Recipe for Redemption

by Anna J. Stewart

  “Someone bought them during the festival. The rings, the necklace, poof.” Abby rested her cheek in her hand. “Gone.” Just like Jason. She hadn’t gotten up the courage yet to tell Gran. Not when she was still fending off Alice’s “call Jason” mutterings.

  “You’re running low on chocolate chip cookies,” Paige said as she carried a plate in from the kitchen. “I’ll make you some more.”

  “Don’t.” Abby sighed. “I’ve already gained five pounds thanks to this stupid thing.” She pounded a fist against her heart. “Has the gossip died down yet?”

  “About you being in cahoots with a scheming, conniving chef out to redeem his good name?” Paige waved away her concern and stuffed a cookie in her mouth. She claimed a spot on the floor. “Please,” she said and spit crumbs before she swallowed the cookie. “Anyone who met Jason knows that’s all baloney.”

  “Not all of it.”

  “You did what you needed to do, Abs.” Holly patted a hand on her knee. “No one blames you for it, especially now that we all know the Flutterby is up for sale.”

  Abby couldn’t have cried any more if she’d wanted to. “I guess I should start finding another place to live for me and Gran.” She looked around her tiny cottage before glancing out the window. A vegetable garden would have been nice.

  All three of them jumped at the knock on the door.

  “Luke?” Abby asked Holly.

  “He’s camping with the kids and my dad, remember?” Holly got up to answer the door. “Eloise, Alice.” She waved them inside. “What are you doing out and about in the dark?”

  “Getting my exercise,” Alice said. The bruises on her face had faded and the bandage on her forehead was smaller, but the sling still managed to turn Abby’s stomach. “Eloise and I have something we need to discuss with Abby.”

  “We don’t want to intrude,” Holly said. “Come on, Paige.”

  “No, no.” Alice motioned for them to stay in place as she sat in the chair opposite the sofa. “Goodness, Holly, you’re family. You, too, Paige. Stay where you are. Abby, you’ve been fretting something awful about where we’re going to live when Mr. Vartebetium sells the inn.”

  Abby pinched her lips shut. Guilty. Lately, her grandmother wouldn’t hear of her carrying the bulk of responsibility any more. If anything, Alice had commandeered just about all of Abby’s decision making for fear she’d dig herself into an even deeper hole.

  Poor Mr. V had been inundated with Alice’s previous experience of managing the inn. The two of them had been holed up in his office nearly every day since he’d come home. On the bright side, Alice’s attitude about, well, about everything, had drastically improved. Abby couldn’t remember the last time she’d found her grandmother staring out at Gramps’s bench.

  “Your grandmother and I have come to a decision,” Eloise said, holding her oversize red purse on her lap. “Alice is going to move in with me.”

  “What?” Surely she couldn’t have heard that correctly.

  “Not only me,” Alice said. “Oscar’s moving in, too. And Myra. It’ll be like we’re all twenty again. Back when your grandfather began courting me.”

  “That house of mine is too large for one person,” Eloise explained before Abby could comment. “And as I told you, I took care of my sister for a number of years. She had her own set of rooms, even bigger than what your grandmother has now, and it’s already equipped for assisted living. Handicapped railings, wider doorways, smooth floors. It’s the perfect solution. For both of you.”

  “But what about money?” Abby said. “Gran—”

  “I’ve already worked out a budget. Between your grandfather’s pension and the Social Security I’ve been able to save thanks to you getting us free board at the Flutterby, I have more than enough to play with.”

  “The rent will be minimal, Abby,” Eloise added. “And I’d only need a little help covering the uptick in utilities.”

  “And when I need more care, we’ll cross that bridge then,” Alice said. “So you can mark me off your worry list.”

  “Gran,” Abby whispered. Holy hamburgers, she did have more tears after all. “I don’t want to mark you off my list.”

  “I think this sounds wonderful,” Holly said. “It’ll do wonders for all of you, and it’s relatively close to where Abby can live.”

