She looked up at the house. “It’s a nice place. And you’ve got good timing, you know.”
“Oh?”
Her gaze darted to where Lyndsay stood, examining the shrubbery alongside Mariah. “You know that Ian offered for Lyndsay to stay at the house for the immediate future.”
“He did mention that, yes.” While I would miss Ian—and the substance and regularity of Pilar’s meals—missing out on having Lyndsay’s visits didn’t upset me.
“Bullet dodged then,” Jane said, the corner of her mouth twitching.
I wanted to kiss that twitch, I realized in a rush. Not a V-E Day kiss, not now, just a small claim on the corner of her lips that twisted with rueful amusement. Instead, I nodded in agreement and took a step backwards. I was the host, and Jane had Sean, and kissing a guest at random wouldn’t have been gentlemanly.
I distracted myself by offering the group a tour through the house, then listening to Nina’s appreciation of the space and Mariah’s suggestions for home décor as we went.
Lyndsay compared everything she saw unfavorably to Mariah’s home; the light was good, yes, but maybe not as good as Mariah’s home. I would have tuned her out altogether, but listening to Jane mock her proved too entertaining.
“It is a very nice kitchen; I like the vintage appliances,” Jane commented once we stepped inside. “I think Mariah’s kitchen has more electrical outlets though.”
Celia elbowed her sister in the ribs.
Jane cleared her throat. “What do you think, Lyndsay?”
Lyndsay squinted as her eyes roamed the kitchen walls. “I think you’re right, Jane. You could probably add more, Callum. If you think the house’s wiring could support it.”
“It’s been rewired,” I said dryly. “You could run a hair salon in here, if you wanted.”
“I’d like to see that,” Ian said with a hoot. “I’m hungry, Beckett. Where’d you hide the brisket?”
I’d wrapped it in foil and stashed it in my oven, per Roy’s instructions. Within minutes, we’d broken out the paper plates, and everyone started heaping piles of food on top.
The atmosphere livened with the scent of food. Once each guest had a loaded plate, I served myself and followed the group to the porch.
Just as I crossed the threshold, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I stepped backward; my phone rang so rarely, it was worth looking at the screen to see if I recognized the caller. My breath caught in my chest when I saw the number—it was the private detective, Clint something-or-other, the one I’d hired to look for Lila.
“I, um, I gotta take this.”
I met Roy’s questioning gaze but no one else’s. I lifted the phone to my ear, striding away as I answered.
Texas Sheet Cake with a Black Tea Twist
For the cake
2 cups flour
1 ⅔ cups sugar
¼ teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons cocoa powder
2 sticks salted butter
1 cup strong black tea
½ cup buttermilk
2 eggs, beaten
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon vanilla
For the icing
1 ¾ sticks butter
5 tablespoons cocoa powder
6 tablespoons whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 ½ cups powdered sugar
½ cup finely chopped pecans
Preheat oven to 350°F.
In a medium-sized mixing bowl, stir together the flour, sugar, and salt.
Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Once melted, add the cocoa and stir. Add the tea, and let the mixture boil for about 30 seconds. Remove from heat and pour over the flour mixture. Stir gently to combine.
In a smaller mixing bowl—ideally one with a pour spout—stir together the buttermilk, eggs, baking soda, and vanilla. Pour the buttermilk mixture into the flour and chocolate mixture, and stir until just combined.
Pour the batter into an 18 x 13 sheet cake pan; you can also use two 9 x 13 pans. Bake the cake for 20 minutes, or until the top is firm and a cake tester comes out clean.
While the cake bakes, prepare the chocolate icing. Melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add the cocoa, stir, and allow it to boil for 30 seconds before removing the saucepan from the heat. Whisk in the milk and vanilla, and then the powdered sugar, one cup at a time. Keep whisking until all the ingredients have been added and incorporated, to prevent clumps.
Once the cake has finished baking, remove and immediately pour the icing over the top. Use a spatula to spread the icing over any bare spots.
