How Sweet It Is

by Robin Lee Hatcher

  Pumpkin protested with a soft growl.

  “I love you too.”

  She stroked the cat’s head once, then left the bedroom. In the kitchen, she got a drink of water and was setting the glass on the counter beside the sink when a rap sounded on the back door. Nerves exploded in her stomach a second time as she went to answer it.

  “Wow.” Jed grinned. “You look amazing.”

  She glanced down, her mind blank. For that split second, she’d forgotten what she wore. Oh yes. She’d chosen one of her favorite dresses, one that Trixie said was the same shade of blue as her eyes. “Thanks.” She didn’t say that he, too, looked amazing in his burgundy-colored dress shirt and a pair of dark trousers. Even more handsome than usual.

  Don’t do this. Don’t like him too much. Be careful.

  “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Let me get my things.” A few moments later she returned with her purse and sweater. As she stepped outside, she caught the scent of lilacs in bloom, brought from the neighbor’s yard on a gentle breeze. She paused long enough to close her eyes and take a deep breath through her nose. When she released it, it came out on a sigh of pleasure.

  Jed’s soft laughter caused her to look at him. “I’m guessing you either love spring or love lilacs.”

  “Both.” She smiled, despite her anxiety.

  “Me too.”

  For some reason, that caused her fears to calm somewhat.

  Jed had made a reservation for them at an upscale Boise restaurant. Holly had heard lots of great reviews of the Riverfront, but she’d never been there before. Nathan hadn’t been one for fancy dining, and this wasn’t the sort of place a girl came to alone, even if she could afford it—which Holly could not.

  Candlelight flickered at each table, and piano music wafted through the air, giving the large dining area a romantic ambiance. Their table was located beside a window overlooking the river. Early-evening sunlight glittered off the rippling water that flowed past them. Cottonwood branches on the opposite side of the river danced as birds landed and flew away again. People strolled on the Greenbelt pathway, enjoying the balmy evening.

  “This is nice,” Holly said as she looked across the table at Jed.

  “Yeah, it is. Ben told me about it. I think it’s where he popped the question to Ashley.”

  “Really?” She easily imagined the scene, and it brought back that unsettled feeling to her stomach. She picked up the menu and began to peruse it.

  “If money wasn’t an object, would you rather run a restaurant like this one instead of Sweet Caroline’s?”

  She laid the menu down. “No. I’d rather own a bake shop. I’d rather design wedding cakes. That’s what I planned to do. Owning a restaurant just sort of happened to me.”

  He cocked an eyebrow.

  “I told you I inherited it from an uncle.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It was closed for years after my aunt passed away. I thought about selling the building, but then . . .” She hesitated, unsure how transparent she wanted to be. But there was something in the way he watched her, something in his eyes, that made her want to be honest with him, even if she wasn’t ready to trust her feelings. “Nathan was the one who convinced me I should reopen it.”

  “Nathan?”

  “My ex-fiancé.” She glanced out the window. “He was going to manage the restaurant while I did my cake thing, as he called it.”

  “What happened?” Jed’s voice was soft.

  Her throat narrowed. “He changed his mind. About me. About marriage. About everything.”

  “I’m sorry, Holly.”

  “It’s all right.” She looked at him again, lifting her chin and stiffening her spine at the same time. “I’m all right. And I mean to make certain that Sweet Caroline’s will be all right too. There’s a lot of food-service competition in Boise, but we’re gaining loyal customers. We’ll manage.” She wished she felt as confident as she tried to sound.

  “What about that cake-baking business you wanted to start?”

  She shrugged. “Someday, maybe.”

  * * *

  Jed saw something in Holly’s expression that made him want to rescue her. An unfamiliar and unwelcome notion. Did women even want to be rescued these days? She’d probably shut him down if he tried. Thinking that made him glad when the server came to take their order. The interruption gave him time to think of something else to talk about.

