by Nina Crespo
She went to the kitchen and took out the large dish of homemade mac and cheese that Philippa had brought over. Comfort food. That’s what she needed. Rina heated it in the microwave above the stove, and when it was hot enough, she set it on the counter nearby and dug in. In between spoonfuls, her gaze wandered to Wendy’s promised boxes of maple syrup farther down on the counter stacked against the wall.
Enjoying them herself was out of the question. She’d never be able to eat waffles and bacon again without thinking of Scott. With the wedding stickers stuck to them, she couldn’t give them away to customers. If there was a way to take the stickers off without damaging the product label, she didn’t have the creative energy to figure it out. She barely had enough to prepare for the Gwen’s Garden tasting in a week. Would Philippa be willing to take the bottles?
Rina opened one of the boxes and took out a small jug-shaped bottle with a tag hanging from the top with the name and logo of the company who sold it. Tags weren’t on the ones at the reception. She read the back of it.
For recipes visit...
Well, it wasn’t like she had anything better to do. She grabbed her iPad from the coffee table in the living room and pulled up the website. A few minutes later, she was searching through her kitchen for ingredients. Soon she was lost in the familiarity of measuring, of feeling the mix of flour, butter, water and salt form in her hands as she shaped pie crusts. One swipe of her finger over the screen of her tablet opened other recipes that she’d collected over the past weeks. A burst of creativity hit, and the empty spaces in her mind and heart that Scott had vacated started to fill with a sense of completion.
Hours later at six in the morning, Rina took in her creations on the counter. Maple nut tarts with maple syrup, a touch of rum and just a dash of lemon juice to balance out the sweetness of the filling. A very berry pie with four kinds of organic berries. A salted caramel, peanut butter fudge pie just because. Who didn’t like chocolate? And she’d finally nailed the pear bars. A fifth offering, apple crumble, was in the oven.
She picked up a pear bar and took a bite. Pecans. They added a light nutty flavor to the crust that complemented the fruit. Would Scott approve? Memories flowed in of him tasting her earlier efforts of the dessert at the cafe that night weeks ago. If she would have just said no to him fixing the sink, she wouldn’t have ended up heartbroken. But if she had, she might not have created these desserts. The story of her life—good coming from the challenges.
Her phone rang on the counter. It was Zurie. She answered. “Hello.”
“Hi. Do you have a minute to talk?”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“Actually I was hoping we could do it in person. I’m in the neighborhood.”
Zurie just in the neighborhood at this time of the morning? “Come on up.”
Was this visit part of the tag-team effort, Zurie, Philippa, Tristan and Chloe were doing to check on her since Scott left? So far Tristan and Chloe had stopped by for a late dinner at the cafe and insisted she join them. Philippa had come by with food. Zurie had done her usual. Yesterday, one of the maintenance guys from the guesthouse had shown up at the cafe with instructions from Zurie that he wasn’t to return until he’d completed any repairs Rina had needed done. Taking over. It was just Zurie’s way.
Footsteps coming up the stairs echoed from outside.
Rina opened the door.
Zurie, cute and casual in a blue shirt, black runner’s leggings and gray tennis shoes, stepped onto the landing. “Hey.” She went to hug Rina but stopped it midmotion.
Rina followed her gaze down to her purple apron. It was splattered with flour and caramel. And the shoulder of her sleep shirt was spattered with what looked to be berry stains. “Come in.”
“You’ve been busy.” Zurie sniffed the air. “It smells like cinnamon. What are you making?”
Rina closed the door. “I’m finalizing my recipes for my tasting with Gwen’s Garden. You’re just in time to try everything, if you don’t mind dessert for breakfast.”
“If they taste half as good as they smell, I’m in.” Zurie followed her into the kitchen and kept walking to put her black portfolio clutch on the table in the dining room. When she returned she picked up one of the empty maple syrup jugs on the counter. “Who are Patrick and Theresa?”
Swallowing against the sudden lump in her throat, Rina took two apple crumbles out of the oven and set them on a wire rack on the counter. “Scott’s dad and new stepmom.”
“Are you okay?” Zurie laid a hand on Rina’s shoulder. The sympathetic look on her face threatened to let loose the tears Rina had finally gotten under control after a late night of baking.
“I’m fine.” Rina pointed to the desserts she’d just removed from the oven. “I think these taste much better hot.” She turned her attention to finding plates in the upper cabinet. “Can you grab a couple of spoons?”
Zurie opened the silverware drawer. “They look great. Why did you make two? Are they different?”
“Yes. The one on the left is the recipe for Gwen’s Garden. The other has a little something extra in it.”
Zurie laughed. “Let me guess. Alcohol.”
“Just a little.” Rina spooned up the special caramel apple crumble into the bowls and topped it with fresh whipped cream.
Zurie picked up a bowl and dug in, scooping up a healthy amount of cream along with the dessert. She moaned and ate another spoonful. “What’s in this?”
“I mixed quinces with the apples. Quinces are kind of like pears. But I also added a touch of apple pie moonshine. It’s pretty great, right?”
