by Shirley Jump
“Thanks.”
“I’m just going to grab my mixer and put it in the car. That way, if Emma gets cranky, I can leave right away.” She leaned forward, unplugged the machine, and started to pick it up.
Matt put a hand on the heavy metal top. “What are you doing?”
“Uh…getting my mixer?”
“Not with that. With leaving.”
Carolyn glanced back at the audience, then at him. “Um, this isn’t the place—”
“Don’t you feel what I feel? Don’t you enjoy the time we spend together? The fun we have? The laughs? The…” he leaned down and lowered his voice “…the kissing and more?”
“Of course I do.” She shook her head. “But that’s not the point. My life—”
“Your life is wherever you make it, Carolyn. If you wanted to make it here, you could.” Her words and her body language kept saying there was no hope. Why did he keep trying? Why couldn’t he let her go a second time? He released the mixer, then leaned against the stove, arms crossed over his chest. “So why don’t you?”
The rest of the bachelors were leaving their kitchen spaces, joining their families and friends. The audience was watching the judges do their tastings, while some people milled about the vendor booths. But no one was really paying close attention to Matt and Carolyn’s conversation.
Carolyn shrugged. “I don’t have a job here—”
“You’re an amazing chef. Rocco’s is looking for one. Boom. Job.”
“It’s not that simple, Matt.”
“It can be.” He pushed off from the stove and closed the distance between them. “If you quit complicating it with fear.”
“I really should get my mixer. If Emma…” She turned away and started cleaning the counter.
Matt slid in behind her. Even here, even now, he wanted her. He always had. And he didn’t think that feeling would ever disappear. “What happened to the woman who wanted to be with me forever?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered, the words thick and choked. “I…I need to go get something.” Then she turned on her heel, walked to the back of the kitchen, and then out into the bright winter sunshine.
Chapter Eleven
Next time Carolyn decided to make a grand exit, she was going to have to remember to bring a coat. It was cold outside, enough to frost her breath, despite the bright January sun above her. She leaned against the building, arms crossed, and shivered.
Where did Matt get the right to question her choices? She was doing what was best for her, what she wanted, what was best for Emma.
But then she thought of that moment in her old bedroom the other night, with Emma curled up against her. For the first time since she had picked up her niece and uprooted her from the only life she’d ever known, Carolyn had felt a slow twining of connection with Emma. This morning, Emma had asked Carolyn to make her pancakes, and sat beside her at the kitchen table. It was a start, and gave her hope for the future.
A future in New York City. A future that was everything Carolyn had dreamed of—the job she’d always wanted in the city she had always wanted to live in—but at what cost? She knew the hours she’d be expected to log as head chef. Hours that would leave very little room for pancake breakfasts and late-night conversations about the stars.
She started to turn and head back inside to the cookie contest when she saw a familiar figure emerge from a sedan. “Dad?”
Her father was coming up the walkway at the back of the school, hunched into his winter coat. She had invited him to the Bake-Off today, but he’d grumbled something about having too much work to do, even though he was doing the same thing as always—sitting in his workshop and brooding. Carolyn had really hoped that if her dad got out of the house, and got involved in a charity event, that maybe he could pull himself out of his grief for a little while.
“Sorry I’m late. I…” He shrugged. “It took me a while to get here.”
“I’m glad you’re here, Dad. And you’re not really late. The contestants just finished their cookies and the judging started a minute ago. The auction doesn’t start until after the judging.” She thumbed toward the door, then turned back. “What…what made you decide to come?”
He fished inside his coat and pulled out a piece of paper. “How could I say no to this?”
The white sheet held a crayoned drawing of a bunch of stick figures. Penciled beneath the people were names, written in her mother’s even hand. Grandpa, Grandma, Aunt Carolyn, Emma, Dr. Matt, and on the end, a boxy hot-dog-shaped thing named Roscoe, seated by a second one labeled Harley. And beneath them all, brown circles that Carolyn was pretty sure were meant to be cookies.
“Emma left this on my workbench. She wanted all of us to be here.” Her dad looked at the paper and chuckled. “Even the dog, though that would create pandemonium.”
Carolyn could only imagine the chaos Roscoe would bring to a crowded room of people and food. Emma’s beloved “puppy” had improved in the behaving department, but he had a long ways to go yet. “Matt already talked to Emma about Roscoe eating people cookies. He offered to teach her how to make dog treats.”
Only Matt couldn’t do that if she and Emma moved back to New York. Maybe he could email Carolyn the recipe or something. And maybe Emma wouldn’t be disappointed.
Her father looked down at the picture again. “I stood out there in my workshop, looking at this drawing for a solid half hour. I’ve been a stubborn fool, Carolyn. I may have lost one of my daughters…” his voice broke and his eyes filled “…but I still have my family.”
Carolyn’s heart swelled. She stepped forward and drew her father into a hug. “Oh, Dad, you do.”
His arms tightened around her. And a moment later, his tears dampened her shoulders. She didn’t mind.
Because hers were dampening his. She had missed this connection with her father, the support of his broad shoulders, the scent of Old Spice as familiar as her own name. She wanted to hold on to this moment forever.
