The Cook's Secret Ingredient

by Meg Maxwell

  “You were incredibly brave,” Carson said. “I’ve got to hand it to you. And I’m very happy with how things turned out.”

  Joey Johnson was exceptionally brave. Carson thought about all the times he’d wanted to confront his dad, who’d been physically there, sometimes, anyway, about always canceling their plans or not turning up to birthday celebrations or traveling on holidays for business, but he’d always felt too proud to let anyone know how disappointed and hurt he’d been. So he’d kept it all bottled up inside, giving himself stomachaches. His mother had known; she’d been able to tell by his expression, but Carson had never opened up to her much about it.

  But here, a nine-year-old had gone all out, risking everything to try. The afternoon could have gone very differently, very painfully. As a PI, Carson had experienced quite a few of those reunions. There were some people, like his old neighbor’s son, who really didn’t want to be found.

  But some people, people who drove right into Blue Gulch, clearly did. And so it was time to find Sarah Mack once and for all and he would if he had to drive down every road of every street in the county and surrounding ones. He’d find that little yellow car; he’d find Sarah, and he’d give Olivia what she needed: her aunt.

  As he turned onto the road toward Oak Creek, he realized something. He suddenly wanted to find Sarah Mack more for Olivia’s sake than to prove to his father that the woman wasn’t his second great love, that he’d feel the same nothing at the sight of her as he had for the stylist in the Oak Creek salon.

  Which meant he’d come to care about Olivia Mack way too much.

  And that a nine-year-old kid was a hell of a lot braver than he was.

  * * *

  Carson dropped off Joey and talked with his relieved mom a bit, then hit the road, starting with the main street of Oak Creek to look for the yellow Beetle. For all they know, Sarah Mack lived in Oak Creek, just a town away from Blue Gulch. But he didn’t see the car and driving through town got him nowhere, too. He was going to try the town to the east, then decided he’d try Blue Gulch again. If Sarah had gone there once—who knew how many times she’d driven around Blue Gulch, really—she would go back. He had no doubt that the woman had driven through town to catch a glimpse of her niece.

  The car wasn’t on Blue Gulch Street or in any of the parking spots or lots. But when he turned onto a side road and pulled into the parking lot behind the library, there it was, way in the back, the last spot, between the brick wall of a building and a minivan. He checked the plate to make sure—it was definitely Sarah Mack’s car.

  Yes! Thank you, universe.

  Adrenaline coursing through him, Carson parked and headed inside the library, which wasn’t very crowded, but there was no sign of a woman matching Sarah’s description. He did another sweep, just in case he’d missed her. As politely as possible he excused himself from the children’s librarian who’d come over to say hello and ask how Danny was. Normally, he’d love to talk about his favorite subject—his son—but he had an aunt to find.

  He headed out through the front door of the library and looked around, trying to spot a tall, forty-eight-year-old woman with long auburn hair, probably curly, per Olivia. Blue Gulch Street was crowded today with people walking around for day two of the sidewalk sale, so spotting anyone wasn’t easy. His dad’s closest neighbors were heading into the Blue Gulch coffee shop with lots of shopping bags in their hands. And there were the Hurleys—Essie Hurley, owner of Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen and the food truck that Olivia worked in, and her three granddaughters with their husbands. Annabel and West, with a baby in a carrier on his chest, and their little girl. Georgia and Nick—the detective who’d called him about Sarah Mack’s car in the first place—with a baby in a stroller. And Clementine and Logan with a pair of cute young twins and a girl around nine or ten. The big family, whom Carson had met at Nick’s wedding, was setting down blankets on the town green, picnic baskets as corner weights. A few yards away, one of Danny’s day care mates and his family were trying to teach a puppy to sit. He scanned the crowded green, looking for anyone who fit the bill.

  Wait a minute. Could that be her?

