by Becki Willis
“Of course. Who wouldn’t?” He dipped his hand into the container and pulled out another pastry for himself and an oatmeal raisin cookie for her.
“The feeling was mutual. I fell in love with them instantly. About a month later, they called me, telling me about a position as a chef at one of Boston’s most prominent restaurants. They said they knew the owners and had put in a good word for me. The job was mine if I wanted it.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. The Morgans were very influential people in Boston. I don’t like to use the word ‘rich’, because it so often carries negative connotations. They were the sweetest, most caring, most genuine people I’d ever known, money or not. Within the month, I moved to a strange city and started an intimidating job with a temperamental boss. It was a very high-pressure atmosphere with cutthroat competition. Other than the actual cooking, I hated it. The Morgans were my guardian angels. They took me under their wing and protected me from the big bad wolves in the city. As a way of showing my appreciation, I catered a party for them, which then led to another party, and another. Soon their friends starting asking me to cater events for them. Before long, I had more business than I could handle on the side. I quit at the restaurant and opened my own catering business, which I knew I owed entirely to the Morgans.”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Genny. You’re a very talented chef.”
“Thank you, Cutter.” She absently picked a raisin from her cookie and stuffed it into his mouth, knowing he liked the dried fruit better than she did.
“I had the catering business for several years, but it was hard. Don’t get me wrong, the money was fantastic. But most of my clients were either politicians or high society, so I was under tremendous pressure. When the Morgans asked me to become their private chef, I jumped at the opportunity.”
She fed him another raisin. “In truth, I became more like their personal assistant. They were getting older, a bit more forgetful. They offered me my own suite of rooms, so I gladly gave up my over-priced apartment to move in with them. Eventually, I took care of their personal finances, as well as their diet. I thought of them as my parents, and they loved to tell people I was the daughter they never gave birth to. Everything was wonderful, until one day, out of the blue, an old acquaintance showed up on our doorstep.”
Cutter frowned. “The dandy,” he scowled.
“Yes, the dandy.” Her sigh spoke volumes. “He claimed to be the son of a distant relative from England, many times removed. The cousin had passed away, so there was no clear way to confirm his identity. Oh, sure, he provided enough details and the names of enough common family members to make his story convincing. Since I never knew him that well in Paris, I couldn’t catch him in a direct lie, but his story never quite added up in my mind.”
“Did you tell the Morgans?”
“I tried, but to keep insisting would have been an insult to their intelligence, not to mention their sweet disposition and trusting nature. They were delighted to help him feel at home in the strange country. And when they tried to play match-maker between the two of us, silly me agreed to go out with him.”
She felt Cutter tense, but he made no comment. As she fed him the last raisin, his tongue brushed lightly across her finger. Her gaze flew to his, but he looked completely innocent, waiting for her to continue with her tale.
“At first, he was utterly charming. He sent me roses, bought me little presents, lavished me with attention. For the first two weeks, he was the perfect boyfriend.”
“I’ll bet he never offered to take you hog hunting,” he grumbled.
Genny laughed aloud, even though Cutter did not look amused. “No, he never did that. But he did offer to take me back to Paris. I thought it was a bit too soon in our relationship for such a gesture, but I let it slide. The first time he booked a restaurant exclusively for us, I thought it was sweet. Over the top, but sweet. The second time he did it — just a few nights later — it didn’t seem so sweet. It seemed sort of spooky, being alone in a huge room with just him and twenty-one dozen roses. It was our three-week anniversary, he said. It freaked me out when he started talking about marriage. I told him I thought we should slow things down just a little.”
“How did he take that?” Cutter’s voice was tight.
Her voice sobered. “He started calling me multiple times a day. Texting every hour. Showing up unexpectedly. Sending more roses.”
“Did you call the police? Tell them he was harassing you?”
“Not at first. I didn’t want to hurt the Morgans. They were so pleased with themselves, setting up what they thought was the perfect couple. I explained to Pembrook that he was a great guy and I enjoyed his company, yada, yada, yada, but I needed to spend more time concentrating on the Morgans. They were getting older, more frail, etc.”
“I’m sure that went over like a lead balloon.”
“I thought he got the hint. For about a week. That’s when I realized he was following me. Watching me. I had to change my phone number, cancel all my social accounts, stop going out by myself.”
Cutter’s voice was as hard as granite. He clenched both hands into tight fists as he ground out, “He was stalking you.”
Genesis sighed. “Yes. I never thought it would happen to me. Worst of all, I had to tell the Morgans what was happening. I was afraid he might use them to get to me. He had started leaving messages on their phones, notes on my car. His words had a desperate edge to them.”
“Tell me you went to the police, Genny. You didn’t just let him get away with it, did you?”
“No. I reported him to the authorities and was in the process of getting a restraining order when... when...” Her voice broke as tears filled her eyes.
“What happened? What did he do?” Cutter’s voice softened and he leaned forward, gently gripping her shoulders in both hands. He felt her tremble. “Genny darlin’?”
