Aimee (A Time for Love Book 3)

by Phelps, Brandi

  “I won’t be but a few minutes, I promise,” she said.

  She hurried through her shower, changed into fresh jeans, and went back to the living room to find Frank on his hands and knees with her coffee table flipped over.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He looked up and appeared slightly embarrassed. “Sorry. Your table had a wobbly leg. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all. Feel free to fix anything.” She waved a hand.

  “You can make a list,” he offered.

  “A honey-do list?”

  “A what?”

  “Never mind.”

  She watched as he used an attachment on his pocket knife to tighten a couple of screws. He tested the steadiness of that leg and the other three, then flipped the table over and checked that it was stable.

  When he finished, Aimee asked, “Do you do light bulbs too?”

  “Do light bulbs?”

  “Forget it. Not on your first visit, anyway.” She grabbed a light sweater from the closet. “Ready?”

  Aimee drove them back to A Time for Love. Whitney, at her usual station at the reception desk, told them to go on back, and Frank led the way past Edwina’s office and around a corner of the hallway to a room Aimee had never seen before. It had a pool table, shelves of board games, books, and a large flat-screen TV with a squishy leather sofa in front of it. Frank fetched two soft drinks from a hidden fridge, adjusted the lighting, and chose a spot on the sofa beside Aimee.

  “What about the movie?”

  “Edwina took care of it,” Frank said confidently.

  He clicked the remote and selected Play from the menu that appeared. Aimee settled in beside him and made sure she had discreet access to the tissues she’d tucked into her pocket. She knew she’d need them for certain scenes, especially Bonnie Blue’s fall from the horse.

  They nibbled on the popcorn Lucy had given them, and at one point, Whitney popped in, bearing a large pizza, which she set in front of them. Any hope of eating healthy was already blown for the day, so Aimee dug into the pizza as they watched.

  When the movie was over, Aimee stood up and stretched. “Wow, I’d forgotten how long that movie runs. So, what did you think?”

  “Very powerful. It does give an idea of the havoc the war wreaked on the lives of civilians. A man who used to own the farm next to ours said the sounds of the cannons and men screaming were deafening. He thought nothing could be worse until he saw families wandering around the burned ruins of their homes or their neighbors’, looking for anything they could salvage or anyone who was missing.”

  “I can only imagine.” Aimee shuddered. “He must know a lot about the Civil War to be able to picture it so vividly. Did he study it?”

  “No, he—“ Frank stopped and then changed what he’d been about to say. “In a manner of speaking, yes. Not as a profession.”

  “A Civil War buff,” Aimee nodded. “I’ve met a few of them.”

  “The other lesson is to realize what you have before it’s gone.”

  Frank’s tone had changed, and Aimee caught her breath. He was bending towards her, and before she realized what was happening, he kissed her. A firm kiss, shorter than she would’ve liked. When he drew away, he looked at her.

  “I appreciate you, Aimee. I like where we’re going, and I hope we can keep moving in that direction.”

  Maybe it wasn’t as romantic as being swept up a staircase, but Aimee loved hearing it. “Me too.”

  He smiled. “That was nice. I wondered how it would be.”

  “Kissing me?”

  “Kissing anyone.”

  Aimee twisted in her seat. “Why would you wonder? You’re not seriously telling me you’ve never kissed anyone before, are you?”

  “No. I mean, yes, that’s what I’m telling you. I wanted to share my first kiss with the girl I was going to marry.” He grinned. “And I hope I just did.”

  Aimee’s mouth dropped open, and she was still speechless when Edwina breezed in. Before Aimee could speak, Edwina was clearing away the remains of the pizza and chatting non-stop. “I do hope you two enjoyed the movie. Such lovely costumes, aren’t they? I was quite smitten with Rhett Butler when I first saw him. Some movies hold up over the years. Classic, if not politically correct by today’s standards. But it is rather lengthy. Aimee, you must be tired. You need your rest, dear, since tomorrow will be a busy day. Enjoyable, I hope.”

  She was sweeping Aimee out the door with time for nothing but a quick wave at Frank, who was watching them with an amused expression.

