Home at Rose Cottage

by Sherryl Woods

  Rick was startled that Maggie had picked up on the Kellers’ personal history, rather than the orchard setting. Usually she was totally focused on work. He had to readjust, then give her question some thought. To be truthful, he had never imagined being married at all. He’d always assumed he’d be lousy at staying put, much less staying committed to one woman. Over the last couple of weeks, he’d begun to wonder about that.

  “Honestly, I never gave marriage or its duration much thought,” he replied.

  “Why?”

  “I never pictured myself married,” he admitted.

  She regarded him with more curiosity than disappointment. “Really? Too many temptations?”

  “Something like that,” he said evasively.

  Rather than daunting her, his reply apparently sparked even more curiosity. She studied him intently. “What about your own parents? Didn’t they set a good example for you?”

  Rick didn’t talk about his family. In fact, in relationships as fleeting as most of his had been, he’d never talked much about anything important. The shallow women with whom he’d been involved were more than content to discuss the celebrity world in which he traveled.

  “Tell me about your parents,” he suggested, hoping to buy himself some time.

  He glanced over and saw at once that Maggie wasn’t fooled a bit by the tactic, but she answered anyway.

  “I think my folks will eventually be just like the Kellers, still madly in love when they’re eighty,” she said. “Back at the beginning, though, I suspect most people thought they’d never last a year. My mom’s the epitome of the Southern steel magnolia. She has a sweet demeanor and a backbone that doesn’t bend. My dad’s this boisterous Italian guy from Boston. They’re both so strong willed, you’d think they’d clash over everything.”

  She grinned. “And sometimes they do. My father shouts. My mother replies in icy tones.”

  “Who usually wins?” Rick asked.

  “Eventually they compromise. And when it comes to anything that really matters, they may fight about it in private, but publicly they present a united front.”

  “And they taught you and your sisters to do the same thing, didn’t they?” Rick asked, trying to imagine what it would have been like to have family that stuck together through thick and thin. His hadn’t stuck together at all. He and his mom had occupied the same space, but they’d hardly been united.

  “Absolutely,” Maggie said. “Melanie, Ashley, Jo and I have very different personalities, but give us a common enemy and we band together.” She gave him a sideways glance. “I gather your family wasn’t like that.”

  “What makes you say that?” Rick asked testily, irritated that she’d apparently seen right through him.

  “Because you avoided my question so neatly. People who come from happy homes tend to brag about them.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Tell me about your dad.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” he said tersely.

  Maggie clearly didn’t buy it. “There’s always something to tell,” she chided.

  Rick frowned at her. “Okay, fine. He left when I was very young. End of story, at least as I know it. I never saw him again.”

  Maggie regarded him with a shocked expression. “Oh, Rick, I’m so sorry. You must have missed him.”

  “You can’t miss what you never really had.” He risked a glance and spotted the sympathy welling up in her eyes. It made him want to curse. This was exactly why he never talked about his past. He didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him. His life had been what it was. He’d survived it. He was probably stronger because of it. That was all that really mattered.

  “And your mother?” Maggie asked more gently.

  “Got lost in a bottle,” Rick said succinctly.

  “Which is why you barely drink at all,” Maggie guessed.

  “I suppose. I know alcoholism is a disease, but I don’t know if it’s inherited. I always figured why take chances,” he said. “Now let’s talk about something else. Did you look around at all while we were at the Kellers’? Any idea what pictures you want? I have some thoughts, but I’d like to hear yours first.”

  Maggie looked as if she might insist on poking and prodding into his personal life some more, but instead she merely sighed. “No. You’re the one with the eye for this sort of thing. Tell me your thoughts.”

  Rick seized the chance to move on to neutral turf. “The orchard would be fantastic, if that’s the way you want to go. The trees are loaded with apples, and the light filtering through the leaves on a sunny day will be amazing.”

  “But?” Maggie prodded.

