Hometown Girl: The Chesapeake Diaries

by Mariah Stewart

  Brooke quickly explained the arrangement and tried not to look at the clock. She knew she’d be late for class if she didn’t leave now, but she couldn’t bring herself to be rude to Grace, who was everyone’s favorite seventysomething lady in town.

  “Well, you’re certain to be a success. We haven’t had a decent bakery here in town since …” Grace paused and appeared to think. “Frankly, I don’t think we ever had a really good baker in St. Dennis. That new place doesn’t do it for me. And frankly”—she leaned closer to Brooke—“I don’t think they’re going to make it. Apparently they aren’t doing it for anyone else around here either. So the field is wide open, dear. Now’s a good time to make your move.”

  “From your lips, Miss Grace.”

  “Yes, well, after you get a few weeks under your belt, we’ll do an interview for my paper. Get some customer feedback to go along with it. Nothing like word of mouth.” Grace patted Brooke on the arm. “And speaking of which, I think I’ll try one with my tea. Which do you recommend?”

  “All of them,” Brooke replied. “But I know you’re partial to fruity things, so you might try either the lemon, the strawberry, or the pineapple coconut.”

  “Oh, the lemon.” Grace motioned to Rachel. “I think we need to put some little index cards out here, pass them out with the cupcakes so people can leave their comments.”

  “Grace, that’s an excellent idea. I wish I’d thought to do that.”

  “Like I said, dear, nothing like word of mouth.” Grace searched her bag for her wallet.

  Seeing an opening, Brooke smiled and said, “I’m off to class now. Enjoy your cupcake.”

  “I loved the ones you had at Dallas’s,” Grace told her. “I’m sure this will be just as good.”

  “I hope you think so.” Brooke bolted toward the door, and hurried across the street.

  Vanessa stepped out from Bling’s front door and waved. “Hey, Brooke. I put a few dresses aside that I think you might like for Saturday.”

  “No time now. I’ll be back later,” Brooke called back. “I have to get to class.”

  “I’ll be here,” Vanessa assured her.

  Back in her car, Brooke took a deep breath. She didn’t dare stop to compute how many cupcakes she’d have to bake, frost, and decorate by tomorrow morning. She’d worry about that later. Right now she just wanted to savor the feeling that someone—several someones—had agreed to sell her cupcakes. She’d taken her first orders. The cupcakes she’d made for Dallas’s party had been a gift and therefore didn’t count. These cupcakes—the ones she’d make for Steffie and for Carlo and hopefully for Lola—were stepping-stones that would, hopefully, in time, lead to that little shop she’d been dreaming of.

  Next stop, school. After class, she’d stop at Bling, try on the dresses Vanessa had put aside for her for the party, then she’d run home, help Logan with his homework, and once he was settled, she’d start baking.

  Tomorrow, after she made her deliveries, she’d take Clay’s old van out to Krauser’s Auto Body and see what Frank could do to pretty it up. It was time for her to get her show on the road. Literally.

  Chapter 4

  WHEN he realized that he’d just read the same case notes for the third time, Jesse gave up and closed the file. To say he was agitated would be an understatement. He’d been on edge since he’d spoken to his sister, Sophie, and as much as he tried to tell himself that he wasn’t going to be affected by anything their father did, his inner self apparently wasn’t listening. The call from Sophie had been unexpected but not particularly surprising, given their father’s track record.

  Then again, pretty much everything associated with his father turned out to have a downside.

  “Mom doesn’t know that I’m calling, so if she calls, don’t let on that I gave you a heads-up.” Sophie had opened the call on an ominous note.

  “What’s the matter?” Jesse had been deep in notes for a trial that was scheduled to start the following week.

  “It’s Dad.” Heavy sigh from Sophie.

  “Isn’t it always?” Jesse had muttered. “What is it this time?”

  “He’s left Pammie and he’s living with this woman he met at a casino in Atlantic City. He says she’s his soul mate.” If an eye roll had a voice, it would sound exactly like Sophie’s. “Say something, Jess.”

