Already Home

by Susan Mallery

  “I know.” Violet pointed to the lonely bag sitting on the table. “I figured the ingredient bags would be popular, but I wasn’t expecting them to go this fast. We’re going to have to make more for next time. People are going to tell their friends and we’ll have customers showing up, wanting to try what we’ve been cooking.”

  Jenna sank into a chair. “Did you see those women with the cookies? They were so happy decorating.”

  “Nearly everyone bought cookie sheets and cooling racks.”

  The day had been crazy busy. She would have to come in early in the morning to restock shelves and prep for the next cooking class. If this kept up, she would need to hire a part-time person to prepare the bags and stock the shelves. Talk about a happy thought.

  “You did this,” she said, turning to Violet. “You made it happen.”

  “I helped,” the other woman corrected.

  “If I’d been left on my own, I would have failed spectacularly.”

  Violet studied her for a second. “Then I have a favor to ask. Say yes, and we can be even.”

  Jenna smiled. “Unless you want a kidney, sure.”

  Violet shifted uneasily, as if nervous. She fingered the bracelets on her wrist. “I have a date on Tuesday.”

  “Is that all? Of course you can leave early.”

  “No, that’s not it. I met this guy. Cliff. He’s nice. A business type.” She pulled a card out of her skirt pocket and held it out. “He has the kind of job where they give you business cards.”

  Jenna took the card and studied it. She couldn’t see anything noteworthy about the information. Cliff worked for a big financial firm. He was a senior manager, which probably meant he was one step away from being a vice president.

  “I don’t know what to wear,” Violet admitted. “We’re going out to dinner.”

  Jenna frowned. “You always look great. Fun and pulled together.”

  “I have a unique style,” Violet said. “It’s wrong for Cliff.”

  “Not if he asked you out. What do you want to dress like?”

  “Not what. Who. I want to dress like you.”

  Jenna sat up straight. “Trust me. Stick-up-the-ass isn’t a style to attract a guy.”

  “You dress great,” Violet told her. “Sophisticated. Elegant.”

  “Boring.”

  “Classy.”

  Jenna had never applied that word to herself. She wore tailored clothes because they tended to suit her body and weren’t trendy. Shopping wasn’t her thing. Those big mirrors in dressing rooms intimidated her. Looking at her butt in a three-way mirror wasn’t her idea of a good time.

  “You’re serious?” she asked.

  “Yes. I want to look right for my date with Cliff.”

  “I’m really the last person you should be asking, but sure. I’ll help.”

  Violet sighed. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t the faintest idea how to help you. Want to come to my house and look at my closet? It’ll give us a place to start.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  Jenna’s townhouse was relatively new, with comfortable furniture and hardwood floors. She had a few scattered rugs, artwork on the walls and extra shelving in the kitchen for her impressive collection of cookware.

  The built-in, under-the-counter wine cellar and stainless steel appliances were about as far from Violet’s somewhat rundown apartment as it was possible to get while staying in the same city.

  Violet sat at the stool by the bar counter and wondered what it would be like to live like this for real. To have no need for extra locks, while enjoying garage parking for her car. The differences were both inspiring and depressing.

  She accepted the glass of white wine Jenna offered, then waited while her boss shuffled through the contents of the refrigerator. In a matter of minutes she had loaded a plate with various cheeses, some cut fruit, and a dip she’d whipped up using sun-dried tomatoes and some mystery ingredients, and water crackers.

  Violet eyed the offering. “Your life really is perfect,” she said without thinking.

  Jenna nearly choked on her wine. “Excuse me? I’m getting a divorce, my husband cheated on me, I’ve just turned thirty-two, I have no kids, I own nothing and if not for you, my business would have failed.”

  Violet nodded slowly. “When you put it like that.”

  They both laughed.

  Jenna held out her glass. “Today was a good day. Thank you.”

  “It was good and tomorrow will be better.”

  They clinked glasses.