Sprinkle the chopped pecans over the top. Allow the cake to cool 5–10 minutes before slicing into squares.
Serves 24.
Note: Twenty-four servings is a lot. This recipe can also be halved. Also, if you don’t have buttermilk on hand, replace the buttermilk with ½ cup whole milk and ½ teaspoon white vinegar or lemon juice. Allow the milk and vinegar/lemon mixture to stand for 10 minutes before using.
21
Honestly, if you’re given the choice between Armageddon or tea, you don’t say “what kind of tea?”
—NEIL GAIMAN
Jane
I watched, perplexed, as Callum strode away, leaving his plate of food behind on the kitchen counter. Why the food bothered me so much, I wasn’t sure. It made sense not to carry it with him, if it was an important phone call. Maybe that was it—it had to be important, deeply so, for him to leave like that.
“Whatever could that be about?” Nina wondered out loud.
“I’m sure he’ll be back and explain everything,” Ian reassured her.
Ian was only partially correct. Callum did return, but only to say he was leaving.
“I’m sorry,” Callum said, his face pale and tense. “Please, stay and enjoy the food.”
“I can lock up,” Roy offered, “if you don’t think you’ll be back before tonight.”
Callum nodded. “That would be helpful, yes. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
“What?” Nina clasped her hand to her heart. “Where are you going?”
“Dallas,” Callum answered. “I have…business. In Dallas.”
“Immediate business in Dallas?” Nina shook her head. “Surely not, it’s a Saturday, and both of us know Smoky Top doesn’t extend to Dallas. Out with it—what is this really about?”
“Mother!” Mariah exclaimed, stark horror written across her face.
Nina continued, undeterred. “Beckett, slow down. It can’t be as bad as all that. Sit down for lunch, leave tomorrow night, be there first thing Monday morning when the banks are open. If, that is, it’s truly a business matter.”
Mariah placed an anguished hand over her eyes.
Callum’s response came swift and certain. “I wish I could. I’m sorry. I really do have to leave.”
Dash, who’d sidled up to Margot, picked up on his master’s anxiety and whined in concern.
“What about Dash?” Celia asked.
Margot’s hand shot up. “I volunteer as tribute!”
“Yes,” I agreed. “We’d be happy to watch Dash.”
“He’s welcome in our kennels as well,” Ian assured him.
I leaned over to Ian. “Best of lucking wresting him from Margot,” I whispered.
The mention of Dash caused Callum to slow down, just the slightest bit. “Dash. Yes.” At the sound of his name, Dash rose and nudged his master’s hand. Callum petted him absently, and I wondered if he even realized it.
“We’ll watch him,” I said. “Celia will make sure he eats.”
“I’ll walk him every day,” Margot promised, eyes full of excitement. “Every day, twice a day.”
My heart squeezed as I remembered how much Margot had wanted a dog when she was thirteen. With me and Celia in and out of the shop, we’d had our hands full with Margot herself, let alone a dog. She seemed to like Ian’s dogs well enough but had clearly fallen in love with Dash.
Roy rose. “
If you’re leaving, I’ll pack a lunch for you that you can eat on the road.”
Callum’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly. “Thank you, Roy. I appreciate that.”
Roy left for the kitchen then, and Callum left to pack. The military must have trained him in the art of packing a bag in twenty minutes or less, because he returned shortly after to say good-bye and apologize yet again.
He had a duffle in one hand and an oversized dog bed and canvas bag in the other. “Dash’s things are in here,” he said, lifting the bag. Margot jumped up to take it from him. “There’s a binder in the bag that his foster parents gave me. It’s got instructions for his food and routine. Just give him some things to do. He likes that.”
Margot nodded solemnly. “We’ll take very good care of him.”
Stress still creased his face, but he smiled at her. “I know you will, Ace.” He gestured to the bag again. “His vet’s number is in there too, in case of emergency, and you can call or text me as well. I’ll have my phone.”
