A Cowboy in the Kitchen

by Meg Maxwell

  Raina rolled her eyes. “West, West, West, some things never change!”

  “Well, I was in the kitchen, Raina,” he said in his defense, but his tone was light.

  Again the chin lifted. She took Lucy’s hand. “How about you lead the way to the dining room?”

  West scrunched up his face, and Annabel smiled at him, the only light moment between them since last night in the hayloft. Relief crossed his expression, and her shoulders unknotted a bit. But just a bit.

  I love you, you jerk, she wanted to yell.

  “Annabel, we’re waiting for you,” Lucy called from the dining room.

  Annabel wanted to cry and laugh and the same time. She did love him. She always had loved him, and now she loved him harder and deeper and more than she ever thought it was possible to love a man.

  “I’m happy to help get dinner on the table,” she said, forcing another smile.

  He stood looking at her for another moment, then said, “Go sit. Everything’s under control.” He headed back in the kitchen and two seconds later she heard a thud and then a muttered expletive.

  West appeared in the dining room with a platter, which he set down in the center of the table. His chicken parmigiana looked good. Too good, Annabel thought, happy for him and sad for herself at the same time. She couldn’t exactly wish it were undercooked and that everyone got food poisoning, but she hoped it wouldn’t be as delicious as it looked.

  It was.

  Landon took a bite of the chicken, then another. “You did not make this, West Montgomery.” Landon rarely said anything, so that was saying something.

  “I did,” West said. “I followed Annabel’s recipe. Family recipe going back a hundred years.”

  “You didn’t help at all?” Raina said to Annabel. “Come on.”

  “He wouldn’t let me near the kitchen. Scout’s honor,” Annabel added, holding up the hand gesture.

  “Daddy, this is really good.”

  “Thank you, Lucy. There would have been garlic bread, but I dropped it when I was taking it out of the oven.”

  Raina laughed. “Now, that sounds like the West I know. But I have to say, the chicken is delicious and so is the pasta. The sauce is excellent.”

  The relief across West’s face lifted Annabel’s heart for him, but it meant her days were numbered. With West’s cooking not just passing muster but getting raves, and Lucy’s closet sorted into play clothes, school clothes and Nana clothes, the special conditioner Annabel bought for her knotty ringlets making her hair easy to comb after her bath, West could pass the Raina Dunkin Fatherhood Test with flying colors.

  No Annabel required.

  * * *

  After Annabel and West saw Lucy to the bus stop on Tuesday, West did his usual hat-tipping at Annabel and headed off to talk to his ranch hands, which was what he’d done yesterday, making himself scarce all day. He’d fallen asleep on the couch, fully dressed, and the sight of him there when she’d come down in the morning hurt worse than anything. Their business arrangement was coming to an end. They’d have to keep up appearances for a while so that it didn’t seem strange that they were suddenly splitting up, but soon enough he’d want to find a wife he loved.

  Her heart hurting so badly, Annabel drove into town and parked in Hurley’s lot, the sight of the restaurant so comforting. She needed a cold meat loaf sandwich and a sweet tea pronto.

  Someone was tapping on her car window. When Annabel turned and saw it was none other than Francie Heff, she groaned inwardly. Francie wore her Clyde’s Burgertopia hot-pink apron, her ice-blue eyes unusually warm. She must be up to something. Annabel got out of her car, instinctively crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Guess what!” Francie said. “My daddy came up with the best idea and his cousin, Stanton, editor of the Blue Gulch Gazette, agrees and plans to run a huge story about it.”

  This couldn’t be good. “What’s that?”

  “We are hereby challenging Hurley’s Homestyle Kitchen to a cook-off!”

  What-now? A cook-off?

  “Who makes the better barbecue burger,” Francie continued. “The new kid on the block?” She pointed to Clyde’s Burgertopia. “Or the stuffy old institution that’s been around forever and ever,” she said, nodding at the apricot Victorian. “The Gazette will post coverage about the cook-off all week to drum up excitement. We can hold it at Hurley’s because you’ve got the bigger kitchen. We’ll each make one barbecue burger, and the mayor will choose the winner. Everyone knows how he loves his burgers.” She puffed out her cheeks and cupped her hands way out in front of her flat stomach to indicate his girth. “And he’s neutral. He goes way back with your gram and my dad. We can trust that he’ll be fair.”

