Kicking herself, she grimaced. “He’s picking me up about seven o’clock.”
Winnie pushed back her chair. “Glory be. We’ve got to get started.” Winnie strode to the sink, emptied her mug, and rinsed it three times before placing it in the dishwasher.
Penn frowned. “Wait a minute. You don’t have to do anything. He’s not coming here for dinner.”
“That may be so, but we owe that young man some cookies.” Jancie joined her sister in clearing the table.
“And some cinnamon rolls. Jancie, you can help until you need to rest. We’ll take it slow. Don’t wear yourself out.”
“Stop. You don’t need to bake anything. He’s already asked me. No need to try to win him over with your baking wiles.”
Jancie stared. “Penny, we’re not trying to do anything. We promised him some cookies weeks ago, then everything fell to pieces.” She glanced at the clock. “How much time do we have?”
“Seven o’clock.”
Jancie rubbed her chin. “Definitely the cookies and the cinnamon rolls. He loves those. I know. We’ve got all those pecans Graham sent back with us. We could make a pecan pie. What do you think, sister?”
“Wonderful idea. Let’s get to it.”
Penn slapped her hands on her waist. Visions of baked goods piled high on the counter teased her. “Wait a minute.” Couldn’t they see reason? Understand logic? “He’s one person. He can’t eat all that.” She scrunched the fabric of her pajama top with her fists.
“Of course, he can’t eat all of it, but he’ll have a good selection to sample.” Winnie stooped into the refrigerator. “Do we have enough eggs?”
Penn grunted and retreated to her bedroom.
30
The house smelled like a bakery. Cinnamon mingled with butter. Sugar and chocolate melted together creating a blissful scent permeating through the closets upstairs.
Penn smiled in spite of herself, enjoying the comforting aromas. Her aunts were back. Really back.
The doorbell jingled around four o’clock. Abby, as promised, arrived with a small carry-on bag beside her.
Penn cocked her head toward the luggage. “Are you spending the night?”
Abby smirked. “Funny.” She planted a quick kiss on Penn’s cheek.” These are reinforcements in case you get a bad case of I-have-nothing-to-wear. Oh, man.” She peered over Penn’s shoulder. “What’s going on in here? It smells like—”
“A bakery?”
“I was going to say Christmas.“ She inhaled. “To die for.”
“Abby.” Winnie shrieked as she stepped into the family room, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “It’s so good to see you, dear.” She enfolded Abby in an eager hug. “And you’re here to help Penn dress for her date?”
“Not that I can’t dress myself.”
“Penn, tonight is special. Calls for special effort.” Jancie joined the party clutching a sampler tray of the day’s baking frenzy. “Let’s get this party started. I’m ready for a break from the kitchen.”
Penn snagged Jancie’s arm. “You’re coming, too?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She headed up the stairs.
All four of them wedged into Penn’s modest bedroom. The two aunts reclined against the headboard. Abby perched in the desk chair, and Penn was stationed at her closet door.
Abby broke a celebration cookie in half. “So what’re you doing tonight? Casual or dressy?” She bit the cookie and moaned.
“I don’t know.”
Abby lowered the cookie. “You don’t know?”
The aunts clapped and giggled. “Ooh, a surprise. We love it.”
Abby tapped her chin. “Makes choosing an outfit harder, though.”
“John’s not exactly the dressy type. Casual. That’s the way to go. Pants, for sure. He rides a motorcycle.”
Abby’s eyes widened. “Girl. That’s so cool.” She pinched a tiny bite of a cinnamon roll, popped it into her mouth, and licked her fingers. “My thighs are screaming, ‘Quit with the butter and sugar,’ but my mouth is loving this afternoon smorgasbord.” She wadded up a napkin. “No more treats. Penn, show me what you’ve got.”
Abby nixed four pairs of pants until Penn produced a pair of black crepe pants. “These are nice. We could work with these.”
The aunts agreed, but their heads lolled on the headboard.