“Dash will be fine,” Nina said, standing to wrap him in a tight hug. “I don’t know what’s going on, not exactly,” she said softly to him, but not so softly that Celia and I couldn’t hear. “But I have my suspicions. And if it’s to do with her, then I wish her well. Let me know if there’s any way I can be of assistance.”
We called out our good-byes and wished him well; minutes later, his car pulled out of his driveway and he began his mysterious journey north.
Roy and Betsy excused themselves to the kitchen, and maybe it was the lack of Roy’s watchful gaze, but Sean, seated at my right, cut a glance toward me. “That was awkward.”
“It sounded like a true emergency,” Celia said, her voice firm. “I hope everything’s well.”
“If it is an emergency, of course. And if not—if he just needed to shrug out of hosting duty, then I plan to eat all his food in his absence.”
“Sean!” I exclaimed, horrified.
“What? It’s not like anyone would consider Callum Beckett some kind of social butterfly.”
I didn’t even try to hold back my sarcasm. “You think he’d leave his dog behind with an instruction binder if he were just going out for ice cream?”
Sean crossed his arms. “Still, you’d think the guy could have finished his lunch.”
“I wonder what it could be about?” Lyndsay asked. Her appetite didn’t seem to be the worse for wear, since she’d already made a second trip to the kitchen.
When it came to the food, though, I couldn’t blame her. Callum had provided an excellent spread. The brisket was tender, the coleslaw tangy, and the cheese fritters were addicting.
I promised myself I’d go for a run when we got home, even though I wasn’t a runner in the slightest.
Margot finished her food in record time. “Can I take Dash outside?”
Remembering that the yard below was fenced, I gave my assent and watched as the two of them loped down the hallway for the back door Callum had shown us earlier. Moments later, I could hear her running Dash through a list of commands she must have found in the binder, as well as her praise as he completed each one.
Roy and Betsy lingered in the kitchen, attending to their inherited hosting duties, and with my food finished, I found my curiosity getting the better of me. With Nina seated to my left, all I had to do was lean a little in her direction.
“What did you mean?” I asked. “When you were saying good-bye to Callum?”
“What I said—about how I suspected it was about her? Well, I might be right; I might be wrong. But I am almost always right about these things. I imagine it’s to do with Lila Williams.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“You could try to be discreet, mother,” Mariah suggested pointedly.
“Lila was Callum’s sweetheart,” Nina continued, blithely ignoring her daughter. “They dated when they were young. But they parted ways after high school, as young people do, and she married his older brother.”
“Ooh, intrigue,” Lyndsay said, leaning forward. “Did she break his heart?”
I couldn’t stop my eye roll. Celia caught it and elbowed me in the ribs.
I elbowed her right back.
Nina carried on. “Yes, but not as bad as Cameron did hers. They had a terrible marriage. Cameron carried on with nearly every waitress he ever hired.”
I grimaced. “That’s awful!”
“Oh, it gets far worse. He used her family’s money, you see, to help expand the business. When he divorced her, he cut her off and left her with nothing.”
“Texas is a community property state, isn’t it?” Celia asked.
“It is,” Nina said.
I frowned. “And she couldn’t fight it in court?”
“Couldn’t afford to,” Nina said, shaking her head. “Cameron moved the bulk of their resources into the company, you see. Sneaky son of a biscuit eater.”
Mariah’s eyes widened. “Mom!”
Nina kept talking. “Beckett hasn’t mentioned Lila, not since he’s been back, but I know she fell off the grid a while back.”
“How on earth do you know all this?” Mariah asked, crossing her arms.
“Oh, well, Ian has known Beckett a long time. And”—she held her hands up—“one of the hostesses at Smoky Top is a very good friend of mine.”
“That’s hardly reliable information, really, Mother.”
“Also, Cameron’s attorney’s paralegal attended my mah-jongg club.”
“Mom, that is confidential information!”
