How Sweet It Is

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  “Love you back, Trix. Later.”

  Holly punched End and set the phone on the coffee table.

  A wedding. In about eight weeks’ time. Maid of honor and cake baker. Good grief! How would she manage those duties while running the restaurant? She should have said she could do one or the other but not both. Then again, when had she ever been able to deny her little sister anything? She shook her head as she rose and went to a bookshelf that held some of her favorite wedding cake cookbooks.

  Tuesday, July 1, 1969

  Andrew sat on the front porch and watched as a hot breeze swirled dust down the driveway. His dog, Chester, slumbered beneath the porch swing, and the horses stood in the pasture with heads drooping. The afternoon heat had made every living thing lethargic, including Andrew, who had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

  But he was determined not to fall asleep in this blasted chair. For one thing, he might end up at some odd angle that would aggravate his back. If he did that, Helen would consign him to the bed again, and that he couldn’t abide. He also didn’t want to give his doctor a reason to mention the possibility of surgery again. He wasn’t about to let anyone take a knife to his back, no matter how renowned they might be. He would get through this with prayer and an extra measure of care.

  Besides, they didn’t have the money for surgery. He wasn’t yet sixty-five—that was still a good ten months down the road—so he wasn’t covered by Medicare. There’d been quite the brouhaha when President Johnson signed that insurance for seniors into law four summers ago, but Andrew hadn’t given it a lot of thought at the time. Although he’d known the time was fast approaching, he’d refused to think of himself as retirement age or as a senior citizen. He’d always been healthy as a horse. He’d intended to go on that way. So what did he need with government insurance?

  Only look at him now. Ordered to sit still in this porch chair and to lift nothing heavier than a glass of lemonade. It made him feel old, like it or not. He undoubtedly looked old, especially with his careful, shuffling gait.

  He closed his eyes, his thoughts drifting. Youth, as the saying went, was wasted on the young. There was no appreciation for ease of movement or quick minds or new experiences. Not for most, at least. Even in times as tumultuous as these, even with inflation and civil unrest and foreign wars, the young felt invincible. Age and experience made a man more pragmatic.

  “Care for some company?” Helen asked.

  He looked toward the front door, watching her approach, a pitcher of lemonade in her hand.

  “I thought you might need a refill.” She poured some of the pale-yellow liquid into his glass on the table beside his chair. “How are you feeling?”

  “Bored.”

  “Need me to bring you a book?”

  “I’m tired of reading.”

  “You? Tired of reading?” She smiled as she settled onto the chair opposite him. “Maybe you need a hobby.”

  “A hobby?”

  “People do have hobbies, Andrew.”

  “I know that.” He sounded bad tempered, even in his own ears. Terrific. He was getting old and crotchety. He tried to soften his words. “What would you suggest?”

  “I don’t know. Something you can do while relaxing, while sitting down.”

  “Besides reading.”

  She gave him another small smile. “Yes. I was thinking something along the lines of painting. You know. Watercolors or oils. Something like that.”

  “Me? An artist?”

  “You actually have a very artistic soul, my love.”

  What was she talking about? An artistic soul? No one had ever described him that way. Nobody else ever would. Everyone knew Andrew Henning was practical, sensible, and down-to-earth.

  “It isn’t too late to try something new.” Helen pushed gray wisps of hair off her forehead. “Grandma Moses didn’t start painting until she was in her late seventies, and Winston Churchill wasn’t a child when he started either. He was forty, I think. Later Mr. Churchill wrote that painting came to his rescue in a most trying time.”

  Now that was sneaky, he thought. His wife knew full well how much he admired the former prime minister of England. Reminding him of Churchill’s hobby had been a master stroke on her part.

  “Won’t you think about it, Andrew? It might keep you from feeling so restless. It might help you in your recovery.” She leaned forward and took hold of his hand. “Think about it.” It sounded more like an order than a request, but it was laced with love.

  “I will.” He nodded. “I promise.”