  “If you’re right,” Jenna said, “then I’m going to break out my comfortable shoes. My feet are killing me.”

  “Retail is all about standing.”

  “Robyn’s on to something with her knitting,” Jenna grumbled. “She gets to do it sitting down.”

  “It’s worse,” Violet said cheerfully. “Have you seen her fiancé? He’s gorgeous.”

  “Some people have all the luck.” She picked up the tray of food. “Come on. We can eat while you ponder my wardrobe. Please don’t get your hopes up, though. You’ll be wildly disappointed.”

  The two bedrooms were upstairs. The smaller one, just off the stairs, was mostly empty. Jenna led the way down the short hall to the master.

  They entered through double doors. The space was large. Even with the bed, dresser and two nightstands, she had room to hold an aerobics class. French doors led out onto a balcony. Violet didn’t care if the view was only of a parking lot. No one she knew had a balcony off their bedroom. She had a feeling the master bath would be about the size of her entire bedroom, then nearly fainted when she saw the walk-in closet.

  “Nice,” she murmured.

  “More than I need,” Jenna said, as she put the tray on the dresser and set her wine next to it. “I’m not big on clothes. Plus, working in a restaurant means wearing a uniform of sorts. Black pants, white jacket. I’d put on a T-shirt underneath. Not exactly high fashion.”

  Jenna joined Violet at the entrance to the closet and turned on the light. Shirts and pants hung on double racks. Dresses hung at one end. Boxes of shoes sat on shelves, and what looked like eight or ten white kitchen coats stayed dust-free in dry cleaner bags.

  “My former life,” Jenna said, touching the plastic.

  Violet couldn’t decide if she sounded wistful or just plain sad. “Do you miss it?”

  “Sometimes. Working in a restaurant kitchen is crazy. Orders come in together, there are too many people in too small a space. There’s lots of yelling and swearing. But making people happy is great. I loved being part of the celebrations. Someone’s anniversary or birthday. It’s like they chose me to make the event memorable.”

  Jenna shrugged, ducking her head. “Not me personally. I’m not that self-absorbed. But they came to where I worked and trusted me with something special. I liked that.”

  “It sounds wonderful.”

  “It took a while to get there. I spent years slicing and dicing to prove myself. The hours are long. It’s impossible to have much of a social life. Unless you’re married to a chef, which has its own problems. It’s not like the store, where I have a lot of direct contact with customers. When you’re back in the kitchen at a restaurant, you don’t get much interaction.”

  Violet had never thought of what happened behind the scenes when she went out to eat. She’d never considered that the person cooking the food cared about her experience one way or the other.

  “You put a lot of yourself into what you do,” she said.

  “Which is both good and bad.” She shrugged. “So tell me about your date. Where are you going?”

  “Wildfire. It’s in Old Town.”

  Jenna studied her. “We’re nearly the same height, but you have more curves. Not that I’m bitter.”

  “You don’t have to worry about your weight,” Violet pointed out.

  “Yes, and you get to have breasts.” Jenna sighed. “My mom is always worrying about her weig
ht. She gains and loses the same fifteen pounds nearly every year. What she can’t see is she’s beautiful no matter what. When I was a teenager, I would see my dad watching her and I knew what he was thinking. It totally freaked me out. Parents should not have sex. But now, I think it’s great. Well, in theory. I still don’t want the details.”

  She moved into the closet. “Your date is on Tuesday, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So he’ll probably be coming from work. Which means a suit. I think you should wear a dress. That’s my mother’s training coming out, by the way.” She raised her voice to a slightly higher pitch. “A man likes to see a woman in a dress.”

  Violet knew she had plenty of experience when it came to the likes and dislikes of the average male but didn’t think it was helpful when it came to things like dating this particular kind of guy. This wasn’t her world. Who was she trying to kid?

  Jenna pulled out three or four dresses. “Why don’t you try these.”