  He wasn’t surprised she’d recognized his unspoken message. “But I think you should use shots taken in the kitchen.”

  She gave him a startled look. “Why?”

  He tried to put his gut instinct into words that wouldn’t sound absurd. “A couple of reasons, actually. People are always more interesting than scenery. And because Mrs. Keller’s hands tell a story,” he said, hoping Maggie would understand. One glance at her, though, and it was obvious that she didn’t.

  “They do?” she said, evidently bewildered. “In what way?”

  Rick bit back a sigh. Maybe it was something only a photographer would notice. “They’re weathered and gnarled,” he explained. “Those hands have lived, yet I imagine when she works the dough for her piecrusts, they have the gentle touch of a mother. I think the whole spread ought to be shot indoors. The house is a wonderful, turn-of-the-century farmhouse and the setting is tranquil, but the kitchen’s what it’s all about. It’s not some sterile test kitchen. It’s homey and filled with light. One look at that kitchen and you can practically smell the aroma of the pies as they come out of the oven. And once readers get a look at Sally Keller, they’ll want to know her. You’ll have a feature that’s about more than food.”

  When he finally wound down, he caught Maggie’s amused expression. “What?” he demanded.

  “I never thought I’d hear you going on and on so eloquently about a kitchen,” she teased. “Or about a woman who’s not in a fashion spread.”

  He grinned. “Hey, the bedroom’s not the only important room in a house. I get that.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “Well? What do you think? You’re the client.”

  “I think you’re remarkable,” she said softly, her eyes shining with excitement.

  Rick’s gaze shifted from the road to her and back again. “There’s nothing remarkable about me, aside from an eye for a pretty picture.”

  “Don’t do what you’re always accusing me of doing,” she scolded. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

  Uncomfortable with the topic yet again, Rick was relieved to see Melanie pulling into the driveway at Rose Cottage just ahead of them. “Uh-oh,” he said. “Company.”

  Maggie took one look at her sister and groaned. “You know this isn’t good, don’t you?”

  Rick laughed. “It may not be good for you, but it’s great for me. I can drop you off and hightail it out of here before the awkward questions start rolling off the tip of your sister’s tongue.”

  “Coward,” Maggie accused.

  “Damn straight. Besides, I had to answer quite a few of her questions first thing this morning.”

  She regarded him with surprise. “You did? Why?”

  “She interrupted my conversation with Mike to see what she could find out about how we’re getting along.”

  “Oh, no,” Maggie said with a groan. “I am so sorry.”

  “That’s okay. It could be worse.”

  “How?”

  “It could have been Ashley,” he reminded her. “She’s the one with courtroom cross-examination experience, and something tells me she’d come after me like I’m a hostile witness.”

  “More than likely,” Maggie agreed. She gave him a wistful look. “You’re really going to run off and leave me here to face this alone?”

  “Yep, and I’m doing it witho
ut so much as a twinge of guilt,” he said. “I have things to do.”

  “Such as?”

  “I need to get on the computer and order film. I have enough to get started, but I’ll need more. And I need to call my agent and tell him to agree to whatever terms you offer when you call him.”

  “Wow! Whatever terms I offer?” she asked, clearly delighted.

  “Don’t get carried away. I never work for peanuts.”

  “How about apple pie? Will you work for all the apple pie you can eat?”

  “You’ll have to do better than that. Mrs. Keller likes me,” he said confidently. “She’ll give me as much pie as I want. And there’s always that café in Callao. Willa-Dean saves pie for me.”

  Maggie frowned at him. “Not every woman in the world falls for your charm, Flannery.”

  “Maybe not,” he agreed. “But Mrs. Keller and Willa-Dean did.” He winked at her. “And so did you. What more do I need?”

  Maggie shot him a disgusted look as she climbed out of the car. “Fine. Run away. Will you be back later?”

  “Call me when your sister’s gone.”

  Melanie strolled over just in time to hear his comment. “Don’t tell me you’re taking off?”