  Sitting across the square, on one of the small boulders that dotted the far edges of the town green and doubled as low seats, was a woman who looked to be in her midforties, tall, wearing huge black sunglasses and a gray cap. An auburn ponytail lay on one shoulder. She was alone and seemed to be people watching, but she was sitting across from the food truck just on the other side of the square. Because she was trying to catch a glimpse of her niece? She wore a casual gray dress—maybe so she wouldn’t stand out.

  He had a pretty good feeling the woman was Sarah Mack. He pulled out his phone and pressed in Olivia’s telephone number, his heart beating ten miles a minute.

  * * *

  Olivia hurried out of her house, Carson’s phone call just a moment ago echoing in her mind. He was ninety-nine percent sure that her aunt was sitting on the town green, looking toward the Hurley’s food truck. Olivia lived just a couple minutes away by foot. Please don’t be gone when I get there, she thought.

  At the corner of Blue Gulch Street, she saw Carson standing in front of the coffee shop, sipping from a take-out cup. He nodded across the green and she followed the direction of his gaze.

  Every molecule in her body seemed to speed up and slow down at the same time. The woman sitting there in the huge sunglasses was Aunt Sarah. She’d know her anywhere, big black lenses covering her face or not.

  As she walked toward her aunt from the right, away from where Sarah was looking, she could see the silver glint of the tattoo on her ankle. The brush. As she drew closer, she could see the hot pink blow-dryer. Aunt Sarah. She was really here.

  She walked closer, unsure if she could call out or just present herself.

  Finally, she was just steps away.

  “Aunt Sarah,” she said softly.

  Sarah started and turned and whipped off her sunglasses. “Olivia. Olivia!” She rushed over and enveloped Olivia into a hug.

  “I can’t believe you just found me,” Sarah said, her green eyes glistening with tears. “I’ve been hanging around town the past few days, looking for glimpses of you. I wasn’t ready to just knock on your door. I heard in town from bits here and there that you run the food truck, so I thought I’d catch a glimpse of you working.”

  “Why have you come now?” Olivia asked. “I mean, was there a specific reason you chose now?”

  “I can’t explain it,” Sarah said. “I just had this overpowering urge the last few weeks to see you, even from a distance.”

  “Mom died,” Olivia said on a whisper, barely able to say the words.

  Sarah’s expression clouded over. “I know. I...felt it, I guess. And because of that, I looked for the obituary until there it was. I did attend the funeral in disguise. I just wasn’t ready to see you.”

  “But why?” Olivia asked. “I don’t understand. I’ve never understood.”

  Sarah took a deep breath. “Let’s talk about this in private.”

  * * *

  While her aunt sat on the sofa in the living room of Olivia’s house, making baby talk to Sweetie about how much she missed the dear old cat, Olivia put together a cheese-and-cracker plate in the kitchen, thinking that Sarah and Edmund already had the warm-hearted baby talk in common. She smiled, imagining the two meeting for the first time, thunderstruck at the sight of each other.

  But there was a lot to get through before she’d even raise the subject of Miranda’s prediction. Such as what had kept her aunt away for so long. She poured two glasses of white wine and set everything on a tray, her hands trembling a bit with anticipation of finally learning what had come between the sisters.

  As she was bringing the tray into the living room, she half expected to find her aunt gone. But there she sat, her beautiful green e
yes giving nothing away, her curly auburn hair in a long ponytail off to one side. Again, Olivia’s gaze locked on the little tattoo on her ankle. Her aunt, now forty-eight, hadn’t changed a whit in five years.

  She handed Sarah a glass of wine, and they clinked. She’d hoped her aunt might make a toast—to their reunion, to the future—but she didn’t. Perhaps Sarah felt toasts might be better saved until everything was said.

  “Will you tell me why you left five years ago?” Olivia asked as she sat down across from Sarah.

  Sarah took a deep breath and let it out. She sipped her wine, put it down and crossed her arms over her chest, as if protecting herself from what she was about to say. “A very long time ago, when I was just sixteen years old, I discovered I was pregnant. The father, my then boyfriend, immediately broke up with me and insisted it couldn’t be his. My mother, very firmly, told me that for the sake of the babies, I had to give them up for adoption and that there would be no discussion.”

