by Jenny Hale
“May I?” David asked, taking the top one.
“Of course.”
He pulled the paper out, gently unfolded it, and started reading silently. Leah watched his eyes moving across the text. “I could give you the life you’ve always wanted,” he read aloud. “I’d be good to your children—they’re angels…” He read on and then looked up, his eyes wide. “I can’t believe this.”
“I know! Who is this guy?” She took the next one and opened it, scanning the text. “We only have one life… I understand if you’ve chosen your own path, but please know that I’m here for you whenever you need me…”
They continued to read the letters, each one telling them so much about the love this man had and the memories of Nan that he held so dear, but at the same time, they didn’t contain specifics, and the questions were mounting. “I’d really like to meet him and hear his story.”
“We could try to look up the address on my computer.”
“Oh!” she said, excitement swelling. “We could!”
David went upstairs and got his laptop. He started it up and sat back on the settee, close enough for Leah to view the screen. Once he had the search engine up, she held out the envelope so he could type in the address. Nervous energy pinged through her fingertips as he hit search.
“It’s a list of phone numbers!” she said, immediately pulling out her phone. They scrolled through the list—hundreds of Samuel Pattersons. Any of them could be him. They narrowed it a bit by age and possible location. She picked one, dialed the number and put the phone to her ear. A thrill prickled her spine. “It’s ringing.”
David shifted on the settee, hanging on every ring as she put the phone on speaker.
“Hello?” a woman answered.
“Hi. I’m looking for Samuel Patterson,” Leah said, making eye contact with David and seeing as much excitement in his eyes as she felt in hers. He smiled at her.
“I’m sorry. There’s no one here by that name. I think you have the wrong number.”
She let out the air she’d been holding in her lungs. “Okay. Thank you,” she said and hung up.
“There are so many,” David said, scrolling through the rest of the numbers.
Leah’s shoulders slumped as she felt the opportunity to know this man slipping from her fingers. “Maybe once everything has settled down after the holidays, I’ll make a list and try them all.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish I’d ripped that letter open when I’d had it.”
Leah laughed, despite herself.
The melting ice off the roof was the only sound between them as Leah contemplated what might have been. She didn’t know what she had expected from calling Samuel, or what she would’ve done next, but she wished she could learn that part of Nan’s life right now, and not have to wait any longer.
“I wonder if she would’ve said anything to Muriel about him. They were great friends.” Leah thought about how much more she told Roz and Louise than she told her family, because she knew they wouldn’t judge her. “I might ask her over for dinner tonight. Would that be okay with you?”
“Of course. I’d love to see her again.”
“What should we cook?”
“Why don’t we call her and see if she’s available? Then we can go shopping and cook something from one of Nina’s millions of recipes. If anyone knew how to cater to someone, it was her.”
Leah couldn’t help but think how creative and considerate a suggestion this was. “That sounds like a perfect idea. It’ll be so good to see her! I haven’t seen her since the funeral and I miss her. She’s a great lady, isn’t she?”
“Yes,” he said, smiling.
“I’ll give her a call.”
* * *
Muriel had been delighted to hear from Leah. Leah had asked her what recipe of Nan’s was her favorite. It had taken some coaxing to get the answer, as Muriel didn’t want to impose at all, but she’d told Muriel she’d pick the dessert if Muriel picked the main dish, so, finally, Muriel relented and asked Leah to cook Nan’s chili and cornbread. “It’s world famous, you know?” she’d said. “Your nan won over a group of international students with that chili.”
“Oh, I remember them!” Leah had said. They’d come on a tour of the southern U.S., and they’d stopped at Nan’s to see a preserved plantation. They all looked beat down and exhausted as they shuffled through the hallways, pairs of them talking in their native tongues, barely any of them able to speak much English. But without saying a word, Nan started handing out little chocolates and glasses of ginger ale.
Nan beckoned for them to come into the kitchen, and they all piled around the table. Those who couldn’t sit stood nearby. She got out a large pot and some vegetables and, with a lot of hand gestures, told them she was going to feed them. She put on music—American pop music—even though she never listened to it, and she started dancing around as she chopped vegetables and added beans and beef to the pot. She already had the cornbread made from the night before, so she heated it in the oven, sliced it, and plated it piece by piece, dabbing a dollop of butter on the top. She handed it out while Muriel, who’d volunteered to help that day like she often did, refilled their glasses. The smell of the stew as it cooked seemed to be intoxicating, the whole group chattering and laughing, raising their glasses to each other.
Leah, Nan, and Muriel had sat with them that cold evening, and even though they couldn’t speak much to each other, there was happiness all around. Nan could just bring it out in people.
Having made a list of ingredients, Leah stood alone in the kitchen, considering going to town alone—and with a very sore ankle. All the reminiscing about Nan had brought her emotions to the surface and she didn’t really know if spending time with David would help anything. She needed space. Leah tapped the folded list against her empty hand, debating. She was going to have to get used to the idea that things would be different from here on out. She had to start accepting the situation. She made her way up the stairs to get him.
* * *
“So what do we need for the chili?” David asked, pushing the shopping cart slowly down the aisle so Leah could keep up with her sore ankle.