“Oh, it’s all water under the bridge, darling. And Cameron’s been dead for years, so statute of limitations and all that.”
Mariah squinted at her parent. “I don’t believe that phrase means what you think it means.”
“Well, I’ve always believed our Beckett has carried a torch for her, but he’s been overseas all this time. Until now.”
“So you think he went looking for her, now that he’s back?” Lyndsay asked. “How romantic!”
“Let us hope so, chickens. Beckett deserves some happiness in his life.”
Mariah changed the conversation to football then, and while the others joined in with enthusiasm—because, Texas—I lost interest within minutes.
But my thoughts lingered on Callum, his brother, and poor Lila Williams. Was Callum still in love with her? What was Lila like? Had he been pining for her all these years? For some reason, the questions needled me.
Disconcerted, I squeezed Sean’s hand for reassurance. I looked up at him, but he was staring off into space. I squeezed his hand again, and his head snapped back toward me. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Nothing, not yet.”
He glanced around. “When do you wanna get out of here?”
My first thought, to my shame, was that I hadn’t yet heard all the gossip from Nina. What if we left and she dropped another tidbit of Callum’s past? But no sooner had the thought crossed my mind than a torrent of embarrassment replaced it. “We can leave,” I said quickly, before he might have a chance to read the thoughts on my face.
“I’m sure you two lovebirds have other places you’d like to be,” Nina said with a smile and only a slight waggle of the eyebrows.
I felt the room’s eyes turn to me, and my face flushed. “I…um…”
“I can take care of Margot and Dash,” Celia assured me.
I glanced outside, where Margot and Dash were chasing each other on the back lawn, Margot’s face flushed and rosy, her curly ponytail turning into a halo.
“Since the host has other places to be,” Sean said smoothly, interrupting my thoughts, “we’ll be heading to our next scheduled activity.”
There was something about the way he said it that sounded…suggestive. My face flushed an even deeper shade of red.
We said our good-byes and slipped out; I said little as I buckled myself into Sean’s truck.
Sean was quiet too as we drove. The sound of the road and the music unspooling from the stereo sp
eakers filled the silence. After a few moments, he stopped at a light and turned to gift me with a smile. “How about dessert?”
That smile—that smile could turn me into the biggest pile of mush. “Sure,” I said, finding myself smiling back.
He took me to La Pâtisserie, where we filled a box with more pastries than I believed possible to eat in a single afternoon. From there we drove to the riverfront, where we walked hand in hand.
The morning’s clouds had cleared off; the sun warmed my face, and a soft breeze teased my curls.
Sean offered me bites of whatever he was eating; I teasingly refused to reciprocate until he pulled a face. We walked and laughed, and after a mile, Sean tugged my hand, leading me behind a leafless tree. “I love you,” he said, his eyes taking in my entire face as if he was trying to memorize every curve and crevice.
I happily tipped my face up to his, kissing the lips that had turned serious. He tasted of lemon and white chocolate. He kissed me back, his hands pulling me close.
We pulled away just before the kiss became too heated for a public park—but only just. I looked up at him, breathless. “I love you. You make every day better.”
He pulled a curl from my forehead, twirling it between his fingers before tucking it behind my ear. “You make the sun shine brighter.”
“Back atcha,” I said, grinning. “But just when did we get so mushy?”
He exhaled, but didn’t release his hold on me. “I just want you to know how much I love you.” He breathed kisses on my cheeks, my eyelids, and a last reverent kiss on my lips before resting his forehead against mine. “Let’s go back to my place.”
I pressed a light kiss onto his lips. “I can’t. I should get back. I promised Celia we’d look at some more restaurant spaces today with the real estate agent.”
A kiss to my jaw. “You can’t reschedule?”
“With an hour’s notice? No.”
“You’re a good sister.”
“I try.”
Sean pulled me close again, his kiss making my head spin. He pulled back with a groan. “I don’t want this to end.”
Jane of Austin Page 17