She couldn’t go all out that way after just a day. Not when she wasn’t coming up with any permanent solutions to them. And she wouldn’t be doing that on this short trip. None of it mattered in that moment anyway, because she was exhausted, Drea was exhausted, and no matter how much she tried to hide it, she suspected Aunt Joyce was dog tired too. The only person not quite dead on her feet was Rena. The woman could clearly kick it back, ride bulls, take care of her babies, and somehow still work the bakeshop and not look any worse for the wear.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Liv admitted to her cousin when it was the first moment of quiet and some tourists had left happy with a couple of mini peach key lime tarts after sampling them.
Rena shrugged. “Listen, around here we do what we gotta do and that’s all there is to it. No use slowing down, and there is no use worrying about the hows. It’s all in the doing, so you just do.”
Liv frowned to herself at the simplistic way Rena put it, something that was, in reality, so complicated that millions of people couldn’t grasp it. She was thinking this over when Clayton Morris walked into the shop. Just great, talk about a reason to throw the whole not-thinking theory out the window.
He gave her one of those devastating smiles of his as he gave his greeting to the room in general. “Morning, y’all. I hope everyone is doing wonderful today.”
“We’re fine, Clayton,” Aunt Joyce answered for the group.
“I’m glad to hear that, Miss Joyce.” He turned toward Liv. “And I’m hoping you’re not too worse for the wear after your tumble last night.”
With that, Aunt Joyce gave a short gasp. “What tumble? What you get up to last night that you had to take a tumble? Don’t tell me you going and getting yourself hurt.” She turned toward Rena. “Rena, what you get these girls up to last night? I told you not to get them into anything naughty.”
“Naughty? Don’t go getting your apron in a twist,” Rena countered. “As you can see, Livy’s fine. Besides, she’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”
Liv gave Clayton the harsh glare, and he gave her back a wobbly grin before mouthing “Sorry” and turning toward Aunt Joyce. “Yes. I was just teasing, Miss Joyce. Olivia is okay. I just saw the ladies up at Jolie’s last night, and your talented niece here was trying her hand on the mechanical bull and, as always, that feisty old bull won out.”
Aunt Joyce chuckled loudly at that and looked Liv’s way. “Now, that I would like to have seen. Gal, you should steer clear of that darn bull. I’ve spent way more time on that bull’s mat than I’ve ever spent on its back, let me tell you. You really want to know somebody who can ride it, though her stuck-up behind won’t admit it, is your aunt Kath. I believe she holds some sort of record if you check the books for 1984.”
Now, that was shocking, and not just to Liv, but to everyone else in the room too. “You have got to be kidding us,” Drea said. “There is no way Aunt Kath would be getting on the bull at Jolie’s.”
Aunt Joyce leveled Drea with another look. “Girl, when you gonna start believing me? I don’t tell no lies, and I don’t talk just to hear my own voice. You can believe the airs Kath puts on if you want to. But a woman doesn’t get the title Miss Sugar Lake just because she’s so sweet. I’ll give you that much. She’s got to have some backbone to her.”
Drea gave her head a nod at that one. “Well, I hear you there. Touché.”
Liv frowned as her mind got to twirling. Aunt Kath riding a mechanical bull was almost too much for her mind to take, but then her mind went to her cousin Pearl and the fact that she was a former Miss Sugar Lake too, and the story Rena told about her being drunk came rushing back. Suddenly she had the feeling that if Pearl wasn’t six months pregnant she would’ve been high up top that bull herself. She looked over at Clayton, and her mind twisted to places she didn’t want to go. Bull riding, and the newfound revelation that Clayton was the one whom Pearl turned to when she got drunk and was feeling lonely. Liv shook her head. Nope, she didn’t even want to go there. So instead she opened her mouth. “So, what brings you here this morning, Clayton? As you can see, we’re all doing fine.”
At that Clayton held up his hand and a small burlap bag. “Bees.”
The one-word answer caused Liv to recoil. “Bees? You don’t have bees in that bag, do you?”
Now it was Clayton who was frowning. He gave her an impatient look. “Why would I be walking around with bees, Livia?”