  “From where Abby can what?” Why did she feel as if she was always playing catch-up?

  “Show her,” Paige prompted as she shifted to her knees.

  Holly held up a set of keys. “We were saving it for a surprise. And I lied earlier. Luke and my dad and the kids, along with Fletch...” Holly waggled her eyebrows in Paige’s direction.

  “Stop that.” Paige pointed a sharp finger at her. “He’s not my type.”

  “He’s a man in a uniform,” Alice said. “He’s any woman’s type.”

  “Don’t you start,” Paige moaned.

  “Anyway,” Holly said. “All of us have spent the last few days making over Luke’s parents’ old house. I know it’s a little ways out of town and it still needs some work—”

  “It needed a lot of work, from what I remember,” Abby said as Holly pulled out her phone and tapped open her photos. “Oh,” Abby gasped. The house was almost unrecognizable. What she remembered as a run-down, graying ramshackle structure had been given a facelift. Bright yellow paint with crisp white trim, something reminiscent of the Flutterby, shone back at her; the rotting stonework had been replaced, as had the trellis along the base of the structure. She didn’t see a hint of the sadness and violence she knew had once taken place there. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Calliope even came by and burned about ten sage bundles,” Paige said with a grin. “Got rid of all the bad vibes on that property. Even Luke likes it now.”

  Luke. Abby couldn’t believe it. That house, that property, had been hell for him growing up. He’d always sworn he’d burn it to the ground given the chance. Instead, he’d transformed it. For her. “I can’t take this,” she said.

  “Why ever not?” Alice demanded. “Seems the perfect solution to me.”

  “I won’t have a job, I don’t even know if I can find one here in town—”

  “Calliope said to come by the farm when you get a chance. She has some ideas on that front. And given Luke considered it lost property anyway, we’re not in any rush to start collecting any rent. The place is yours for as long as you want it.”

  “Everyone’s solving all my problems.” Abby looked around the room at the people she loved most. Her smile dipped.

  There was one person who was missing.

  And there wasn’t anyone who could solve that problem for her.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “HELLO, DAD.” JASON leaned back in the conference chair and watched his father stride into the boardroom.

  “Jason.” With his usual show of nerves, Edward Corwin buttoned his tailored suit jacket and straightened his burgundy silk tie. A small man, Jason realized now, not in stature, but certainly in standing. If ever an honest thought passed through his father’s mind, Jason would have been shocked. A nice enough presentation, Jason supposed, but when had his father started looking like an understudy for a mob boss? The permanent scowl of disapproval on his round face, the telltale suspicious, calculating eyes, but beyond that...nothing. “I wasn’t aware you’d be here.”

  “Where else would the chairman be except in the boardroom?” Jason tapped a finger on the button under his desk and watched as the man he’d thought of as imposing for most of his life took a seat at the opposite end of the table.

  How many years had he looked up to this man, waiting for a sign, any sign, that Jason mattered to him?

  “Jumping the gun, aren’t you?” Edward said. “I believe I still have the opportunity to make my case to the board before the final
vote.”

  “The board agreed to move the meeting up once they were presented with new evidence about my previous ousting.” Ousting seemed more in line with having been set up, rather than removed.

  “New evidence or new scandal? I’m surprised they’d even let you in the door given what transpired in California with that butterfly girl.”

  Butterfly girl. Jason’s lips twitched as he pictured Abby with butterflies flitting around her beautiful blond hair. “You seem awfully up-to-date on what’s been going on in my life, Dad. I didn’t realize you were so interested.”

  “Only insomuch as it affects Corwin Brothers. It’s only a matter of time,” Edward said and stood, “before they come crying to me. I was making a difference in this company. I was making a—”

  “You were making a joke out of your father’s legacy along with your son’s,” Jason interrupted. He didn’t care what his father thought of him or even what he’d done to him, but for Edward to do this to David—that could never be forgotten, and certainly not forgiven. “Nothing you’ve done since taking over Corwin Brothers has been for the good of anything other than your own pocketbook. By the way, my first action was to hire an independent auditor and investigator to go over the company’s and your finances and accounts. They’ll also be looking into any company you’ve done business with both before I was ousted and since.”