Penn paraded blouses and shirts and sweater sets before Abby, but none sparked any interest for her. Running out of clothes and time, she dug in the back of her closet and discovered a blouse she hadn’t worn since last fall. An amethyst scoop-necked blouse. It featured long, billowy full sleeves. She’d forgotten how much she liked it.
“Not bad.” Abby fingered the fabric. “I like the material. Try it on with the pants.”
No second command chirped from the bed. Penn glanced at her aunts. Both napped, heads resting against each other.
When Penn donned the outfit, Abby issued more directions. “Walk back and forth a few times.” Abby studied her like a specimen in one of her medical cases. “Hmm mmm. I like the way the hem flutters when you walk. How do you feel in it?”
Penn shrugged. “I don’t know. Fine, I guess. I always liked this blouse.”
“Good, but can’t you get a little more excited? Oh, I know. Wait.” Abby dropped to the floor beside her satchel, extracting blouses and scarves and boxes until she found the objective. “Ah ha. Here it is. Wrap this around your neck.” She shook out a beautiful gauzy violet, pink, and cornflower scarf. “I bought it in Milan during a summer study abroad session.”
Penn caressed the silky scarf. “I love it. Are you sure you want me to wear it?”
“Try it on and let’s see.” She squared Penn in front of the full-length mirror on the back of the closet door. “Wrap it like this.” She wound the scarf loosely twice around her neck and fiddled with the ends until they hung straight in a nonchalant way.
She peeked over Penn’s shoulder. “What do you think? She fluffed the folds and stepped back.
“I love it.” The blouse and pants looked fine alone, but the scarf added interest.
Abby hugged her. “I do, too. It’s classy and fun at the same time. You have to wear it.”
Soft snores sounded from the bed.
“See? The aunts agree. It’s unanimous.” Abby peered at them. “They’re out cold. Did they bake all day?”
Penn’s heart pinged for them. “Don’t blame me. I tried to get them to stop before the pecan pie. Then they saw the spotty bananas, and we had chocolate chips, so of course we needed a banana bread to round off the other three deserts.” She pivoted in front of the mirror. “We’ll make you a to-go plate when you leave.”
“I’m down for that. Now. Hair and makeup.” Abby rummaged through her satchel again and found a zebra striped makeup case.
“This part won’t take too long. I don’t wear a lot.”
Abby fished through the makeup. “But it’s evening and a date.”
Penn chewed on her cheek. “I don’t want to look like a clown.”
“I promise. You won’t.” Abby drew out eye shadow pallets.
“Or a floozy.”
“Not that either. A floozy. Who uses that term, anyway? But you do need a little enhancement.” She found tubes.
“Thanks a lot.” Penn grinned. “And Jancie and Winnie use that term.”
Abby added brushes to the mix. “When I said, ‘you,’ I meant that in the plural sense. Makeup helps everybody.”
“Uh huh.”
“I’m going to pluck your eyebrows first—just a bit. Don’t worry.” She stilled Penn’s hand and waved a pair of tweezers. “It’ll open up your eyes.”
Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Sneeze.
Pluck. Pluck. Pluck. Sneeze.
“Seriously, Penn? I’ve never heard of anybody being allergic to plucking eyebrows before.”
Penn snatched a tissue and blew her nose. “Can we be done yet?”
“Yeah, yeah.” Abby dabbed around Penn’s eyes
and opened a bottle of foundation. Her movements were swift and certain.
Abby. She’d pushed her way back into her life. Didn’t cower when Penn puffed and roared a little bit in the coffee shop. She held onto the tenuous cord of friendship, and here she was helping her, teasing her, eating cookies with her.
Thank you, God.
“I flew in a plane.”
The hand holding a small, tapered brush froze in mid-stroke. Blue eyes met brown.
“What?”
Penn broke eye contact, studied the top of the dresser. “John flew me to Oxford when Jancie had her heart attack.”
Abby lowered the brush. “You’re serious.”
Penn loosened the scarf. “As a—well, you know what they say.”
Abby nudged her hand away and fluffed the scarf again. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing to talk about, counselor person.” Back off, Abby.
