Her husband, Katie’s father, had passed away before Katie was born. Actually, he’d died before Rachel even knew she was pregnant. He had an aneurysm. He was there one day and the next minute he wasn’t. The loss, coupled with the surprise pregnancy, was what had brought Rachel back to Whiskey River. If not for Katie, she probably wouldn’t have come back.
Despite being born and raised in Whiskey River, the place had never felt like home. A shy, chubby kid who would rather bake cookies than ride her bike, Rachel had always felt like a fish out of water here. Her mother had drilled it in her head that she deserved a better life than the Barrels neighborhood where she’d grown up.
Actually, her mother had been the one who had encouraged Rachel to stay inside. An only child, Rachel had been a latchkey kid after her father left. Her mother worked long hours to make ends meet and hadn’t been happy letting Rachel play outside. Baking and enjoying her own company had become a comfortable way of life. Once her mother secured the means to move them to the right side of town, she hadn’t really fit in there, either.
Funny how even the best laid plans sometimes led you back to square one. This time, square one included Katie and that meant there was no room for error. Especially not a repeat of the mistakes she’d made in the past. That meant no men, no blind dates. Really, that meant there was no need for Avery to even introduce her to anyone. Her plate was full; her life was full.
Avery’s phone pinged, indicating the arrival of a new text. She glanced at the phone.
“Are you kidding me?” She directed the words to the phone.
“What’s wrong?” Rachel asked.
“The mayor is demanding to ride in the limo with Logan tonight. He wants to arrive with him.” Avery tapped her finger on the phone screen. “You know…on second thought, this might be just the answer to my prayers.”
“Why?” Rachel asked.
“Do you need to spend some time with the mayor?”
“No. This will mean I’m not in the limo alone with Logan tonight.”
“Are you saying you don’t want to ride with Logan?”
Avery shrugged as she replied to the message. She had a good poker face. Even though Rachel sensed something was off, she couldn’t tell what it was.
“Is Logan hard to get along with?” Rachel leaned in and lowered her voice so the staff wouldn’t overhear. “Is he a diva? Or whatever the male version of a diva is?”
Avery’s eyes flashed. There was a look in them that suggested there was something she wanted to talk about, something juicy that had nothing to do with emerald-green gowns and Felicity’s Ball committee shenanigans, but in an instant the moment passed.
“All I can say is…” she bit her bottom lip as if she was weighing her words “…he is…something else. He’s a flirt. And I told him in no uncertain terms that there would be no flirting when we’re together. Then he claimed he wasn’t flirting, that I misread the situation. Ugh! He gets me so flustered.”
Rachel arched a brow. “Really? And you want me to meet his friend?”
“Who is nothing like Logan,” Avery interjected.
“There’s usually something to the old sayings about birds of a feather and the company you keep, yada yada.”
Rachel wanted that to be true. She wanted Logan’s friend to be all flash and no substance, someone who was completely wrong for her. She had no room in her life for a man and even if she did, she had no interest in a Hollywood type.
“Yada yada?” Avery laughed.
“Yes. Yada yada,” Rachel said.
“Meet him and decide for yourself,” Avery said. “I have to run and arrange tonight’s logistics with the mayor, and I need to get my hair and nails done.” Avery glanced at her watch. “Good Lord, it’s already so late.”
She started to go, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to Rachel. “Do you need me to schedule a hair appointment for you?”
“For me? No, but thanks. You have enough on your plate. Go on and get out of here so you can get everything done.”
Rachel watched Avery hustle out of the kitchen. After she was gone, Rachel’s gaze shifted to the dress hanging snug in its garment bag and she swallowed a pang of guilt. She didn’t need a hair appointment because she wasn’t going to the ball.
Chapter Two
The last thing Elijah Lane wanted to do his first weekend back in Whiskey River was go to a stuffy charity gig. That crowd hadn’t embraced him when he’d lived here before. What were the chances that they’d welcome him now?