  Chapter 5

  Jed walked along the Boise Greenbelt, the branches of tall cottonwoods casting shadows across the path before him. It being a Friday, he saw few others at this time of day, mostly young moms with babies and toddlers in strollers.

  With a sigh, he sank onto a bench and stared at the river, running high on its banks in mid-April. Taking his phone from his pocket, he touched his brother’s photo and waited, fully expecting to need to leave another message.

  “What do you want, Jed?”

  Chris’s voice surprised him so much he couldn’t answer at first.

  “You there?”

  “I’m here. I didn’t think you’d answer.”

  “I almost didn’t.”

  Jed drew a deep breath and let it out. “I need to see you, Chris.”

  “About what? I think we pretty much said everything the last time we were together.”

  Words rushed into his head. Sharp words. Words meant to slap some sense into his brother. As if that method had worked in the past.

  “I shouldn’t’ve said what I said.” The words tasted bitter as they crossed Jed’s tongue. “I’d like to try again. Will you tell me where you are?”

  “Why? You planning a trip? Because I don’t have plans to come back to Washington.”

  Jed took another breath to steady himself. “I’m already in Boise.”

  “You’re what?”

  “In Boise. I came to find you. To talk to you.”

  Chris released a curse, then ended the call.

  Jed lowered the phone from his ear and stared at the blank screen. He considered calling his brother back, but he knew without trying that Chris wouldn’t answer again. Not this soon. He supposed it was better to let it go for now.

  He lifted his gaze to the water flowing past. Some of the trees that lined the river showed the beginnings of new leaves. Others were still bare and wintery in appearance, belying the warmth of the sun upon his back.

  If Chris wasn’t staying with their family, why even come to Boise? It didn’t make much sense to Jed. His brother didn’t have many memories of living in Idaho. He hadn’t been in school yet when the family moved to Washington. So why Boise? Because it was a name he knew? Because it was just a day’s drive from Tacoma?

  And how much money could he have? Chris had never been responsible when it came to his finances. Laffriot had paid him a good wage, but from the looks of his apartment, Chris had spent it on every electronic gadget known to man. A lot of good that was doing him here.

  “I’ll never understand him,” Jed whispered to himself.

  He closed his eyes and tried to release the growing anger inside of him. After a few moments the words he’d read in the front of Andrew Henning’s Bible drifted into his thoughts. The part about following God so that he wouldn’t lose his way.

  I’ve lost my way, haven’t I? Dad wants me to make things right with Chris, but maybe being here is about more than the trouble between brothers. Help me find my way back to You, God.

  The prayer surprised him. He hadn’t felt lost. Only angry at Chris. But Ben giving him Andrew Henning’s Bible meant something. It had stirred emotions inside of him. He wasn’t sure what those were or what they meant, but they were there all the same.

  “Excuse me.”

  Jed looked in the direction of the voice. A man stood about ten feet away. He was tall and thin, what Jed’s grandma would have called a beanpole. He guessed h
im to be around his own age, although it was hard to be certain due to his unkempt appearance.

  “Could you make a call for me?” The stranger pointed at the phone in Jed’s hand.

  Glad for something else to acquire his attention, Jed stood. “Sure.”

  “I was supposed to work this afternoon, but somebody stole my bike. I’m walking, but there’s no way I’m going to get there for the start of my shift.”

  “You live around here?”

  The man shook his head, his gaze suddenly on the ground.

  Sensing he’d made the man uncomfortable with his question, he said, “My name’s Jed.” He waited to see if the man would respond with his own name. When he didn’t, Jed added, “Would a ride be of more help to you than a phone call?”

  The man’s eyes widened as he met Jed’s gaze again.

  “I could drive you to your job.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure.”

  Now the eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  The strange thing was Jed didn’t know why he’d made the offer. Maybe it was because he’d just asked God to help him find his way. Maybe it was because he had nothing else to do. “Come on. I’ve got no ulterior motives. I’m just offering you a ride to work. My car’s parked over this way.” He took a couple of steps, then waited to see if the other man would join him.

