“Not many in the community have embraced the vegan lifestyle. It’s tough.” There had been a lot of vegan eaters in L.A., but Jenna and Aaron hadn’t catered to that crowd. Vegetarian they could do, but vegans didn’t eat animal products of any kind. In her opinion, the world was a sad place without butter. Not to mention cheese. A little sprinkling of the right cheese could save almost any dish.
“Have you tried any vegan recipes?” Serenity asked.
“No. I don’t have much experience in that area.”
“You should. Even if you don’t plan on becoming a vegan, you can try a completely different way of thinking about food. You might find it’s fun.”
Fun. Jenna couldn’t remember the last time cooking had been fun. Although the idea of trying vegan intrigued her. As she’d never done it before, there would be no expectations.
“Why don’t I whip up a few things and bring them by for you to try?” Serenity offered.
“All right.” Jenna did her best to sound more enthused than doubtful.
She realized she’d failed when Serenity laughed. “I promise the food won’t be horrible. You inherited your cooking ability from me, Jenna. I’ve been creating recipes since I was very young. My mother and her mother were also great cooks. In fact your grandmother, who was French, by the way, owned a bakery. Her pie crust alone generated three marriage proposals before she was sixteen.”
Her smile turned impish. “When I occasionally go off the vegan wagon, so to speak, I confess it’s with a fresh baguette and some cheese. Organic, of course.”
“You’re French,” Violet said. “That’s good to know.”
It was, but somehow Jenna still resented having the information. Even more uncomfortable, she wanted to ask questions. To know more about her ancestry, even though that seemed like a betrayal of Beth and Marshall.
Serenity flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was a casual gesture, but one that Jenna recognized—mostly because she did it herself.
“I’m not trying to get in the way,” the older woman told her. “I want to get to know you, just a little. And you to get to know us. That’s why we’re here. Because we miss you.”
It had been thirty-two years, Jenna thought grimly. It sure took them a long time to miss someone.
She recognized the twisted reasoning of being annoyed they’d shown up at all and resenting how long it had taken them to come find her in the first place. Probably a defense mechanism, she thought. A way to protect her emotions.
“Getting to know each other is probably a good idea,” she said, her voice neutral.
Beth would be so proud. But in truth, Jenna had no plans to connect with her birth parents or even like them very much. They were intruders. She already had a mother and father she loved, and for some reason she couldn’t escape feeling that Serenity and Tom were a threat to them.
Violet found herself anticipating her second date with Cliff more than she would have thought. They’d been texting throughout the week. Despite having gotten her number, he hadn’t called. She had a feeling he was trying to play it cool, which was intriguing. It implied that he cared enough to have a strategy. Very different for a girl who had pretty much always been a sure thing.
They met in front of the Silver and Stone Restaurant. When she arrived, Cliff was already waiting near the elevator.
For this date Violet had gone with fitted black pants and a white silk blouse—one of her ten classic wardrobe pieces. She finished her outfit with black sandals and silver earrings. Casual chic, she told herself as she walked up to Cliff.
He’d traded in a suit for jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He looked good, she thought. Normal. He smiled when he saw her, delight brightening his hazel-brown eyes.
“You came,” he said as he approached, then took her hands in his and lightly kissed her cheek.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It kind of does. Are you hungry? I’ve eaten here before and the steaks are great. So’s the service and they have a nice wine list.”
He was talking a lot again. The obvious nervousness was charming, she thought happily, and made her like him more.
They walked up to the hostess where Cliff said he had a reservation. Calling ahead was a small thing, Violet told herself, but still thoughtful.
They were shown to a table by the window and handed menus. Cliff ignored his and stared at her.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Would you mind if I ordered a bottle of red wine to have with dinner? This place has a great wine list and they carry several of my favorites.”
“That would be nice. I enjoy red wine.”
She had a feeling anything he ordered would be nicer than the stuff she bought at the grocery store.
“Wine is one of my things,” he told her. “I’ve owned a couple of condos, but never a house. When I finally buy one, I want room for one of those freestanding wine cellars. One with temperature and humidity controls.”
“Something to keep in your man cave?” she teased.
He grinned. “I don’t think I need a man cave.”
“But there are all those sports to watch.”
He glanced at the table then back at her. “I’m hoping I’ll find someone who likes to watch them with me. When I get married again, I want my wife to hang out with me. I’m not looking for space for myself.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I know there are guys who want to be with their friends, and that would be okay, from time to time.” He grinned. “But I prefer the company of women.”
“We smell better.”
“Yes, you do.”
The server appeared. She was a pretty woman about Violet’s age, with huge breasts and big Texas blond hair.
She introduced herself and talked about the specials. Violet was surprised when Cliff barely glanced at her. Instead, he smiled at Violet as the other woman spoke.
“What can I get you to drink?” she asked when she’d finished her list of specials.
Cliff ordered his bottle of wine. The server’s eyes widened.
“Yes, sir. I’ll bring that to the table right away.”