  “You bet I am.”

  “But I have so many questions for you,” Melanie said.

  “Exactly,” he retorted. “Like I told you this morning, ask your sister. I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “Then there has been kissing?” Melanie asked, her expression triumphant. She linked an arm through Maggie’s. “We definitely have a lot to talk about.”

  Rick chuckled at the scowl Maggie shot in his direction. Better her than him, he thought as he headed for the safety of his room at the bed-and-breakfast. He’d already answered way too many tough questions for one morning.

  “My, my, looks to me like things are heating up between you and the hunky photographer,” Melanie commented as she made herself a cup of tea, then sat at the kitchen table, clearly prepared for a long visit.

  “Make yourself at home, why don’t you?” Maggie grumbled, wondering why anyone had ever thought Rose Cottage was serene. Her life had been in upheaval ever since she got here.

  “This was my home, at least for a while,” Melanie replied, obviously undaunted by Maggie’s sour mood. “And technically, I suppose it’s Mom’s, now that Grandmother’s gone.”

  “Whatever.”

  Melanie gave her a knowing look. “Is Rose Cottage working its magic on you, too? Is love in the air?”

  “You are so annoying,” Maggie retorted, sidestepping the question. “What on earth does Mike see in you?”

  “I don’t annoy him,” Melanie replied easily. “I save my best pestering for my sisters.”

  “How unfortunate for me.”

  “Don’t complain. You were right in the thick of all the pestering that went on here when I was first seeing Mike. It’s my turn now. Come on, Margaret, talk. If you don’t spill all your secrets to me, I can have Ashley and Jo here this weekend.”

  Heaven forbid! Maggie thought. She frowned at her sister. “What do you want to know?” she asked cautiously. She wasn’t about to divulge more than she absolutely had to.

  “I want to know what’s going on with you and Rick, of course. In detail. For a man you claim to have run away to avoid, he seems to be around a lot.”

  “Typical man. He doesn’t know when he’s not welcome,” Maggie claimed.

  “Or he’s determined to change your mind,” Melanie suggested. “Is that it? Is he wooing you?”

  “Wooing me?” Maggie echoed incredulously. “Where do you get this stuff?”

  “We were raised by a Southern belle. In Mama’s world, men wooed women.”

  Maggie laughed. “Yes, I suppose they did. Can you imagine Dad doing all that wooing?”

  “Actually, I can,” Melanie said, her expression thoughtful. “Have you ever heard how passionate he gets over the freshness of the ingredients for one of his famous Italian dinners?”

  “And you think that translates to other passions?”

  “Of course.”

  Maggie thought of Rick’s passion for photography, of his growing passion for the Northern Neck of Virginia. She supposed there were some parallels to his passion for her.

  Melanie eyed her curiously. “Is Rick as passionate for you as he is for the perfect shot of some model in a bikini?”

  Maggie blushed even as she gave a shrug. “Maybe.”

  Her sister’s gaze narrowed. “Why don’t you look happier about that?”

  “It’s not the passion that worries me,” she told Melanie. “It’s all the rest. What if there isn’t anything more?”

  “Have you ever spent one dull moment with him?”

  “No,” Maggie admitted.

  “Then I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about.”

  “But we haven’t known each other that long. We could still run out of shared interests.”

  “You don’t have to marry the man right this second,” Melanie reminded her.

  “I know that,” Maggie snapped. Marriage wasn’t the issue. The problem was that she was likely to fall in love with him way before she knew if they had anything besides sex in common. “How did you know Mike was really the one? You didn’t know each other that long before you got married.”

  Melanie’s expression turned nostalgic. “I was looking out this very kitchen window one day and I just knew. He’d taken every miserable thing I’d dished out and he’d kept coming back. He couldn’t say the words, but he showed me every day that he was steadfast and that he loved me.”

  Maggie snapped her fingers. “Just like that?” she asked skeptically.

