by Olivia Miles
“Jane told me about Rosemary.” Grace grinned and Anna felt her shoulders relax now that they had finally dropped the topic of Mark. The mere mention of him always made her tense. “Are you really going to let her set you up?”
Anna gave a helpless shrug. “I just said it so she would help Jane. Besides, with everything, I can hardly think about dating at a time like this. Surely even Rosemary will understand that.”
“Understand what?”
Anna looked up to see Rosemary standing in the arched doorway that separated the bookstore from the café, her hair pulled tight and a long, flowing pink silk scarf wrapped loosely around her neck.
“We’re not open until ten, Mrs. Hastings,” Anna said, darting her gaze to Grace for assistance.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. I changed the hours to help drive traffic. Just until Fireside is back up and running.” Grace smiled warmly at Rosemary, but Anna felt her stiffen slightly. Rosemary had always terrified Grace, especially since she returned to Briar Creek a few months ago after running off to New York to pursue her writing career. Grace was convinced that Rosemary was still harboring a grudge over her breakup with Luke more than five years ago, even though it was obvious Rosemary was thrilled about their reunion.
Still, Rosemary was an intimidating force, Anna considered, feeling that familiar sense of dread creep into her gut, and something told her that she wasn’t going to let this little matchmaking scheme drop.
The door jingled once more, and Jane stepped into the shop, rosy-cheeked and clutching her dance bag. “Everyone’s here!” She smiled and helped herself to a mug of fresh coffee. “How did it go with Mark this morning?”
Anna set her jaw as she folded the paper shopping bag and set it in the recycling bin. “I didn’t see him.”
“I just got off the phone with Sharon, and she told me you and Mark haven’t crossed paths at all this week.” Rosemary pinched her lips. “She says you’ve been working in your apartment kitchen, baking in the dead of night!”
Jane’s brow furrowed as she scanned Anna’s face. “Is this true? Oh, you do look pale, Anna.”
Rosemary gave her a disapproving frown and, sighing, turned her attention to Jane. “My dear, I have some wonderful news,” she announced as she slid into a slat-back chair near the window and crossed one long leg over the other. “I’ve set up a date for you this Saturday night.”
“What? So soon?” Jane croaked.
“That was fast!” Grace couldn’t disguise her grin, and her eyes danced as she slid them to Anna.
Anna noticed the way the color had drained from Jane’s face. Who could blame her? She’d married her high school sweetheart. Adam was the only man she’d ever dated. “Maybe Grace could give you some dating tips since you don’t have much experience,” Anna said.
Jane’s cheeks turned red. “I probably have more than you!”
“Oh, you leave that to me,” Rosemary said mildly. “You both will have plenty of experience by the time I’m done with you.”
Exasperated, Anna started slicing a banana chocolate chip bread she’d made somewhere around three that morning. Though she’d prepped the same number of muffins, scones, chocolate croissants, tea breads, and coffee cakes as she did every day, it wouldn’t make up for the loss of revenue from Fireside. Even if people stopped in for a light dinner of a mozzarella, tomato, and basil on ciabatta with a side of mixed greens and toasted lentils, it wouldn’t help. The Annex wasn’t expected to turn a profit for at least six months, if not a year—not with what they’d sunk into it. Until then, they’d relied on the sure thing. And now, that sure thing was gone. Roped off with yellow police tape. It didn’t even have a door anymore.
She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her head was beginning to pound.
Beside her, Jane had recovered. “I’ll go on the date.” She did a poor job of masking her smile, but Anna detected a lingering undercurrent of terror in her large hazel eyes.
“Good. Then it’s settled.” Rosemary gave a satisfied smile. “Meet him at eight sharp at Piccolino’s,” she added, referring to the only full-service restaurant in Briar Creek, even if Anna did think her food was better.
“Piccolino’s…” Jane gulped.
“A word to the wise, Jane,” Rosemary continued. “Order one glass of white wine and nurse it—nothing says ‘kiss me!’ like red-stained teeth! And whatever you do, be sure to show off those long dancer’s legs, you know, with a miniskirt or something. It’s easy to fall into the yoga pants trap when you’re married, but this, my dear, is a date, so just make sure you shine!”