  “I’m trying to decide who I feel sorrier for, Pammie or the soul mate.” Whenever Jesse was angry or tense but needed to maintain control, he drew little concentric circles on whatever paper was available. He picked up a pen and started to draw on the back of an envelope on his desk, and wondered what it said about his personality that the more tense or angry he became, the smaller the circles he drew.

  “Yeah, poor Pammie, right? And yes, I did remind her that Dad left Mom for her, and that once upon a time, she was the other woman.”

  “Payback’s a bitch, Pammie.”

  “Oh, so true,” Sophie agreed. “I have to admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction on that score. I’m petty that way.”

  “Karma can be a good thing.” Jesse knew exactly what his sister meant. He was fifteen when his father left them for Pammie, who at the time was twenty-four. “Does she still call herself Pammie?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So what happened? She just called you out of the blue?”

  “First she called Mom, and I guess when it dawned on her that she wasn’t going to get any sympathy from Mom, she called me.”

  “Bad move on both counts.” Jesse’s circles grew smaller.

  “Duh.”

  “Another day, another Craig Enright scandal.”

  “Dad doesn’t even scandalize anymore. Everyone just pretty much ignores him, Jess.”

  “Which is exactly what I think we need to do. Ignore it. He’ll either crawl back to Pammie or he’ll take off with … what’s this one’s name?”

  “Tish something. And Jess?” Sophie paused. “She’s thirty-three. Younger than you but older than me.”

  Jesse’s circles continued to shrink.

  “Well, like I said, just ignore it, all of it. It’s not like we haven’t been down this road with him before.”

  “Easy for you to say from down there in that cozy, idyllic little town. How are things, by the way?”

  “Cozy and idyllic.”

  “I swear, if I didn’t have so much going on here, I’d be studying up to take the Maryland bar.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. Maybe you should think about it.”

  “I did, but Jonathan wasn’t wild about the idea.”

  Count to ten, Jess, he told himself. For some reason, his sister’s boyfriend always brought out the snark in Jesse. When they hung up a few minutes later, he was still trying to figure out what Sophie saw in Jonathan.

  Or what Tish saw in his father, for that matter. Was she aware of his track record? That he’d had three children with wife number one—none of whom he’d had contact with in years; two children with wife number two, that would be Lainie, Jesse and Sophie’s mother. And now he was apparently leaving wife number three; at least he’d refrained from reproducing again. It was enough to make your head spin.

  Jesse tossed the doodled envelope into the trash can and got up from his chair to pace. He went first to the front window, from where he could see Old St. Mary’s Church Square—known to the locals as just the square—and the narrow streets that led to it. This was the most historic section of a historic town, the house in which he now stood one of the oldest. The oldest section of the Oliver Shallcross House had been built in 1702, and was purchased in 1820 by Peter Enright, Jesse’s great-great-great-grandfather, and Enright and Enright was established the following year. Ever since, there’d been at least one Enright to provide legal counsel to the residents of St. Dennis and the surrounding communities. But even with this legacy, Jesse wondered if he’d ever feel like he’d earned the right to walk up that cobbled path and to call St. Dennis his home.

  He had his grandfather, Curt
is Enright, to thank in no small part for his uncertainty.

  Jesse went into the small kitchen at the end of the hall and poured himself a cup of coffee. He never walked past the steps leading to the second floor without remembering his first visit here.

  He’d heard through the family grapevine that his grandfather was retiring due to age and ill health, and that his uncle Mike—his dad’s brother—was taking a leave to care for his terminally ill wife, Andrea. Jesse had been practicing law in Ohio, where he’d grown up and where his mother and sister still lived, but from day one, he’d been under the shadow cast by his father. When the idea of relocating to St. Dennis first occurred to him, Jesse arranged to take the Maryland bar exam so that if he was successful in repairing the damage his father had caused, and was able to convince his grandfather to take him into the firm, Jesse would be ready to go.

