“You are the little sister. Whether you like it or not, Lando’s always been a traditional kind of guy. He believes in protecting his family first and foremost. Remember when you were dating Van Coyote, all that black hair, longer than yours that ended up in braids down his back? Lando did everything he could to break you two up.”
Leia nodded at the memory. “My junior year of high school. For some reason Van’s mother hated me. But yeah, Lando was a jerk about me dating a senior.”
“Face it. He didn’t want you dating anyone because he was no choir boy.”
“You would know,” Leia accused.
“He’s always been that macho kind of guy. I suppose it goes back to his tribal roots, head of the family, do-what-I-say kind of thing. Even after being away for so long, that’s a fact that doesn’t change. Am I right? He’s still bossy, and macho, and butts into everyone else’s business. Typical cop.”
Leia sighed. “There’s no need for Lando to butt into anything about my life since…I’m not dating…anyone. Not since last Christmas…I’ve been…abstaining from all that.”
Shock showed on Gemma’s face. “You? Really? What happened last Christmas? There’s gotta be a story behind that. Do tell me everything.”
“Later. But since you’re interested in Lando, rumor has it that he’s dating a mystery woman out of Redding, has been for almost four weeks now. He met her on Facebook. I’m assuming that’s why you asked, to see if he’s available.”
“I asked because it’s polite conversation.” But Gemma realized it mattered a great deal to her. Learning Lando was seeing someone threw her for a loop. The little stab in her heart after all these years came as a surprise. Her words conveyed none of that emotion though as she kept her voice level. “I’m glad he’s completely moved on.”
“Moved on? You broke his heart. Don’t try to pretty it up.”
“I know it and I’m sorry for it. But he’d be the first to admit that we were all wrong for each other. We were only eighteen, barely out of high school. How about Luke? How’s he doing?”
“My brother is a full-fledged doctor now. He has the clinic up and running, another milestone in the life of one of the Bonner kids.”
“Makes you proud.”
“I guess it does,” Leia said, biting into another piece of chocolate. “You can get angry with your mother all you want, but at least Genevieve never had an embarrassing obsession with Star Wars the way mine did. I’m convinced at some point, Lydia Bonner toyed with the idea of changing our last name officially to Skywalker.”
Gemma laughed out loud. “Surely Lydia wouldn’t have gone that far.”
“Don’t bet on it. The woman named her triplets Luke, Lando, and Leia, didn’t she? You know to this day she claims she was hard-pressed to come up with three baby names beginning with L.” Leia rolled her eyes, remembering her grade-school days when she and her brothers had taken flak over it. “And then Mom wonders why we have a problem with our names. Do you still hear from your dad since you left the firm?”
“Stepdad. Yep. Every birthday and Christmas he sends me a card with a check tucked inside. Just like he did when I was a kid. Come to think of it, my stepfather still treats me like I’m twelve, not much better than my mother does.”
“How big a check?” Leia teased.
“Two hundred bucks is standard. I usually deposit it into my savings account and immediately forget it’s there. After I write a nice thank you, of course.”
“Of course. It’s so good talking to you after such a long time not,” Leia declared. “I’m glad you moved back. What are you doing this Saturday night?”
“Cleaning out Gram’s attic and sorting through the junk in there. Why?”
“Ditch the chores and come to my house for dinner. You remember where I live, right?”
“Of course.” But Gemma’s eyebrows went up in suspicion. “I’ll agree to come as long as this isn’t a fixup of some kind.”
Leia faked innocence. “Would I do something sneaky like that?”
“Yes,” Gemma said without hesitating. “There was that time in the fifth grade when you dragged me to Tina Jarrett’s birthday party, assuring me I’d been invited. I didn’t find out until I was standing by their fancy pool that you’d tricked me. You were always terrific at making trouble like that.”
“You could use a little more excitement in your life. Do you miss lawyering?”