  The mayor did go way back with Gram and ate at Hurley’s at least twice a week. He was an old family friend, just as he was of the Heffs. But Annabel was a bit afraid the publicity of the cook-off would call more attention to “the new kid on the block” in the first place—and imagine if the Burgertopia won? The “old stuffy institution” would lose even more business.

  “We’re too busy for this kind of thing, Francie.”

  “Ha. Figured you’d say that. We’ll just run the story that Hurley’s was too chicken to come up against us. I mean, we’re willing to do it and imagine if we lost—a brand-new Burgertopia losing a burger contest to a plain ol’ granny’s Homestyle place.”

  “You seem awfully sure you’re going to win, Francie.” The woman probably had a bunch of tricks up her sleeve to cheat their way to victory. Clyde Heff might be a straight shooter, but Francie was a sneak.

  Francie laughed. “Of course we will. And we’ll have the mayor watching over the cooking and the burgers at all times to ensure that there’s no cheating. Even a Goody Two-shoes like you’ve always been will resort to anything to keep your family business from looking stupid. So I won’t put anything past you.”

  If only you knew, Annabel thought, her stomach hurting from the punch it just took. But then again, Annabel wasn’t such a Goody Two-shoes. A nice person, sure. But sometimes you really did have to get in the ring.

  “I really don’t know, Francie. I’ll talk to my grandmother, but you know that she’s just recently back on her feet after—”

  “There’s a ten-thousand-dollar prize for the winner,” Francie interrupted, shimmying her shoulders. “Cousin Stanton is loaded. And he’s figuring we’ll win and that money will go to our family. A big prize like that will get folks’ attention and they’ll be lining up five deep to watch the cook-off and see who wins. Then, when we take the prize, they’ll all cross the street—permanently—for a Clydeburger.”

  Ten thousand dollars.

  That would let Annabel give West back his money and take over the running of Hurley’s again. They’d have to forgo the addition and the back patio for outdoor dining, but they’d have ten grand in the bank to keep going.

  “Let me talk to my grandmother and sister and I’ll let you know.”

  “I need your answer by closing time today,” Francie said, and turned on her kitten heel and headed back across the street.

  Annabel jogged up the steps and into the house just as Clementine was coming downstairs.

  “Have time for coffee in Gram’s room? I need to talk to both of you. Francie Heff has some wild idea.”

  “We’re listening to Francie Heff these days?” Clementine said, raising an eyebrow. “The other day she actually had the nerve to stand right in front of Hurley’s and lure people across the street to Clyde’s. I heard her stop the Clarks as they were coming up the steps, turning up the drawl—‘Have you tried a Clydeburger? Two-for-one special just for today.’ And they actually turned around and went to Clyde’s.”

  Annabel shook her head. “Well, she has a new publicity idea, but this one might actually benefit us. Let’s go m
ake tea for Gram and we’ll talk it out.”

  Ten minutes later, tea and coffee on a tray, Annabel and Clementine walked into their grandmother’s room to find Essie Hurley sitting up, her color better than it had been in a week.

  “Gram, you’re looking great,” Clementine said, rushing over to give her a hug. “It’s gorgeous out today. Low seventies this morning. After tea, let’s go walk around in the garden till it’s time for lunch prep.” The past few days her gram had been up and about the house, making her own tea under Clementine’s watchful eye. But Annabel could see a new vigor about Essie. Thank God.

  “I’m feeling better,” Gram said. “I felt really good yesterday and today when I woke up I had more energy. I think I’m bouncing back.”

  Annabel’s eyes pricked with tears and she ran over to hug her grandmother. “I’m so glad. We’ve been so scared.”

  “I know,” Essie said. “But don’t you worry. I’m getting stronger every day. I think in a few weeks I’ll even be ready to cook again—maybe not standing for hours like I used to, but for a bit here and there. I can certainly prep in a chair. And just in time too—turns out Martha misses her family and wants to go back to Austin. Tomorrow’s her last day.”