Jane’s smile withered, and Anna cast her eyes to the ceiling. It was really time to get on with the day.
An idea had come to her after she’d left Sharon’s and she was eager to discuss it. “Grace, we don’t have a liquor license, so we can’t serve, but what are your thoughts on having a bring-your-own-wine night? We could stay open longer, serve a cheese and chocolate flight, and maybe feature a few related books. It might help generate interest.”
Grace beamed. “I love it! I’ll put together a sign right now.”
Anna let out a pent-up breath. She could do this. She’d built a restaurant once before and she could do it again. It was like riding a bike; she just needed a little practice remembering how to get things off the ground.
It had been harder the first time around. Daunting, really. It amazed her she’d only been twenty-two then, brazen and determined, refusing to give in to self-doubt or fear. Mark had stripped away the plans they’d so carefully detailed over the span of two years, leaving her to scramble, pick up the pieces, and assemble them as best she could, all on her own. It was better that way, she’d told herself. No one could take her dream from her again.
Yet somehow, it had still gone up in smoke. Literally.
Shaking the dark thoughts from her head, Anna began gathering her handbag to leave, but Rosemary stopped her. “Now don’t run off just yet, Anna. I have something to discuss with you.”
Anna paused, cursing to herself. She had hoped Jane’s blind date would deflect Rosemary’s interest in her own personal life, but the gleam in the woman’s eye said otherwise.
“Have you heard of the Sugar Maple Culinary Competition?”
Anna felt the tightness in her expression fade. Cooking contests always interested her—she’d entered one back in school, and had come in second to Mark even though he was a year ahead of her. They were two rising stars; they had places to go. They had imagined Zagat ratings and Michelin stars.
They had imagined a lot of things.
Sensing she now had her attention, Rosemary arched a perfectly plucked brow. She reached into her bag and took out a magazine, open to a marked page, and pressed it flat on the old farm table in front of her. She tapped it proudly with her finger and said, “Have a look for yourself!”
With more hope than she knew she should permit, Anna leaned forward and skimmed the article, and then, feeling her pulse quicken, started over again from the beginning.
“But… the contest is in three weeks!”
“So?” Rosemary just stared at her.
“So, my life is crazy right now. I have to deal with the insurance, the contractors, not to mention this place.” She swept her arm around the bookstore. “How can I enter this contest? I don’t even have a real kitchen!”
“Mark does,” Rosemary pointed out.
Aha. Anna let out of a soft chuckle. “Oh, no. No. No way.” Noticing the lift of Rosemary’s brow, she added, “It wouldn’t be fair to take advantage. He’s letting me use his kitchen so I can keep the Annex afloat. Not so I can enter some contest.”
“First place gets one hundred thousand dollars,” Rosemary crooned, and Anna snapped her mouth closed. Rosemary held her gaze, not even blinking, but the merriment that passed through her blue eyes revealed far more than her impassive expression.
Anna swallowed. “One hundred thousand dollars?”
“That’s right.” Rosemary shifted so sh
e could read the article. “It says right here that entrants must be certified chefs, which you are. Judges will score on three categories: taste, originality, and presentation. Three courses must be presented in the form of an appetizer, entrée, and dessert; each recipe must include Vermont’s very own Sugar Maple brand maple syrup, and the winning recipes will be included on the company’s packaging for a year. The competition will take place in the grand ballroom at the Cedar Valley Mountain Resort,” Rosemary added pointedly. “Such a luxurious location.”
That it was, and one hundred thousand dollars would pay for the loan, and leave a little extra, too. She might even be able to expand… Secretly she’d always dreamed of having both a café section and a fine dining section at Fireside. Anna’s mind began to whir with possibilities until she shook herself free.
“What’s the catch?”
“No catch.” Rosemary twitched, giving herself away.
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Oh, come on… for that kind of money? There has to be a catch.”
