by R A Wallace
She peered down at the letter through her reading glasses, her multiple chins pressed against her neck. Her hair was dyed a dark black, a sharp, unflattering contrast with her pale white skin, and worn in a high bouffant style.
Her husband stood behind her, an ugly redness flushing a face twisted with hatred. He took a deep breath, trying to get his anger under control. He was glad to hear that she was leaving. He didn’t want to say anything that might cause her to change her mind. He hated her with every fiber of his being and hated himself worse for staying with her. But he needed what little money she had left. She’d once kept him in style. At fifty, and no longer the renowned chef that she once was, she was reduced to judging at contests to find the attention she craved. Her cooking show had been off the air for some time now.
Richard took another deep breath. He was getting calmer now, envisioning her gone in more ways than one. He’d focus all of his time and energy on winning Elena. Elena was a thirty year old up and coming chef. Only seven years his junior, she’d agreed to having dinner with him more than once already. He was certain that she would be even more interested in him if he found a way to get rid of Charlotte. With her new cooking show topping all the charts, Elena could keep him in the manner he preferred.
Richard walked around the table to face Charlotte and forced himself to smile. “Of course, you’re right. They need someone with your years of experience.”
Charlotte looked up at him suddenly, her eyes narrowed, wondering if there were a hidden meaning to his statement. Richard smiled that annoying smile back at her, then turned and left the room. Charlotte shrugged, forgetting him immediately as she thought again about her upcoming trip. All of those contestants, their fates dependent upon her whims. Fawning all over her to gain her attention. This will be so much fun.
***
Eric Ortega watched his three year old grandson plunge his fingers into the cake and laughed. He’d worked for hours on the cake to make it perfect and his work had paid off. His grandson hadn’t been able to keep his eyes, or his hands, off the cake.
“Papa, you spoil him,” Maria said to her father, as she shared a smile with her husband. She wouldn’t have it any other way. The three men she loved most in the world, all in one room with her.
“That’s what grandfathers are for,” Eric said. He was a handsome man who enjoyed life. He’d worked hard when he was young, starting in the business as a dishwasher and ending it as the owner of a fine restaurant that his daughter and son-in-law now ran. At fifty-five, he still had the energy to do more than many retired men had to.
He popped into the restaurant sometimes still, to help out. He also travelled, finding new recipes, new talent, and new ingredients to inspire new recipes and reimagine old ones. This weekend was an example. He’d be judging a baking contest. Eric was looking forward to it. There would be the contestants, excited about their chances of winning and full of new ideas and some old favorites. The judges, all with their own experiences, tastes, and styles to add to the mix. And the community, hosting them all for the weekend, to add some local flavor. You never know what might happen when you put all the right ingredients together.
Chapter Six
Caro Delacroix stood in the empty house and wondered what she’d done. And at her age, she thought. After spending some time with her friends, Barbara and Matthias Reynolds, in their town of Teaberry recently, she’d come to like both the town and the people she’d met. Perhaps one man in particular. Oh, she’d admit it to herself. A large part of the reason she had sold her home and packed up her things had been to live closer to Tom Jenkins to see if the attraction she’d felt for him was genuine and if it went both ways.
Her house on the west coast had been snapped up by a young couple. It had been her home for all of her married life and she’d remained there, rattling around in an oversized house, after her husband had died. They’d never had children together, it hadn’t been in the cards. Perhaps that was one reason why they’d been so close, holding on to each other for stability. After his death, she’d felt so incredibly alone. Unable to stand the silence in her house for long periods of time, she’d taken to travelling and immersing herself in the arts.
That was how she’d found herself sponsoring a play recently in the town of Teaberry. She’d met Barbara and Matthias at different times over the years in her travels. They’d each been married to their first spouses at the time. And their descriptions of Teaberry had sounded so appealing. She felt immediately upon arriving that she might be able to make a home here. As soon as she’d returned to the coast, she’d put her house up for sale.
And now, here she was in a strange town, standing inside of an empty house, waiting for her furniture to be delivered. She’d upended her entire life. She fervently hoped it had been a good decision. Taking a deep breath, Caro closed her eyes and told herself to relax. She was having a tiny panic attack. Given the circumstances, it was normal. Now, time to get back to work. She’d need to get an entire house in order once the furniture and all of the boxes arrived. Caro opened her eyes as she heard a lot of commotion in front of her new home.
Assuming it was the moving truck, she opened the front and walked outside. There she saw not only the moving truck and two men in uniforms, but also Barbara, Matthias, Megan, Tom, and a young man she assumed was Ethan, Tom’s grandson. Caro smiled her delight and moved forward to greet her friends warmly.
“You didn’t think we’d let you have all of the fun yourself, did you?” Matthias leaned against his cane, both hands resting on the silver-headed handle.
“I can’t tell you all how happy I am to see you.” Caro let her eyes linger on Tom’s for a brief moment. She was rewarded with a slight flush on his cheeks.
“Caro, this is Ethan,” Tom said proudly.