“I’m sorry I didn’t spend as much time with you when you were little,” her father said. “I want to make up for that, Carolyn. With you and Emma. We can go fishing or bowling or whatever you want.”
“That would be nice, Dad.” She didn’t realize how much she had missed her father—both her parents—until this moment. For years, she had told herself she was fine on her own, hundreds of miles from those she loved. That had been a lie. A lie that had made the distance easier.
Maybe it was the fact that she was leaving this weekend, or maybe it was just seeing her dad be vulnerable, but Carolyn held a little tighter and a little longer, to her father and the moment between them.
After a while, her father drew back. He let out a little laugh and swiped at his eyes. “Bet you never thought you’d see your strong old dad cry.”
“You’re strong because you did cry, Dad.” She hugged him again, drawing warmth from his embrace. She vowed that no matter where she lived in the future, she was going to make more time for her family. Somehow. “Now let’s go inside before we miss all the fun.”
*
The last of the cookie crumbs had been swept up, the displays and auction tables were being dismantled, and the room had almost emptied. The final baked cookies had been auctioned off, and someone in the audience won the grand prize raffle of a night at the Graff Hotel.
Dozens of people recognized Carolyn and came up to ask about Sandy. One bad thing about small towns—news traveled fast. But it was also a good thing, because Carolyn didn’t have to endure the awkward questions about how her sister was doing, and from the first person who spoke to her, she could feel the sympathy and caring from people who had known her sister.
Em McCullough, a town fixture for so long, it seemed she had been part of Marietta from the day it was settled, came over to Carolyn. “It is so good to see you back in town!” She drew Carolyn into a hug. “I still remember you playing the alligator in the Christmas pageant.”
Carolyn laughed. “That was a
long time ago, Ms. McCullough. And I’m still not sure what an alligator had to do with Christmas.”
“It kept the audience interested.” She gave Carolyn a wink. “Lord knew that there were only so many ways to celebrate the holiday. After a while, I started making it…unique.”
Em had directed the town’s Christmas pageant for fifty years. She was rumored to have once been a Radio City Hall Rockette, which explained her slightly offbeat approach to the pageant. “You and your sister were always so good in the pageant.”
“Sandy was the one with acting skills,” Carolyn said. “I was always happier in the background.”
“Until today.” Em nodded toward the stage. “I saw you up there after the baking was done with the yummy Dr. West. If I was sixty years younger…” She waved off the idea. “I still couldn’t hold a candle to you, at least in his eyes. That man is smitten.”
“I don’t know about that.” Carolyn shifted her weight. “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. McCullough.”
“Am I going to be seeing your adorable little niece in this year’s pageant?”
“I don’t think so. Emma and I will be living in New York City.”
Em’s face fell. “That’s too bad. That little girl just lights your parents up, and after all they have been through, it would be a shame if they couldn’t spend more time with their granddaughter.” The older woman laid a hand on Carolyn’s arm. “The best memories are made with family around, you know. The kind of memories that stay with you when times get tough and the road seems lonely. We all need to have those memories in our mental banks. Especially a little girl who has lost almost everything and everyone she knows.”
If Carolyn took Emma to New York, her niece wouldn’t have those common memories that came with being around family. She’d make friends in Manhattan, and form bonds with neighbors and teachers and babysitters, but Carolyn knew it wouldn’t be the same. That made the task of raising Emma seem ten times more Herculean.
“I’ll let you go,” Em said. “Great job on the cookies today. I had to buy a dozen for myself. One thing that never changes no matter how old I get is my sweet tooth.” She grinned, then said goodbye to Carolyn.
Carolyn wandered back into the kitchen, grabbed the mixer she had forgotten in her haste to avoid a difficult conversation with Matt, then crossed to her parents. Emma had fallen asleep and curled up against her grandfather. The sight touched Carolyn, and caused a hitch in her throat.
But what really had her choking up was the knowledge that come Monday morning, she’d be back in the car, heading to New York, and to a future that was unclear. She hadn’t resolved a damned thing since she’d come to Marietta. Instead, she’d found a hundred other ways to spend her time. A hundred other distractions.
She still needed a bigger apartment in a better neighborhood. Still needed to somehow make her job more flexible, with mom-friendly hours. Still needed to line up daycare and puppy care and a million details.
And most of all, figure out how to be a mom, the kind of mom that Emma was going to need. The kind of mom that built memories and bonds. The kinds of things she and her sister had had here in Marietta.
Her mother crossed the room, and handed Carolyn her coat. “Great job today, honey. Hey, do you want your dad and me to take Emma home? Then you can spend some time with Matt?”
Would spending more time with Matt make leaving easier or harder? Maybe she should take a walk with him, have a moment to say goodbye. Make this departure better than the one ten years ago. That’s what she told herself, even as her heart ached and her throat closed. This entire thing about leaving had Carolyn a hundred times more emotional than she normally was. Once she was on the road, she told herself, all that would abate. “Sure, that would be great.”
Her mom smiled. “He’s still got a thing for you. I can see it all over his face.”