  Annabel’s smile faltered, and then she realized this was good timing for her too. She was needed less at the ranch and could work the dinner shift again. Lucy’s sweet face came to mind. Annabel wouldn’t be able to meet Lucy at the bus. Or work with her on her addition or sight words.

  Focus on Hurley’s now, she ordered herself. You knew the deal when you said yes to West.

  Annabel launched into Francie’s proposal, leaving nothing out.

  “Ten thousand dollars,” Gram repeated. “Not too long ago I would have jumped at the chance to win that much money. But I’m not sure we have to play their game now that we’re more financially comfortable, thanks to Annabel’s very generous husband.”

  Do not start crying. Do not start crying. Do not start crying.

  But the waterworks started and Annabel couldn’t stop. And suddenly she was telling her grandmother and Clementine the whole story, starting with the reason for the marriage proposal and ending with how West didn’t need her anymore and she thought it was only fair to give him back the bulk of the money now that they’d both be going back to square one. Annabel left out the part about how much she loved West, how she wished he loved her.

  But West didn’t love her. She had to face it and move on.

  “I need to earn that ten thousand,” Annabel said. “Because then I won’t feel as though I’m letting down you and Clem by giving West back his money. We’ll have some breathing room, not much, but some. I’ll see this marriage through till this Sunday night’s dinner with the Dunkins, but I can’t do this anymore. Living with him and Lucy is breaking my heart. The longer I stay, the more deeply in love with both of them I’ll be.”

  “Oh, honey,” Gram said, pulling Annabel against her and wrapping her arms around her. “You won’t be letting us down. We’ll be fine no matter what.”

  “So maybe the cook-off is a good idea,” Clementine said. “Annabel, you know you’ll beat Clyde. I’ve had their barbecue burger—I paid a teenager five bucks to go order four, and Hattie, Martha, Harold and I tried the competition on opening day. It was good, I’ll be honest, but not as good as ours. Our sauce just has that something special. And our burger too.”

  Annabel smiled. “You’re as confident as Francie was that they’ll win.”

  “Clyde does make a danged good burger,” Gram said. “And his barbecue sauce is delicious. I’ve had his barbecue burgers many times over the years at his big Fourth of July parties. But, Annabel, you could cook circles around Clyde Heff.”

  “I’m hoping you’ll do the cook-off, Gram,” Annabel said. “Hurley’s is you. And I think people will want to see Gram Hurley and Clyde Heff in a battle of the burgers. Plus, they’ll see you’re back up on your feet. If you’re up to it.”

  A gleam appeared in Essie Hurley’s eyes. “You bet I’ll do it. What do you say nowadays? Bring it off!”

  Clementine laughed. “Bring it on, Gram.”

  “Bring it on, Burgertopia!” Gram said, waving her hand around.

  Annabel laughed. Gram was back. Hurley’s would be back too. But an ice-cold hollowness settled in her stomach and she felt her smile fade. She already missed West and Lucy. She glanced down at her beautiful wedding ring. How was she ever going to bear sliding it up and off her finger?

  Chapter Twelve

  Annabel spent the next couple of days between the ranch and Hurley’s, being a good stepmother to Lucy and tasting so many barbecue hamburgers—made by the incomparable Essie Hurley—that she’d probably gained a good five pounds. Each burger was better than the next, the sauce richer.

  They were going to win, Annabel knew, her heart heavy. Monday morning she’d be back at the Victorian, working at Hurley’s full-time. How would she and West tell Lucy that Annabel was leaving? How would that make sense to a little girl who’d already lost her mother? Annabel and West would have to talk that through, do what was right for Lucy.

  On Thursday morning, as Annabel waved goodbye to Lucy on the school bus and watched it head down the road, she turned back toward the ranch, chewing over how the heck she could leave without hurting Lucy. How could Annabel walk out on Lucy? How could she stay with West?

  Her ringing phone interrupted her. Raina.

  “Annabel, I’m hoping you and Lucy can come over today after school for tea and girl talk,” Raina said, a brittle edge in her voice. Something was wrong.

