Could this day go any worse?
He stood there, scrubbing his face, his heart sinking to the ground. He’d let Frankie down. Broken his promise to her. She was supposed to deliver enough brisket, ribs and chicken for more than three hundred guests tomorrow, and there was none.
What now?
* * *
SPENCE DIDN’T CALL FRANKIE. He should; he knew it. Even though she’d be furious with him, he had an obligation to tell her and let her decide on their next step. Rather than reach for the phone, he shoved the key in the ignition.
“Where are we going, Daddy?” Paige asked from the rear seat.
Daddy? This was the first time either twin had actually said “Daddy” and not “my daddy.” Instead of being excited, he concentrated on using his phone’s GPS app to locate the nearest warehouse store. No other place came to mind where he could purchase large quantities of meat.
“Bingo,” he exclaimed, locating a store less than two miles away. Shifting into Drive, he headed toward the exit, the minivan rocking as they ran over a speed bump.
The girls whooped with delight and chorused, “Again.”
Maybe at the warehouse store.
Because he didn’t have a membership—that small detail had escaped him—he bought one. Grabbing a cart, and letting the girls push a second one, he hurriedly led the way to the meat department.
Spence had no clue what to look for when selecting brisket, ribs and chicken. Not that there was much to choose from. Grabbing cellophane-wrapped packages, he threw them into his cart, mentally tallying the pounds.
Nowhere near enough! Even with every package in the meat case, there was maybe a third of what Frankie needed. Frantically waving, he caught the attention of the butcher behind the glass window.
“Do you have any brisket back there?” he asked.
“Which cut? Flat or point?”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll take whatever you have. Beef ribs, too. And whole chickens.”
“Back or short ribs?”
Jeez, the guy was making this hard. “The big kind that you barbecue.”
“That’d be back ribs.” He ambled off.
While they waited, the girls took turns crawling underneath their cart and pushing each other around. Spence briefly considered telling them to stop, especially when an older gentleman passed them, a disapproving scowl on his face.
Spence had too much on his mind to care. He called Ethan, who reported the mare was doing fine and that he’d check on her one last time before going home.
“Thanks, pal. I appreciate it.”
The beep he’d heard during his conversation was a text arriving from Frankie. He quickly scanned the message and then promptly ignored it. He couldn’t lie, and if he told her the truth, she’d start worrying. Better he wait to talk to her until he had a solution, not just a problem.
“Here you go.” The butcher had brought out four more packages of brisket, ten chickens and no ribs.
“Do you have any more?”
“This is all I can sell you. Another delivery is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, if you want to come back.”
“I can’t. Is there by chance a store in north Scottsdale?”
The butcher recited the location.
Paige and Sienna each wanted to push the cart with the meat. They began squabbling and continued throughout the entire checkout process. Fortunately, the cashier was speedy.
In the parking lot, Spence loaded the van as fast as humanly possible, ended the girls’ bickering by putting them in their respective car seats, and zoomed off to their next stop. The routine at the second warehouse store went pretty much the same as the first, and with mostly the same results.
Taking another count, he determined there was plenty of chicken, almost enough brisket and nowhere near the amount of ribs Frankie needed. A search on his phone revealed the next nearest warehouse store was too far away. Spence decided to return home, hitting as many grocery stores as he could.
Which amounted to three. And three conversations with butchers who acted as if they couldn’t care less. Eventually, Spence lost track of how much meat he’d purchased, and hoped for the best.
Frankie would have to understand. By now, she was getting off work. He sent her a text, letting her know they were on their way, but nothing else.
Not unexpectedly, she was standing out front, waiting for them, when he pulled in the driveway. The anger sparking in her eyes the last time he was late paled in comparison to tonight.
“What happened!” she demanded when he tried to explain. “Why weren’t you here when I got home?”
Spence opened the rear door of the minivan and began grabbing packages, handing off the smaller ones to the girls.
“We had a little snafu.”
Frankie glared at the stacks of meat. “Where did you get this? It’s not from the distributor.”
“By the time we arrived, the place was closed.”
“How is that possible?” She stared at him as if unable to comprehend. “Did they close early?”
“I...had to stop at Powell Ranch first.”
“Why?”
“My mare was sick. Don’t worry—she’s okay now. Mel examined her. And then there was traffic on the freeway. But first, the girls went missing at the ranch.” He chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. “It was quite the comedy of errors.”
“I’m not laughing, Spence.”
“I bought most of the meat at two different warehouse stores. The rest at grocery stores.” After tucking packages of brisket under each arm, he carried them into the house.
Frankie did the same. Once they dumped the packages on the counter, she began meticulously inspecting each one.
“This stuff’s inferior,” she proclaimed. “That why I always buy from the distributor.”
“I did the best I could.”
“Some of the meat is frozen.”
