sex with Max.”
Prim rolled her eyes. “Ami . . .”
“I’m serious. It’s time to put all those lascivious thoughts into action.”
Prim swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat at the thought. She lifted the mug to her lips, took a long drink, and picked up a recipe card.
Chapter Eleven
“Finally.” Beck dropped the plastic utensils in his hand on the table and rose.
“What is it?” Max kept his eyes focused on the task in front of him. Who knew rolling silverware took such concentration?
“The womenfolk cometh.”
Max’s heart gave a lurch. He scrambled to his feet to stand beside Beck. He’d been waiting all morning for Prim to show up.
Maybe it was the blue-green color of her dress or the way her hair hung loose around her shoulders, the hints of red in it as vibrant as the rising sun, but as Prim made her way across the courtyard, she reminded him of a sea goddess rising from the mist.
“If they didn’t keep stopping to talk to everyone and their dog, they’d be here by now,” Max sputtered. “How many times can two women stop and start?”
“The problem is, between the two of them they know practically everyone here,” Beck said in a resigned tone. “They have to stop and say hello.”
That may have been true with all the others, but they did more than simply say hello to David and Clay Chapin. Granted, Prim spent a minute speaking to Brynn, David’s young daughter.
But when she shifted her attention and smiled at Clay, a tightness gripped his chest. Clay had always been popular with the ladies. You’d never see the high school principal spending time on a sudoku puzzle or a magic cube. For a second, Max forgot he considered Clay to be a friend.
Beck slapped Max on the shoulder and jerked his head toward Prim and Clay. “They make a nice-looking couple.”
Two could play this game.
“David and Ami?” Max slammed the ball neatly back into Beck’s court. “They do look good together. Too bad they’re both married.”
Beck’s scowl had him grinning. When he saw Prim walk away from Clay, he relaxed and returned his attention to rolling plastic silverware into paper napkins.
Despite staying focused on the task, Max knew the instant Prim walked up. He inhaled the fresh citrus scent he was coming to associate with her and lifted his head.
She stood before him, two spots of color high in her cheeks. “Hi, Max.”
“Hi.” He searched her face. “How are you feeling this morning? I hope you were able to get some sleep last night.”
“I’m fine. I, ah, had a little difficulty drifting off.” She waved a vague hand. “All the excitement and everything.”
Her gaze met his, and he found himself wondering, hoping, some of that difficulty was because of him.
Prim turned to her sister. “I know you’re making the pancakes. What’s my assignment?”
Before Ami could respond, Beck stepped forward and greeted his wife by pulling her into his arms and kissing her soundly. “I missed you.”
Ami looped her arms around his neck. “I missed you, too.”
Max made a gagging sound. When they turned to him, he lifted a hand to his mouth, as if covering a cough.
Beck scowled.
Ami looked amused.
Max swore he heard Prim chuckle.
Beck kissed his wife’s forehead, then stepped back. “While you make pancakes, I’ll supervise the sausages coming from the kitchen. Dakota is going to be the roving troubleshooter. She’ll let us know if any position requires additional help.”
Beck turned to him. “Yo
u’re in charge of adding sausages to the pancake plates.”
Max shrugged. “Wherever I’m needed.”
Ami picked a clipboard off a nearby table, frowned. “Prim is on the list to supervise the refreshment table.”
“Okay.” Prim glanced around.
“You’ll be way over there.” Ami pointed to a freestanding oasis a good distance from the food tables. About as far from Max and his sausage duty as she could get. “You job is to make sure we don’t run out of coffee and juice.”
Prim glanced at Max, lifted her shoulders, and let them fall. “Sure.”
Steve arrived with the twins to grab Prim for a few minutes before the pancake feed commenced. Max watched the end of the parade with the Chapin family.
Brynn, David’s daughter, was a pretty little girl with blond hair and big blue eyes. She wore a short, pink ballerina skirt and a T-shirt displaying the face of a princess holding a glittery wand.
“Brynn is looking forward to starting T-ball.” David smiled down at his daughter, then back up at Max. “It was nice of you to step up and agree to coach.”
Max smiled at the child in the frilly skirt eating a wad of rainbow cotton candy.
“Katie Ruth called me three times to ask if I’d volunteer. The last time she said she was desperate.” Max cocked his head. “I’m surprised you didn’t do it. You have a child on the team and you’re more than qualified. If I recall correctly, you played varsity ball in college.”
David glanced at his daughter, who’d stuffed the last of the cotton candy in her mouth, obviously anticipating the candy-tossing clowns who were now less than a block away.
“I considered it, but practice is during a time when I’m usually on a conference call.” David, a successful architect and partner in a Chicago firm, worked primarily out of his home.
“Let Whitney know I can take Brynn to practice when she’s out of town,” Clay told his brother.
“I’m not counting on Whitney. These days she’s gone more than she’s home.” Irritation mixed with frustration in David’s tone. As if he’d said more than he’d intended, he clamped his mouth shut. “I appreciate the offer, Clay. But I’ve already arranged for Camille to take and pick up.”