Ryan considered everything Brianna had just told him. Again, he felt guilt for prying into Holly’s personal business, but courtesy of the teenager, he felt he knew Holly even better. She was a person of good, moral character.
“Oh, and Holly said she can’t marry a man unless he’s a Christian. That seems really important to her,” she said, and then leapt from her seat. “Hey, do you think you could help me carry the chair in now. If I’m not mistaken, it looks like rain clouds are heading our way.” She gestured off into the distance.
Ryan followed her pointed finger and spotted the heavy, dark clouds in the sky. “You’re right. Rain is coming.”
He rose from the porch and crossed the lawn to the chair. He carefully hefted it and carried it to the base of the stairs. “Will you get the door for me?” he asked.
She pulled open the door. “Do you need any help?”
“I’ve got it,” he said, and carefully maneuvered through the doorway. Inside, he asked, “Where to?”
She directed him into the great room. “There is fine,” she said.
He put the chair down and stood back to admire it. “It looks great,” he said.
She grinned. “I’m just glad we’ll both have a place to sit now. Personally, I’ve always liked rocking chairs.”
“Me too.”
“Would you like a glass of water?” she asked.
“Sure,” he answered, and followed her into the kitchen. He sat down at the island.
She reached for a glass from one of the cabinets and was about to pull the watcher pitcher from the refrigerator when she heard the sound of her cell phone’s ring tone. She perked her ears. “Oh, shoot. I left my phone in my room. It might be Holly calling. I’ll be right back.”
Ryan settled comfortably on the stool. He glanced around. Holly and Brianna had really made Ben’s place homey, by adding a few touches. Brightly colored seat cushions, colorful coffee mugs, a vase with flowers… All leant a charm to the space.
He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the island top. Glancing left, he spotted a stack of mail. Don’t look, he chastened himself, but he couldn’t stop himself. He moved his torso to the left, glanced behind him to assure Brianna wasn’t coming, and quickly thumbed through the mail. He spotted what he was looking for—an envelope with the return address of a medical facility. He committed the name to memory and then sat back as if he hadn’t moved a muscle.
“That was Holly,” she said, as she came back into the kitchen. “She’s going to be an hour late. I guess one of the kid’s mom called and said she’s been in a wreck—a fender bender, thankfully. Anyway, she’s going to stick around until the woman arrives.”
He nodded. “I should get going. Annabelle has dinner waiting.”
“You don’t want a glass of water then?”
“No, that’s okay.”
He pushed back from the island, but paused. “Why don’t you join us for dinner? Can you call Holly back and ask her to pick you up at the house? Tell her we’ll keep a plate warm for her too.” He made an apologetic face. “I’m sorry. You were looking forward to surprising Holly with the beautiful chair.”
“It can wait,” she was quick to assure him. She made a guilty face. “I promised I was going to make dinner tonight, but I sort of forgot to put the ground turkey out to thaw.”
“No worries,” he said. “Come on. Annabelle will be glad for the company too.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
At Ryan’s house, he and Brianna found Annabelle standing at the massive kitchen island, head bent over a cookbook. She turned when she heard her brother enter the great room.
“Where’s dinner?” he growled teasingly.
She sighed. “I’m afraid it’s in the garbage,” she said miserably. “I tried to make a roast again, but it came out looking like a black brick.”
“Hmmm,” Ryan said. “That’s not good.”
Annabelle noticed Brianna then. “Oh, hi there.”
“I invited Brianna and Holly over for dinner,” Ryan informed.
Annabelle glared at him.
“I’m sorry. I should have asked first, huh?”
“No, I mean, I wish you’d told me, so I could have made one of my tried and true recipes. I’m glad to have Brianna and Holly over,” she insisted. “Sitting across the table from you, Ryan, day in and day out, every evening… It’s a bit much for anyone.”
Ryan ignored her insult. Instead, he cleared his throat and burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny, Ryan?” she demanded.
“You don’t have any tried and true recipes, Annabelle,” quipped.
“Are you saying I’m a bad cook?” she demanded, hands on hips
“I’m saying…”
“I can help you, Annabelle,” Brianna cut in. “I’m a pretty good cook, since I do a lot of the cooking at home. I really enjoy cooking,” she said, as if she’d just registered the realization.
“I hate it,” Annabelle groaned. “I’m trying to learn because I feel like a good wife should be able to cook, but…”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Ryan said. “Besides, there’s always takeout.”
“Don’t mind him,” Brianna said, shooting Ryan a dirty look. “Let’s have a look in your fridge. I’m sure we can find the ingredients to make a delicious meal.”
Ryan crossed the room and pulled a list off the fridge. “Or, we could always call in a dinner order for pickup in town.”
“Ryan!” Brianna scolded. “You need to be supportive of Annabelle. You’re her big brother.”
“Oh, okay, yes,” he said, forcing back a smile. “I support you, Annabelle.”
She detected his sarcasm, and in response, picked up a wooden spoon and took off after him. He dodged her by charging around the counter. “I’m going to clock you,” she warned.
Brianna stepped in front of her and extracted the spoon from her hand. “The best revenge is culinary success,” she said, giving Ryan a dirty look. “He’ll have to ‘eat’ his words when you’re done preparing a delicious dinner.”