“God, no. I don’t miss racking up billable hours or the headaches of living in San Francisco either. Working for my stepfather was a…less than pleasant experience.” Thinking about her time there made her shiver. She aimed a finger at Leia. “And you’re changing the subject. I wouldn’t put it past you to invite Lando to supper.”
“He is my brother. I’m obligated to feed family now and again and no jury in the world would convict me for it.”
“I never once said Lando was a bad guy. In fact, just the opposite. We just…we were too immature to get married. That’s the one thing in nearly thirty years my mother got right.”
“Look, I gotta go. Give me your cell phone and I’ll key in my new phone number. I bought one of those fancy iPhones and got this grand idea to start fresh with a new contact list. This way you’ll have a couple of days to think it over and text me with your answer.”
“I don’t need to think it over. I’ll be there. Probably. And thanks, Leia, for finally coming in to say hi.”
Leia stepped around the counter to hug her old friend. “I’ve missed you. It’s so good to talk to you again. And remember, it wasn’t just me who stayed away for so long. You could’ve popped into the restaurant at any time. We could’ve sat down at any time and caught up. For the record, I didn’t take a pass on your Gram’s funeral. I was sitting in the back row of the church until the end. I did elect not to attend the graveside service and leave that to the family.”
“There wasn’t much family there because no one’s left but me and Genevieve.” With the hard feelings ironed out, Gemma wrapped Leia into a warm embrace of her own. “That sounds like something you’d do…hang back. Be sure to say hello to Lydia for me.”
“Okay, but now that we’ve made up, I can’t guarantee Mom won’t charge in here and refuse to leave until you promise to make an appearance at Captain Jack’s Grill. She won’t be happy until she can feed you.”
“I’ve been swamped here trying to relearn the ropes. There’s a lot of pressure in taking over Gram’s candy making. I still have to follow her recipes to the letter because somewhere along the way I forgot how to make them from memory.”
“Don’t struggle on your own. Holler if you need help,” Leia said and checked her watch. “I gotta get moving. I’m supposed to cater a wedding Friday night and I still have a dozen things to finish.”
“Who’s getting married?”
“Talia Davis. You remember Talia, right? A year ago she lost fifty pounds and decided to fill out one of those profiles on a dating site and found Mr. Right down in San Jose, one of those techie types. I’ll tell you all about it Saturday night.”
Gemma waved to Leia and watched her friend dash out the door.
Left alone in the shop, she shuffled through her grandmother’s recipes and pulled out the one for chocolate truffles. After weeks and weeks, Gemma still had to refer to the recipe cards because she wasn’t confident memorizing every ingredient.
The kitchen was located directly behind the counter so that customers could watch the candy-making process play out from start to finish. But with no audience this morning, she turned on the stove to heat a mixture of cream and sugar.
When the bell dinged above the door, Gemma turned to see Paloma Coyote, whose ancestors had founded the town. Paloma was fighting with her gray hair, now tousled around her face from the brisk spring wind. Paloma had been her grandmother’s oldest and truest confidant for decades. During their long friendship the two women had been more like sisters than neighbors.
Since her last hip operation, seventy-two-
year-old Paloma had to use a cane to get around. But get around she did. Paloma went on a walk around the downtown area almost every day at the same time. Between ten and noon, shopkeepers could expect to catch a glimpse of Paloma sauntering along the sidewalk staring into their window displays as if inspecting the goods. She might not buy anything, she might not even bother going inside, but her little visits showed everyone that she was still active and a viable part of the community.
That was Paloma. Twenty-five years earlier she’d been mayor of Coyote Wells. She’d brought prosperity to a town that had all but dried up. As a full-blooded Hokan Indian and proud of it, Paloma’s heritage could be traced back centuries to this same dot of land.
Back when the local college needed volunteers to study the DNA of California indigenous tribes, she’d been the first to offer up her cooperation. She’d allowed the grad students a forensic peek into her bloodline. The anthropological study had come back with one very startling fact. The six tribes that made up this area were unique. Their lineage belonged to no other kinds of tribes in the state or the world.
