CHAPTER 3. POT ROAST AND PIE
When Uncle Roger smiled, the corners of his mouth spread till they were within an unimportant distance of his ears. Especially when he had such cause to smile as the delicious dinner he was currently devouring with unrestrained gusto. Except for his smile, Leesa thought Uncle Roger quite ordinary looking—square-jawed, nose a bit too broad, brown eyes and close-cropped black hair flecked with gray. He was a large man whose size would have been intimidating but for his smile. She had never seen a smile quite so wide, but guessed the smile stretching her own lips might be nearly as broad. Dinner was that good. And still to come was the fresh-baked apple pie from Uncle Roger’s bakery. The cinnamon-laced aroma had been tantalizing her since her uncle had set it in the oven to stay warm.
Aided by a Crock-Pot that had been tenderizing a pot roast all day, Aunt Janet had whipped up the fabulous meal in less than thirty minutes. Buttery sweet potatoes and tender green beans sautéed with shallots and pine nuts accompanied the pot roast, which was quite simply the most tender piece of meat Leesa had ever tasted. The succulent beef seemed almost to melt in her mouth, and the gravy—oh, that gravy!—was to die for. It was the best dinner she’d ever eaten, and she hadn’t even tasted Uncle Roger’s pie yet.
“Are you excited about college?” Uncle Roger asked.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to get started,” Leesa replied, “but I’m kinda nervous, too.”
“What classes will you be taking?” Aunt Janet asked.
“Psychology, physics, English lit and math,” Leesa said, avoiding any mention of the controversial fifth class she’d signed up for. No point in roiling the waters by bringing that up. She also decided not to risk spoiling dinner by asking about Bradley, despite her impatience to start learning everything she could about her brother’s time here in Connecticut. There’d be time enough for that later.
She finished her pot roast in silence, enjoying every bite, then soaked up the last bit of gravy on her plate with a piece of homemade bread.
“Dinner was totally amazing, Aunt Janet. I may be dropping by for a home-cooked meal way more than you bargained for.”
“Not a chance, dear,” Aunt Janet replied, smiling. “You’re welcome to eat here every night, if you want.”
Leesa grinned. “That ‘freshman fifteen’ would turn into a ‘terrible thirty’ pretty quick if I ate like this every night.” Her smile grew wider as she watched Uncle Roger drop a huge scoop of vanilla ice cream beside a slice of pie seemingly the size of a small shoebox. “But it might be worth it,” she added when Uncle Roger set the pie in front of her.
The ice cream was already beginning to melt into the pie when she pushed her fork through the flaky crust, cutting off a healthy bite and raising it to her lips. The aroma alone was probably worth five pounds, she thought as she closed her mouth around the forkful. The buttery crust needed no chewing, and the tangy apple slices required little more. She closed her eyes in exquisite pleasure, savoring the delicious combination of flavors, textures and temperatures.
“Mmmmm… You must sell a million of these, Uncle Roger. It’s amazing.”
Uncle Roger’s smile beamed again. “Not quite. But apple is our best seller, especially this time of year.” He set a piece in front of his wife and began cutting a healthy slice for himself. “Enjoy. There’s plenty more where that came from.”
“Ha! Don’t even think that,” Leesa said after polishing off another bite. “I’d probably explode.” She rubbed her stomach. “But I’d explode happy,” she admitted with a smile.
Later, after the table had been cleaned and the dishes rinsed and crammed into the dishwasher—Leesa had offered to help, but Aunt Janet had forbidden her to lift a finger—Leesa sat with her aunt and uncle in their cozy living room, rocking slowly on a surprisingly comfortable oak rocking chair and sipping a can of Diet Pepsi. Max sat beside the chair, cleverly positioning himself so Leesa could pet the top of his head while she rocked. Uncle Roger reclined on a plump easy chair, a cup of steaming coffee on the small wooden table next to him, while Aunt Janet enjoyed a glass of red wine on the three-cushioned floral couch. “Peaceful, Easy Feeling” from the Eagles greatest hits CD played softly in the background, and a bright fire popped and crackled in the stone fireplace. With the heat from the fire radiating across her face and Max’s soft fur under her fingertips, Leesa could not remember ever feeling quite so at home and relaxed. She didn’t want to spoil the feeling, but she couldn’t wait any longer to ask about Bradley.