“The-The Morgans.” She put her hands over her mouth as if to hold in the grief, afraid that if she allowed it to leak out, it would somehow shallow her whole. “Pembrook was getting more aggressive. I didn’t want them caught in the middle, so we decided to spend some time at their summerhouse on Martha’s Vineyard. They went ahead of me. I would file the restraining order and meet them there the next day.”
She leaned into Cutter as she shared her heartbreaking story. “That-that night there was a fire. They didn’t- They didn’t make it out, Cutter.” Her voice crumpled with grief and she sagged against him.
Cutter held her tight, soothing her hair and whispering words of comfort. For only the second time since the tragedy, Genesis broke down, wailing with the injustice of it all, grieving for the dear, sweet people she loved as her own family. When she blamed herself for not being there to save them, Cutter’s words of reason rang with an authoritative air. When she blamed herself for Pembrook’s obsession and for driving the Morgans away from their own home, his calming voice grew stern. He would allow none of that. Grieving was one thing; blaming herself was another.
“But—”
“But the man is sick. Obsessive. You weren’t to blame, Genny. Can’t you see that, darlin’?” He brushed a piece of hair from her forehead, hot and sticky from crying.
She managed a nod. “I was devastated. They were my parents, in all the ways that mattered. I loved them so much. And—And being the sweet, loving people they were, they left most of their estate to me. I was overwhelmed by their generosity. I was so confused. And so alone...”
Again, he tensed. “He took advantage of you, didn’t he? I’ll kill him. I swear, I’ll strangle his scrawny neck with my bare hands.”
Genesis wedged her hand between them, curling it over his heart. “Not—Not like that. He was very sweet to me during that time. Very supportive. He apologized for his earlier behavior. He said... he said he had fallen head over heels in love with me, and he let it cloud his judgment. When he thought he was losing me, he said he became scared and tried to hold onto me the only w
ay he knew.” Genny wiggled what little she could within the vice of his arms. “And if you hold me any tighter, I’m going to snap in half. Loosen up, Cutter. The veins in your neck are going to pop open any minute now.”
He dropped his arms, instantly abashed. “I’m sorry, Genny. I would never hurt you, not on purpose. You know that, right?”
“Of course I know that, Cutter.” Now that his arms were no longer around her, she almost regretted speaking up. It seemed so natural to reach for his hand and weave her fingers through his.
“Anyway, I was an emotional mess during that time. When he offered to help, when he volunteered to take care of things for me, I let him. And when he asked me to marry him, I almost said yes. I temporarily confused gratefulness for love. I have no one to blame for my stupidity but myself. But when I finally came to my senses and tried to distance myself from him, it was ten times worse than before. This time, I did get a restraining order. But... he had tricked me into signing some papers, and somehow the house wound up in both our names. He threatened to challenge the will and the life insurance policies, claiming he was the next of kin and rightful heir.”
“But they left it to you!”
“The inheritance was safe, but I had signed the papers on the house in my own hand, even if unwittingly. My lawyers said he could never win, but there would be a trial. I would have to see him every day in court. I could not bear that possibility, or the thought of co-owning anything with him. In the end, it was easiest to give him the house, with the condition that he would not challenge the rest. I took my inheritance, moved back home to Texas, and started over. I wanted a new beginning with old roots. And it was working out great, until Pembrook showed up in town a few days ago.”
“What about the restraining order?”
“I think it lapsed.”
“So get a new one.”
“I hope it won’t come to that. I’m hoping he’ll leave town.”
Cutter brushed away the same stubborn tendril determined to stick to her forehead. “I won’t let him hurt you. I’ll protect you any way that I can.”
Her smile had a sad sweetness to it. She knew total protection was never possible. “Thank you, Cutter. That’s sweet of you.”
“Sweet?” he scoffed. “If you knew what I had in mind for the dandy, you wouldn’t use the word sweet.”
“Don’t you dare do anything you’ll regret.” She put her hand against his chest, mentally comparing it to stone. “He’s not worth it. I told you, he’s nobody.”
“But you’re somebody, Genny.” She could feel the words rumble against her palm. “And you’re definitely worth it.”
The radio on Cutter’s belt squawked to life. He groaned when he heard the familiar tone-out. The dispatcher’s voice followed the series of unique tones.
“River County SO to The Sisters Fire Department. Sisters Fire, we need you en route to New Beginnings Cafe, 201 Main Street in Naomi. The fire alarm is going off in that location. We have the police en route there as well.”
“What?” Genny cried, jumping up from the makeshift bench. “Fire? But my phone didn’t—” Even as she said the words, her phone’s app went off, sending message of the alarm.
Already on his feet, Cutter barked acknowledgment into the radio. They left the food containers behind without another thought. A whip of the extension cord momentarily plunged them into darkness, but neither slowed as they raced to the truck.
Brash was first on the scene. He immediately called Genny and assured her he saw nothing amiss, but it did not stop Cutter from turning on his overhead bar of emergency lights and rushing her to the café to see for herself.
They went through the restaurant together, searching each room and each space thoroughly.
“False alarm,” Brash determined as they stepped back outside.