“Is it?” He hadn’t noticed. Actually, he hadn’t cared.
Hands braced on her hips, she faced him. “You should have called from the freeway when you realized you were going to be late. I’d have phoned the distributor and had them stay open until you got there.”
“Check your phone. I did call, and you didn’t answer.”
“There was no voice mail message. And you didn’t call again or answer my first text.”
That much was true.
“Okay, okay. I messed up. Sorry.” He left, returning to the minivan for another load.
She dogged his heels, telling the twins, “Go play in your room while Mommy and your daddy work.” They reluctantly obeyed.
He didn’t mention Paige calling him Daddy.
After carting in the last load, Frankie stood in the middle of the kitchen, surveying the mountains of packages, tears in her eyes. “I can’t believe this.”
“Everything’s going to be fine. You’re a great cook. This will be the best barbecue any of the guests have ever eaten.”
“There isn’t enough.” A sob escaped. “And some of the meat is barely good enough to feed to the dogs.”
He thought she might be exaggerating, but refrained from commenting. He happened to like his head, and she was ready to chew it off.
“I’ll do whatever you want,” he said. “How can I help?”
“You’re joking, of course.” Her sob turned into a bitter laugh.
Again, Spence held his tongue. An outburst wouldn’t benefit either of them or the situation. “I wasn’t, actually.”
“You cost me this catering job. What am I supposed to tell the clients? My boyfriend-slash-baby daddy-slash-business partner got delayed because his mare might have been sick, and he was late getting to the meat distributor?”
Did she really not understand? “U
terine torsion is a life-threatening condition. For the foal and possibly the mare. Just ask Mel.”
Frankie didn’t appear to have heard him. “I can’t serve this meat. The chicken, maybe. Yes.” She clamped a hand to her forehead. “Not the brisket or ribs. I could smoke it for two days and it’d still be tough and tasteless.”
He couldn’t believe every single package he’d bought was unusable. “I get that you’re mad. But is there the slightest chance you’re overreacting?”
She recoiled as if he’d uttered a horrible insult. “It’s your fault we’re in this situation.”
“I made a mistake. I’ve already apologized.” He removed his hat, wiped his damp brow and shoved his hat back down on his head. When he spoke again, it was through gritted teeth. “The mare. The girls running off. The traffic. You not answering your phone. Everything conspired against me.”
“That’s no excuse.” Her movements became increasingly jerky as her aggravation increased. “You could have made any number of different decisions. Called the diner when I didn’t answer. Called Mel and asked her to stop by and find me. Called the distributor when you realized you were running late.”
Did she have to keep hitting him over the head with a verbal hammer?
“You asked a lot of me today.”
“You assured me you could handle it. I told you to drop the girls off with Mel.”
“The plan was for you to get off work early,” he countered. “Had you left, we’d be loading the smoker right about now instead of arguing.”
“I couldn’t prevent Shelly Anne getting sick.”
“And I couldn’t help my very expensive pregnant mare exhibiting signs of a serious condition. But somehow, your excuse is understandable and mine isn’t.”
Frankie turned, fire in her eyes. “So, this is all about money? Whose business is more important?”
“That’s hardly fair. Your job at the café, your livelihood, your potential future aren’t on the line. If that mare and her foal had died, my chance of having my own racing horse farm would die with them.”
“Well, my catering business is about to go under.”
“Start over.” Spence didn’t see the problem. She’d hardly gotten her business off the ground.
“With what?” Frankie scoffed. “I don’t have the financial resources. There’s day care costs and preschool tuition, not to mention a mortgage payment, utilities, taxes and insurance.”
“You might have more resources if you’d told me about the girls from the beginning and let me pay child support.”
“Is this your way of extracting revenge?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re mad at me for denying you the twins. And in exchange, you’re sabotaging my business.”
“How could you say that?” He almost banged the side of his head to clear his ears. Surely he hadn’t heard her right. “I’ve let you down in the past, I won’t deny that. But I never have and never will sabotage you or your business.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I got carried away.” Her backpedaling didn’t quite ring true.
Spence breathed and silently counted to ten before saying, “I’ll repeat myself. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re giving up?”
“I have to think.” Confusion and desperation marred her features. “Give me a minute.”
“Should we at least start on the chicken?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. What’s the point if I can’t smoke the brisket and ribs?”
“Frankie. Look—”
“Please.” She closed her eyes and rubbed both her temples. “Maybe you should leave.”
“Is that what you really want?”
She dropped her hands and stared at him. “I want my meat order.”
“This isn’t the end of the world.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“I’m at a loss, Frankie.” He wasn’t lying to her. “I’ve done the best I could to fix the problem. But it’s like you didn’t get what you wanted, and nothing else is acceptable.”
“Now who’s being unfair?”
Perhaps he should leave. This constant bickering was tiring and counterproductive.