  He was certain Holly had no interest in electronic gaming, and he knew he wasn’t interested in cooking or baking. He already knew she loved her cat. His preferred pet was a dog, although he hadn’t had space in his life to own one in a long while. Maybe he would change that when he went home.

  By the time the server left the table, Jed had decided the safest place to start was to ask a few questions about her family and where she’d grown up. His decision worked out well. Over dinner, they took turns talking about their parents, memories from childhood, school experiences, and even their individual causes of teenaged angst. They each shared how they’d come to faith in Christ, discovering similarities and differences in their respective journeys. They learned they both enjoyed reading fiction, although Holly’s favorites were historical novels while Jed preferred suspense and mystery. They each liked to hike, but both had to admit it had been ages since they’d taken the time to do so.

  Jed couldn’t remember when he’d spent this much time getting to know a woman—and enjoyed it too. He didn’t ask Holly questions in order to avoid silence. He asked because he wanted to hear her answers. Listening to her gave him pleasure. Had he ever felt that way before? He didn’t think so.

  Was this what it felt like to really fall for a woman—as in feeling something more than mere infatuation or sexual attraction?

  “Gradually, then suddenly.”

  The line in his head was a quote from a Hemingway novel. The character had been talking about bankruptcy, saying it happened gradually and then suddenly. It seemed to Jed that the line also applied to falling in love. And it seemed to him that he was in the “gradually” stage.

  * * *

  Twilight blanketed the valley by the time he walked Holly toward the back door of her house. “Thanks for tonight,” he said as they paused at the bottom of the steps. “This was nice.”

  “Yes.” A hesitant smile played in the corners of her mouth.

  He wondered if he should lean in to kiss her. He wanted to. A lot. But he remembered that fragile, wary look she’d worn more than once. He didn’t want to be the cause of its return.

  Instead of a kiss, he reached out, took her hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Weather’s supposed to stay nice. How about a hike on Sunday after church?”

  Her smile was less hesitant now. “I’d like that.”

  “Well . . .” He released her hand. “Good night, Holly.”

  “Good night.”

  Saturday, September 20, 1969

  On the day before the wedding of Charlotte Kincaid and Grant Henning, Grant drove a U-Haul truck up to the farmhouse at eleven o’clock in the morning. One of his cousins, Michael Valentine, was in the U-Haul with him. A car and a pickup, holding various other Henning relatives, followed the U-Haul into the barnyard. They couldn’t have asked for a better moving day. After three days of rain, today had dawned with clear skies and no wind.

  “Hey, Grandpa,” Grant called as he dropped to the ground.

  “Morning.”

  Michael called a greeting too. Soon after, so did Francine and her husband, son, and daughter, followed by Andrew and Helen’s youngest son, Andy.

  “Quite the crew.” Andrew grinned at his family. It wasn’t all of them, but it was enough to make it feel like a holiday gathering. “Where’s Charlotte?”

  Grant answered, “She won’t be joining us. Too many last-minute wedding details.”

  “Does anybody want coffee and a cinnamon roll? Helen made a fresh pot and baked the rolls special.”

  “Isn’t Mom supposed to
be resting?” Andy asked as he came up the steps.

  “As if I could keep her down if she doesn’t want to be.” He shrugged. “She says she feels fine. And it has been six weeks since that last episode.”

  Andrew didn’t fail to see the worry that crossed Francine’s face. His youngest daughter had called over a week ago with several more recommendations for neurologists, but no appointment had been made. Helen had said she didn’t have the time, what with all the changes going on. According to her, after the wedding would be soon enough to make an appointment. Andrew had been forced to acquiesce.

  The family trooped inside. Coffee was poured and cinnamon rolls were set on dessert plates. Andy and Francine kissed their mom. Next came the grandkids, from oldest to youngest, to give Helen more loving attention. Andrew exchanged a look with his wife, letting her know he understood. It was good to have the house full of their voices. Silence wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  In no time the young men had eaten their cinnamon rolls—not even a crumb or smear of frosting left on their plates—so they headed outside. Soon the back of the U-Haul was open, and boxes and furniture began to be moved into the first empty bedroom. Everyone but Helen pitched in; her job was to sit quietly and observe. There was plenty of laughter and good-natured banter as the bed was set up, then moved from one position to another and back again because no one could decide how Charlotte would want the room arranged.