Back in the day, if he’d tried to attend a party with those holier than thou do-gooders, they would’ve had security remove him from the premises and slap him with a no trespassing order.
But tonight, he had the golden ticket: he was attending as Logan Calloway’s guest.
They would’ve treated Logan the same way back then before he got famous. Funny how selective memory kicks in when someone becomes a star.
Actually, Logan’s assistant, Avery, was the one who gave him the ticket. When he’d balked, Logan had reminded him it would be good for business.
That’s why he was back.
He and Logan were opening a winery in the Texas Hill Country. His old buddy brought the charisma, name recognition, and financial backing. Eli brought the viticulture expertise. When he’d discovered he had a taste for wine, he’d enrolled at the University of California, Davis; earned a degree in viticulture and enology; and dreamed of owning his own vineyard. He never thought the opportunity would bring him back to Whiskey River. Especially since that’s what had originally gotten him out of town.
But here he was and he had no choice but to play the game.
Avery had said if he wanted to ride in the limo with Logan and the mayor he would need to be ready to go by seven-thirty. He glanced at the time on his phone. It was closing in on seven. He still needed to shower, shave, and put on the monkey suit Avery had taken it upon herself to procure for him.
She was an efficient one, that Avery.
He was having a hard time getting motivated.
After returning to Whiskey River from California yesterday, Eli was staying in a house on Logan’s compound. It was a great setup. The bungalow was nearly twice the size of the Barrels apartment he and his brother had lived in with his aunt Angela, their mom’s sister, and her four kids after their mom died. Logan had grown up in the Barrels, too. They’d known each other at their best and had had each other’s backs at their worst.
These days definitely qualified as the best of times. They were both at the top of their games. It was vindicating to come back on top to a place that had all but booted you out. Whiskey River wouldn’t have been his first-choice destination for making his vintner dreams come true, but Logan maintained a ranch in their hometown and the Texas Hill Country was the new hot thing in the US wine industry.
There was one person he couldn’t wait to show just how well he was doing these days. Someone who had doubted him when he needed her most: Rachel Morgan. Or Rachel Wood. That was her married name.
He’d only been gone about six months and she’d married someone else.
He’d kept up with her the best that he could over the years. Not directly. The two hadn’t spoken in more than a decade. But that was the beauty of social media and a few well-placed stealthy inquiries. Because of that, he knew that she was on the committee that had organized tonight’s little shindig. And he knew that she owned a cookie shop on the square in downtown Whiskey River called Cookies and S’more(s).
He’d heard that she’d gotten married and had left Whiskey River. Apparently, she had returned a few years ago. That’s when she’d opened her business.
Cookies.
Not surprising because she’d always loved to bake. She’d been good at it, too. Once, he’d been on the receiving end of more than a few dozen of her baking experiments.
And oh, how he’d loved Rachel Morgan’s…sweets.
He’d loved her.
He still didn’t know how som
ething so right could’ve gone so damn wrong.
Apparently, she wasn’t much for personal social media. So, he wasn’t sure about the husband. He had no idea what his name was or what he did. He didn’t care.
That was the real reason he had agreed to go to this ball.
He wanted her to know he was back and he’d done damn fine without her. That was also why he planned to drive himself tonight. He could go in, make his point, and make his exit.
He knocked back the last of his scotch.
It sounded like a perfect evening.
*
“Rachel! You promised you’d be ready and the guests will be here in an hour or less,” said Savannah Taylor. “Don’t even think about backing out.”
Up to her elbows in flour, Rachel blew a stray red curl off her forehead and frowned at her friend. “I’m coming as soon as I can change. Some of us are working.” She held up her hand as if the floury mess should be self-explanatory. “I’ve got a million things to take care of here.”
“Excuses, excuses,” Savannah said.
Rachel shrugged and changed the subject. “You look great, Savannah. That color is perfect on you. And the dress suits you.”