  He hadn’t been aware of just how devastating the damage had been.

  Just something else to thank you for, Dad.

  Curtis Enright had been cordial when Jesse showed up in St. Dennis and asked to see him. When he realized that Jesse had come, not for a visit, but for an interview for a position with the firm, Curtis’s cordiality turned decidedly cool.

  “Can we speak frankly?” Curtis’s eyes had narrowed almost to the point of slits. He didn’t wait for a response. “Your father was a great disappointment to me. How do I know the apple hasn’t fallen too close to the tree?”

  “You don’t, unless you’re willing to take me at my word that I am nothing like my father,” Jesse had replied calmly. He’d expected some resistance, but not this chilly a reaction. “Something tells me you’re not willing to do that, so why not give me a trial? Test me. Let me work for you for six months.”

  “Anyone can pretend to be anything they want for six months.” Curtis had waved away the proposal.

  “Then make it a year.” Suddenly Jesse had wanted this job more than he’d realized. Maybe it had been the chance to prove to his family that he was a better man than his father, that he was more worthy to inherit a position with Enright and Enright than his dad had been. “A year with you looking over my shoulder.”

  His grandfather had fallen silent, and for a moment, Jesse had thought he was thinking over the offer he’d just made.

  “I had high hopes for all my children, but Craig was my first son, and God, he was so bright! Had so much promise. Just shows how astute I am when it comes to judging character,” Curtis had grumbled. “They say it’s a wise man who knows his own child.” He’d shaken his head almost imperceptibly. “Obviously, I wasn’t very wise. Craig was a screwup from the time he hit his teens until”—he paused to glance at his watch—“two-twenty this afternoon.”

  Curtis had turned slightly to gaze out the window. When he’d turned back to Jesse, it was to ask, “Is there something in your background I should know about?”

  “Excuse me?” Jesse had asked.

  “DUIs? Been kicked out of college? Annulled marriage to a Vegas stripper? Embezzlement?”

  The last one had struck home hard and fast. Jesse had stared at the old man seated behind the desk for a long moment, then stood.

  “I’m sorry,” he’d said as he walked toward the door. “This was a waste of time for both of us.”

  He’d paused in the doorway. “I know better than anyone the kind of man my father is. I’ve had to deal with his antics all my life. If I said it hasn’t affected me, I’d be lying. But I hope it never affects me the way it’s affected you. I’m really sorry that your expectations of me are so low.”

  Jesse’d left his grandfather’s second-floor office, wishing that he’d listened to his mother when she told him that coming here, hoping for an offer to join the family firm, was a really bad idea, that the trip could only end in disappointment. Well, she’d had that right.

  He’d walked out the front door and down the cobbled path to the sidewalk, oblivious to the simple beauty of the square he cut across on his way back to the bed-and-breakfast where he’d been staying. The pain he’d carried inside was so sharp, so fierce, it seemed to burn right into his heart. Back in his room, he’d sat in quiet mourning for all the pieces of his life that had scattered: for the man his father might have been; for the dream he’d had of being accepted into the fold here, and for the place he’d hoped to carve for himself in St. Dennis, away from the scandals and the taint on his name that had nothing to do with him.

  Well, they say you can’t pick your family. Except for his mother and his sister, the rest of them could all go rot for all he cared.

  Jesse’d sat by a window and stewed until it grew dark and his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten in hours. The innkeeper had suggested a place for dinner, and Jesse had followed the directions to a restaurant several blocks away on the main street that went through the town. He’d been two storefronts from the restaurant when his cell phone rang.

  “You’ve got one year.” Curtis hadn’t bothered with pleasantries nor had he identified himself. “Let me know when you’ve passed the Maryland bar.”

  “I already have,” Jesse had replied with as much warmth as his grandfather offered.

  “Pretty damned sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I just always like to have my ducks in a row.”