“Welcome Ethan. And Megan, so good of you to come.” Caro reached for Megan and gave her a hug. Then she looked at the two men in uniform. “Well, let’s get this all going, shall we?”
Chapter Seven
Jackson Anderson passed the Welcome to Teaberry sign and smiled for what seemed like the first time in a long time. He’d been back for visits in the ten years since he’d graduated from the high school here, but right now those times seemed few and far between. Jackson shook his head at the difference time had made in his way of thinking. When he’d left town a decade ago to get a business degree, he didn’t think at that time he’d ever return to Teaberry to live. But after four years in college and six years in corporate work in Seattle, he couldn’t think of anything else he’d rather do.
He’d kept his head above water in the business world and actually had made some decent money, but over time he’d come to realize that the price for his success was more than he was willing to pay. It wasn’t just the suit and tie he hoped he’d never have to put on again. It was the dog-eat-dog that he really wasn’t going to miss. He’d ditched his apartment, packed the things that mattered the most to him, and pointed his car toward Teaberry. And that was the first thing he wanted to do when he got to his destination, Jackson thought. Get rid of the car and buy a nice truck.
He’d called his mom at some point during his trip to let her know he was coming. But he hadn’t tried to explain to her on the phone that he was planning to stay for good. He was going to start his own business. He had the degree, the knowledge, and the strong back. If he failed, it was all on him. As the son of a florist shop owner, the two things he knew about were running your own business and plants. His plan was to combine all of his strengths and open a landscaping business.
It would allow him to be his own boss, work outside, and expend all of his energy on a business that he believed he would enjoy. Who knows, he may even have time to meet a nice woman. That was something he had missed in the past ten years. He’d met a lot of women in the corporate world. But none that he’d wanted to be with outside of work.
He hadn’t been happy lately in the corporate world during the ten plus hours a day he’d been spending the
re. He didn’t want to bring all of that home with him too by hooking up with someone who lived and breathed it. There wasn’t anything wrong with the women he’d met at work. He still called several of them friends. They’d just had different life goals and Jackson understood that he had been the one to change. He couldn’t imagine anyone being happy to spend time with him when he wasn’t happy himself. He hadn’t wanted to live that life for a long time and he was finally doing something about it.
Turning down Main Street, he saw that not much had changed. Some of the names on the storefronts were different, but for the most part it looked pretty much the way he remembered it. He found an open spot across from his mom’s florist shop and parked. Actually, it was his sister’s shop now, Jackson reminded himself. Anderson’s Florist. He’d always loved seeing that name on the window. Caitlyn had taken over running the store. His mother, Susan Anderson, filled in to help out but was actually retired.
Jackson stepped out of his car and immediately heard someone calling his name.
“Jax! Jax Anderson, as I live and breathe.” The thin woman yelling his name was wearing glasses and a postal uniform.
It took Jackson a second to remember his nickname. He hadn’t been called Jax in Seattle. It took him several more seconds to remember the name of the woman. Tara Hartle had been ahead of him in school by about four years.
“Tara. Nice to see you.” Jax offered a smile and headed directly for the florist shop at a quick clip. He hadn’t cared for the predatorial look on Tara’s face. That was not the kind of woman he was hoping to meet, Jax thought.
The next woman who yelled his name got enveloped in a bear hug and lifted from the floor. In her mid-fifties, Susan Anderson was an older version of Caitlyn but beat Caitlyn’s five foot one inch frame by an inch. Her short black hair was now showing streaks of gray.
“Jax, put me down,” his mother laughed. “Let me look at you.” Susan held her son away at arm’s length, examining him with a critical eye. “You need to put on some weight.”
Jax returned his mother’s smile then reached for his sister. He knew better than to lift her. She’d kick him in the shins like she used to when they were young. “Hey, sis. You look good.”
Caitlyn took a step back and tilted her head at her baby brother. “What’s wrong?”
Jax laughed. He should have known she’d figure something was up. He never could put anything past Caitlyn.
“Nothing is wrong. In fact, I’d say everything is finally right for the first time in a long time. You wouldn’t happen to know of any vacancies, would you?” Jax flashed a grin at the startled look on his mother’s face.
“Vacancies? You’re staying?” Susan asked, her eyes wide with surprise.
Jax smiled and nodded his head, knowing that his mother would be happy with the news. She burst into tears. His sister punched him on the arm.
“Hey!” Jax glared at his sister while rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”
“You could have called and let us know. Mom’s been fretting for days, wondering what was wrong that you were driving all the way here. She finally convinced herself that you had some horrible disease.”
“I thought she’d be happy to find out I’m moving back,” Jax said, pulling his mother toward him in another hug in an attempt to quiet her sobbing.
His sister rolled her eyes at him. “She is, can’t you tell? Those are happy tears.”
His mother began nodding vigorously in agreement. Jax shook his head. Apparently, he had a lot to learn about making women happy.
Chapter Eight
Megan parked her truck near the administrative building in town and navigated her way to Jessilyn’s office. They’d agreed to meet and go over the information for the baking contest now that all of the details had been set. Megan would be adding this additional information to what she already had posted on the town web site.