“I may not let him eat,” Annabelle threatened.
“Oh, yeah, that’ll hurt me,” he said with a snicker.
Annabelle lunged for the spoon again. Brianna dodged her and then tugged her toward the refrigerator. She pulled it open and began searching its contents. “Okay, I see ground turkey…” She checked the packaging. “Date’s good. We’ll use this. Oh, I see cheddar cheese, and sour cream. Do you happen to have any taco shells or tortillas?”
“In the pantry,” Annabelle answered, and hurried to retrieve them.
“I don’t know about you, but whenever I’m in a bind, I make either tacos or burritos, or sometimes a casserole,” Brianna said.
“Annabelle’s always in a bind,” Ryan muttered.
Brianna picked up the spoon this time. “Enough out of you,” she warned, but eyes twinkling with good humor. She turned her attention back to Annabelle. “Where are your pots and pans?”
“There,” Annabelle said, directing her to an under-island cabinet.
Brianna pulled a pan of a suitable size and began browning the meat on the stovetop. “Do you have any taco seasoning? Maybe one of those packets you can get in the spice aisle at the store?”
“I don’t,” she said.
“That’s okay. Where’s your spice rack?”
Annabelle showed her and Brianna began pulling an assortment of spices from the shelf. From memory, she added several to the simmering meat when it had sufficiently browned. She allowed it to cook while she went to the pantry to search for a side item. Finding a couple quick-cooking Spanish rice packages, she vented them per the instructions on the back and placed both in the microwave. She set it for the appropriate cook time, but delayed the start of cooking.
She glanced around. “I suppose we should have a vegetable too,” she mused, and returned to the pantry. Reaching for a couple cans of green beans, she gave them a dubious look. “They’ll work,” she said
finally.
She turned and did a visual search for a can opener. Annabelle realized her intent. “I’ll open them for you,” she said.
“You really should do something,” Ryan said, quirking a grin. “That’s a good girl. You opened that can like a pro.”
Both Annabelle and Brianna glared at him. “Support!” Brianna intoned.
He raised his hands as if in surrender. “Okay, okay. Sorry.”
Brianna turned away from him, checked the turkey meat, and then pulled the taco shells from the packaging. She read the heating instructions and turned on the oven. Soon, the timer dinged, indicating the oven had heated to temperature. She put the shells on a baking sheet and slipped them into the oven.
“Plates,” she said, glancing around.
Annabelle hurried to retrieve them and set the dinette table, situated within a large nook off the kitchen. Within moments, Brianna had dinner on the table.
Annabelle took in the completed meal. She turned to Brianna. “You make it look so easy.”
“It is easy,” she said. “I think the key is to make meals simple. I mean, I tried to make a few meals that consisted of a thousand ingredients and I ended up getting frustrated. I started making meals that consisted of just a few ingredients but that taste pretty good.” She gave a shrug. “I think most men probably don’t care what they eat, as long as it tastes okay.”
“Did you just insult my gender?” Ryan asked, attempting to decipher the subtext of her words. “Did you just insinuate we’re simpletons with cast-iron stomachs?”
“No, I didn’t insult anybody,” she said. “I just figure men can’t be that hard to please. If they are, they can just cook for themselves.”
Annabelle laughed. “I like your thinking,” she said. “If Harrison doesn’t like my cooking, I’ll just let him cook for us.”
The group had just sat down to eat when the doorbell rang. “Oh, good,” Ryan said. “Holly made it just in time.”
He rose and jogged to the front door. He soon returned with Holly.
She smiled. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner,” she said, and then sent Brianna an affectionate glance. “I bet a certain someone was thrilled not to have to cook.”
Ryan burst out laughing. “No rest for the weary around here,” he joked. “Annabelle made her cook.”
Annabelle gasped and Brianna glared at him. “Nobody made me do anything. I wanted to help out.”
“I’m incompetent in the kitchen,” Annabelle moaned. “Brianna is a far better cook than I’ll ever be.”
“That’s not true,” Brianna protested. “It’s just like anything—practice makes perfect.”
Even Ryan sensed his sister’s anguish. “Hey, sis, don’t worry about your lack of culinary prowess. Harrison’s not marrying you for your cooking skills. He’s marrying you because he loves you.” He grinned. “Hey, but you might want to abstain from preparing any meals for him until after the wedding.”
“Ryan!” Holly cried with surprise.
He gave a shrug. “Just trying to be helpful. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”
The group sat down to dinner, which turned out to be delicious. “Brianna,” Annabelle said, “could you possibility give me the recipe for these. They’re delicious and the meat is seasoned so well.”
“Sure, I’ll write it down. I’m sure I can remember it.”
“Thank you.”
“How are your wedding plans coming along?” Holly asked, attempting to divert the conversation from meal preparation to a happier topic.
Annabelle sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking—trying to plan a wedding within the span of a few months.”
“Are you having trouble?” Ryan asked, suddenly serious. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Thanks, but no, I don’t think so. Oh, one thing. I’d like to have the wedding here. Do you mind?”