“I disagree. There’s a heck of a lot to talk about. You don’t have to talk with me, but—”
Penn shrugged. “I had to get to my aunts. John offered. I accepted. Whole story in a nutshell.” She fingered a lipstick tube.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, why’d you bring it up?”
Penn dropped her chin into the scarf. “I don’t know.”
Abby raised the brush. “Well, if you—”
“It was hard, OK? The hardest thing I’ve ever done.” She picked up an eye pencil, removed the top, recapped it, removed the top again. “It’s hard to talk about, too.”
Abby rescued the eye pencil and laid it on the dresser. “Sure it is. How did you feel?”
Penn rolled her eyes.
“I’m not asking as a therapist, Penny. I’m asking as a friend who loves you. I can’t imagine what you must have gone through on that plane. How do you feel now?”
“John helped. He was...he was a rock, but gentle and kind. He prayed before we left, and Bible verses kept flooding my mind. The entire two hours. I had a barf bag on my lap, but I didn’t use it.”
Abby snorted. “Thank goodness, right? Throwing up in front of the man you love isn’t exactly the romantic way to go.”
Penn threw her head back. “What?”
“Sorry.” She held Penn’s gaze with her own. “I may have been premature, but you do care for him. I’ve seen the way you look at him.” She laid her hand on top of Penn’s. “And now you’re going out with him. What do you think?”
She rubbed her arms. “I don’t know what to think.”
“How do you feel?”
“I don’t know. Nervous, like I can’t catch my breath. Excited, like I can’t wait for him to get here. Scared because I don’t know what all this means or how it can end.” She hid her face in her hands, but Abby transferred them to her lap.
“It means you’re going out with a really great guy. It means you could have a really great time tonight and discover you’d like to spend more time together.” She raised the brush again and surveyed her early work. “Or not. One date doesn’t have to mean anything, Penn.”
“I know.” A date could mean nothing or everything. But on a scale from everything to nothing, this date might fall closer to everything for her.
What might it mean to John?
~*~
“Why did you let us sleep so long?” The aunts buzzed around the kitchen frantic to create a bag of their goodies for John. “We’re behind. He’ll be here before too long. We haven’t sliced the bread yet.”
“You were exhausted by your efforts to out shine the bakers down at the grocery store deli.” Penn twisted the ends of Abby’s scarf over and under her knuckles. “You needed the rest.”
“Pish posh. We’re fine. Do we have any of that colored cellophane left over from Easter?” Winnie's backside stuck out as she hunted for a box of plastic wrap in a low cabinet.
“I’m sure regular will work. John won’t care what the food’s wrapped in.” Penn frowned. “Are you sure you ought to be on your knees like that?”
“Don’t worry about me. Jackpot.” Winnie emerged from the cabinet holding a roll of green cellophane.
“Way to go, sister. Bring it here. The stuff’s laid out, ready to wrap.” Jancie laid a final slice of banana chocolate chip bread on a cardboard container. “Let’s put the pie slices in first.” She flounced out a gift bag.
Jancie ripped off a long tail of plastic wrap and folded it over the pie slices resting on a plastic plate. “You know, it’s a good thing Abby stopped by. Besides the fact that you look beautiful, Penny—”
Winnie slid the cinnamon rolls toward the bag. “She always does.”
“True, of course. And I’m grateful she took some goodies with her. We’ve got food for days here.”
Penn released the scarf and smoothed the ends. “This is where I’m supposed to refrain from saying, ‘I told you so.’“
Jancie swatted at her. “Don’t be sassy. We can make a bag for the preacher, too. Take it to him in the morning.”
The doorbell pealed.
Panic set in the sisters in motion. “He’s here. The bag’s not finished. Open the door and let him in, Penn. We’ll come with the bag in a minute.”
Penn’s thumb found her ring. “Settle down, for Pete’s sake.” Heeding her own advice, she inhaled slowly before taking a step. She glanced in the mirror hanging above the bookcase, and the image startled her.