That was the second person to see something still simmering between them. Matt was crossing the room toward them, his gaze locked on Carolyn. Even from a distance, her stomach fluttered and her pulse skipped. He wasn’t the only one who still had a thing going. Maybe with some distance between them, she’d be able to forget Matt.
Maybe.
“Hey, we won!” Matt gathered her up into a hug, lifting her off the ground and spinning her in a circle. The judges had pronounced Matt’s cookies the best a little while ago, which set off a frenzied bidding war for the treats, a moment that still had him grinning. “And we raised a bunch of money for Harry. All thanks to you.”
Carolyn laughed. “You did the baking. I just gave you directions.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.” He stopped, and lowered her to her feet again. “I mean that, Carolyn.”
Disappointment settled over her when he let go. “I’m glad I was here to help.”
“I am too.” His features shifted, the elation giving way to something more serious, more intense. He reached up and tucked that stubborn lock of hair behind her ear, the space between them charged. “I’m really glad you are here.”
The honesty in his words touched her. Drew her closer to him. She had missed him, God, how she had missed him in the years they’d been apart. She could feel the weight of her departure on her shoulders, the pain that was going to come with saying goodbye.
He had asked her why she was leaving, and instead of answering, she’d left the room. Because whenever she looked at Matt, she couldn’t remember a single reason why going back to New York was a good idea.
Maybe just for tonight, just for now, she could pretend she wasn’t leaving. Pretend they were still planning a future together. And then maybe she could leave without regrets.
Maybe.
Either way, she didn’t want to leave without knowing what it would have been like, if she had stayed all those years ago. One night, that was all she wanted. All she needed.
“I’m glad too, Matt.” Then she rose on her toes and kissed him. Why deny this electric attraction for another minute? In days, she would be back in Manhattan, and he would be here. Anything that happened tonight would be just one more memory in Marietta. She leaned toward him, and cupped a hand around the back of his neck. “Now let’s get out of here and celebrate alone.”
*
Matt couldn’t have been more surprised if Carolyn had hit him on the head with a leg of lamb. He stood there for a second, stunned, then gathered his wits, and took her hand and headed out of the building, calling out a fast goodbye to everyone.
He took the mixer from her, stowed it in the back, then opened her door. As she brushed past him to get in the car, she shot him a smile. “You can sure move fast.”
“I had incentive.” His gaze dropped to her lips. If he stood here another second, he’d end up kissing her—and much more—in the parking lot. So he shut the door, climbed into the driver’s side, and started the car. The journey from the high school to his house was short, only a couple miles. Carolyn reached across the console and covered his hand.
It was nice. Very nice.
He parked in his driveway, waited until the garage door rose, then the two of them hurried from the warm car interior into the house. “I just have to let Harley out. Can I get you anything to drink or eat?”
“How about I make us something? I feel like I’m losing my touch; it’s been so long since I’ve been at a stove.”
As much as he wanted to head straight for his bedroom, he was hungry, after the long afternoon at the high school. And there was something about having Carolyn in his kitchen, whipping up a dinner that sounded really, really nice. “I don’t have much for ingredients but you’re welcome to see what’s in there and try to create something edible.”
She grinned, then tiptoed her fingers up his chest. “I like a challenge, Matt.”
Holy hell. He let the dog out, fed him, then watched as Carolyn scoured his kitchen and began whipping up a quick pasta dish. She sautéed a little chicken, tossed it with some rotini pasta, then made a cheesy sauce to cover the dish. She
whipped through his seasonings with deft, fast movements, then put the casserole in the oven. While it was baking, she made a simple spinach salad, then added some crisp bacon and a mustard vinaigrette.
He set the table, and scared up a couple of mismatched candles. Carolyn filled their plates, then brought them into the dining room. Matt glanced down at his, and was surprised to see something that rivaled the finest restaurant experience he’d ever had. “I think you’re a magician. Because I didn’t know I had all these ingredients in my kitchen, or that they could be put together like this, and I’ve never eaten a plate of food that looked like a piece of art.”
She laughed. “Sorry. I love the creative part of cooking, too.”
He ate some of the pasta. Whatever Carolyn had created hit his palate with a soft explosion of flavors of garlic, cheese, Italian herbs. The food was as delicious as it was beautiful. “Bringing out your inner artist?”
“You were always far more artistic than I was.” She forked up a bite of salad.
“That’s just because I had a beautiful subject.”
She blushed and dipped her head. “I remember that day.”
He did, too. They’d been alone in the woods, and he had sketched her half-naked body, thinking he had never seen anything more beautiful than Carolyn. Her long blond hair covered her breasts, skimmed along the curves of her spine. He had kept that drawing for a long time after she had left town.
Then one day he’d tossed it out, because holding on to it was more painful. Now he wished he had it, because once she was gone, all he was going to have was a recipe and a few moments in his mind. He wanted more. He wanted her, with him, now, forever. But every time he broached that subject, she ran. “I never forgot you, Carolyn. Never forgot a minute of the time we were together.”
Her gaze met his. Held. A heartbeat passed. Another. “Me neither.”
He forgot about his dinner. Forgot about the candles. He got to his feet, then hauled her up and into his arms. When he kissed her, she tasted as amazing as the meal. His kiss deepened and she yielded to him with a soft mew.