She gave him an impatient look right back as she folded her arms across her chest. “How would I know? There is no telling why you do anything you do.” Liv sucked in a breath and told herself to dial it back. She had no right and she had no reason to snap at Clayton in such a way. Way to go in the maturity redo department, Liv. She tried to soften her comment with a smile. “Sorry, just a little tired this morning. Carry on. Now, what do you have in that bag?”
“Sweetness.”
The word dripped from his lips like syrup and decadence. But Liv wasn’t buying it, and she narrowed her eyes, giving him an intense stare. He laughed. “No, I’m just joking. It’s honey. I’ve got your aunt’s usual order of honey.”
Liv raised a brow. Honey? She knew he meant that he had honey in his bag because, yes, she remembered that Aunt Joyce said that he had some sort of organic honey-farming deal going on. Something else to add to his cachet of ridiculous perfectness, even if it was a bit odd. Come on. In order to get honey, one had to deal with bees.
Obviously, Aunt Joyce thought Clayton was laying it on a little thick too, because she chimed in. “Cut the flirting now, Clayton Morris, and quit teasing my niece. I’d like my order today.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Clayton said as he shot one last grin Liv’s way before heading down the counter to Aunt Joyce.
Liv watched as Clayton pulled the amber jars of honey out of his bag, holding them up to the light that filtered in from the side windows. She enjoyed seeing the pride on his face as he tilted the jar left and right. He opened it with his long-tapered fingers as Aunt Joyce got a couple of her biscuits and brought out a spoon and knife from behind the counter. “You girls come on over here and taste this. I promise you you’ve never tasted anything like Clayton’s honey.”
Liv fought to keep her countenance placid as she walked over toward the rest, purposely taking a spot on the other side of the counter as far as she could get from Clayton.
Aunt Joyce cut a couple of biscuits in half and spread a bit of the honey over the top. “Now, I’ve used some honey from Lowers in the past, and it’s all right, but I tell you, after you try Clayton’s, you’ll see why I had to give up on Lowers, which has made him right mad. But I had to do what I had to do.” She gave Clayton a smile that was full of pride. “This boy here’s got something special. And it has taken my honey biscuits to a new stratosphere.”
She handed a honeyed biscuit to Drea, who took a bite and hummed her appreciation. “Wow, this really is good,” Drea said, wide-eyed. “You’ve got something here. You take this to New York and you could make a mint.”
Clayton laughed. “I don’t think my small hive of bees could handle the pace of New York. Thanks. I’m good with what I’ve got here in town and the small surrounding areas. I do well enough,” he said, giving a look to Liv, who couldn’t help eyeing the biscuits suspiciously. She was sure that if she took a bite, it would taste better than anything she ever tasted in her life and she wouldn’t be able to stop at just one taste. But then Aunt Joyce chimed in again. “What’s holding you up, girl? It’s not like the biscuit is going to bite you.”
Liv blinked and looked up. Promise? There was Clayton, and he was now holding a biscuit up in front of her; the biscuit, dripping with glistening honey, was way too close to her lips. Oh heck, she had no choice but to take a bite. Not taking it would be rude, and besides, everyone was looking at her. Clayton, his eyes deep dark and intense, questioning, teasing, challenging her with their mirth. Liv had to lean forward and open her mouth.
It was soft, smooth,
sweet, and everything honey should be, with a surprising smoky finish that had you instantly longing for your next taste. Crud! Liv knew tasting it would be a mistake. She looked up and met Clayton’s eyes. Her lips spread into a smile that she didn’t want to give in to. Leaning forward once again, she took another bite before she remembered where she was and the fact that they were surrounded by other people. Liv pulled back quickly, embarrassed as she tried to laugh it off. She nodded and looked away from Clayton toward Aunt Joyce. “Well, you didn’t lie there, Aunt Joyce. That is some seriously good honey.” She cleared her throat and turned to get a nearby napkin, then wiped at the corners of her mouth. She looked over at Clayton again. “Great job. You do have the beginnings of an impressive small business going. Good for you.” She hoped her voice was at least one tenth as calm as she tried to make it out to be.