  He did.

  * * *

  Exhausted, Holly dropped onto the sofa in her living room, wanting nothing more than to sit there until it was time to go to bed. It had been one of those days at the restaurant. One of their suppliers had failed to deliver some promised items, and the server Holly had hoped to hire hadn’t shown up for her interview, meaning they still didn’t have a full wait staff. At least Zachary had found a part-time cook to fill in for him on his one day off a week. That was a godsend.

  “How soon before Zach’s burned out?” Holly asked Pumpkin when the cat jumped onto the sofa, demanding attention. “He might up and quit, and then where would I be?”

  She knew the answer to that question. She would be stuck on a sinking ship, a ship that had been taking on water from the start.

  “I hate it,” she whispered. Then, louder, “I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.”

  Her doorbell rang. She considered not answering it. Then came a knock and a familiar voice. “Holly, it’s me. Are you there?”

  She groaned as she pushed up from the sofa. A moment later she pulled open the door for her sister.

  “Oh, good.” Trixie grinned as she entered. “You’re home.”

  “Barely.”

  Trixie looked into the kitchen. “Did you already eat? I’m starved.”

  “I had a sandwich at the restaurant.”

  “Any good leftovers in the fridge?”

  Holly laughed softly. Her sister ate like she had one of those proverbial hollow legs and then had the nerve to remain reed thin. “I’ll see what I’ve got.” She walked into the kitchen.

  “I wanted to show you some pictures of the dresses I’m considering. Mine and the bridesmaids. We’ll have to make a decision pretty fast about your dress. We’ve got our date. It’s Saturday the twentieth of June.”

  “You found a venue already?” She looked over her shoulder.

  Trixie’s face glowed with happiness. “Yes. It’s a barn with a stage and a small kitchen for the catering. It’s perfect.”

  “A barn?” Holly turned all the way around.

  “I know. I know. It doesn’t sound like much. But it is. Wait until you see it. They’ve remodeled it for weddings and other special events. Brett loves it too.”

  Holly opened her mouth to say something but was stopped by another knock, this time from the back door. “Hold that thought.” She went to answer the sound.

  Jed waited on the stoop. “Sorry to bother you, Holly.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I don’t have power in the apartment. I looked for an electrical panel, but there isn’t one in my unit. I assume it’s on the other side of the basement or upstairs.”

  Electrical problems. Just what she needed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the power was off. I’ve got it up here.”

  Jed’s gaze moved beyond Holly’s shoulder, and she guessed that Trixie had stepped into view. She looked, confirming her suspicion.

  Her sister spoke before she could. “You must be the new renter. I’m Trixie, Holly’s younger sister.”

  “Nice to meet you. I’m Jed.”

  Trixie moved forward and held out a hand, which he shook.

  “Let me get a flashlight,” Holly said once her sister had backed away. “Hopefully it’s nothing serious.” She headed for the drawer in the utility room where she kept a flashlight.

  Right behind her, Trixie whispered, “He’s cute.”

  “Shhh.”

  “Well, he is. Is he single?”

  Ignoring the question, Holly said, “Fix yourself something to eat, Trix. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  She hurried to the back door, hoping Jed hadn’t heard her sister. “The electrical panel is down here.” She took the stairway to the basement, keenly aware of the sound of Jed’s footsteps as he followed her. Using the flashlight, she located the electrical panel, and Jed flicked a couple of the switches. The power for the basement came back at once.

  “Thank God,” Holly said beneath her breath. The mere possibility of serious electrical problems made her heart race.

  “You okay?”

  Feeling her cheeks grow warm, she faced him. “Yes. Just glad it was an easy fix.”

  “Me too.” He smiled.

  Trixie was right. Jed Henning was cute.