  “Pretty much. It was as if everything suddenly fell into place. Stop worrying, Maggie. You’ll know it, too. It’ll be one of those lightning bolts Mama used to tell us about.”

  “Really? Then explain all the other times I thought I was in love. Those turned out to be disasters.”

  Melanie gave her a sympathetic look. “I had one of those, too, if you’ll recall. Believe me, in the end there was no comparison. Trust me, Maggie. When it happens, you’ll recognize the difference.”

  “I hope so.” Maggie gave her sister a wistful look. “I want Rick to be the one.”

  “Maybe he is.”

  Maggie forced herself to ask the question that had been tormenting her from the beginning. “What if I think he is, but he doesn’t get it?”

  “Then you’ll survive,” Melanie said confidently. “But I don’t think it’s something you need to worry about. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, remember?”

  “Sally Keller said he gets a twinkle in his eye when he sees me.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Melanie agreed. “And then some.”

  If both her sister and a woman as wise as Mrs. Keller could see it, maybe one of these days Maggie would be able to believe in it, too.

  “Is it safe?” Rick asked, doing an overly dramatic survey of the kitchen before setting foot inside.

  “That depends,” Maggie said. “Are you more scared of my sister or of me?”

  He crossed the kitchen and dropped a kiss on her delectable mouth. “You don’t scare me,” he said.

  “Really? What if I said I thought we ought to run off and get married?”

  His heart plummeted till he got a good look at the spark of amusement in her eyes. “I’d say you’d lost your mind and work on getting your sisters to commit you.”

  She poked him hard in the ribs with her elbow. “Nice.”

  “Hey, it’s not something you joke around about,” he retorted. “Marriage is serious stuff.”

  “And you don’t do serious, do you, Rick?”

  Something in her tone suggested that the joking was over. “No,” he said quietly. “Not that kind of serious, anyway.”

  “Because of your folks,” she suggested.

  “No, because of me. I have a short attention span. You’ve seen the tabloids.”


  “I’m beginning to think they’ve gotten it all wrong,” she told him.

  “Wishful thinking,” he said dismissively.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What brought this on, Maggie? What ideas was Melanie putting in your head this afternoon?”

  “Don’t panic. She didn’t leave a list of places where we could go for a marriage license.”

  “Thank goodness for that.” He tucked a hand under her chin and searched her face. She looked serene, which was a relief. He’d hate to think her sister had gotten her all stirred up about the future, when he was trying desperately to take one day at a time, waiting every second for the usual panic to set in. That it hadn’t so far was something of a miracle, but he knew from experience that could change in a heartbeat.

  “I talked to your agent,” Maggie said, slipping away from him and giving him some much-needed space. “He thinks you’re crazy as a loon for agreeing to do this shoot, especially after you turned down Greece.”

  Rick grinned. “Obviously he’s not aware of all the perks.”

  “Well, I didn’t tell him about those, that’s for sure,” she said. “He might get some crazy idea to work them into all your contracts.”

  Rick laughed. “I doubt that will ever be an issue, darlin’. Frank is always lecturing me about taking my work home with me, so to speak. The tabloid stories make him cringe.”

  “Good for Frank,” she said enthusiastically. “At any rate, everything’s cleared. When do you want to get started?”

  “I called the Kellers this afternoon. They’re expecting us back in the morning. It’s baking day.”

  “Which means?” Maggie asked.

  “That Sally gets an early start. She wants us there by seven.”

  “Seven o’clock? In the morning?” Maggie repeated. “That’s not vacation. That’s torture.”

  Rick grinned. “We’re not on vacation anymore, sweetheart. This is work, remember?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Actually it’s all getting a little muddy,” she told him.

  Rick agreed. The lines between work and play had never been blurred before he got mixed up with Maggie. All the playing he’d done in the past had been after hours, and he’d managed to keep it cleanly compartmentalized, despite what his agent and the tabloids thought.