“I knew better,” she mumbled, her gaze roaming the piles of meat on the counter. “Yet I let myself fall into the same old trap.”
“What’s that? Trusting me?” he snapped.
“You have to admit this is a big screwup.”
“As appealing as walking out sounds, I’m staying. Not because leaving would be admitting you’re right about me. You’re not. But because that would give you the excuse you need to tell yourself and everyone else I’m the same old Spence who quits when the going gets tough.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
A memory slammed into him. “You’ve said that to me before. Remember? When I took the job in Wichita.”
“A job you happened to take a mere week after I brought up marriage.”
“Did you ever think you drove me away?”
“That’s makes no sense.”
He shook his head. “I’m not the one in this relationship who’s afraid of commitment, Frankie. It’s you. And if I had any doubt, I need only recall that you hid our daughters from me for four years. You can’t bear the thought of being stuck in a relationship with me.”
Her jaw dropped open. “That’s not the least bit true.”
“Think about it.”
“I will.” She pointed to the door. “After you leave.”
“All right. You win,” he admitted. “I’m out of here.” He grabbed his truck keys, which she’d left on the counter, moving several chicken packages to get to them. “But I’m not abandoning my daughters. If you change your mind and want me to watch the smokers, call. I’ll be right over.”
“I won’t.”
He half expected her to stop him before he reached the front door. She didn’t, however, being the proud owner of a stubborn streak a mile wide. Then again, the same could be said about him. A fact that hadn’t boded well for either of them in the past, nor would it in the future.
The difference was—and in Spence’s mind, it was an important one—he wouldn’t skip off for parts unknown this time. He’d be back on her doorstep tomorrow, to see his daughters if nothing else.
Chapter Thirteen
Spence had messed up. Badly. Frankie reassured herself for the twentieth time she wasn’t wrong for being angry at him and sending him away.
Unfortunately, by allowing her anger to rule her actions, she was now up to her elbows in meat—inferior meat at that—and with no one to help her other than two tired, cranky little girls who wanted supper and were oblivious to their mother’s distress.
“Where did Daddy go?” Sienna asked, coming up behind her.
Daddy? Since when did the twins call Spence Daddy? If Frankie weren’t in the middle of a crisis, she’d ponder the implications of this one small change and what caused the sharp prick in her side. Was it shock, worry...or jealousy?
Please don’t let me be that petty. Not tonight.
“He had some errands to run, sweetheart.”
“Were you fighting?”
“No, no.” Frankie rested a hand on Sienna’s shoulder. “Grown-ups talk loud sometimes. We didn’t mean to upset you and your sister.”
Apparently satisfied with the explanation, she said, “We’re hungry.”
“Right.” Frankie surveyed the kitchen, hoping kid-friendly food would miraculously appear without any effort on her part. “Guess not,” she muttered. Then she added in a bright voice, “Cereal and toast okay?”
Breakfast for dinner one night wouldn’t hurt anyone. Frankie shoveled a bowl of fruit-flavored O’
s into her mouth at rapid speed and chased it with a glass of orange juice. The sugar should boost her energy enough for the next few hours.
While she ate, she considered her limited options. With most of her family out of town at the rodeo with Sam, there weren’t many people available and willing to rush to her aid.
Feeling helpless and lost, she phoned her dad. Some things never changed. Just like when she was young, he was the first person she turned to in a crisis.
“Dad?” She broke into sobs. “I’m in trouble.”
“Baby girl, what’s wrong?”
Pulling herself together, she explained the situation, trying not to lay all the blame on Spence.
“Let me call Theo,” her father said when she finished.
“What can he do?”
“The Small Change is the top cattle ranch in the valley. In this part of the state. I guarantee you, Theo has a freezer full of prime quality beef.”
“I only need brisket and ribs.”
“While you’re waiting, go through the packages,” he instructed. “Some of the meat has got to be usable. And smoking does bring out the best in even the worst cuts.”
“All right.” She grew marginally calmer. “I’m not sure I can prep all the meat by myself and watch the girls.”
“Give me a few minutes. Try not to fret.”
Frankie decided a little more than half the brisket and ribs was usable. All right, she’d overreacted, just as Spence had accused her of. She put those packages on one side of the kitchen and the rest on the other. By the time she was done, her dad phoned.
“Theo’s daughter, Reese, and son-in-law, Gabe, will be there shortly with your beef. They didn’t have enough. But Theo reached out to a few of the other ranchers. They all offered what they had.”
“Oh, Dad.” Frankie started crying again, thinking she had a lot of free catering jobs to schedule in the future. “Tell them I’ll pay. I don’t expect handouts.”
“Reese and Gabe can’t stay. But Cara and her husband, Jake, are coming over. Pack a bag for the girls. Jake will take them home to spend the night.”
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