“Thanks.” She smoothed her hands down over the layers of red chiffon. “I thought it did.”
Savannah really did look gorgeous in her red chiffon gown. It went perfectly with her dark hair.
“Brandon will be eating his heart out,” Rachel said. “Will he be here?”
“Yes, with his new fiancée. I’ve seen them together and believe me, he’s not thinking about me.”
Rachel winced. “I’m sorry. I know you called it off but still, it must be hard to see him with someone else.”
Savannah shrugged. “It’s easier now that a few months have passed. We wouldn’t have been happy together. And he’s a nice guy who deserves a good woman.”
“I’ve never met her but I’ve heard Joanie is very nice.”
“That’s what I hear too.” She waved her hand. “But enough about that. Come with me.”
“Why?” Rachel asked suspiciously.
“Because I’m going to help you get dressed. I’ll even do your hair and makeup.”
She washed her hands then hyper-focused on a tray of charcuterie, arranging an array of meats on a silver platter lined with big, velvety leaves of kale, and then rearranging them.
Rachel gaped at her. “Oh, Savannah, that’s sweet of you, but—”
Rachel knew the look on her face was probably giving her away. She didn’t want to go out there. She’d made up her mind that she wasn’t going out there. She’d had a bad feeling about this event from the moment she had woken up this morning. It was a low-grade dread that had started deep in her belly and had wound its way around her insides until it had nearly hog-tied her.
It wasn’t just opening-night jitters. Katie had been sniffling since breakfast. Her little girl had been irritable, clingy, and whiny. She had refused to eat, despite Rachel making her favorite breakfast of apple cinnamon brioche French toast. Rachel had tried to chalk it up to Katie being disappointed because Rachel couldn’t take her to the park for their weekly mommy and Katie time.
No, her dread hadn’t been opening-night jitters. It had been more like buyer’s remorse. She’d worked diligently at balancing her life this year. Adding this catering project made it feel as if it had been all for nothing. She shouldn’t have taken on a gig of this magnitude. She was way out of her element and her little girl was suffering because of it.
Betty Claus, Rachel’s next-door neighbor and regular babysitter, had told her she was being ridiculous when Rachel had confided her apprehension. Betty had scooped Katie up into her arms and said, “Don’t you worry about a thing, you hear? Katie Bug and I have big plans today. We’re going to bake a cake and do a puzzle and we might even watch Frozen.”
For the 583 millionth time.
Sure enough, Katie had perked right up. “I want to watch Frozen and I want to make an Elsa cake,” she said, with a smile as bright as sunshine.
When Betty said, “I think we might be able to manage that,” Katie had clapped her hands in delight, her earlier moodiness melting away like ice in the spring sunshine. Betty had whisked Katie away to her apartment across the hall, leaving Rachel free to get ready and feel more at ease about the long day ahead.
“Step away from the tray, Rach,” Savannah said. “You’re coming with me. I guess I’ll have to do your hair and makeup.”
Savannah grabbed her friend’s arm and steered her out of the kitchen and toward the stairs. “Who is your second-in-command here?”
No one. She didn’t have a second-in-command. She was a one-woman operation. She employed plenty of worker bees, but she was the queen bee.
When Rachel didn’t answer, Savannah asked the workers in the kitchen, “Who here is Rachel’s second-in-command?”
The dozen or so cater waiters looked at each other with blank stares. Finally, Polly stepped up. “I am. Or at least I’d like to be.”
She shot a hopeful glance at Rachel who took one look at the unwavering resolve on Savannah’s face and knew that this was a no-win situation.
“All right, Polly,” Rachel said, trying not to let the sinking feeling in her gut show on her face. “I’m counting on you. Do you remember everything we talked about in the meeting earlier today?”
“I do,” said the young woman.
“Do you need me to write it down for you?” Rachel offered.
“Rachel,” Savannah urged. “Come on. Time is ticking.”
“I’m fine,” Polly said. “You go ahead.”