“It’s fantastic.” Zurie’s excited expression faded. “You can’t give this to Gwen’s Garden.”
“I’m not giving them the one we’re eating. I’m keeping the apple crumble moonshine recipe for me.”
“You should be keeping all of this.” Zurie gestured to the rest of the desserts. “You need to reconsider this deal with Gwen’s Garden. Actually, I want you to just call it off.”
Call it off because that’s what Zurie wanted? When did Zurie start thinking she had that much of a say in running the cafe? Was it because of the loan? Irritation spiked in Rina. “What I want is to pay off what I owe Tillbridge, and for that to happen, I need the Gwen’s Garden contract.”
“No you don’t. The money you want to repay Tillbridge for the loan is what I’m here to talk about. I want to renegotiate our dessert contract with you for Pasture Lane. We should have been paying you more and we will. The change will be retroactive to the beginning of the year. We’ll deduct that from what you owe us. And you can erase the rest completely by selling Tillbridge the equivalent in shares in Brewed Haven. I brought the papers with me.” Zurie hurried to the living room.
She’s expecting me to hand over shares of my business and take a handout even though I told her I didn’t want one?
Zurie came back with the clutch portfolio. She slipped out two sets of documents and set them on the counter with a pen. “I had the attorneys draw it up both ways—with the selling of the shares or without. All you have to do is choose which one you want, sign off on it, and it’s done.”
“No.”
“No to which one?”
“Both. You may not have faith in me winning the contract but I will.”
“That’s not it. It’s the opposite. I’m sure you’ll win the contract, but it’s not the best decision. I just don’t want to see you make another mistake.”
From the looks of this place you, not Zurie, have been making the right decisions. Acknowledge that, stop second-guessing yourself.
Scott’s words to her that day in the booth at the cafe grabbed hold. “For the past five years, I’ve grown from my decisions and learned from my mistakes, and I’m proud of that.”
Zurie shook her head as she slid the papers into the portfolio and closed it with a snap. “
I should have realized this wasn’t a good time for you to discuss business. We’ll talk when you’re seeing things more clearly.”
Rina’s irritation rose. “I am seeing this clearly. Working with Gwen’s Garden is strictly my decision, but as usual you’re butting in where you shouldn’t.”
“Butting in?” Zurie’s brow rose. “I’m trying to help.”
“If you want to help, realize I’m the one who worked their butt off to build Brewed Haven. Not you. And if I want your help, including you sending over a maintenance worker to do repairs in my cafe, I’ll ask for it.”
Hurt momentarily flashed in Zurie’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with obstinacy. “I need to get back to Tillbridge.” Before she left the kitchen, she looked back at Rina. “You’re right. Signing the contract with Gwen’s Garden is your decision. I just hope you don’t look back someday and regret what you gave away.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rina sat alone at the four-top corner table where she’d held the tasting for Gwen’s Garden the day before. She hadn’t been able to sleep and rather than keep tossing and turning, she’d gotten dressed and come downstairs hours before dawn and when her staff would arrive.
Rina picked up the pen next to the contract in front of her. She’d received the emailed document shortly after the tasting but after printing the multipage contract, it had remained unsigned on her desk.
As she flipped through the pages, scenes from the day before of Linda taking those first bites of apple crumble and smiling, of Max’s expression changing from skeptical to pure bliss after he tried the peach pear bars, played in her mind. In that moment, she should have been thrilled, but she hadn’t been.
Zurie’s parting shot a week ago as she’d walked out the door about hoping she didn’t regret her decision may have played into it. But why would Zurie throwing shade on her choices bother her so much now?
The same longing to talk to Scott that had plagued her since the tasting reared up. She could call Philippa or maybe Tristan, but it wouldn’t be the same. Scott had a way of listening and prompting her to see what she’d missed or maybe needed to consider. But what else did she need to see with Gwen’s Garden? It was straightforward. Paying off what she owed Tillbridge and continuing to stand on her own. That’s what she wanted, and this contract was the fastest way for her to get there. She picked up the pen.
Voices from the kitchen filtered into the dining area. The 5:30 a.m. breakfast shift staff was coming in the back door. Morning sun was just starting to lighten the dark sky to gray.
A moment later Darby and one of the servers came into the dining area.
Darby spotted Rina in the corner. She exuded natural energy as she strode over. “Good morning. We were all wondering where you were when we didn’t see you in the office.”
“I thought I’d try the view from in here for a change.” Rina set the pen down and picked up her mug of coffee.
“How is it?”
“The coffee’s fine.”
Darby glanced around and laughed. “No. The view. Anything need to be changed, spruced up or fixed?”
Just like the contract in front of her, Rina couldn’t spot any problem areas. “Not at the moment.”
“Let me know if that changes. I’m going to the florist to pick up today’s flowers.”
“Thanks.” Rina glanced over the papers one more time then took hold of her pen. Just as she started to write the first letter of her name, she noticed someone in the periphery of her vision walking toward her.
“Hello, Rina.”
“Hi.” She glanced up briefly at the slim silver-haired man and did a double take. Shock stalled her response. “Oh my gosh. Dennis! I didn’t recognize you.”
