The Cook's Secret Ingredient

by Meg Maxwell

  She was sure she’d see Carson tonight at the engagement toast Dory’s mother-in-law-to-be had quickly put together for family and close friends in the Harrington mansion, where Olivia was now helping Dory get ready. Like Dory, though, Olivia was used to being part of the staff as a caterer in homes like this one, but tonight, the party was in Dory’s honor and Olivia was a guest whose only job was to mingle and sip champagne. Since Carson had mentioned that his family and the Harringtons were old friends, she was sure he and his father would be here.

  “Zip me up?” Dory asked, looking everywhere but at her reflection in the ornate gold standing mirror in the corner of Dory’s “dressing room.” Beaufort’s mother, Annalee Harrington, had insisted Dory prepare for the party at the mansion, as it was always referred to, in her own special “readying room.” Dory had called Olivia and begged her to come to the party an hour early for support more than anything.

  Olivia zipped up the back of Dory’s stunning midnight blue velvet dress. She stood behind Dory in front of the mirror, aware that her friend could barely look at herself. “Dory, this is all happening so fast and you seem to be getting swept up in it. If it’s too fast, you can slow it down. I can let Mrs. Harrington know you’re not feeling well and the party can be put off. You can have some time to really think about this.”

  Dory finally looked at herself in the mirror. “I have thought about it—a lot. I do like Beaufort. I’m sure I’ll grow to love him. We have nothing in common, really, but soon we’ll have family in common, right? And meanwhile, my family’s bakery will be saved. After paying the last of my mother’s hospital bills, I have two hundred and fourteen dollars left in my bank account. I had to let go of my last employee at the bakery because I couldn’t pay another week. She was a single mother, Livvy.” Tears glistened in Dory’s eyes. “Beaufort picked me, the girl from the wrong side of the tracks with only a falling-down bakery to her name. That means something to me, even if it shouldn’t. I think he does really love me. I’m sure I’ll grow to love him.”

  Olivia looked at her friend’s reflection. “Dory Drummond, you have a good head on your shoulders. I know you’ll do right by yourself. If that means marrying Beaufort, so be it. If that means telling him you can’t, so be it, too.”

  “Thanks, Livvy,” Dory whispered with a nod.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Dory called, lifting her chin and clearly trying to shake away her concerns.

  Annalee Harrington swept into the room in her own exquisite dress, a tea length rose-gold silk. Her blond hair had been expertly put up into a chignon. How she walked on those four-inch heels, Olivia would never know.

  “Dear, of course you’ll wear these earrings,” Annalee said, ignoring Olivia as she gestured at the dangling diamond-and-gold earrings on a velvet pad on the dresser. “I chose them specifically to go with the dress I picked out for you for tonight.”

  Dory reached her hands up to her ears. She glanced at the earrings on the dresser. “Those are gorgeous, Annalee, but my mother gave me these pearl earrings. I wear them for all special occasions.”

  Annalee frowned. “Dear, those are everyday pearls. And if I may be honest, they look a bit...” She leaned in close. “Are they even...real pearls?”

  “I think so,” Dory said. “Thank you for the dress and all this,” she added, sweeping her arm out, “but I am wearing my mother’s earrings.”

  Annalee stared at Dory long and hard, then her eyes lit up for a moment as if something had occurred to her. “I suppose it’ll take some time.” She glanced at Olivia and scooped up the fancy earrings and walked toward the door. “You’re expected to make your entrance down the stairs at exactly six when you’ll be announced as Beaufort’s bride, Dory. Please don’t be late.”

  “I won’t be,” Dory said, and Annalee left.

  Dory frowned. “Did you feel the arctic blast in here or was that just me?”

  Olivia still felt the chill in the room. “Well, you stood up to her about the earrings. So if you’re going to marry Beaufort, at least we both know you won’t be pushed around by Annalee.”

  Dory gazed at her reflection, reaching up to touch the pearls again. “Why do you think that the only thing your mother would tell me was that I wasn’t in love with Beaufort? To make me acknowledge what I already know but don’t want to think too deeply about?”

  “Probably,” Olivia said.

  “I keep thinking about the difference between need and want. I want real love. But I need to think about my present and future and make sensible decisions. How can I be sure I’ll ever find real love anyway?”

  It wasn’t meant as a question. And it didn’t matter what Olivia thought. People married for all sorts of reasons. Sometimes love was way at the bottom of those reasons. Olivia knew that one of her bosses, Annabel Hurley, had initially agreed to marry rancher West Montgomery in a deal. He’d save her family business, the restaurant, and she’d be the “perfect” stepmother his in-laws required so they wouldn’t seek custody and try to take away his young daughter. They married and now were madly in love. But love hadn’t brought them down the aisle. Maybe things would work out like that for Dory.

  “What do you think Annalee meant by ‘I suppose it’ll take some time?’” Dory asked.

  “I really don’t know. Time for you to adjust to the big change in lifestyle?”

  “That makes sense.” She looked around the room. “Though I don’t think I ever will. It’s almost six. I’d better get ready for the big entrance.”

  “I’ll see you downstairs,” Olivia said. “You do look lovely, Dory.”