  The top one was a short-sleeved cotton dress in dove gray. The bodice had tight horizontal ruffles with some banding at the waist. The skirt had wider ruffles.

  Not really her style, Violet thought, eyeing the dress doubtfully. She wasn’t exactly a ruffle person.

  “I have a belt that could go with this,” Jenna said. “It actually looks really great on.”

  “Okay. I’ll try it.” After all, her goal was to look like someone else.

  Jenna handed over the dresses. “Can’t wait to see the fashion show.”

  She stepped out of the closet and returned to the bedroom. Violet pulled off her black pants, the tank top and lace over-shirt she wore, then stepped out of her boots. She drew the ruffled dress over her head and buttoned the front.

  “There’s a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door,” Jenna said, pointing, then leading the way.

  Violet trailed after her. Once in the huge bathroom, complete with separate shower and massive soaking tub, she closed the door and stared at herself.

  The color wasn’t bad, she thought, turning back and forth. The fit was great, but the style just wasn’t working.

  “I look like I’m twelve,” she said.

  “It’s not quite right,” Jenna agreed. “There’s a black dress that should be better. Let me get it.”

  She left the bathroom, then returned seconds later. The dress she held looked more fitted. A simple scoop neck, tank straps and a skirt that fell to mid thigh. Some tucking detail on the front gave the shape definition.

  “Simple, elegant, silk,” Jenna said holding it out.

  Violet’s gaze dropped to the tag still attached. “I can’t wear that. It’s new.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It’s your dress. You should wear it first.”

  “If we wait for that, a millennium will have passed.” Jenna pushed the dress toward her. “You have to at least try it on.”

  Violet took it reluctantly. She didn’t have any silk in her wardrobe. It was costly to buy and usually had to be dry-cleaned. Not an expense she needed. But the fabric was whisper soft and the style appealed to her.

  After hanging the black dress on the towel rack by the light switch, she unbuttoned the front of the dress she had on and shrugged out of it without even thinking. When she reached for the black dress, she felt more than heard Jenna’s surprise. A second too late, Violet remembered that stripping down to a thong and bra in front of her boss probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

  Jenna stood slightly behind her, so she had a full view of the delicate scrollwork on the small of her back and the roses between her shoulder blades. Chinese characters trailed along her left thigh, a Celtic design extended up both arms and a dolphin arced just above her right ankle.

  “They’re beautiful,” Jenna said, sounding very close to meaning it.

  Violet drew the black dress off the hanger. “It was a geographical necessity,” she said, undoing the zipper. “I lived on the streets for a while. I got my first tattoo on a dare and the next couple to fit in.”

  The others had followed because they’d seemed like what she should do at the time. Now she regretted them, but it wasn’t as if they could be scrubbed off.

  “Why were you on the streets?” Jenna asked. “Or is that question too personal?”

  “I was independent.” Violet slipped into the dress. “This is great.”

  Jenna moved behind her and pulled up the zipper. “It’s perfect. You have to wear it. I think it needs a little jacket. I have a couple you can choose from. My mom is very big on accessories.”

  Violet was grateful for the change in subject. “She trained you?”

  “Actually, she does my shopping.” Jenna shrugged. “I know it’s weird, but she loves to shop and she’s good at it. She’ll show up with bags of clothes for me to try on. I keep the ones I like and she returns the rest.”

  “Nice system.”

  “It is. I’m spoiled. If things get serious with this guy and you want to change your look, you should talk to her. I’m sure she’d love to help. She can suggest stores or even take you shopping.”

  The thought was nice, Violet thought. Impossible, but nice. In her world, the mother of her boss didn’t bother with an employee. Of course in her world, her boss didn’t usually lend her brand-new dresses.

  “Let’s go see what jackets I have. I’m thinking short and tailored, but not too severe. We want him to be impressed, not afraid you’re into discipline.”

  Violet trailed after her, wondering what life would have been like if her own mother had cared about her. As it was, Violet had run away at fifteen and never gone back. When she’d been younger, she’d dreamed about finding a family to take her in. A place to belong. She’d always wanted that.