She’d forgotten Abby swept a few curls back from her face and clipped a barrette to hold them in place.
“We emphasize your gorgeous eyes this way,” Abby had said.
Penn’s heart thumped a frantic rhythm. She smiled. She’d flown in a plane. She could go out with a man she liked.
Liked a lot.
She flexed her trembling fingers and opened the door. Her breath hitched.
John.
“Hi, Penn.”
He wore dark jeans, a buttoned down shirt the color of storm clouds and a huge smile.
Joy unfurled in her chest and stretched all the way to curl her toes. “Come in. The aunts want to see you.”
“You look beautiful, by the way.” His voice, low, for her ears alone, ramped her pulse.
“Thanks. So do you.” Her voice sounded breathless.
“A compliment. I’ll take it although I admit I was hoping for ‘handsome.’“ His eyes skimmed up to the barrette. “You’re hair looks nice like that.”
She grazed the barrette. “Abby suggested it.” Insisted had been more like it.
Jancie strode from the kitchen. “John. It’s wonderful to see you.”
He met her halfway and kissed her cheek. “It’s good to see you up and around, Jancie. You look wonderful.”
“I feel wonderful.”
John sniffed. “Mmm. It smells like—”
“A bakery?”
“I was going to say, my grandmother’s house.”
Winnie appeared in the doorway with the laden gift bag in both hands. “Hooray. You’re here. We’ve a present for you.”
John arched both brows.
Winnie raised the bag. “We promised you baked good weeks ago, and we’ve been slow in fulfilling it.”
He peeked inside. “You’ve had a lot going on lately.”
Penn rested a hand on her hip. “They baked today. All day. So that you’d have options.”
John shifted the contents. “I see some chocolate chip bread and celebration cookies.” He pulled them out of the bag. “That leaves cinnamon rolls. Yes.” He high-fived Winnie. “And slices of pie. Is that pecan pie?”
“You know it.” Winnie’s grin wrinkled her whole face. “You can leave the bag here and get it on your way home so it won’t be a bother on your bike. We just wanted to give it to you now since we’ll likely be sleeping later.”
“Thanks so much. I love all of these treats, but I can take the bag now. I traded my bike for a car.”
Penn whirled toward him. No bike? She bit her lip. “You don’t have your motorcycle anymore?”
He shrugged. “People kept telling me about these western Pennsylvania winters. I figured I’d need a car.”
A knot clogged her throat. He traded his motorcycle?
No wrapping her arms around his waist?
And no snuggling up against him.
31
John smiled as he rounded the car after settling Penn into her seat. Was that disappointment clouding her face when she’d realized he’d sold his bike? Interesting.
He slid in beside her and pushed the key into the ignition.
“Nice car. It smells good in here.” She stretched the seat belt to clasp the catch.
“Oh, yeah. That.”
Nerves clenched his stomach. What if she hated his idea?
He’d racked his brain for something different, something special like her, but now when she questioned him with those big brown eyes...was his idea crazy? He rubbed his hand over his chin and faced her. John stretched his arm across the back of the seat. “Here’s the deal. The Mars Astronomy club is hosting a star gazing event at Camp Trees tonight. I thought it might be fun to check it out.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t grimace or protest. So far so good.
“I picked up some food from Pines Tavern—is that a good gasp or an I-hate-that-place gasp?”
She grinned. “It’s an I-love-that-place gasp.”
He wiped his forehead. “Whew. I can breathe again. Anyway, I thought we could take it over to the camp and eat there while we wait for the stars to come out.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He grabbed the steering wheel and turned the key. “Let’s do it then.”
~*~
Penn scooped a forkful of lemon risotto and let the creamy goodness slide down her throat.
John had chosen a secluded picnic table near the edge of the open field. He thought of everything including a checkered tablecloth. A thick candle flickered from a glass jar.
She surveyed the table crowded with cardboard boxes of culinary delights. A nationally recognized restaurant, Pines Tavern boasted chefs who regularly won awards and changed its menu every season to use the vegetables and herbs grown in their back-of-the-restaurant garden.
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