She picked up the wineglasses already there and quickly replaced them with much larger, more expensive-looking glasses.
Violet raised her eyebrows. “So this isn’t the fourteen-ninety-nine special.”
“You’ll love it.”
Now she was curious and made a note to check out the label, then go online later to find out what a bottle of Cliff’s favorite wine cost.
“Are you planning on being in the Austin area long enough to buy a house?” Violet asked when they were alone.
“I’m hoping to be. My boss has made it clear he wants me here for at least ten years. I’ve looked around at several of the neighborhoods and they’re family friendly. I want a nice house, though. With lots of room.”
“Do you want a family?” She couldn’t remember the last time a guy talked so easily about his future. Most of them were reluctant to make plans more than two days in advance.
“Two kids, maybe three. A boy and a girl, for sure. A dog.” He ducked his head. “I know what you’re thinking. Pretty boring, suburban dreams. I can’t help it. I’m a guy who likes the ’burbs. It’s where I grew up.”
“I’m not thinking that at all,” Violet admitted, a little surprised to feel herself longing for what Cliff mentioned.
A husband and kids. She’d never seen herself with either—probably because girls like her didn’t get happy endings. But she’d been changing her life for a while now. Making better choices. That had been the hardest thing—walking away from her old way of life and taking responsibility for acting differently. She’d done it day by day, choosing what was right for her future rather than what was expedient. Maybe Cliff was her reward for the hard work.
“I hope you get exactly what you want,” she added, smiling at him.
“I wi
ll. I always do.”
The server appeared with the wine and made a show out of uncorking it.
Cliff tasted the small amount she poured. Violet braced herself for a whole swirling, twirling, sucking dance, but he only sniffed it once, took a sip, then nodded.
“Very nice.” He looked at Violet. “I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
The server poured wine into both their glasses, then left.
Cliff waited while Violet tasted the wine. She didn’t know enough to say anything other than, “It’s nice,” which was true.
“You like it?” He sounded anxious.
“Very much.”
“Good.” He leaned toward her. “I’ve done all the talking so far, Violet. Tell me more about yourself. Where did you grow up?”
“A small town in Louisiana,” she admitted.
“You don’t have much of an accent.”
“I can when I want,” she said in a drawl, then shifted back to her regular speech. “I watched a lot of movies when I was young and I wanted to sound like them.” Rather than her mother, she added silently. “I had a typical childhood.” She smiled as she lied.
Why get into the truth? It wasn’t early dating material. It might never be something she told anyone. Why share that her mother had been the local town whore? That when Violet was two weeks shy of her fourteenth birthday, a man in town had given her mother a few hundred dollars for the privilege of raping her daughter.
Oh, it wasn’t called rape. Her mother had promised her a special night. Violet had seen enough of her mother’s business trade to know what was going to happen. Running away had earned her a whipping that had put off the deflowering a good month, but eventually the old man had taken her to a small house in a neighboring town and done his thing.
She’d cried and screamed until he hit her so hard, she was nearly unconscious. When she got home, her mother gave her fifty dollars and told her to go buy herself something pretty.
Instead, she’d saved the money, stolen from her mother when the woman was drunk and had run away the summer she turned fifteen.
She edited as she spoke. “I moved to New Orleans when I was still a teenager.”
“Great city. Did you like living there?”
She faked a smile. “Sure. There’s always something going on. Lots of tourists.”
Her time in the city was mostly a blur. She’d discovered getting high made her life bearable, and she’d been young enough and pretty enough to find men who were willing to finance her habit. She’d mostly serviced the tourist trade, but had a few local regulars.
One of them, Sam, had taken her in when a particularly nasty customer had beaten the crap out of her. He’d warned her that if she didn’t get out, she would be dead in five years. Violet wasn’t sure why, but she’d believed him. She’d decided to make a change.
“From there I went to Pensacola. I got a job in an appliance store, answering the phones.”
It hadn’t been much, but she’d gotten off drugs with help from a free program through a local church and had supplemented her pitiful income with a few customers a week. She’d learned to save, to plan and had gotten her GED.
“After a few years there, I came to the Austin area. My apartment is in Georgetown and I really like it. There’s a sense of community.”
She’d wanted to go somewhere that no one knew her. She hadn’t sold herself in six years and had no plans to go back to the business. She saved nearly a third of her salary, investing it safely. No matter what happened, she wanted to be able to take care of herself. Life had taught her to never trust a man.
“Have you always been in retail?” Cliff asked.
Violet nearly choked on the wine she’d sipped. “Pretty much,” she said. “I love the store where I work now. Jenna’s a great boss. Our customers are fun.”
She shifted the conversation back to him.
By the end of the meal Violet had a greater appreciation of a really great cabernet sauvignon and of Cliff. He was funny, charming, smart and apparently crazy about her. They talked more about his job. He admitted to being terrified of his assistant, a stern woman who had been with the company nearly thirty years. He liked his boss, enjoyed bike riding, hadn’t dated much in high school and had never cheated on a woman. The most interesting part was she sort of believed him. Even about the not cheating.