  Without meaning to, she thought of Cliff. He wasn’t anything like the guys she usually dated. He was normal—at least on the surface. She would bet he’d never gone hungry a day in his life.

  They had nothing in common. She would be foolish to allow herself to hope. But maybe, just maybe, a little anticipation couldn’t hurt.

  She wasn’t too proud to buy love, Jenna thought humorously as she delivered paper plates filled with lemon bars to the businesses around her store. Or at the very least, good neighbors and potential customers.

  She saved Only Ewe for last and was pleased to see Robyn behind the register.

  “How’s it going?” the other woman asked when she saw Jenna. “You’ve been getting a crowd over there.”

  “Finally.” Jenna handed over the plate. “A little sugar rush to keep you going.”

  “Thanks. These look delicious.” Robyn lifted the plastic wrap and sniffed. “You’re killing me, you know that, right? Those brownie-cookies were beyond wonderful. I bought the bag of ingredients and made them over the weekend. It was really easy. What a great idea.”

  “Violet came up with it. We’re going to keep offering premeasured ingredients with recipe cards. And not just desserts, for actual meals.”

  “It’s perfect,” Robyn told her. “I’m tired when I’m done working and I don’t want to think up what to cook and then have to stop at the store. This is nearly as easy as fast food, but healthier and fresh. Not to mention, it will impress my boyfriend, T.J.”

  The front door opened and several older women entered. Robyn waved.

  “A few of my regulars,” she said in a low voice.

  “You have a great store,” Jenna told her, looking at all the bins filled with yarn. “It makes me want to learn how to knit.”

  “We have beginner classes starting all the time. My grand mother teaches them. She’s incredibly patient.”

  “I’d like to try.” She thought about the classes she had lined up at her own store. “Maybe when things calm down a little.”

  “Don’t hope for that,” Robyn said with a smile. “Not in retail.”

  “Good point. How about when my schedule starts to make sense?”

  “Be
tter.”

  Jenna excused herself and returned to her store. Violet had already set up for the class, and several women and men chatted by the chairs. She saw her mother and waved.

  Beth broke away from the group and hurried toward her.

  “They’re very excited about the class,” she said in a low voice. “Advertising in Sun City was brilliant. Especially for a class like this. People who live there have plenty of money and are the type to be interested in cooking.”

  “As long as it brings in customers,” Jenna said.

  “It will. You’re going to be so successful. I can feel it.”

  Beth hugged her, then gave her a push toward the kitchen area. Jenna grabbed an apron and pulled it over her head, then washed her hands.

  “Are we ready?” she asked, smiling at the rapidly growing crowd. There had to be more than twenty people in the store for the class. They only had seating for thirty. Something she’d never thought of as a problem. The space would get a little crowded when everyone got up to cook, but she told herself that would make it more fun.

  “Low salt doesn’t have to mean low taste,” she began, repeating the name of the workshop. “Salt does many things to food, but what we’re most interested in is how it brings out the flavors. Most people believe that no salt means no flavor. What we’re going to discover today are ways to make a meal even more delicious using herbs, rubs, spices and sauces. Are you ready to get started?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Come on up,” she said.

  The cooking class quickly spiraled into a disaster, with not enough burners, pots and utensils. But no one seemed to mind. The soup team experimented with the spices she’d put out for them, while the men who’d taken over the grill pan admitted that her custom rub really did make the chicken taste great. Jenna moved from group to group, offering suggestions and answering questions.

  She watched anxiously as the chili group tasted their food. She’d played with that recipe, adjusting a few things, and now wondered if she’d made a mistake. Although her changes had been minor—a teaspoon each of coffee granules and mocha powder—she couldn’t help doubting herself.

  She hated her indecision, she thought grimly. But the two men and three women were all grinning as they tasted, and then went back for bigger spoonfuls.