  Her friend smiled as best she could and Olivia slipped out of the room and down the beautiful, curved stairwell. On her way, she looked around for Carson and spotted him talking to his father and a small group of people, a few of whom she recognized as customers of her food truck.

  Carson looked so handsome in his charcoal suit and red tie. Because she was staring at him, he looked over and headed her way.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you. You clean up well yourself.” She had a flashback of herself pressed up against the counter in her kitchen, his lips on hers. If he was remembering, too, he showed no sign of it.

  A bell jangled and everyone quieted. Annalee Harrington, flanked by her husband, stood on the first step of the staircase. “May I present my dear son’s lovely bride-to-be, Dorothea Drummond. They are engaged to be married!”

  Dory descended to much clapping. Olivia could tell by the look on her friend’s face that she’d made some sort of peace with her decision, at least for tonight. She was engaged, the party was to toast that, and they would all do so.

  After circulating a bit, Dory came up to Olivia and Carson. “I didn’t know you two knew each other.” Dory explained to Olivia that she and Carson had met at a fund-raiser Beaufort had taken Dory to.

  “Olivia is helping me with a case,” Carson said.

  Reminding her that that was really all there was to them.

  “Dory! Congratulations,” Edmund Ford said as he walked over to join them. “Beaufort is an old family friend. His dad and I go way back to prep school, and, of course, we’ve been on the board together at Texas Trust for decades. I’ve known Beaufort since the day he was born. Good man you’re marrying.”

  Dory smiled. “I recognize you from the bakery. How’s that sweet grandson of yours? Bring him into the bakery tomorrow—I’m making his favorite rainbow cookies.”

  “Oh, I’ll be sure to,” Edmund said.

  As Dory was swept away by others wanting to congratulate her, Edmund leaned close to Olivia and whispered, “Thank you for helping to look for my Sarah. I know she’s your Sarah, too, and, according to Carson, you want to find her as badly as I do.”

  “She’s the only family I have left,” Oli
via said before sipping her champagne. “I promised my mother I would deliver a note and a family heirloom. It means the world to me to make good on that.”

  “Your mother must have known you’d find her,” Carson said. “Or she never would have made you promise.”

  Olivia almost dropped her glass. Yes. He was right. Of course her mother had known she would find Sarah. Miranda Mack would never have burdened Olivia with an unable-to-be-fulfilled deathbed wish.

  “I suppose this means he’s coming around,” Edmund said, clapping Carson on the back.

  Was that steam coming out of Carson’s ears?

  “I’m not coming around to believing in fortune-telling if that’s what you’re saying, Dad,” Carson said. “But you’re right—from what Olivia has said about her mother, Miranda wouldn’t have made her daughter promise something she didn’t think she could come through on. Simple deduction. Nothing to do with Miranda knowing the future.”

  “Well, whatever your reasons for finding my green-eyed hairstylist, I’m just grateful,” Edmund said, his voice lower. “And it means a lot to me that you’re on my side about something so important to me, Carson. Again, no matter the reasons why you’re trying to find Sarah. Hope is a good thing.”

  Olivia could plainly see that Carson was conflicted. “That we can all agree on,” she said.

  But Carson placed his almost-full glass of champagne on a passing waiter’s tray, said, “Excuse me,” to his father and Olivia and walked away.

  * * *

  Carson was standing at the far end of the patio, staring at the lights that had been hung in the backyard, barely aware of the guests surrounding him, talking and laughing and sipping champagne. He made his appearance, he’d congratulated Beaufort and the family and now he wanted to go home to his son.

  His father’s crazy romantic quest, the engagement toast, the constant talk of love and marriage and happy endings all had Carson’s stomach twisted. Every time he looked over at Beaufort and Dory arm in arm, he wanted to yell, Don’t do it! One of you will walk out on the other the minute something isn’t perfect.

  The interesting thing was, every time he looked over at Beaufort and Dory, he could tell that something wasn’t quite right already. They sure didn’t look like or act like a couple in love. It was Carson’s job to notice and pay attention, and body language spoke volumes. They didn’t lean toward each other, into each other. They didn’t stare into each other’s eyes. Carson had known Beaufort Harrington a long time, since he was a kid. They didn’t grow up in the same town, but their families spent a lot of time together, the two bankers glued to their phones while the boys explored backwoods and sneaked onto ranches to watch the huge bulls. For a long time, Beaufort had wanted to be a rancher but his father had said that no Harrington would be a two-bit cowboy and that was the end of that, despite the fact that Beaufort was now twenty-five years old. But every time Beaufort was around livestock and horses, his eyes lit up. The man’s eyes didn’t light up that way when he looked at Dory. And granted, Carson didn’t know Dory, but this was not a woman excited about her pending nuptials, either.

  Something was up about the engagement. He didn’t know what, but it couldn’t just be his so-called cynicism talking. The whole thing made him want to leave. Good love was bad. Bad love was bad. You couldn’t win.