Clayton smiled. This time his smile didn’t look particularly soft or genuine or welcoming. This time it looked quite flaccid and slightly cool. “Thank you. Coming from you that means a lot.”
He was shuttered, and she didn’t know if or how she’d somehow insulted him. She also didn’t know why she felt twisted up about it or why she should even care. But she did. Just then, Clayton’s phone rang and he picked it up. An anxious expression washing across his face. “Excuse me, ladies, I have to take this. It’s my daughter’s school.” He stepped away from them, going to the far end of the shop, and she could tell he was concerned by his hushed whispers and the shaking of his head. Clicking off, he turned back to them.
“Is everything okay, Clayton?” Aunt Joyce asked.
Clayton ran a frustrated hand across the top of his head. “I’m sure it’s fine, or at least it will be,” he said to Aunt Joyce, then looked at Liv and Drea. Liv could see the signs of embarrassment move across his face. “Sorry, but I have to run. I need to check on my daughter. You ladies have a great day. Don’t stay up on that hip too long, Miss Joyce.”
Aunt Joyce gave Clayton a small smile back. “Don’t you worry none about me. I’ve got my girls. You just go and check on yours. Give her my love. And if there is anything I can do, don’t you be shy about coming by and asking,” she added.
Clayton was already halfway out the door, but he paused and gave Aunt Joyce a nod of thanks before he left.
Aunt Joyce let out a wistful sigh as she closed the top on the jar of Clayton’s honey. “I swear that little gal gives her father more trouble than she ought to. I understand her being upset about her mother running off like she did, but really, it’s no reason to be hard on her dad like she is. If you ask me, she’s lucky to have a father as good as him.”
“You’re telling me,” Rena said from where she was placing a fresh apple cobbler in the case. “I understand she’s not happy about what her mother did, and believe me, her mama sounds like a right nutcase running out on a man like Clayton Morris, but still, she’s a bit young to be dodging out on school like I hear she’s been doing.”
Liv was taking in the whole conversation, and it filled her with unease. Poor Clayton. And wow, those were words she’d never thought she’d say. But poor Clayton, and his daughter too. “Can I ask what could possibly be making the girl have trouble in school? Could it be more than just her mother running out on her?”
“Well, it could be, I’m sure,” Aunt Joyce said. “You never know with these types of things. I mean, the girl has had her share of troubles, being uprooted from where they were in California, in the middle of the school year no less. All due to the fact that, from what I heard, one day her mother just decided that being part of a family wasn’t no good for her no more.... Now, myself, I can get that. I feel all women don’t have to be the mothering type. But I suppose that’s something you need to come to terms with before you go off and have a child. Barely ten years after that child is up and in the world and you decide it’s not for you? That type of thing just ain’t fair.”
“Nope, sure ain’t,” Rena said. “Not from a mama or from a daddy. It just isn’t right. You can fall out with whoever you’re with, but you sure can’t fall out with the child or with your responsibilities. It just ain’t done. It’s too much for a young psyche to take.” Rena let out a sigh, and it was the first bit of weariness that Liv glimpsed on her cousin’s face since arriving in town. And in that moment, she wanted more than anything to go over and give her a hug, but she knew Rena and there was no way she would accept that type of sympathy. So instead she just agreed with her.
“You’re right, it’s not fair on the child or the parent left behind,” Liv said.
“Yep, Clayton’s got his hands full, all right. Being both father and mother to that girl of his. Plus, he’s taking care of his mama and still checking on his recluse of a brother. It’s a lot. But he handles it pretty well. I do say if he had a nice woman to help him out, someone to smile in his direction, maybe cook him a good meal now and again, it might do him a world of good.” Aunt Joyce said these words and directed them toward the tart she was rearranging, but Liv swore she could feel the breeze flowing in her direction. Luckily, a couple of customers came into the shop; she was surprised to see that one of them was Deidre Clemens.
At first Liv barely recognized Deidre, she’d changed so much from the slim, tough-looking girl she’d known all those years ago with the hard eyes, tight rocker-type clothes, and tough attitude. In her place in walked this light-as-air, curly-haired woman with tanned skin and barely there makeup, wearing a floral sundress, holding the hand of an adorable little girl. She was accompanied by a tall, sandy-blond-haired man with a wild beard and soft gray eyes. Liv could tell from his eyes, which matched the child’s, that this was the husband who Aunt Joyce had gone on about. She could also tell by the high man bun. That was a dead giveaway.