  “They won’t find anything,” Edward blustered, but for the first time in Jason’s life, he saw a flicker of fear on his father’s face. “As if you know anything about running this business. That was your brother’s job.”

  “Yes, it was.” Jason could accept the pang of grief with little more than a twinge now. “And he excelled at it. But now I’m going to excel at it. While you and your friend find yourselves out in the cold.”

  “What friend?”

  “Roger Evans. You know, I’ve always found it fascinating, considering how hard you pushed me and David to get our own TV show, how little time you spent in a studio. It could be why I always enjoyed it,” he lied.

  “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “It’s just interesting that you were so concerned about me—for the first time in my entire life, I believe—that you were at the competition you cornered me into. Front and center. Watching every moment.” He clicked on one of the computer screens on the wall as the tape he and Marcus had requested from NCN ran.

  “If you’d been around the studio more, you’d probably have realized how many cameras are running. This one’s a particularly good shot. No, wait. Don’t go.” Jason turned up the volume just as Edward demanded Roger do whatever it took to get Jason out of the competition. “I think the wagging finger gives it an extra something, don’t you?” Jason clicked to the next screen. “And here you are again. This would be you in the sound booth watching me refuse to admit to cheating. I can’t tell you what that smile on your face means to me.”

  “Proves nothing.”

  “On its own and to anyone but me? You’re right. It doesn’t.” How he’d wanted to be wrong. “But with the sworn affidavit from Marcus Aiken admitting to setting me up and being paid off by Roger Evans, it adds up to something more. Then there’s the matter of that Butterfly Harbor debacle. It didn’t take much to get Roger to admit he’d called you about Abby’s contract issue. Did you know cell reception can be pretty crappy out there? Well, either that or Roger was just that stupid, because he called you from the Flutterby Inn the night he arrived in Butterfly Harbor. Stayed on the phone for a good fifteen minutes. What were you talking about, Dad? Contracts, perhaps? And the perception of wrongdoing?”

  Edward held his arms stiff by his sides, his gaze skittering across the screens before Jason turned them off. He shifted his gaze to his son. “It’s none of your business what two old friends discuss.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Jason said. “Because Roger came clean almost immediately. It probably helped that the person asking him about it was the president of NCN. He’s been fired, FYI. He’s done. For good. And so are you.”

  “It should have been you.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jason turned his head and cupped his ear. “I didn’t quite catch—”

  “It should have been you on that plane.” Edward slammed his fist on the table so hard, the floor vibrated. “David was the star. David had the talent. It should be David sitting in that chair, not you!”

  It wasn’t a fact he could argue. How could he, when the same thoughts had haunted him since David’s death? It was another thing entirely to hear it from your only living relative.

  “You really hate me that much?” Jason felt he’d prepared himself; he’d thought he knew how much his father loathed him. But he hadn’t. And he couldn’t. Not without asking the one question he should have asked decades ago. “Why, Dad? What did I ever do except whatever I could to get your attention after Mom died? An ounce of affection? A compliment, a kind word of encouragement. You couldn’t even bring yourself to dole out punishment. Just tell me, what did I do?”

  Edward smoothed the front of his jacket, and calmly, coolly replied, “You were born.”

  “That’s it?” Could it really be so...simple? All the guilt, all the self-loathing and doubt he’d heaped on his own shoulders because he thought he’d been unworthy of his father’s love, vanished. “That’s why you hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you, Jason.” Edward looked at him as if he were nothing more than a piece of lint on his jacket. “I didn’t want two sons. I wasn’t supposed to have two sons, and I couldn’t love you both.”

  Jason felt the shackles break free. “Six minutes.”

  “What are you talking about?” Edward snapped.