  Andrew had learned an old proverb from his mother that said many hands made light work. It was as true that day as ever. By one o’clock, the moving was done and the U-Haul was empty. Helen prepared sandwiches for Grant and the rest of the family to eat before they started back to town. And then, after a flurry of goodbyes, they were gone.

  Andrew and Helen stood on the porch, his arm around her shoulders, until long after the last car was out of sight. Soft sounds remained. The thwap of the dog’s tail on the porch. Leaves, already beginning to turn with the season, rustling in a gentle breeze. Clucking of the chickens. They were sounds that brought comfort to Andrew, as familiar to him as the beat of his own heart.

  “Our life is about to change again,” Helen said, pressing her head into his shoulder.

  “Change is the only constant. Isn’t that what they say?”

  She laughed softly, a sound of agreement.

  He kissed the top of her head. How many countless times had he done that through the years? Back when her hair was dark and abundant. How many times had they stood on this porch together, watching loved ones drive away but knowing they had one another to hold on to? So many years. So many memories.

  “We’ll have an early dinner.” Helen patted his chest with one hand. “Don’t forget. Lawrence Welk’s on tonight.”

  “In color.”

  She gave him a look.

  “Weren’t you paying attention earlier? Grant insisted the new color set they got for a wedding present go in the living room.”

  They turned in unison and reentered the house. Helen paused long enough to look at the television console that now took up a good portion of one wall.

  “Awfully big, isn’t it?”

  “We can’t very well make them put it in their bedroom. Even less space in there. We’ll get used to it.”

  Her expression was pensive as she took in the rest of the rearranged furniture.

  He stepped closer. “Not having second thoughts, are you?”

  “Second thoughts?” She took one step back and met his gaze. “About Grant and Charlotte being here?”

  He nodded.

  “Heavens, no.” A fleeting smile crossed her lips. “Now, I’d best get into the kitchen. Lots to do before bedtime. Tomorrow’s a big day.”

  “Our second grandchild getting married.” Andrew shook his head slowly.

  “Not to mention that our first great-grandchild will arrive soon.”

  “Great-grandchild. Maybe you should start calling me your old man.”

  She laughed, this time giving him a small push on the arm. “And sound like a hippie? Not a chance. Besides, it would give you permission to call me your old lady, and I’ll not put up with that nonsense.”

  “Have I told you how pretty you are when you get your back up?” He kissed her on the lips before she hurried into the kitchen to start dinner preparations.

  Chapter 15

  “Spill,” Trixie demanded. “I want all the details.”

  Holly leaned back in the booth. The lunch customers at Sweet Caroline’s had left, and the sisters could talk in peace. “It was nice.”

  “Nice?” Trixie’s eyebrows rose.

  “The Riverfront is spectacular, both the ambience and the food. I ordered the salmon, which was amazing. I’d love to have the recipe.”

  “I wasn’t asking about the ambience or the food. What about your date?”

  Holly gave her head a slow shake. “Jed’s nice too.”

  “Sis, you’re impossible.”

  “I know.” She laughed, feeling a lightness in spirit that she hadn’t felt in more than a year. Taking pity, she told her sister what she wanted to know. “We talked a bit about our families and about where we each went to school. We discovered things we have in common and things we don’t. I . . . I told him about Nathan.”

  “You’re kidding.” The teasing tone was gone from Trixie’s voice. “Wow. That was a big step.”

  “I know. I didn’t say a lot, but enough for him to understand. He’s a good listener.”

  “I knew I was right about him.”

  “Maybe.”

  “He’s nice. He’s a good listener. You had a good time. You like him. He likes you. Sounds perfect.”

  “Liking is one thing. Friendship is okay. Nobody says it’ll be anything more than that. I’m not sure I want it to be more than that. I’m not sure he does either.”