“Was that Leia Bonner who just ran out of here?” Paloma wanted to know. Her brown eyes narrowed into little slits. “Thank goodness my grandson Van came to his senses and didn’t marry that little tart.”
Gemma covered her mouth to hide a snicker. Recognizing bad blood still existed between the Coyote and Bonner families, she sidestepped through that minefield. She’d learned early on how important diplomacy could be in a small town and had learned to exercise that skill. “Leia stopped in to feed her chocolate craving. What about you?”
“I got a yen for a coconut truffle,” Paloma admitted. “Blame that on your grandmother.” With her cane, she pointed to the display case. “Are those truffles any better than the ones I had last Saturday? Because those tasted just awful. If they haven’t improved any, maybe I should try your plain milk chocolate. I’ve heard you haven’t managed to screw those up too badly so they’re less likely to make me puke.”
Gemma winced at the criticism. “I’m working on a new batch of truffles right now that should be better…hopefully…and ready by this afternoon,” she said, handing off a sample from yesterday.
While standing to the side of the counter, Paloma bit into one chewy morsel. She made a face before grabbing a paper napkin and spitting the vile concoction into it. “Eww, that is without doubt the worst-tasting stuff I’ve ever tried to eat. I didn’t think anyone could mess up chocolate. Congratulations, girl. You’ve managed to singlehandedly put everyone in town off their chocolate fix. Is there really any hope at all that the new batch will turn out any better than this?”
Gemma looked like she might cry. “Maybe not.”
“This doesn’t taste a thing like what your grandma used to make. Marissa would’ve died all over again if she’d had to eat this crap. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you know how to follow a recipe to the letter?”
“I did,” Gemma claimed, her eyes beginning to tear up. “I found Gram’s recipe cards in her desk but I can’t seem to get the taste to come out right.”
“In her desk? Girl, are you serious? Those recipe cards you found are rejects that didn’t work. Those are the ones she’d planned to keep experimenting with down the road, ones she needed to still tweak. No wonder your stuff tastes like crap.”
“I thought something was off these past weeks. Do you know where she kept her go-to recipes then?”
Paloma pounded her cane on the linoleum and tapped the side of her head. “Most of her creativity was up here. Marissa had them memorized. But I do know she used to keep her notes in a tin box somewhere in the shop. There’s no doubt in my mind they’re around here somewhere. You’d do well to find them and quick before you’re forced to close the doors for good.”
Tears started streaming down Gemma’s face. “I’m working late here every night, doing my best. Last night I was here until almost midnight grinding the beans. I thought the consistency was off. Now I know the recipe cards were wrong. Everything I’ve done is for nothing. I even bought one of those fancy machines to crack the beans.”
Paloma narrowed her eyes again at the waterworks. “There’s no need to go and have a crying jag about it. Blubbering won’t fix the problem.”
“Who am I kidding?” Gemma went on, throwing up her hands in frustration. “I’m no good at this. My batches aren’t anywhere near the kind of product Gram made. I’m afraid they never will be. I’m doing all I can to create the candy exactly like she did and I’m falling short, still not achieving the same quality. I’ve been working on it for weeks. I thought I had the right recipes.”
Paloma eyed the younger woman and then walked around the counter to confront the equipment, shiny and new, lined up in the open kitchen area. “Is this what you’re using to turn the cacao bean into liqueur? That monstrosity of a machine?”
“Yes. It got rave reviews online and cost me almost seven hundred dollars.”
Paloma let out a string of words in her Native tongue. “I don’t give three hoots what anyone said about it on the Internet. For forty years, your grandmother used a plain old mortar and pestle to grind her cacao beans. If it’s good enough for her and the town, then it should be good enough for you. What did you do with the one Marissa used? It should be around here somewhere.”
“It’s in the storeroom. But it takes forever that way.”