“No catch.” Rosemary said simply. “The best team wins.”
“Team.” Of course. Anna folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against a table, giving Rosemary a level stare. “And who would I team up with?”
“Well, Mark, of course.”
“Of course.” Anna shook her head and stood. “Thanks for the suggestion, Rosemary, but I’m not interested.”
“Why not?” It was Grace who cried out from behind the bakery counter. “That’s a lot of money, Anna!”
Fifty thousand dollars would still cover most of that loan, at least until she was back on her feet… Wait. Was she actually considering this?
“I probably won’t win!” Anna tossed her arms up, feeling frustration mount. “I have to worry about Fireside, and this place, and do the cooking and baking… I can’t spend my time on some contest that dozens of other qualified chefs are entering. They’ve all been preparing for months, no doubt.”
“You won’t know unless you try,” Rosemary insisted.
“No.” Anna picked up her bag and started toward the door. Now was the time to stay planted in reality; it was not the time to let her mind float with magical possibilities. She’d been down that road before, letting her head take her to places that would never come to fruition. Then she’d learned the value of good hard work.
She wasn’t going to spend her next few weeks whipping up new recipe ideas. She was going to call the insurance provider again, get in touch with some contractors, and hopefully make enough gourmet salads and sandwiches to feed half the town of Briar Creek this afternoon.
After all, the sooner Fireside was rebuilt, the sooner everyone would drop the subject of Mark. The last thing she needed was to spend one more minute with him than she had to, even if Rosemary had found a way to make the possibility even more enticing than it should be.
CHAPTER
7
Jane checked her watch for the tenth time in as many minutes and let out a small whimper. A flutter of butterflies chased through her stomach, heaving it with dread. Why had she agreed to this? A date with a stranger? What would they even talk about? Sophie, the bookstore, ballet, his job?
Oh God, there would be flirting. She’d be expected to laugh, to come up with witty and clever comebacks, to seem quick and energetic. Desirable.
She eyed her sweats and T-shirt, now thrown over the edge of her bed along with half the contents of her closet. Anna was right; she didn’t date. She didn’t know how to date. Her husband had been her first and only boyfriend. He was her world, her life, the only man she’d ever known. She knew what made him laugh, how he liked to be touched and kissed, what he liked to eat, when he liked to eat… She could spot the signs of a grumpy mood hours before it manifested. She could read each expression, however subtle. She could detect the slightest shift in his tone or behavior.
But she hadn’t noticed when he’d been lying to her. Somehow she’d managed to miss that.
Sighing, she fastened her earring and smoothed down her skirt, giving herself one last hard look in the mirror. The thought of getting to know another man wasn’t just overwhelming, it was downright exhausting. It would be so much easier to slip into her pajamas, curl up on the sofa with a bowl of popcorn, and bury herself in a good movie. Instead, she was hiding in her bedroom in a black skirt that was a little too tight on the hips and a sparkly top of Grace’s that left a little too much to the imagination. She was out of her comfort zone, but then, what was comfortable about a first date?
“Oh, you look so beautiful!” Sophie nearly squealed as she came bounding into the room, her brown eyes sparkling.
Jane managed a wan smile as she turned from the mirror. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Auntie Grace says you have a hot date tonight, but won’t you be chilly wearing that shirt, Mommy? Your arms are bare!”
Jane muttered under her breath as she rifled through her discarded outfits in search of a lightweight black cardigan. She ran a brush through her shoulder-length hair one more time, wondering if she should pull it back instead, and then decided to leave it down. She was a twenty-five-year-old mother of a four-year-old child, and even though her life experience made her feel older than both of her sisters combined, she knew many women her age were still single, still comfortable wearing slinky tops and strappy heels instead of yoga pants on the school run.
She wasn’t a wife anymore. She wasn’t going to find a guy by still acting like one. Or dressing like one.
Taking Sophie’s hand, she flicked off her bedroom light and took the stairs slowly, barely registering her daughter’s excited chatter about all the fun things her aunts had planned for her tonight. Her stomach was twisting into a hard knot, and her heart was starting to pound. She was actually doing this. Going on a date. What was she thinking?