“Let’s make a double batch,” Leah suggested. “I texted Roz this morning. Sadie’s coming the day after tomorrow and I’ll want to spend every minute with her, so I’d rather not have to cook. We can just warm up the chili.” She handed him the list and he turned the cart toward the vegetable aisle.
“I can’t wait to meet her. I’ve heard so much about her from Nina. She just adored Sadie.”
She took a moment to look at him, to take in how kind and genuine he was. “They were nearly inseparable. Sadie idolized Nan; it used to be the running joke that if I wanted Sadie to do anything, all I had to do was ask Nan to tell her to do it.” She smiled. “One time, I was dying to get Sadie to try cucumbers. I knew she’d love them and they’d be so easy to pack in her lunches. I was always snacking on them but she’d never try them. I told Nan, and, one day, out of the blue, when Sadie was visiting, she started chopping one. She asked Sadie to help her arrange them on a small platter with some other cold vegetables. ‘I love the way you stacked them just so!’ she said to her. ‘You’re a natural at presentation.’ Then, as calm as ever, Nan said, ‘You know, Sadie, cucumbers are one of my favorite snacks. Feel free to get one if you’d like.’ That was all she said. Then Nan picked a slice off the platter and popped it into her mouth. And, do you know, Sadie did the same thing?” She laughed at the memory.
David grinned at her, laughing too, as he got two onions to put into the cart. Their shared laugher must have made him feel playful because he juggled the onions, tossing them higher and higher into the air. But the last time, he missed, and one of the onions hit the edge of the cart and bounced away, rolling through the legs of an incredulous shopper.
“So sorry,” David said, trying to stifle his laughter as the lady stared at him. “Lost my onion.” He stepped lightly around her and bent dow
n to pick it up, Leah laughing uncontrollably. There was something about him that made even shopping seem more eventful than usual. She enjoyed talking to David, and she was happy to be able to have this time with him.
* * *
The smell of vanilla and caramel filled the air, the warmth from the oven making Leah’s face feel flushed. She’d poked the cake with a toothpick to see if it was ready and then set it on the counter to cool. Nan had always said when the toothpick came out clean the cake was done. Feeling festive, she had Christmas music playing while she baked, and she noticed the flour handprints, just like Nan’s, on the apron she was wearing.
The cake had been cooling a good twenty minutes while she freshened up for dinner. She’d straightened her hair, done her make-up, and put on one of her fitted sweaters and a pair of jeans, dressing it up just a bit with some teardrop earrings. She slid the cake onto Nan’s glass cake stand, scooting it into the center to prepare it for icing.
David came into the kitchen. His face was clean-shaven, his hair just wet enough to give away that he’d recently showered. He had on an oxford shirt and a pair of jeans, and Leah couldn’t help but want to look at him, he was so attractive. She smiled, willing herself to keep busy with the container of icing. She picked at the foil safety seal.
“You look really nice,” he said, and when she looked up at him, his expression seemed to mirror her own thoughts about him. “I’ve never seen your hair like that before.”
She smiled, hoping her cheeks didn’t blush too much. At least she could blame it on all the heat from the oven. “Thank you,” she said.
“So this is Nina’s famous caramel cake?” he asked, standing beside her. She continued to pick at the foil on the icing container until he reached over and gently took if from her hands, pulling the foil off in one motion. He handed it back to her.
“Well, it’s not as famous as her chili,” she teased. She dipped the icing spreader into the tub of caramel icing and dropped a large glob of it on the top of the cake, spreading it evenly along the surface. She added more and, just as Nan had taught her, she made little waves of icing toward the sides, where she added enough to make a thick layer around the edges, all while David looked on. When she’d finished, she took a clean rag and dragged it around the cake plate to give it a clean look. Then, with her icing bag, she made little stars around the edges too and added a caramel drizzle on top to finish it off. She put the glass cover over the top and stacked three small white dessert plates with silver spoons next to it.
The old doorbell rang. “That will be Muriel,” Leah said. They walked to the door together to greet her.
Leah opened the door, and just as she always had, Muriel stood with a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. Amidst a bundle of greenery were buttery cream ranunculuses, their petals like abundant folds of silk, bright red poppies, and red-and-white peonies that looked like Christmas peppermints.
“It’s good to see you,” Leah said, letting her in. She kissed her on the cheek. “Those are gorgeous!”
“Well, you should know,” Muriel said with a smile as she returned Leah’s kiss and then handed her the bouquet. “You are quite stunning yourself! Look at you!” She offered a quick wink and turned. “Hello, David. Lovely to see you.”
Muriel took off her long, black trench coat, the dark color of it complementing her fair complexion and wavy silver hair. She started toward the closet but David stepped in and offered to take her coat.
“It smells divine in here,” she said. “Just like when Nina used to cook that chili. She would be proud.”
“I hope you’re hungry. It’s all ready and warming on the stove.”
“Dear, let’s get right to it. I’m starving.”