  “Frank will pick you up at ten AM,” Edwina continued. “I would suggest wearing a pretty dress or skirt. Nothing fancy. Appropriate for indoor wear.”

  They reached the elevator, which was already waiting. As Aimee stepped inside, Edwina added, “Oh, and bring that mud pie you promised to make, would you, dear?”

  The doors closed before Aimee could ask why.

  Chapter 12

  “I’m crazy. I’m an absolute lunatic.”

  Aimee muttered the words to herself. Why else would she be in a grocery store at almost one o’clock in the morning, buying ingredients for a pie she’d never made before? She added a box of unsweetened chocolate squares to her basket and moved down the aisle.

  Tish followed her, stifling a yawn. Her blond hair, which she had recently grown out, was tousled, and she looked pale without her usual makeup. Aimee had dragged her out of bed, since she refused to go to the grocery alone at this hour. “Remind me why we’re doing this?”

  “Frank. It’s all about Frank.”

  “When do I get to meet him?”

  “Soon. Tomorrow’s the fourth date of Phase 2. I’m supposed to plan the next one.”

  “If you need help, just let me know. I owe you one,” Tish reminded her.

  “Consider this grocery run my payback.”

  “Partial payback,” Tish agreed. “But I’ll still help you with the date.”

  “Thanks.”

  While Aimee finished gathering the items on her list, Tish grabbed a couple of bags of chips, soft drinks, and a box of cookies. After Aimee parked her car outside their apartment building, she expected Tish to head for her own apartment, but instead she followed Aimee upstairs.

  “Thanks for going to the store with me,” Aimee said as she unlocked her apartment door. “You don’t have to stay up while I bake, though.”

  “All part of Tish’s Security and Pie Tasting Service,” Tish smiled. She paused in the doorway to Aimee’s apartment. “Seriously, though, if you’d rather be alone, just say so.”

  Aimee started to say so, but she realized it wasn’t true. She didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to talk about Frank. She’d listened to Tish gush about how wonderful Lucas was, so it was her turn.

  “If you’re up to what may be an all-nighter, I could use the company.”

  She knew she’d made the right choice when Tish’s face lit up.

  “Great! I got us supplies. You know I’m no chef, but I’ll help with whatever’s needed or just listen and offer moral support.”

  Aimee turned on the coffeemaker and started pulling out the pans and utensils she’d need. Tish chose a place at the kitchen table, where she could talk to Aimee but wouldn’t be in the way. When the coffee finished brewing, Aimee set cups in front of them. Tish sipped hers, and Aimee paused for a couple of quick gulps before she set the chocolate squares into the pan for melting.

  Tish helped crush chocolate wafers for the crust and tasted the filling. Finally, Aimee had the crust cooling on a rack and the mousse in the fridge. She sat at the table with Tish and reached for the bag of chips.

  “Kale? Really? You’re as bad as Charlene!”

  “I got you potato chips,” Tish said mildly and pushed another bag towards her.

  Aimee nibbled a handful. “I’ll be exhausted tomorrow, but I think I nailed it!”

  “Based on my last sample, you did,” Tish assured her. “So the emergency is that you promised Fr
ank a pie better than the one at Timber Island?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d say you succeeded.”

  “I hope so.”

  Tish watched Aimee for a moment and then asked, “Are you really falling for Frank?”

  “I think I might be,” Aimee answered slowly.

  Tish nodded. “Lucas knows Frank.” When Aimee didn’t react, she added, “Actually, they’re friends. Lucas is the whole reason Frank’s at A Time for Love.”

  “Really? That’s good to know. Maybe we should double date sometime.”

  “Sure. And if you ever have any… questions about Frank, you can talk to Lucas.”

  “Questions? What do you mean? Is there something I should know?”

  Tish shrugged. Unusually for her, her expression was uncertain. “As far as I know, he’s a great guy. I’ve never met him, but Lucas talks about him a lot. I just wanted to let you know in case, in the future, you have questions.”

  Aimee felt like there was something Tish wasn’t telling her, but her friend pleaded tiredness and gathered the remains of their snack. “Your pie will wow Frank,” Tish assured her as they walked to the door. “And I’m signing you up to bring it to our next girls’ gathering!”