  The warmth in her cheeks turned to a fire. She looked away, hoping he hadn’t seen and unhappy with herself for entertaining even a brief thought about his appearance. She didn’t care about his looks, only about his rent.

  “How about I order pizza as a way of saying thanks?”

  “That’s not necessary.” She started toward the stairs.

  “I’d like to do it. I’d still be sitting in the dark if you hadn’t come home when you did.”

  “I didn’t do anything but provide a flashlight and show you to the panel. You’re the one who flipped the switches. Besides, you have a right to expect power in your apartment.”

  He laughed as he followed her up the stairs. “Agreed. Now, what kind of pizza do you and your sister like?”

  Still out of sight, Trixie called out, “Did I hear pizza?”

  Holly would have happily strangled her sister. The same sister who was still talking.

  “I’m good with anything except anchovies.” Trixie stepped into the kitchen doorway where she could be seen. “Oh, and I like thin crust the best.”

  Holly swallowed a groan. She could see what Trixie was up to. Her sister was as subtle as a steamroller. Because Trixie was in love and happy with the whole world, she wanted the same for Holly. Well, she could forget it. And as soon as Jed returned to his apartment, she would tell Trixie just that.

  * * *

  Dinner with the Stanford sisters proved to be a lively one, an evening that Jed enjoyed far more than expected. His offer to buy the pizza had been more selfish than it sounded. He hadn’t wanted to return to the empty apartment right away. He’d already spent too much time that day lost in his thoughts about Chris and his worries about Laffriot’s future. He’d needed a distraction, if only for an hour or two.

  Trixie Stanford was certainly a distraction. Vivacious and good humored, she seemed to fill the room with her personality. As for Holly, her affection for her younger sister was obvious in her eyes.

  “Selfishly,” Trixie said, “I’m glad Holly didn’t leave Boise to go off to some pastry-chef school. I’d miss her something awful if she moved too far away.”

  Holly’s smile this time was a little strained.

  “Did she tell you she’s making the cake for my wedding?”

  Jed shook his head. He hadn’t seen his landlady since Sunday
when he’d helped her clean up the cake batter. Occasionally he’d heard her moving about the house above him, but their paths hadn’t crossed in the past five days.

  Jed wasn’t used to being idle. Since starting Laffriot, he’d worked twelve- and fourteen-hour days. He paced his office while talking on the phone. Except when he was working on his computer, his desk chair rarely got used. He was a man of action. To keep himself from going stir-crazy while he tried to find his brother, he’d kept himself busy, driving around Boise, becoming reacquainted with the city, checking out places he thought Chris might be. Out of curiosity, he’d investigated the tech companies headquartered locally. When in the apartment, he’d kept current on Laffriot email, studied company spreadsheets, and stayed in touch with a number of key employees. And in the evenings, he’d continued to look through the photographs and letters found in the boxes meant for his dad. Between those and the notes in his great-grandfather’s old Bible, he’d started to feel as if he knew Andrew Henning.

  “Holly’s amazing in the kitchen,” Trixie continued, unaware of his wandering thoughts. “Her cakes are masterpieces, but she can make any dessert you might want. They’re all so good. You should—”

  “Trix,” Holly interrupted softly but firmly.

  “Sorry.” Trixie waved a hand in the air. “Enough about us. Tell me about you. Where are you from?”

  “Here, originally. But I did most of my growing up in the Seattle area. It’s where I still live.”

  “Do you go to church? Because if you do, you should check out Holly’s. Brett and I attend services in Thunder Creek, our hometown, but Holly says great things about Covenant Fellowship.”

  “Covenant Fellowship?” He looked at Holly. “That’s where my cousin and his grandfather go. Maybe you know them. Grant Henning. Ben Henning.”

  She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s a big place, and I’ve only been going there for a year.”

  Just yesterday, Ben had called Jed and suggested he join them on Sunday. He hadn’t made any promises, but maybe he should go with them. It had been far too long since he’d been faithful in church attendance.