David led them down the hallway to the kitchen, Muriel’s boxy heels making clacking noises on the hardwoods. She was in good shape for her age. She’d been a runner when she was younger and now she walked quite a bit. Leah removed the paper from around the bouquet and arranged the flowers in the empty vase on the table.
“Please. Have a seat,” Leah said, pulling out a chair for Muriel. “I’ll bring everything over to the table. What would you like to drink?”
Muriel sat down, the seat nearly swallowing her tiny body. She crossed her legs at the ankle and put her hands in her lap. “An iced tea if you have it.”
“Of course we do!” Leah said with a knowing grin. Nan always had sweet tea on hand and Leah continued that tradition even at her own house. She pulled out Nan’s Waterford crystal pitcher, made of clear glass except for the bottom, which was etched in latticework. She’d always loved that pitcher. This afternoon, in preparation for dinner, Leah had made a fresh batch of tea and dropped rounds of lemons into it. She tried to pour it just so, to keep the lemons from dropping into the glass as she poured the tea over the cubes of ice.
“May I help in any way?” Muriel asked.
“Oh no. I’m just fine.” Leah dished out three hearty bowls of steaming chili and David took them to the table.
Once they were all settled, Leah having set a long platter of cornbread in the center, and had enjoyed a little small talk, Leah decided it was a good time to ask about Samuel.
Muriel’s lips were set in a pout, her head shaking back and forth. “No, dear. I’ve never heard of anyone named Samuel Patterson before.”
“Did Nan ever mention an old flame or anything like that?”
Muriel straightened the napkin in her lap. “No,” she said wistfully. “She was such a fabulous individual, I often wondered why she’d never settled down. I assumed that it was because she’d never moved on after your grandfather died, but I never pressed her on it.”
Leah told her a little about Samuel, and Muriel seemed to enjoy hearing that someone was in love with Nan.
“She was an easy woman to love,” Muriel said. “Knowing her, she was so busy being everything for everyone else that she neglected herself.”
Leah wondered about Nan. What had it been like for her once everyone had gone home and she was snuggled in her bed all alone at night? Had she been missing someone? Had she missed Samuel? It looked like Leah might never find out.
Chapter 11
All morning and into the afternoon, David had been upstairs working. Leah had popped into town, doing a little Christmas shopping in some of the specialty shops, and now she was resting her ankle. She decided to text Roz to ask if Sadie could give her a call.
“Hi, my sweet girl!” she said as she answered the call from Roz’s number.
“Hi, Mama! How is your foot?”
“It’s my ankle and it’s okay. It’s getting better every minute. How are you?” She twisted on the settee, braving the pain as she lifted her foot up onto one of the throw pillows.
“I’m great! We made a gingerbread house and then ate all the candy off!”
“I hope you didn’t get a bellyache!” she said, laughing.
“No. It wasn’t that much candy. They don’t give you much in the boxed ones you buy in the stores. It wasn’t anything like Nan’s.”
She didn’t do it every year, but when Nan made a gingerbread house, she went all out, baking real gingerbread, cutting it into perfect house shapes, and buying bags and bags of gourmet candy from the local candy shop. She’d let Sadie pick out all the flavors last time, and Sadie still talked about that gingerbread house.
“Well, you were polite and thankful to Roz, right?” said Leah, thinking of the cost of those boxed houses at the store. She made a mental note to try to slip Roz ten dollars the next time she saw her, although she doubted Roz would accept it.
“Yes, Mama. I always say thank you when she does something nice.”
“Good girl.”
“I wish we could’ve made it at Nan’s house with all the candy!”
“Me too.” She took in a deep breath and rolled her head on her shoulders, a pinch forming.
“Maybe next year when we live there! We could have them up early for family Christmas!”
“I definite
ly want to spend Christmas with Roz and Jo,” she said, avoiding the subject of the house. Her skin prickled with the reality of her choices. With the money, perhaps she could rent something in town, close to Evergreen Hill… But the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she couldn’t handle being that close and not living at the plantation.
“Mama?” Sadie said, breaking into her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“You got quiet.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Something distracted me. I’m glad you’re having a great time with Roz and Jo. Why don’t you let me speak to Roz now?”
“Okay. Love you!”
“Love you too!”
She heard Sadie calling for Roz and, after a moment, she answered.
“Thank you for making the gingerbread house with Sadie,” she said.
“It was fun! And a good way to keep them busy in this weather. How are you?”
“I’m okay.”
“Any headway with the con artist? Have you reconsidered?”
Leah allowed a little chuckle but sobered when the actual subject of the house entered her mind. “Roz, this isn’t how I expected things to turn out, but in the end, Sadie and I will benefit from selling him the house. Think about all the ways our lives will change with this money. I don’t even have to spell it all out for you. I know you understand. A million dollars…”
“When you first said a million, I was blown away. But how much is that house worth? The way you and Louise describe it… I don’t know. Is it that generous? In the end, you have to do what makes you happy. You know what’s right for you, and no one else can make that decision except you.”
* * *
The fire in the sitting room had fizzled, and Leah checked the back door where Nan kept logs, but couldn’t find any. Without a fire, the house would get extremely cold downstairs. She went to look for David to ask if he had any cut, praying that he did.