  “Holly, you may be older than me, but you don’t know much about men. Have you noticed the way he looks at you?”

  It frightened her, thinking Trixie might be right. It frightened her even more, thinking she wanted her sister to be right. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t read too much into it. I . . . I’m not ready.”

  A frown pinched Trixie’s eyebrows, and her lips thinned as she pressed them together. It was a look Holly had seen before, one that said her younger sister was not going to give up.

  “Trix, every girl can’t be as lucky as you. Brett’s a great guy, and the two of you have something special.”

  Her sister’s posture relaxed a little. “Yeah, he is great. The thing is he’s great for me. But there’s a guy somewhere who’ll be just as great for you. He wasn’t Nathan. Maybe he’s Jed.”

  Holly dreaded the wanting that hummed in her heart. How had she let herself care this much for someone she’d known only a matter of weeks? She’d put a wall of protection around her heart ever since Nathan walked out on her. But somehow Jed had caused her to lower her guard, if only a fraction.

  “Oh, Trixie,” she whispered. “I’m scared. He doesn’t even live in Boise. Even if I wanted more, we’re already set up for failure.”

  Her sister took hold of her hand. “Caring for someone isn’t a bad thing, even if it doesn’t work out between you two. You need to live again, Holly. Nathan was a Class 1 jerk. So, lesson learned. Move on. You need to let yourself feel things, both good and bad. Bottling it up isn’t healthy.”

  Holly swallowed hard, blinking away unexpected tears. She both loved and hated that Trixie understood her so well.

  “Did Jed ask you out again?”

  “Yes.” She nodded as she drew a deep breath and released it. “We’re going on a hike on Sunday.”

  “Well, then. Cheer up. Give the guy a chance. Give yourself a chance.” Trixie squeezed Holly’s hand. “You haven’t given up trying to make this restaurant succeed. You have all kinds of faith in the women you’re teaching how to cook. Now you need to have some faith in yourself and your ability to live life to the fullest.”


  Holly smiled through her tears. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

  “How could you help it?” Trixie gave her head a saucy toss, eyes twinkling.

  The two of them broke into laughter, and Holly would have sworn she felt her faith in the future increase.

  * * *

  Jed entered the dimly lit bar and grill a little before seven on Thursday evening. Music played from speakers in the ceiling. The air smelled of fried foods. He squinted, waiting for his eyes to adjust, then looked for his brother. Chris wasn’t there.

  No surprise. When’s he ever on time?

  He shook his head, displeased with the thought. Wouldn’t do him any good to have a negative attitude from the get-go.

  He stepped deeper into the room. After another quick look around, he chose an empty booth with a clear view of the entrance. A server came to the table, and he ordered a Diet Coke to sip while he waited.

  Jed had prayed about this meeting for the past three days. He’d prayed that he would keep his temper in check. He’d prayed for patience. He’d prayed for wisdom and understanding. Trouble was, he didn’t know what any of that was supposed to look like. He thought of his brother’s name, now written in their great-grandfather’s Bible. Jed had meant it when he wrote it in the margin. He wanted the prodigal to come home. Home to the family, if not home to Laffriot. Their dad had been the catalyst for this hoped-for reconciliation, but Jed wanted a better relationship with Chris. More than he’d known.

  The bar’s door opened, and a guy entered, his right arm draped over the shoulders of his girl. Both of them wore leather jackets, white T-shirts, and jeans. In their early twenties, they had eyes only for each other. It was a wonder they made it to a booth without running over someone or something.

  Thoughts of Holly resurfaced. Memories of her tentative smile, of her melodic laugh, of the wariness that came and went from her pretty eyes, of her generosity to others, of the way she adored her younger sister. Holly Stanford was special. She was—

  The door to the bar opened again. This time it was Chris who stepped into the establishment. Like Jed before him, he squinted, as if unable to see clearly yet. Jed stood, drawing his brother’s gaze. His expression didn’t change as he started to walk in Jed’s direction.