“Are you sure? It will only take a second for me to jot down some notes.”
Why hadn’t she thought of that before now? Why hadn’t she written everything down rather than keeping it in her mind?
“She will be fine,” Savannah said, taking Rachel by the arm and steering her toward the kitchen door.
“I’ll be right back,” Rachel said over her shoulder.
“No, she won’t,” Savannah said. “She’s going to the ball.”
“I will be right out there,” Rachel said, desperation coloring her voice. “After she gets finished with me. If you need me before then or if you have any questions call my cell phone.” Rachel rattled off a string of numbers.
“No worries,” Polly said. “I’ve got this. I have everything under control.”
“She will be back in a half hour. Forty-five minutes max,” Savannah said. “Polly, you look perfectly capable. Please don’t call her.”
“Was that directed at me or Polly?” Rachel asked as Savannah shepherded her toward the kitchen door.
“It was directed at both of you,” Savannah said. “Or whoever needs it the most. So, I guess that means it was directed at you.”
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Where are you taking me?”
“To the bride’s room. That’s where I’ve stashed my stuff. The room has a shower where you can freshen up. Then, I will do your hair and makeup and you can get changed. Come on, pick up the pace and grab your dress. You do have the dress Avery brought you, right?”
For a split second, Rachel considered telling a little white lie, that she didn’t have the dress, that she had absolutely nothing to wear. Really, the dress wasn’t hers, and she didn’t own a thing that would be appropriate for tonight. Because what was she going to do if it didn’t fit? But Savannah beat her to the punch and said, “Don’t try to pull anything. Avery told me she brought you the green gown. Come on now, let’s go. You are a gorgeous woman, Rachel, but this fairy godmother has her work cut out for her if she’s going to turn you into Cinderella before the ball starts.”
“Should I be offended by that remark?” Rachel asked as she grabbed the green dress off the coatrack by the door.
“Should you be offended? This question comes from a woman who is wearing pants with multicolored flying pigs on them. I’m simply speaking the truth.”
The venue was an old barn t
hat had been meticulously converted into a ballroom at stately Harwood House Victorian mansion. They walked across the empty ballroom and continued a short distance down a hallway and up a set of stairs to an inconspicuous door at the top of the staircase landing. “It’s cold up here,” Rachel said rubbing her arms with her hands. “The temperature has really dropped.”
“I know,” Savannah said. “Isn’t it perfect? It really adds to the Christmassy feel of the occasion. This weather will put everyone in the holiday spirit. What a great way to kick off the season.”
As Savannah stopped to unlock the door to the bride’s room, the sweet, pungent fragrance of lavender teased Rachel’s nostrils.
“Do you smell that?” she asked, stopping to sniff again, wondering if her senses were playing a trick on her.
Savannah sniffed the air. “Smell what? All I can smell is the delicious food you’ve been preparing.”
“No,” Rachel said. “It doesn’t smell like food. I smell…lavender. And it’s strong.”
She inhaled another deep breath. The fragrance was nearly overpowering now. No mistaking it. Whiskey River had a lavender farm just south of town, but it bloomed in the summertime, not in early December, and especially not when it had been a particularly cold December. The scent was so strong there should’ve been no way that Savannah couldn’t smell it.
“How can you not smell that?” Rachel asked.
Savannah shook her head. Rachel remembered something she had heard one of the Harwood House staff say earlier: “You know, legend has it that if you smell the scent of lavender at Harwood House, you’re about to meet your soul mate.”
Against her better judgment Rachel recalled Avery saying she wanted her to meet a guy at the ball tonight. But she dismissed it as fast as it entered her head. The lavender legend was just an old romantic wives’ tale, as was the notion of a soul mate. Rachel had been in love twice—well, she’d been in love once and married once. Two distinctly different men. Neither relationship ended well. At least she had Katie to show for her marriage. All she had to show from falling in love with Eli was a broken heart.
A Texas Christmas Homecoming Page 2