  As he turned to head inside he saw Olivia talking to Dory and something shifted inside him. He felt it, an actual physical, tangible movement in his chest. She was beautiful in her pale yellow dress and strappy gold sandals, her long brown hair down around her shoulders, her full lips a pinky red. He’d avoided her for the past two days when all he was doing was thinking about her. But tonight was a reminder that he needed to just get this job done so it would be over. Including the time he’d need to spend around Olivia. He was starting to care about her—he did care about her—and he didn’t want to. He was done with all that. It was him and Danny now, a unit, a twosome, and he’d devote his time and attention to his son, be the father he wished he’d had.

  Olivia looked over at him just as his phone rang. His sitter.

  Danny was throwing some kind of tantrum. He’d woken up screaming and yelling. Night terrors, the sitter thought. He let the sitter know he was on his way and would be there in minutes.

  As he neared Olivia, he had every intention of just hurrying out toward the door but he found himself stopping.

  Needing her.

  What the hell?

  “Danny is up and throwing the tantrum of all tantrums, according to his sitter,” he whispered. “I have to go.”

  “I’ll come help,” she said and followed him out the door. “I’ll text Dory that we needed to leave.”

  He didn’t stop her, didn’t say I’ve got this. For someone who didn’t believe in much of anything these days, he sure did want her by his side right now.

  * * *

  Danny was indeed screaming his little head off. Olivia could hear him as she and Carson neared the front door of his house. The moment they entered, it was clear that the poor sitter seemed about to cry herself. As Carson took a screeching Danny from her, he tried bouncing the toddler on his hip and assuring the sitter it was all right, that Danny probably just had bad dreams or had an upset tummy. But Danny continued to cry his eyes out and kick.

  Olivia watched Carson try everything in his arsenal to calm his son, but nothing worked. She wanted to take Danny herself and give something a try, but she was hesitant; she wasn’t a mother and had zero babysitting experience. When the little boy let out a wail that almost split her eardrums, Olivia reached for Danny and, exasperated, Carson handed him over.

  Olivia held Danny flat against her in his green footie pajamas, his head on her chest, and gently rubbed his back while singing a silly old camp song her mother used to sing when she was little about a meatball on top of spaghetti. Danny stopped fidgeting. He quieted down. When she was up to the second verse, Danny had stopped crying altogether. He peered at her, rubbed his eyes and seemed to be listening and fighting sleep at the same time.

  “Again,” Danny mumbled when she finished the song, his eyes closing and opening.

  She was aware of Carson and the sitter staring at her as they stood by the door.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” the sitter whispered. “I’m so sorry I had to interrupt your evening. I should have been able to calm him down.”

  “It’s no problem at all,” Carson told her. “And you’re wonderful with Danny. Sometimes it takes someone he barely knows.”

  That would be me, Olivia thought.

  Carson said he’d see the sitter out to her car and would be back in a moment. By the end of the third run-through of the song, Danny was fast asleep. She held him against her, breathing in his baby shampoo, loving the sweet weight of him. She could hold him all night.

  Carson came back in and smiled. “Baby whisperer.”

  She was about to say that the Mack women weren’t known for that, but thought better of it. “Where’s his room? I’ll lay him down.”

  Carson led the way into the nursery. The room was painted a pale blue with stenciled sailboats lining the walls. Olivia gently lowered the toddler into the crib. He let out a sigh and continued sleeping.

  They left the nursery, keeping the door ajar, and headed back in the living room. “I don’t know how you did it,” Carson said, “but I owe you. Big. Nightcap?”

  “Actually, I’d love a cup of tea. Cream and sugar, if you have.”

  He nodded and went into the kitchen. She glanced around, surprised by how cozy his house was. She hadn’t known what to expect. It wasn’t a mansion like his dad’s house, but it wasn’t a bungalow like hers. The home itself was a stately Colonial, white with a red door. The interior was toddler-friendly, with two big, plush sofas in durable brown leather, thick rugs, beanbags and floor pillows.

  Car
son returned with two mugs of steaming tea. She could smell the lemon from where she sat on the love seat.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking one of the textured blue mugs.

  “I should be thanking you over and over. Now I know what song to sing him to calm him down.”

  She smiled and blew on the tea. I want a baby, she thought out of nowhere. I want a baby of my own. A husband. A family.

  She did, she realized. She’d dated her last boyfriend for almost three years, and when he broke up with her out of the blue and proposed to a woman he’d met the week before—when you know, you know, he’d said—she’d been heartbroken. Her mother had tried to tell her, of course, but Olivia had refused to listen. Now, a year later, the ex and his wife were expecting a baby, per the announcement she’d read in the Blue Gulch County Gazette. At least he’d moved to his wife’s hometown so she didn’t have to see them all the time. Since then, she’d closed herself off to romance, cooking by herself, being hermit-like, determined not to meet anyone new and get her heart smashed again.

  But she had met someone new. A handsome private investigator named Carson Ford. A divorced father of a little boy. And all those dreams had come roaring back to life. Marriage. Motherhood. Family. A unit.

  To get the thoughts out of her head, thoughts that were dangerously veering toward a fantasy that the toddler she’d laid down in his crib was hers and that this handsome man sitting next to her was also hers, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

  “So what case are you working on now? I mean, besides your father’s.”