She could hear Grace and Anna discussing the bookstore as she rounded the hall. When she stopped in the entranceway to the kitchen, all conversation ceased.
“Look at you!”
Jane gritted her teeth and wrestled with the waistband of her skirt. “Don’t remind me,” she told Grace. “I feel conspicuous enough as it is.”
“You look great.” It was the first smile Anna had offered since the fire nearly a week ago.
“Well, I feel ridiculous. I look like one of Adam’s tram—” She stopped herself before the words slipped. She’d promised herself when Adam moved out that she would not badmouth Sophie’s father in front of her, but sometimes, when she thought of the way he’d lied, that was a challenge.
“I just wore that top to a birthday party two weeks ago,” Grace insisted.
Jane gave her a long look. “Exactly. You wore it to a party. This is a date.” Just saying the word! “With a man I don’t even know.” She looked down at the flimsy fabric. “I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard.”
“Well, what did you think you would wear?” Anna chuckled and licked the back of a wooden spoon before dropping it in a bowl. She carried a pan of brownies to the oven and set the timer. “Your usual mom jeans or perhaps that uptight pink twinset you had on last week for the PTA conference?”
Grace began to laugh, but Jane felt her cheeks flame. “I don’t wear mom jeans!” That twinset was uptight, yes. But the jeans? “Those jeans are new, I’ll have you know. I thought they were… cool.” Cool. Did people even say cool anymore? She’d spent too much time in the house with Sophie over the years, or at the park. She’d lost touch. With the world. With fashion. With herself.
Her sisters exchanged a look. “Jane,” Grace said, softening her tone. “You look wonderful; trust me. You look like every other girl your age. Young, carefree, stylish. Just go out and enjoy yourself. You could use a night on the town, and you never know, you might really like him.”
She had a point. Jane fingered the thin cardigan that was draped over her arm. “I think I’ll wear the cardigan there, and then if I decide I like the guy, I’ll take it off.”
Grace sighe
d. “If that will make you more comfortable.”
“What do you know about this guy anyway?” Anna asked. She hoisted Sophie onto a counter stool and gave her the same wooden spoon she’d just licked. Catching Jane’s disapproval, she said, “What? We’re family.”
Jane couldn’t help but smile. That they were, and thank God for it. “I don’t know much. His name is Brian and Rosemary said he works at the Forest Ridge Hospital. She’s one of his patients.”
“A doctor!” Grace waggled her eyebrows, and Jane felt her spirits lift.
“I guess it’s just one dinner,” she mumbled, barely able to suppress a pleased smile.
“Perhaps the first of many,” Anna said brightly. “Don’t hurry home on our account. We’ve got everything covered.”
Jane eyed Sophie warily. Her cheeks were painted in chocolate batter, and her eyes were already turning glassy from the sugar intake. “Maybe I should stay home.”
“Don’t be ridiculous! Besides, what would you tell Rosemary?”
Grace had her there. Jane shook her head, feeling angry with herself for even asking for this date in the first place, and wiped the brownie mix from Sophie’s face with a paper towel before quickly planting a kiss on her cheek.
“Behave,” she instructed, as she grabbed her keys from the hook near the door.
“Oh, of course she will,” Grace assured her.
Jane paused with her hand on the knob. “I wasn’t talking to Sophie.”
Before she wimped out, she unlocked her car, slipped inside, and pulled out of the driveway. By the time she’d reached the end of her street, she was feeling downright liberated, and the butterflies were starting to feel more excited than nervous in nature. As she pulled into Piccolino’s parking lot, however, she felt as if she could be sick at any moment. She sat in her car, her eye trained on the door, watching each man who walked up its cobblestone steps with unwavering scrutiny, wondering if one of them was her date. Brian was said to be in his early thirties, with brown hair and glasses. Jane liked glasses on men; Adam had worn his only at night, and by the end of their marriage, he was rolling in so late she never saw him wear them.