“Deidre Clemens!” Aunt Joyce exclaimed. “What brings you into the shop today? And with the whole family too?”
“Good morning, Miss Joyce.” Deidre said. “And it’s Walden now, remember?” she corrected. “We had a hankering for something extra sweet, and only one of your pies would do the trick. Why, my husband was just saying the other day how your pecan peach cobbler is the most perfect flavor. Between you and me, I’d love to know your secret.”
“Well, wouldn’t everyone,” Aunt Joyce said. “But I’m afraid that’s for family only. Some things you have to keep in house.”
“Of course.” Deidra nodded. “I surely do. We feel that way when creating new ice creams. Bless those family recipes. It’s what we’re made of. And of course we also wanted to see how you were faring after your fall.”
Her husband chimed in. “Yes, we were so sorry to hear about it. It must be hard for you taking care of this shop and trying to get around. You let us know if there is anything we can do to help. Being business neighbors, we are here to look out for each other.”
Liv saw Aunt Joyce’s eyes narrow ever so slightly as her smile stayed firmly in place. This poor guy. He’d obviously been in town for quite a few years judging by the age of his daughter, but he’d always be considered an outsider by the locals. And here was Aunt Joyce not even getting his last name right. Liv felt the need to jump in and save him.
“Thank you,” Liv said, coming over. “We really appreciate it. But Aunt Joyce is fine. I’m Liv, and my sister and I have come to help Aunt Joyce and Rena out for a bit.”
Liv noticed Deidre’s husband’s eyes widen and then he smiled as Deidre chimed in. “Oh, hey, I remember you. It’s great to see you again. This is my husband, Paul, and this little one is Molly,” she said, indicating her daughter.
Liv looked down at the little girl. She was about three, well closer to four. She guessed not quite ready for school yet. But what did she know? Maybe they homeschooled her.
“We did hear Miss Joyce had family in town. That’s wonderful. See there, Miss Joyce? Family to share those secrets with.” Diedre continued, “How long are you staying?”
“Um . . .” Liv for some reason wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question.
“Indefinitely,” Aunt Joyce chimed in. “And I’m so glad they’re here. Already Liv and Drea are just full of fresh ideas about modernizing the place.”
With that, both Liv and Drea turned and looked at Aunt Joyce in shock. “We are?”
She gave them each a nod. “Why, yes, you are, and I can’t wait to get them going.” She turned back to Deidre and Paul, who looked at each other just about as confused as Drea and Liv were over the talk of modernization. “Now, let me get your berry pie. I know you two need to be off to get your shop open.”
As Deidre Clemens, now Walden, left with her pie, kid, and husband, Liv was left perplexed. Why had Aunt Joyce shuffled them out so quickly, and why was she suddenly so eager to do improvements on the shop?
Chapter 9
The weather could not have been more beautiful. The sun was showing out in a glorious way, though it was already late afternoon and still in the high seventies. The fine mist of sweat on Liv’s bare neck had her fast remembering the extreme temperature change once you were past South of the Border on I-95. Goodness, Georgia sure could heat up. She was sure back in New York the air was starting to catch a hint of a pre-fall nip.
Liv put up her hand and gave a wave, knowing it did little to nothing, and regretted not grabbing one of Aunt Joyce’s many sun hats, kept on hooks by the front and back doors, before she headed out to the backyard. After closing this afternoon, Drea had convinced Aunt Joyce to head out to the mall for a mani/pedi. At first Aunt Joyce balked at the idea, but it turned out she was an easy sway. Liv had a feeling that though Aunt Joyce protested, she quite enjoyed her a bit of pampering, and Liv was happy to let the two of them go at it alone. Part of her felt bad taking up so much of Aunt Joyce’s time in the kitchen. Drea was trying her best to help out where she could. It wasn’t her fault that she really didn’t have a culinary bone in her near perfect body. So this little outing might be a good thing for the two of them.
As Good as the First Time Page 12