“Did Bradley visit you guys much?” she asked.
“Every couple of weeks, I’d guess,” Aunt Janet replied. “Usually for dinner.”
“No surprise there,” Leesa said, smiling. Bradley’s appetite and Aunt Janet’s cooking would have been a perfect match.
“He’d stop by the bakery now and then to take a pie back to campus, too,” Uncle Roger added.
“Just one?” Leesa laughed.
“Well, now that you mention it, sometimes he’d take a couple partial pies. ‘For variety,’ he’d say, but I think it was his way of getting more pie without seeming greedy.”
“We saw a fair amount of him the first couple of months, less often as he settled in on campus and began making friends,” Aunt Janet said. “Still pretty regularly after that, his first year at least. Not so much the second.”
Leesa stopped rocking, balancing instead on the front of the chair. Max looked up at her, disappointed the petting had stopped, but she didn’t notice. Her heartbeat began to quicken. “Did he ever say why? Why he stopped coming so much, I mean?”
“Not to me,” Aunt Janet said. She turned toward her husband. “Roger?”
“Nope. I had the feeling his girlfriend was keeping him pretty busy. Not so unusual for a college boy, you know.”
Leesa remembered how Bradley’s calls and messages began tapering off after the girlfriend appeared. She wished she’d asked him more about it when she had the chance. “Did you ever meet her?”
Aunt Janet shook her head. “No, never. I invited him to bring her for dinner several times, but they never made it. I don’t know why.”
“Bradley was very reticent about her for some reason,” Uncle Roger said. “I think she was in the car one time he came to the bakery, but he never brought her inside or even mentioned she was out there. I didn’t want to butt in or mess with his privacy. Maybe I should have,” he added with regret.
“Did he tell you much about her, Leesa?” Aunt Janet asked. “I know how fond of you he was. He talked about you all the time.”
Leesa felt warm and sad at the same time, thinking of Bradley sitting in this very room talking proudly about her. “No,” she said after a moment. “Only that he’d met someone special, but never anything specific. I wish I’d asked. I don’t even know her name.”
“Edwina,” Aunt Janet said. “He told us that much.”
Leesa leaned back and began to rock. Edwina. At least she had a name now. Her hand found Max’s head again and she stroked his soft fur. She had no idea if Edwina had anything to do with Bradley’s going away, but she had nothing else to go on, and the timing made it possible, if not likely. “Did he say anything else about her?”
Uncle Roger rubbed his chin. “She was a Weston student, I know that. I remember Bradley mentioning them being in a class together. And he called her a local, so I guess she grew up somewhere around here.”
“I remember him saying she was exotic,” Aunt Janet added. “I’d asked him if she was pretty, and I distinctly remember him replying with that word. Exotic. I don’t know what he meant by it, though.”
“He was clearly quite taken with her,” Uncle Roger said. “But the longer he was with her, the less he spoke of her, which seemed kind of odd.”
“Have you heard anything at all from him, Leesa?” Aunt Janet asked.
“Nothing,” Leesa said. “Not since an email saying he was going away.” I don’t know if I’ll ever be coming back. She didn’t see any use in sharing that part
with her aunt and uncle. There was nothing they could do about it anyway.
She stood up and paced in front of the fire, frustrated by how little they all knew about what had been going on with Bradley, but it hadn’t seemed that important at the time. Not until he suddenly vanished, and by then it was too late. Please don’t try to find me… Forget about me. Why would he say that? What did it all mean? She stared into the fire, but there were no answers in the crackling flames.
There was only one thing Leesa was sure of—she was going to do everything she could to find out what happened to her big brother.
Breathless (Blue Fire Saga #1) Page 4