  “Babies?” Olivia whispered. Not baby. Babies.

  She nodded. “Yes, babies. My mother knew before I did that I was pregnant with twins. She sent me away to a home for pregnant teenagers in Houston. I never held the babies or saw them. But I did hear one of the nurses say that they were boys. Fraternal twins.”

  “I had no idea,” Olivia said, thinking of Sarah at only sixteen, pregnant, sent away. How scary it must have been.

  “I came back home and never talked about it,” Sarah continued. “My mother refused to discuss it, never brought it up, not once, and my sister was only fourteen. Miranda asked questions, but I always cut her off and eventually she stopped. I just turned inward and tried to pretend the whole thing had been a dream.”

  “Oh, Aunt Sarah. It must have been so hard. You were so young.”

  She sipped her wine and looked away as if trying to stop a memory. “When I was seventeen and my gift was supposed to make itself known, it didn’t. I thought I was being blamed for getting pregnant, for giving away the twins. I shut down even more.” Sarah stood up and walked over to the windows, looking out at the backyard.

  “Did your gift ever materialize?” Olivia asked.

  Sarah turned to face her. “No. I don’t know why. My mother said that sometimes it skipped a generation or a person, that her aunt didn’t have a gift. But when Miranda turned seventeen and it became clear she had the gift of predicting the future, I felt so jealous. I kept my distance from her and told her she was never, ever, to tell me anything about my future or I’d never speak to her again. So she never did.”

  “Until five years ago?” Olivia asked, her heart in her throat.

  Sarah nodded. “Until five years ago. Miranda told me that she knew, just knew, that one of the twins—who’d been adopted separately—was desperately trying to find me and having no luck. I told her to stop, that I didn’t want to hear it. I reminded her that she promised me she’d never tell me anything about my future, and she said it wasn’t my future—it was the boys’. I was so upset with her. This was my business, not hers.”

  “But she didn’t stop?” Olivia asked. Her mother could be relentless when she felt strongly about something. She must have felt very strongly about what she was telling her sister.

  “Miranda kept telling me to just check with the adoption agency, that I’d find contact information there, that she knew it was important I do so. I told her to mind her own business, that I didn’t want to hear more, that I couldn’t handle it. She said I had to handle it. That night, I packed my things and left.”

  “Oh, Aunt Sarah, it must be hard for you to even talk about. I’m so sorry.”

  Her aunt’s face crumped for a moment. “It’s very hard. For so long I didn’t let myself even think about being pregnant or all my hopes and dreams that somehow, I could just run away and have the twins. But I was so afraid. I had no one. I was just sixteen. My mother was so firm about how things would be. The night I gave birth, when it was all over, I literally felt something inside my chest shutter closed.”

  Olivia rushed over to her aunt and wrapped her arms around her. Sarah stiffened, but finally she embraced Olivia and allowed the hug, the comfort.

  “Until five years ago, I never allowed myself to think about that night. The loss. The heartbreak. I’m so sorry I left you behind, Livvy. I was so unfair to you. When I knew that Miranda passed away, I began feeling terrible shame and guilt that I hadn’t listened to her, that I let my own fear keep me from helping the boys—or one of them. But I was so shut down about it.”

  Olivia could well imagine how scared and alone her aunt had felt—thirty-two years ago and five years ago. And now, as well. “I understand, Aunt Sarah. I really do.”

  “And lately,” Sarah continued, “these past few weeks, I can’t explain it, but I feel ready to check that registry and see if they...or one, anyway, is looking for me. I’ve been worried that maybe Miranda’s insistence was because she knew one or both needed a blood relative for something health-related.” She shook her head, tears glistening in her eyes. “What if I’m too late?”