Now, with the bill argued over—she’d offered to pay—they walked outside in the cool, clear night. Cliff reached for her hand as they moved toward her car in the parking lot next to the restaurant.
“I had a great time,” he said.
“Me, too.” The best part was she was telling the truth.
“Want to do this again?”
“Yes.”
They reached her car. Before she could pull her keys out of her purse, he stepped in front of her and cupped her face in his hands.
The kiss was inevitable, she thought, bracing herself for contact. She knew the drill, how to get through it without letting her indifference show. Because touching and being touched wasn’t the same for her as it was for other girls. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the contact, it was that she could barely feel it. Doing what she’d done had messed with her body. She’d gotten so used to disconnecting from what was happening that it was nearly impossible to experience desire.
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. The touch was tender, soft and gentle. He offered rather than took, and she found herself relaxing. It was nice, she thought. In time, if she was patient, there might be something more.
“I’ll call you,” he whispered, before stepping back. “Good night.”
“Night.”
He was a good guy, she told herself as she drove away. Other women might take that for granted, but not her. She knew the other side too well, and had promised herself she would never go back.
Nine
Jenna arrived at her parents’ house Sunday morning at ten-thirty, just in time to see a catering truck pulling out of the circular driveway. She stared at the van, horrified.
She’d been so careful to keep her problem a secret, guessing that if she told her mother how unhappy she was that Beth would blame herself. But the catering truck seemed proof that her mother had guessed her secret and either felt sorry for her or didn’t want to trust her with an important meal.
She collected the cinnamon rolls she’d made—the only thing her mother would let her bring—and went inside.
“What was that?” she asked as she entered the kitchen.
Beth looked up from the quiche she was sliding into the top oven. “What was what?”
“You called a caterer?”
“I had to. I wanted to make a good impression on Serenity and Tom.”
Jenna swallowed, feeling she’d just been hit in the stomach. “Mom, I’m a chef. I would have done the cooking.” Brunch food was easy. She could follow a recipe with the best of them.
“I know, but you’re so busy with the store. I didn’t want to bother you. This way, you can just enjoy yourself.” Her mother touched her cheek. “I hate to burden you when you have so much going on.”
Jenna stared into her eyes and told herself to accept Beth’s words at face value.
“Okay.” She set the cinnamon rolls on the counter. “These need a three-fifty oven for forty minutes.”
Her father strolled into the kitchen. She walked toward him as he held out his arms.
“How’s my girl?” he asked, hugging her as he kissed the top of her head.
“Good.”
“Did your mother tell you she wanted the meal to be vegetarian?”
“I never said that,” Beth said primly, setting out champagne glasses. “I said we were having vegetarian dishes. Serenity said they would eat eggs and cheese. I’m being supportive. Besides, there are going to be breakfast meats, too.”
“Only because I insisted.” Marshall winked at his daughter. “God put us at the top of the food chain for a reason.
”
“Brace yourself,” Jenna said. “Serenity is bringing a dish.”
“I’m sure it will be delicious,” Beth said. “You are both to behave.”
“Breakfast lentils,” Jenna teased. “Yummy.”
Marshall groaned. “Tell me again why they’re coming?”
“Because I invited them. They’re family.”
Her dad squeezed her. “Your family, not mine,” he whispered. “They’re not related to me.”
Jenna laughed.
Beth pointed to the doorway. “You’re making trouble, Marshall. Get out until you hear the doorbell. Then you may greet our company and open the champagne.”
“We’re drinking at breakfast?”
“We’re having mimosas. Now git.”
Marshall strolled out the way he’d come.
“That man,” Beth grumbled. “He torments me because he can.”
Watching her parents together made Jenna feel a little better. At least some parts of her world were where they should be.
“All right,” she said, crossing to the refrigerator. “What did you pay those people to bring you?”
“Two kinds of quiche,” Beth said, motioning to the oven. “One with only eggs, cheese and vegetables and one that is the quiche equivalent of an all-meat pizza. For your father.”
“And?”
“A fresh fruit plate, scones, a tray of breakfast meats I only need to warm for ten minutes and petit fours.”
“Petit fours?”
“Those are for me. For later.”
Jenna laughed. “Mom, you make me crazy.”
“Then I must be doing something right. Come on. Let’s put in your cinnamon rolls.”
Serenity and Tom arrived right on time. Jenna was determined to be pleasant and welcoming, offering to be the one to go and greet them.
“Good morning,” she said as cheerfully as she could, while trying not to let her eyes bug out when she caught sight of Serenity’s outfit.
Her birth mother wore a long, flowing dress of rainbows. Not rainbow colored, which would be marginally better, but fabric covered in brightly colored rainbows. They swirled, they flowed, they circled into a kaleidoscope of color that nearly made her dizzy. Dangling earrings that looked like stained glass competed for attention. By contrast, Tom was practically normal in jeans and a tie-dyed shirt.
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