  “In that case, you can start the first of next month. I’ll be looking over your shoulder. Don’t ever forget it.”

  “Don’t you want to check my references?” Jesse had asked.

  “Already did that.” Curtis had paused, then added, “I like to have my ducks in a row, too.”

  That had been eight months ago, and while those first two months had been hell—with Curtis initially micromanaging to the point that he demanded to see every one of Jesse’s letters before they were mailed—by the six-month mark, Curtis rarely questioned Jesse’s judgment and had stopped shadowing him in court. They’d entered into a quiet truce based on growing mutual respect, but there was still a bit of unease between them.

  Jesse took his coffee outside to the small courtyard off the kitchen. The day that had started out with the promise of sunshine had grown overcast and he could smell the coming rain. The leaves that had dropped since the beginning of the week formed a deep carpet of red and gold and brown across the yard. He set his coffee next to some potted plants on a table near the back door and went to the shed at the rear of the property. He found a rake and began to rake the leaves into a big pile near the driveway. He was so engrossed in what he was doing that he didn’t hear the back door open.

  “I hope you’re not thinking about jumping into that pile.” Violet Finneran folded her arms across her ample chest. “Your granddaddy has someone to do that.”

  “I know. I just felt like I needed a little fresh air and exercise.”

  “Well, while you were playing maintenance man, you had a few calls. Lou MacGruder wants to change the settlement conference on the Jackson case from Monday afternoon to Tuesday morning, which of course will remove the trial from Monday’s calendar if you’re agreeable, which I told him you would be. He’ll take care of the motions. Liz apologized but she wasn’t able to come back in after lunch because she got a call from the elementary school to come pick up her sick daughter.” Violet counted off the calls on the fingers of her right hand. “And Brooke Bowers called to make an appointment to have her will drawn up.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me she called?”

  “Did you tell me you were coming out here? If I hadn’t gone into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation now.”

  “Touché.”

  “Indeed.”

  “So did you give Brooke an appointment?” he asked.

  “I gave her the Monday slot that would have been the settlement conference.”

  “Good. Thank you.” Jesse went back to raking leaves. He could feel Violet’s eyes burning through his shirt. He and his grandfather may have come to an understanding, but clearly, the jury was still out as f
ar as Violet Finneran was concerned.

  He glanced over his shoulder and found her still standing in the doorway.

  “What else?” he asked.

  “I’ve known Brooke since she was a child.”

  “Nice lady.” He made an attempt at sounding noncommittal but wasn’t sure he succeeded.

  “Well, she is now but she wasn’t back then.” Violet paused. “When she was a child, that is. She was a bit of a brat for a while there.”

  “Okay.” Jesse stopped raking and waited to see where she was headed with this.

  “This firm has served as legal counsel for that family going back over a hundred years.”

  “And …” He gestured for her to continue.

  “And the girl needs her interests looked after.” She stared a hole right through the center of his face. “Don’t screw it up.”

  She went back into the building, the door slamming behind her. It was almost a full minute before Jesse was able to pull his jaw off the ground and follow her.

  “What makes you think I’d do anything to screw up Brooke’s will?”

  “It’s not just her will. She needs solid counsel.”

  “Why do you think I’m not capable of giving her good legal counsel, Violet?” He stared her down. For a moment he felt as if he was staring into the face of a dragon.

  “Law of averages, sonny. I’ve known your grandparents all my life, went to school with your grandmother. So I knew your father. I know what he did to this family. How all his nonsense broke his mother’s heart. Sooner or later, blood will tell.”

  “My grandfather is satisfied with everything I’ve done since day one. If he had any complaints, I imagine he’d have let me know, but hey, I’m still here.” He paused. “And don’t call me ‘sonny.’ ”

  “Right now Curtis doesn’t have anyone else, what with Mike having to take care of poor Andrea day and night. He’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop.” A mean little smile crossed her face. “We’re all just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Sooner or later, it will.”

  She started into her office near the front door.