  “I will,” Aimee promised. “Thanks for everything.”

  “That’s what friends are for.”

  After Tish left, Aimee tidied the kitchen and fell into bed without looking at the clock.

  The next morning, Aimee’s doorbell rang just before ten. She grabbed the pie, which she’d placed in an insulated carrier to keep cool, and checked her reflection before opening the door.

  “Mama!”

  Mrs. Woods was dressed in church finery, a cornflower blue suit with a multi-strand silver necklace. Aimee knew her mother disapproved of the fact that she’d stopped attending church after college, but she hadn’t expected her to show up on the doorstep. Did she plan on dragging Aimee forcibly to church? And Frank was due any minute!

  “I’m sorry, Mama, but I can’t talk right now. I’m expecting—“

  “Me?” Frank stepped into view and grinned at her. “We’re going to church with your mother. Isn’t it great?”

  Not the word Aimee would’ve chosen. Especially not for a date. She hadn’t planned to introduce Frank to her mother until they were practically engaged, if the relationship got that far.

  “Is that a pie?” Aimee’s mother peered at the container. “Excellent! You must’ve heard about the Sweet Victory competition!”

  Somehow Aimee found herself in the back of her mother’s car, while Frank sat in the front passenger seat. She rode in silence as her mother drove them to her church, a large, traditional brick building located on the outskirts of the city. Aimee’s mother directed her to the basement to drop off the pie, while she introduced Frank to her friends. Aimee heard the word “boyfriend” and cringed.

  When she returned, her mother and Frank were waiting to enter the sanctuary, and Aimee followed them to her mother’s usual spot, front and center, so she’d be seen and no one would accuse her of skipping church. Frank stood back for Aimee to go down the pew, but she took his arm and put him between her and her mother, to prevent any efforts on her mother’s part to communicate with her during the service.

  While Aimee’s mother continued to smile and wave to other members of the congregation, Frank turned to Aimee. “You look nice,” he told her.

  “I didn’t know we’d be going to church,” Aimee muttered.

  She’d chosen a print skirt with a lightweight sweater, and she was slightly underdressed for the Sunday morning crowd. Frank looked handsome in a dark suit cut to fit his wide shoulders. Aimee forced herself to set aside her own self-consciousness. “You look nice too.”

  “Thanks. It’s my best church suit,” he grinned. “Just uncomfortable enough to keep me from falling asleep or drifting into a daydream, although it’s going to be mighty hard to focus on the sermon with you beside me and that pie waiting in the basement!”

  When the first hymn began, he held the hymnal for them to share, and once the sermon began, he clasped her hand. Aimee enjoyed having him by her side, and she had to admit she was having a little trouble concentrating too. Frank’s broad shoulder kept brushing against hers, and she could smell the faint tang of his aftershave, a mix of woodsy and citrus scents.

  He might not know it, but Frank had already scored major brownie points with her mother just by showing up. Tom had refused to attend church, and when Aimee eventually quit going also, she knew her mother had blamed Tom. And it was surprisingly nice to have a man beside her. A boyfriend? Could she use the term yet?

  She realized everyone was standing for the final hymn and hastily jumped to her feet. Frank held the hymnal towards her, and they sang together. He had a nice baritone, and she enjoyed the sound of his voice harmonizing with her own.

  After the benediction, they made their way to the Fellowship Hall in the basement, where soup and sandwiches were available on the counter leading to the kitchen, while the desserts were laid out along a row of tables decorated with a gold cloth printed with autumn leaves. Each dessert had a number, and tiny bits of each dessert were missing.

  “The judges have already made their decision,” Mrs. Woods whispered to Aimee. “They’ll announce the prizes at the end. But we can vote for a fan favorite, and I’m voting for yours!”

  “You haven’t even tasted it yet,” Aimee pointed out.

  “I don’t need to.”

  She headed for the small stand that held the ballots, and Frank followed. Aimee waited for them to get back before joining the line for sandwiches and then desserts. The variety was impressive, from simple chocolate chip cookies to cheesecakes, elaborate trifles, and cakes of all types. Aimee filled her plate, and she and Frank found seats at one of the long tables set up on the other side of the large room, while her mother continued to circulate.