  “Raina, is everything all right?”

  Raina was quiet for a moment, then said, “Yes, of course. Shall I see you both at three-thirty?”

  “We’ll be there.”

  Now she had all day to wonder and speculate. At least it would get her mind off leaving.

  * * *

  Something did seem wrong with Raina, Annabel thought, watching her with Lucy in Raina’s elegant living room. For no reason that Annabel could discern, the older woman was dressed up even more than usual, in a pale pink pantsuit with a frilly shell and loads of gold jewelry. There just seemed a strain in her expression. Plus Raina had barely let Lucy off her lap since they’d arrived a half hour ago. She hugged her constantly, read a book to her, then French-braided her hair. But when Annabel went into the kitchen to stack the sandwiches on a tray, she could hear the happy chatter between grandmother and granddaughter. Maybe Raina and Landon had had an argument and Raina just needed some time with her granddaughter.

  Then why invite Annabel too?

  “My mommy put my hair in this braid for picture day in kindergarten,” Lucy was saying. “Look, there’s the picture of me on the mantel!”

  From the kitchen, Annabel heard the little thud of Lucy’s feet hitting the floor and the sound of her running. To the mantel to look at the photograph, Annabel figured. “Nana, can you reach it for me?”

  “No, Lucy. The photograph will stay where it is,” Raina said, that edge back in her voice. “And I’ve told you many times—little ladies don’t run inside.”

  “Well, I’m not a little lady, then!” Lucy shouted.

  Oh God. Should Annabel intervene? Should she let Raina handle this? What was overstepping?

  The next thing Annabel heard was the sound of the little footsteps running again.

  “Lucy! Come back here!” Then silence. Then, “Annabel, Lucy ran out the front door!”

  Annabel rushed from the kitchen to find the front door wide-open. She and Raina raced outside; Annabel could just make out Lucy racing around the corner toward busy Blue Gulch Street.

  “There she is!” They both charged in the direction Lucy went. But when they got to the intersection of Blue Gulch Street, there was no sign of Lucy.

  “Oh
no,” Raina said, her face stricken. “Where is she?”

  “We’ll find her. She knows this street, knows where her favorite shops are. I’m sure she’s in the coffee shop or the library. We’ll find her. You take left, I’ll take right. Whoever finds her calls the other.”

  Raina nodded and headed left toward the library; Annabel went right and raced into the coffee shop, checking all the nooks and crannies and the children’s corner. No Lucy. She asked passersby if they had seen a little girl with dark curly hair—no. Annabel rushed into a few more possibilities—no sign of Lucy. She turned around and strained to see down the street. Raina was coming out of the smoothie shop, her expression crestfallen. She waved at Annabel and shook her head.

  Where are you, Lucy? she wondered, panic attacking her stomach and her brain.

  Raina hurried over. “I’ve looked everywhere on that end. There’s no sign of her. Oh God, what have I done? Why did I make her so upset that she ran away?”

  “I think I know where she is!” Annabel said. “She might have gone to Hurley’s backyard. There’s a swinging bench—it’s where I always went when I was upset as a kid. And Lucy knows Hurley’s.”

  Annabel’s phone rang. Clementine.

  “Did you know that Lucy is by herself in our backyard?” Clementine asked. “She’s on the white swing.”

  Relief flooded through Annabel. “I just realized that’s where she might be. Clem, can you check on her, bring some milk or something? Her grandmother and I will be there in five minutes.”

  Annabel pocketed her phone. “Raina, I love that little girl, so I’m going to overstep my bounds and tell you that I think it hurts Lucy deeply that you shut her down when she brings up her mother.”

  Annabel waited for the wrath of Raina Dunkin, but instead Raina’s eyes filled with tears and she covered her face with her hands. “I just want Lucy to be...the girl I wished Lorna had been. I know that’s terrible. I know it’s terrible to wish my own daughter had been different. But she was so rough and wild, running around with half her body exposed, sticking her head out of cars, chugging on a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. When she got married so young I thought maybe having one man, a husband, would at least settle her down, but she ran around on West. With a baby at home.” Raina sucked in a breath.