  “That’s what David always said. ‘Six minutes, Jason. Be grateful for them.’ And now I am. Thank you, Dad. For proving to me once and for all blood doesn’t mean you have to love someone. And as much as I am happy to forget you exist from this moment on, I will never forgive you for what you and Roger did to Abby.”

  “What’s that butterfly girl got to do with any of this?”

  “It’s because of her that I’m here, Dad. You see, Abby’s the one who taught me how to fight for what I believe in, for what I need in my life. So when you go home tonight, and when those investigators come knocking on your door, I want you to think about me and my butterfly girl and know that she’s the reason every day of your life will be spent alone. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Jason hit the button under the desk again and the faces of all the board members, along with Gary and the president, CEO and VP of programs from the National Cooking Network, flashed onto the screens. “I’m about to close on that deal David started before he died. And then I’m going to go home. To my butterfly girl.”

  * * *

  “ABBY, WHERE HAVE you been?” Mr. V tottered out of his office and waggled a finger at her as she closed the lobby door behind her. “I thought you said you’d be home by two?”

  “Sorry, Mr. V.” Abby sighed. “Oh, hello.” She plastered on her polite customer service smile for the man and woman behind Mr. V. “I thought your meeting would be over by now. I was just taking some more of Gran’s boxes over to Eloise’s.” Alice hadn’t wasted any time making a new start. Maybe it was for the best. Her grandmother certainly seemed to be thriving under the watchful eyes of her friends from the Cocoon Club.

  Abby wasn’t ready to meet the new owners, not even after more than a week of preparation. She’d procrastinated until she hoped they’d be gone, stopping for a long lunch at the diner with Calliope. That the Flutterby was now a part of some hotel conglomerate undoubtedly more focused on profit than service broke her heart. But at least the inn would stay open. At least they’d paid almost double Mr. V’s previous offer, eliminating his having to accept Gil Hamilton’s suggested enterprise.

  “You must be Abby Manning.” The sprite of a woman who
looked like a pixie with close-cropped blond hair and a smile slightly too large for her round face offered her hand. “Bethany Cabot. We have heard so much about you. It’s an absolute pleasure.”

  “Thanks.” She couldn’t keep the confusion out of her voice. “I didn’t think Mr. V—”

  “Not from me,” he said. “Although I’ve given them an earful as well.”

  The middle-aged man beside Bethany smiled. “Spencer Marshall.” He shook her hand. “We’d like to arrange a time to speak with you later, to discuss terms and whatever future plans you see for the Flutterby.” He reminded Abby of a sportscaster with his too-perfect hair and polished smile, but she got a vibe of honest professionalism off him. “There will be some changes, of course, beginning with the restaurant, but I think the new head chef would like to discuss that with you himself.”

  “New head...future...terms?” She was behind on things again, wasn’t she?

  “He’s getting to know Matilda,” Bethany said. “Such a character. But you go on. We’ve already checked in, so we’ll settle in our rooms, maybe catch the sunset.”

  “We hear it’s spectacular,” Spencer agreed.

  “I guess I’ll—” Abby headed toward the kitchen, wondering why Lori wouldn’t meet her quizzical gaze. She pushed through the dining room and heard voices chiming from the kitchen. Okay. She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. She could do this. She could start the farewell process and begin her new life.

  The smoke alarm screamed.

  “Matilda!” Abby dived into the kitchen. “What’s going—Jason?” She stared, her face flashing hot and cold as he turned those heavenly blue eyes on her, the ones she’d tried to forget. “What are—”

  “What?” He grinned.

  “Turn that thing off!”

  “Oh, right.” He pushed a button. “Sorry. It’s new. Upgrade.” He jumped down off the counter. “I was showing Matilda how we met.”

  “There was more smoke involved,” Abby told her cook, who ambled around the counter and out the door, clicking her tongue in that way she had when she approved of people. The silence hurt Abby’s ears. “What are you doing here?” she asked again.