“Thank God,” Genny murmured. Her eyes remained troubled.
“You might want to call your alarm company in the morning, ask them to come out and do a thorough inspection,” he suggested. “Could be a bad sensor or a low battery.”
“Good idea. I’ll do that. Thanks, Brash, for coming out. You, too, Roy Lee.” One firefighter had shown up, even though Cutter canceled the call.
“Anytime, you know that,” the police chief told her.
Cutter locked the door and made certain it was secure before asking Genny to reset the alarm.
“I’ll drive by again before I go to bed,” Roy Lee offered. He lived two streets over. “Make sure everything looks good.”
“Thank you, that will help me sleep better.”
“Go home and get some rest,” Brash suggested. “You look exhausted.”
Genny belatedly realized how she must look. She was not a pretty crier. Her face got all blotchy and red and stayed that way, long after the tears dried. Her mascara was most likely streaked and her skin, no doubt, was pale. Reliving the death of her dear friends was bad enough; thinking she might lose her beloved café was almost as horrifying.
“She’s headed that way now,” Cutter said with a stern note in his voice. He took her elbow and led her toward her car as she called goodbyes over her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone softer now.
“Yes. I’m glad it was just a false alarm.”
Cutter looked skeptical. “Has this ever happened before?”
She shook her head, sharing his unspoken concern. “No.”
“Like Brash said, it wouldn’t hurt to have the company come out and look things over.”
She gave a half-hearted shrug of consent as he opened the car door and she slid inside. “I’ll call them in the morning.”
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
Genny strapped on her seatbelt and offered up a reassuring smile. “I am.” She noticed the smudges of makeup on his western shirt. “Sorry about your shirt. Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder.”
“Thanks for telling me your story.”
There was an awkward moment of silence. “Well, see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll follow you home, make sure you get inside.”
“It’s not necessary, you know.”
“I want to.”
“Okay. Good night, Cutter. Thanks again for coming to my rescue. And for. . . everything else.”
His smile did funny things to her heart. “My pleasure, Genny darlin’. Night.”
Chapter Six
Madison had a to-do list a mile long.
The twins’ birthday party was tomorrow, and there was still so much to do. The guest list was already over seventy-five people long and growing. It was a varied compilation of kids from school, family members, and friends from all walks of life.
Brash and Matt were barbecuing, Granny Bert had huge pots of pinto beans simmering, and Maddy purchased the potato salad in tubs, even though she would deny that fact if Genny asked.
In addition to decorating, Genny was making the cakes. Blake’s chocolate layers depicted his favorite things: baseball, football, and fishing. Bethani’s strawberries and cream cake looked like an over-sized cell phone with glittery ‘buttons’ for all her favorites, including jewelry, shoes, and cheer-leading.
It was Friday, so it meant Maddy had to make a pharmacy run for Miss Sybille. She had a report to fill out for Murray Archer, the private investigator she sometimes worked for, and she needed to collect final payment for working at Lone Star Law. And sometime between wrapping gifts, brewing several gallons of sweet tea, gathering last minutes supplies for tomorrow’s party, and going to the football game to watch Bethani cheer and Blake play, she needed to find time to talk to Ellen McDaniel.
Yesterday, she had gone to Mrs. McSwain’s and searched for the missing orange and white recliner. Just as the elderly woman claimed, the chair was not in her house. Nor was it in the storage building out back, although Maddy did find a stash of old LP albums and the rest of her wardrobe from the nineteen sixties.
She called the garbage service and asked if anyone remembered
collecting a chair from the curb. She visited the thrift store in town and called a half dozen more in the surrounding area. No one had seen or heard of a chair that matched the description she gave.
With her backseat filled with disposable plates and cups and a startling number of hamburger buns, Madison whipped into the parking lot of New Beginnings just before three-o’clock. She would have to miss the pep rally at school today, but it was the only time Ellen McDaniel could meet her.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” the other woman asked when they exchanged introductions.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t,” Madison admitted. “Should I?”
“I was Ellen Sorenson. You went to school with my younger sister.”
“Yes, Kayla.” Madison tried hard to keep the disdain out of her voice. It was not Ellen’s fault she had the misfortune of having the troublemaker for a sister. If Shannon Wynn had been her nemesis in high school, Kayla Sorenson had been Genny’s.
Maddy and Shannon never got along in school, primarily because of jealousy. Maddy had a crush on Brash, but Brash had his sights set on Shannon. Shannon liked Matt, while Matt only had eyes for Maddy. The mad cycle had incredulously realigned itself through the years. Now Shannon and Matt were happily married, and Maddy and Brash had finally admitted their feelings for one another. Most incredibly, they were all good friends now.
She doubted the same could ever be said for Genesis and Kayla Sorenson. Or, more accurately, Kayla Evans. Not after the trouble Kayla had caused and the tragedy that followed.
Madison struggled now to put the past behind her. This was not about who was related to whom. This was about dear, sweet Mrs. McSwain.
“I’m so sorry, but you’re right. I didn’t recognize you,” Madison admitted, completing overlooking the reference to her sister. “How have you been?”