  “Aunt Sarah, maybe she just thought it was time for you to make peace with your past. Perhaps she foresaw that the twins simply wanted to find their birth mother, which is natural.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Olivia waited for Sarah to continue, but her aunt remained silent and turned back to the window again.

  Olivia sensed that her aunt needed a break from the conversation. “Where do you live?” she asked.

  Sarah turned around. “In Tuckerville. I’m still a hairstylist. When I first moved there, I made up a phony last name and worked off the books in a busy salon, and when I built up a following in a few months, I began working out of my home. I have an over-the-top stage name that I go by professionally—Starlight Smith. I was trying to make myself difficult to find—by anyone.” She turned away again and her shoulders started shaking.

  Olivia wrapped her arms around her aunt, who began sobbing. “I’m so glad you told me. And that you’re here. No matter what, Sarah, we’re family and we belong together.”

  Sarah squeezed her hand. “I think I need to rest. Is the guest room still a guest room?”

  Olivia nodded. “Yup.”

  As Sarah headed down the hall, she turned and said, “I promise I won’t flee. I do feel a little shaky about talking about the twins. They’re thirty-two years old now. Grown men who very likely have families of their own.” She closed her eyes. “I’d better go lie down for a bit.”

  She disappeared into the guest room with Sweetie following.

  Olivia sank down on the sofa, starting to process everything she’d learned. If her aunt really did want to track down the twins, Carson could help.

  What she would give to unload to him right now, feel his strong arms around her.

  “Olivia?” Sarah called.

  Olivia went into the guest room. “Do you need something?”

  “Your mom knew I loved her, right?” Sarah asked, tears glistening again. “I just need to know that she did.”

  Olivia sat on the edge of the bed. “She did know. She told me that constantly. When you first left, I kept pestering her to tell me what happened, that I’d heard the tail end of an argument. And she’d always say, ‘We did have an argument and Sarah needs to process it in her own way on her own time. She loves us, even though she left. Always remember that.’”

  Sarah reached over and squeezed Olivia’s hand. “I knew she’d understand. Even if she didn’t agree. I feel a lot better about that.”

  “While she was dying, she asked me to promise to find you so that I could deliver a letter and a family heirloom. I assured her I would. Would you like the letter and heirloom now?”

  “Okay,” she said.

  Olivia rushed to her bedroom and retrieved the letter and the box with the gold bangle bracelet that
had both sisters’ names engraved on it. It had been their grandmother’s.

  The letter was sealed with red wax but it wasn’t very long since the envelope was so thin. Olivia had always wondered what it said, but she wouldn’t ask unless Sarah wanted to share it.

  She left her aunt alone to read the letter. Ten minutes later, Sarah came into the kitchen, where Olivia was tidying up.

  “Do you want to read the letter?” Sarah asked, handing it over. Olivia almost gasped when she realized her aunt was wearing the gold bangle. The letter must have done its job.

  Olivia nodded and took it. The letter was handwritten on thin white stationery in black ink.

  Dear Sarah,

  I’m sorry that I drove you away. It’s always been a fine line for me to know when to stay silent. I should have respected your feelings. I hope you’ll forgive me. If you do, I’ll know it.

  All my love,

  Your sister, Miranda

  “I do forgive her,” Sarah said, brushing tears from under her eyes. “And you know, I do think she knows it,” she added, looking toward the ceiling.

  Olivia hugged her aunt, then put the letter back in the envelope.

  “I was thinking about hiring a private investigator to help me find the twins,” Sarah said. “If they have been looking for me, I want them to be able to contact me. And if they haven’t been looking, well, I’ll just leave my contact information so that they can find me if they ever decide to do so. I suppose I could start with the adoption agency and the registry, but I think I would rather have someone I trust go through the steps and arrange things for me.”

  Olivia smiled. “I know just the guy.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Over dinner, Olivia explained the whole story to her aunt, about Carson barging up to the food truck, the prediction about his father’s second great love being a green-eyed hairstylist named Sarah with a small tattoo of a brush and a blow-dryer on her ankle and the road trips to find her.