Gone was the buzz cut he’d worn for years. Not only was his hair swept back and hanging past his ears, but he also had a neatly groomed mustache and a beard covering his slightly pink cheeks. Used to seeing him in work coveralls, he almost seemed dressed up in a red pullover and faded jeans, but he still had on his worn black work boots.
He smiled. “I know you’re probably busy with paperwork or something, but I’d like to talk to you if I could.”
“Of course.” She set the pen and the contract aside. “Have a seat. When did you get back in town?”
He sat down. “Late last night.”
And he’d come straight to Brewed Haven this morning? He probably wanted his old job back. And she needed him. It was funny how things worked sometimes.
She picked up her empty mug. “I could use a refill. Would you like some coffee?”
“Coffee would be nice”
“And what about a slice of blueberry pie? I have some fresh ones in the refrigerator.” When he was at the cafe, he’d eat dessert morning, noon or night.
“Thank you, but I’ll skip the pie.”
Dennis never said no to her blueberry pie. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
As she filled her mug and one for him from the coffee urn in the servers’ corridor, concern sprouted. He did look thinner than when he left weeks ago. Was he sick?
Darby hurried over to her smiling. “Dennis is here? Is he coming back?”
“He said he wants to talk so we’ll see.”
“I think that’s a good sign. I’ll grab him a slice of blueberry pie. Do you want one, too?”
“No on the pie.” Rina put the mugs on a small serving tray with two spoons. “Dennis said he didn’t want any.”
“What?” Darby’s brows rose then fell with a worried frown. “You don’t think he’s sick, do you? He looks awfully thin.”
Rina almost voiced her agreement but held back. If she agreed, that would open the door for rumors to start circulating. Once that happened, almost the entire staff would be hovering around trying to find out Dennis’s prognosis.
Rina picked up the tray. “He actually looks more fit to me.”
Back at the table, she gave him his coffee. A thought popped in. “I forgot your fresh cream.”
Dennis blew over the hot liquid in his cup before taking a sip. “Don’t need it. This is fine.”
Now he really was starting to worry her. Dennis never drank his coffee without lots of cream. “Are you sure? I don’t mind getting it.”
He waved away the offer. “While I was away, I got used to drinking it black.”
“Alright then.” Growing curiosity dropped down with her as she sat in the chair across from him. He was full of surprises. She couldn’t imagine what was next. “It’s good to see you.” Rina took two sugar packets from the caddy on the table. “Are you happy to be home?”
“In some ways, yes, but it’s actually kind of strange. I’ve been spending most of my time in a tractor trailer hauling cargo.”
Rina paused in stirring sugar into her coffee. “You’ve been hauling cargo in Alaska? You mean like that television show where truckers are driving over frozen roads and lakes?”
“Yes, kind of.” He chuckled. “I just finished training on how to handle a big rig. I’m not driving solo yet, but I’ll get there.”
The meaning of what he was saying sank in along with disappointment. “So you’re not coming back to Bolan?”
“No. I may get a place in Oregon or Washington and work in Alaska part-time. I don’t know yet. I came back to make arrangements to sell my house here...and to talk to you.”
“To me? Why?”
He rested his forearms on the table and linked his fingers. “I wanted to apologize for leaving so abruptly. I should have given you longer than a one-week notice. I’m sure it put you in a bind.”
“I have to be honest, I still don’t understand what happened. What caused you to leave?”
“Truthfully?” He met her gaze. “Your blueberry pie.”
“My blueberry pie? Was it that bad?”
“No. The opposite. It was that good.”
He held up a hand in defense. “Not that it wasn’t great before that, but yours had always been a little different from my wife Nancy’s. But that week before I handed in my notice, you’d managed to make one that tasted exactly like hers all the way down to the crust. It was wonderful.” His gaze dropped to the table where he toyed with an empty sugar packet. A small sad smile came over his face.
Rina didn’t know if she should apologize for making him sad or take it as a compliment that he’d enjoyed the pie. “And that caused you to leave?”
“In a way.” He looked back up but instead of sorrow a light was in his eyes. “That pie, reminded me of something that Nancy used to say—perfection isn’t always perfect.”
During the long pause, a faraway expression came over his face as his gaze traveled around the cafe. “The years Nancy was running the bakery here and I was her handyman were like perfection to me. Working here and eating pies like she used to make was my way of trying to hold on to her. The pie I ate that day made me see that I was settling for what was familiar and safe. I didn’t want to look back someday and have regrets. I had to move on.”
As they finished their coffee, Dennis showed her the pictures of Alaska he’d taken on his phone. He looked happy.
Dennis stood. “I should go before the customers start coming in.”
Rina rose from the chair. “I’m sure there are people who would love to see you. Are you sure you can’t stay a while longer and say hello?”
“No. I’ve got to meet with the Realtor.”
They walked to the front door. This was really it. As much as she hated to lose Dennis for good, she was glad for him. “Oh, your toolbox. It’s in my office. Do you want it?”
He waved away the offer. “Let someone else get some use out of my old tools. I already bought new ones.”