Paloma turned a bony finger toward Gemma. “Patience. You young people think things should just happen whenever you want them to happen. Candy-making takes patience. Time. Now you get rid of this ugly thing this minute and grind out the cacao beans the old-fashioned way. You watch. You’ll see a huge difference in taste. State of the art technology doesn’t always produce the best results. Start with that batch over there you’re working on before you waste even more sugar and butter than you already have. And for goodness’ sake find Marissa’s recipe box. I’ll be back in tomorrow to test the new batch once you’ve corrected the problem.”
Having laid down the law, Paloma tapped her cane on the tile floor and headed out the door.
Gemma stared at the line of machines she’d purchased to make the operation more expedient and efficient and realized she’d wasted almost two thousand dollars in the process. Maybe she could pack up the expensive equipment and send it back to where it came from and beg for a refund.
But first she had to get rid of the truffles that Paloma had deemed inedible. It broke her heart to dump an entire tray of the vile-tasting candy into the trash, but that’s exactly what she did.
Just when she was figuring out how to recover from the loss, another customer stepped into the shop. For the next half hour, she waited on a steady stream of locals who seemed to like the taste of the milk chocolate swirled with caramel filling the best. Without trying, maybe she’d stumbled onto her own specialty and what might be her best seller. Despite that, she still had to locate the right recipes though.
The bell jangled again and she looked up to see Vincent Ballard standing with his hands in his pockets just inside the doorway. Ballard owned Wind River Vineyard, a winery north of town specializing in growing the best Bordeaux grapes in the valley that he used to make a fruity merlot and a smooth cabernet.
A successful vintner, Ballard had a reputation for treating his employees equitably and with kindness. But his personal life was another matter. Vincent liked to play fast and loose with the ladies. It didn’t matter much if she was nineteen or ninety, the man could charm his way into trouble and out of it slicker than snot. He didn’t gamble or smoke, didn’t even drink to excess, but if a female didn’t enjoy being one of many, chances are they weren’t going to be happy dating good ol’ Vince.
Today Gemma noted that the sweet-talker looked harried. His face seemed older than his forty-six years and his shoulders slumped in a beaten-down posture.
“Hey, Mr. Ballard. How are you today?”
“I’ve been better. I heard that you’d taken over the business from Marissa.
Got it up and running, I see. Heard you’d even moved into her house right after she died. Didn’t bother to wait long before the body got cold, huh?”
Gemma flinched at the accusation. He wasn’t the first person to say such things. Up to now she’d ignored the stares and the whispers. But not in her own shop. And not today. “That’s right. I’ve picked up where my grandmother left off. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Not me. I’m glad you’ve stepped up. It’d make Marissa proud. There’s no doubt your grandmother will certainly be missed in this town. I’ll certainly miss her sense of humor and the way she made a good, spicy cup of cocoa when the temperature dropped below freezing. She made the best crepes of anyone I know. And her soufflé was impeccable. But what I liked most was her Mayan hot chocolate.”
Sensing a warmer vibe, Gemma shelved her defensive attitude. “If that’s your preference, you look like you could use a cup now. Or maybe something a bit stronger today. A mocha, perhaps? I also make an excellent espresso.”
“Sure. I could use a strong shot of caffeine.”
“Coming right up,” she said, giving a quick nod of thanks that her fancy coffee system worked as advertised and set out to grind beans from a robust Hawaiian Kona packet. Soon the aroma of strong brew began to drift throughout the shop.
Vincent finally stepped closer, but shifted his feet like he wasn’t sure how to proceed. “I usually don’t have a problem conveying what I want to say, but…well I don’t exactly know how to bring this up so I’ll just lay it on the line. You’ve been in town a few weeks now. What other things are you planning to take over that Marissa did? She was a fixture in this town for a reason.”
“I’m not sure I understand the question.”
“Surely you know that Marissa had a special gift for helping people. Are you planning to follow in her footsteps with that too going forward?”
Mystic Falls Page 2