  “She’s probably telling everyone to vote for my pie,” Aimee said.

  “She should. It’s delicious!”

  Instead of choosing bite-sized portions of half a dozen different desserts as Aimee had, Frank had helped himself to a slice of Aimee’s pie and was eating it enthusiastically.

  “You should try some of the others,” Aimee told him.

  “Why? They can’t be a good as yours.”

  It was hard to argue with that logic, Aimee admitted. She finished her dessert plate and filled out a ballot for an apple crumble with an amazing caramel streusel topping. When she returned to the table, Frank was surrounded by a trio of middle-aged women, two of whom Aimee vaguely recognized.

  “Aimee Woods! You’re all grown up!”

  One of the women embraced Aimee. After a moment’s thought, Aimee realized she was Mrs. Bell, one of her childhood Sunday School teachers, a substantial woman with an enduring fondness for the color pink. Aimee started to introduce her to Frank, but the woman waved a hand airily. “We’ve already met. I was just telling Frank here about how you practically took over the church kitchen when you were barely a teenager. Her potato salad is the best I’ve ever had,” she said. She adjusted the sleeves of the pink blazer she was wearing and smiled at Frank. “It’s so nice to meet you, Frank. You treat our Aimee right, you hear? Now, come on, girls,” she said to the other women. “We’ve got some dessert tasting to do.”

  When they left, a friend of Aimee’s mother joined them and then another, and they continued to chat with women until the pastor stepped up to a podium at one end of the room. He led the group in prayer and thanked everyone who brought desserts.

  “And now, the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Anita Bell, head of our hospitality committee, will announce our sweet victors!”

  Mrs. Bell smiled at the audience before she began. “We have four judge’s winners today: Best Cake, Best Pie, Best Other, and Grand Prize, plus the Fan Favorite. First up. Best Cake goes to Inez Jennings for her strawberry cream cake. Best Pie goes to Aimee Woods for her mud pie.”

&nb
sp; Aimee missed the rest of the announcement as Frank pulled her into an enthusiastic hug. The entire room applauded as the winners went up to the podium to collect their ribbons. When Aimee tried to leave the podium, Mrs. Bell clasped her hand. “And Aimee Woods is a double winner, because she is also the Fan Favorite!”

  Everyone applauded again, and Mrs. Bell handed Aimee a white envelope. Aimee felt her face turned red at the enthusiastic congratulations she received. She also fielded numerous requests for her recipe. Finally, she and Frank made it to the car.

  “The contest is rigged,” Mrs. Woods complained as they drove away. “The pastor’s wife wins the grand prize every year. Did you taste her cake? The coconut was dry. Your pie was much better! I should complain to Anita. It’s supposed to be anonymous, but everyone knows who always bakes the cross-shaped cake!”

  “Don’t worry about it, Mama. I’m happy with Best Pie and Fan Favorite!”

  “What did you win?” Frank asked.

  “I didn’t open the envelope,” Aimee realized. She pulled out two cardboard rectangles. “Tickets to the symphony! Great! I’ve always wanted to go.” She examined them more closely. “But they’re for the matinee this afternoon! Oh, we can’t possibly--”

  “Yes, you can. I’ll drop you off.”

  Mrs. Woods was already navigating the onramp of the interstate leading back into the city. Aimee glanced at her watch. They would be cutting it close, but they should make the beginning of the performance, especially since they wouldn’t have to park.

  “Thanks, Mama, but we don’t want to abandon you.”

  “You’re not abandoning me. Go. Enjoy yourselves. Now, hush so I can concentrate on driving.”

  They reached the symphony hall safely, and Mrs. Woods let them out near the entrance. She blew Aimee a kiss and drove off. Frank offered Aimee his arm, and they joined the stream of people entering the building. It was exactly the sort of date childhood Aimee had pictured her grown-up self would go on, and she was proud to have Frank beside her.

  The symphony was tuning up as they looked for their seats in the elegantly decorated concert hall. They sat down, and Frank passed Aimee a copy of the program.