Megan found Jessilyn in her office, a phone pressed against her head and piles of paperwork in front of her. Rather than looking frazzled, Jessilyn looked happy. She held up a finger to let Megan know she would be available soon and motioned to the chair in front of her desk. Megan sat and took her tablet from her purse. She turned it on and pulled up her notes for the baking contest.
Jessilyn concluded her call. “Thanks for waiting. I’m getting a lot of calls from the contestants. They all have questions unique to the recipes they plan on submitting.”
“Really? Like what?” Megan asked.
“Well, one of the stipulations of the baking contest is that whatever they submit can’t require refrigeration. I’ve had several calls already wanting to know if that really meant that what they submit can’t require refrigeration.”
Megan raised her eyebrows in question. “I already have that listed on the web site, right?”
Jessilyn nodded. “Yep. And when I explain that there really, really won’t be enough refrigeration space for all of the entries, they either try to convince me to just allow theirs or they ask what the exact temperature will be in the room where their entry will be located.”
“And the baking contest is using the multipurpose room at Teaberry High?” Megan asked. She had listed that on the web site also.
“Yes, we have everything nailed down on that now. There will be temporary staff available to help take the submissions from the contestants. They’ll be labeling everything and placing it in the appropriate, designated place within the multipurpose room, grouping the entries by class and category.” Jessilyn clicked her mouse and opened a document on her computer to check her notes.
“When you say class, you’re referring to things like breads versus cake versus pie?” Megan asked.
Jessilyn nodded while her eyes scanned her document. “Exactly. And then there are categories in each of the classes. For example, there is a category for strudel pastry.”
Megan thought about it. “I imagine that different competitions classify and categorize things differently.” She could think of different ways to group things.
“Yes, and I’m happy to say that was all determined by following the regional rules for this particular baking contest organization,” Jessilyn agreed. “The staff accepting the entries will also ensure that the criteria for the entries has been met. For example, they can only use tins without any distinguishing marks.”
Megan nodded. “Makes sense.”
“The judges will be arriving Friday evening. As you know, the out-of-town judges will be staying with you. The contestants will begin dropping off their entries on Saturday. At that same time, the judges will be involved in some promotional sessions. They are well known in their world and we’re lucky to have them here in Teaberry,” Jessilyn explained. “We’ll want you to take pictures of both the judges and the contestants as they are dropping off their entries for the town web site pages. So you’ll need to move from one area to another.”
Megan nodded to show her understanding.
“Once the judging is complete, the multipurpose room will be open to the public and the media and the winners will be announced on Sunday afternoon. The winning entries will be on display and the winners will receive their prizes.”
“They’re judging Saturday evening and Sunday morning,” Megan said more to herself, then gave an explanation for her comment to Jessilyn. “I always like to know when my guests will be out or if they’ll be expecting dinner, that sort of thing so I paid attention to that part in the notes you gave to me before.”
“Good point. They’ll be having dinner with you on Friday evening and breakfast on Saturday and Sunday,” Jessilyn said.
Megan nodded and made a face. “Yeah, no pressure there, right? I get to cook for judges who are experts in their field.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that.” Jessilyn’s eyes opened wide. “I’m sure you’ll do fine, but I have to be honest. I am so glad it’s you and not me. I’d be in hysterics right now.”
Chapter Nine
Jennifer Parker made the return trip from
Pittsburgh to Teaberry in autopilot. She handled some clients whose businesses were located in Pittsburgh and she often made the trip to meet with them. She didn’t mind the trip. She used to keep an office in Pittsburgh and had only made the decision to work out of Teaberry exclusively a few years ago.
Now forty-two, Jennifer had been practicing law for about fifteen years. At the beginning of her career, she’d been focused on building her client base and paying back her student loans. It seemed like one day she woke up facing forty and wondering where the time had gone. Now here it was, another Friday night and she was looking forward to another quiet night at home. Alone.
Jennifer tapped the steering wheel as she drove. Maybe she could call Caitlyn and see what she was doing. The two women had become friendly over the years, even though there was about a decade between them in age. Of course, Jennifer grimaced, Caitlyn probably has plans with her firefighter. Which reminded Jennifer about another firefighter that she’d met recently while having drinks with Caitlyn. Jim Baxter. Jennifer had been intrigued with his gentle smile.
As she neared Teaberry, she checked her mirrors automatically to gauge the traffic near her. It typically thinned out as her distance from Pittsburgh increased and she entered a more rural area. Today was no exception. It made driving easier and she was about to switch on the cruise control when there was a noise and the steering wheel felt like it had a mind of its own.
Struggling to maintain control, Jennifer slowed and pulled toward the side of the road, finally coming to a rest safely away from any traffic that may go by. She was now on a country road and wasn’t expecting that to happen unless someone was specifically trying to get to Teaberry. Climbing out of the car, Jennifer walked around to the rear and saw the problem immediately. A flat tire. Great. She’d need to call for help. Returning to the front of the car, she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone.