“Why would I mind?” he asked, genuinely perplexed by the question. “Anything you want, sis.”
She grinned. “Now those are words I never expected to come out of your mouth.”
“Hey, I’m an accommodating guy.” He grinned at Holly, as if hoping she would file away the information for a late date.
She gave him a bewildered glance, but turned toward Brianna when she spoke to Annabelle. “If you need any help with your wedding plans, I’m here if you need me.”
Annabelle smiled and patted her arm. “I don’t know what I’d do without you as it is. My horses love you so much, and you do such a great job around here. I’m so lucky you moved here.”
Brianna glowed under the praise. “I would love to help with the wedding.” She grinned widely. “Who knows? Maybe it won’t be too long until I’m planning another one.”
Holly smiled. “You are growing up fast. You’ll be walking down the aisle in the blink of an eye.”
Brianna gave a disgusted snort. “I’m not talking about my wedding. I’m talking about yours.”
Holly appeared taken aback. She laughed uncertainly.
“Food’s getting cold,” Ryan said, changing the subject. Clearly, Holly was uncomfortable. “And these are certainly excellent tacos.”
“Thank you,” Brianna said, smiling graciously. “They’re not bad if I do say so myself. Annabelle,” she said, in another swift change of subject, “are you and Harrison going to ride your horses down the aisle?”
Annabelle cocked her head in thought. “Hmmm, I hadn’t thought of that.” She grinned. “I like it. I’m going to talk to Harrison about it.”
“You should include your horses in your wedding,” Brianna urged. “It would be so cool.”
Annabelle glanced at Ryan and grinned cheekily. “You know what—? I should include them. I’m already including a horse’s a—”
“Annabelle!” Ryan cried, aghast. “We have a youngster in the room.”
“I’ve heard worse,” Brianna said ruefully. “Trust me. When my dad was drunk, he could…” Her words trailed off and her eyes widened. She’d almost said too much.
Ryan watched her sympathetically and changed the subject yet again. “Well, I sold my business today,” he announced.
Annabelle gasped. “Ryan!”
“Hey, you told me to.”
“No, I mean…. It’s great. I just figured you’d give me a head’s up that you’d arrived at a decision. I, uh, well, I thought it might take awhile for you to come to a decision.”
“I’ve arrived at a decision,” he said, his tone monotone.
She smiled his way, meeting his gaze. “I’m so happy for you. I really am. You made a good decision.”
Holly and Brianna glanced from Annabelle to Ryan, and back.
“Yeah, we have details yet to work out, but I’ve already spoken to an attorney and he’s drawing up the paperwork. Won’t be long and I’ll be unemployed.”
“Well, it should feel pretty comfortable, being as you haven’t worked for months,” Annabelle said with a grin.
Ryan shifted in the seat. “Hey, you make me sound as if I’m not a hard worker.”
“On the contrary,” she was quick to protest. “You work far too hard. I’m thrilled you took a break, and even more thrilled you’ll soon be done with the family business. You’re going to be happier, Ryan. Of that, I am sure.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
“Which dress do you like better?” Annabelle asked both Holly and Brianna. Without hesitation, the sisters pointed to the same dress. Annabelle broke into a delighted smile. “That’s my first pick too. Do you really like it?”
“We really do,” they said in unison.
“I need to order it, so I’ll have it in time to make alterations for the wedding. I really should try it on first, but…”
“No time,” Ryan intoned boredly. “Hey, Holly, would you like to take a walk with me?”
She glanced at Annabelle. She hated to leave her when she was in the middle of showing her and Brianna the binder in which she’d laid out many of her wedding plans. They had already discus
sed everything from flowers to her choice of place settings.
Since the wedding was to be held out of doors, Annabelle’s intent was to attain a casual, yet elegant, air. Interestingly, Brianna was full of ideas—many very good ones. Holly suspected she might make a superb event planner someday.
Annabelle was equally impressed with her suggestions. She eyed Brianna thoughtfully. “I was going to work with a wedding planner, but… Would you really be willing to help me, Brianna? There’s so much to do and…”
“Yes!” she cried eagerly.
“I’ll pay you for your time.”
“You don’t have to pay me,” she said with a wave of her hand. “It’s going to be so much fun planning your wedding. I can’t wait.”
Annabelle remembered Holly. “Is it okay? I should have checked with you first.”
“It’s absolutely okay,” she assured her. “I am quite impressed with my kid sister. I’m not sure there’s anything she can’t do. By the way, I stopped by the house to freshen up. The chair is … beau-ti-ful,” she said, drawing out the word.
Brianna grinned and wrapped Holly in a hug. “I’m glad you like it, and thank you! I’m so excited about helping Annabelle out.” She drew silent, but finally said softly, “I guess I learned something from my mom. She could put together a terrific party at a moment’s notice.”
Holly wrapped an arm around her again and gave her a squeeze. Their eyes met and a silent communication passed between them. Everything is going to be all right, Holly conveyed with her eyes. I’m here for you. We have each other now.
“About that walk…” Ryan prompted.
“Yes, please go with him, Holly,” Annabelle said with a weary sigh. “We could accomplish so much more if not for his running commentary.”
By Summer's End (Christian Fiction) Page 18