Already Home

by Susan Mallery

  “My little girl,” Serenity said as she entered the house. She passed her casserole dish to Tom, then approached Jenna and lightly kissed her on each cheek. “You look beautiful.”

  “Thanks. Um, so do you.”

  Tom gave her a smile and also leaned in for a kiss—single cheek this time. Jenna took the casserole dish from him and stepped back.

  “Serenity, you remember my mother, Beth Stevens. Mom, this is Tom.” Jenna saw her father making his way toward them. “And this is my dad, Marshall. Dad, Serenity and Tom.”

  The men shook hands.

  “Come into the kitchen,” Beth said. “For years I tried to get people to hang out in the living room, and it never happened. So I’ve given up. Now we simply migrate to the kitchen and keep it casual.”

  Part of the reason Beth had remodeled the space, Jenna thought, proud of her parents’ home. There was a big work area, bar seating at the high counter, a sofa by the window and a fireplace tucked into the corner.

  “Refrigerator or oven?” Jenna asked Serenity, raising the casserole slightly.

  “If we’re eating in the next half hour, it can stay out. I made a breakfast rice pudding with vanilla rice milk and dried fruit.”

  Which didn’t sound too awful, Jenna admitted. “Rice milk, not soy or almond milk?”

  “Too much soy can mimic estrogen. Almond milk is delicious, but too sweet for the recipe. I use rice milk often. Most people who have grain issues are fine with rice.”

  “God’s food,” Tom added, coming up behind Serenity and putting his arm around her waist.

  Serenity laughed. “That’s what we used to tell our boys.”

  Jenna didn’t know what to say to that. Fortunately, Beth had already handed Marshall the bottle of champagne.

  “I thought we’d start with mimosas,” she said. “Toast to our new relationship. I’m so delighted you’ve come to get to know Jenna.” She pulled out a pitcher of orange juice. “I squeezed it myself, from organic oranges.”

  Serenity looked pleased. “That was very thoughtful of you.”

  “Wait until she gets a load of the plate of breakfast meats,” Marshall murmured in Jenna’s ear.

  Jenna did her best not to grin.

  While the champagne was opened and mixed with the orange juice, Beth got Serenity and Tom seated at the counter. She disappeared for a second, only to return with an armful of photo albums.

  Jenna groaned. “Mom, no.”

  “They’ll want to see them.”

  “We will,” Serenity said, taking the glass Jenna offered.

  Beth set the largest of the albums between Serenity and Tom. “Jenna, stand here and explain what everything is.”

  “You’ve labeled every picture. It’s very clear.”

  Beth shot her a warning look behind their backs.

  “Fine,” Jenna mouthed and took up the position.

  The first page showed Jenna as a newborn, in Beth’s arms.

  “Oh.” The soft sound seemed to barely escape Serenity’s lips. “They wouldn’t let me see you,” she whispered. “They said it would be easier to give you up. I wasn’t going to change my mind, but I would have liked to hold you.”

  The words hit Jenna in the gut. For the first time since her arrival, Serenity seemed like a real person and not a caricature. While still in high school, she’d gotten pregnant and had given up her child. That had to have been tough. Not anything Jenna would have wanted to go through.

  Serenity turned the page. There were dozens of photos of Jenna through the first few months of her life. The first steps, the first taste of real food, several bath pictures. Tom touched the school picture from when Jenna was seven. She was surprised to see tears in his eyes.

  “She looks like your mother there,” he said, then cleared his throat. “The shape of her face.”

  “I know.” Serenity glanced at Beth. “I was telling Jenna that her grandmother was an excellent cook. She was French, as was my grandfather.”

  “When did you see Jenna?” Beth asked, her voice more curious than concerned.

  “I stopped by the store yesterday.”

  “She wants me to teach vegan classes,” Jenna added.

  “That would be different,” her mother said. “It’s all about finding the right recipe, I would imagine.”

  “Are your parents still alive?” Marshall asked, pouring more champagne into his glass.

  “My folks live in Hawaii,” Tom said. “We visit them when we can. Mostly they come to see us. Serenity’s not much of a flier.”

  “It’s unnatural,” his wife said. “I’ve done it a few times, but it feels so dangerous.” She sighed and smiled at a picture of Jenna at twelve. “Your grandparents grow organic coffee. We have some at the apartment, if you’d like to try it.”

  “That would be nice. Thank you.”

  “My parents were killed several years ago,” Serenity said. “A boating accident. They were lost in a typhoon. I was devastated, but they died doing what they loved.”

  “Sailing?” Beth asked.

  “Sailing around the world. They did it every couple of years. They had a beat-up sailboat they’d owned forever. There were places they’d stop every time. It was a good life.”

  Jenna excused herself to put the quiches into the lower oven to warm. As she straightened, her head spun, but not from a blood rush. It was too much information, too many people and facts. Grandparents. She hadn’t thought of that. The grandparents she knew were Beth and Marshall’s parents. Beth’s had moved to an upscale retirement development in Boca, while Marshall’s folks were still in the same house they’d lived in for forty years in Houston. The only change in their lifestyle was now the help lived in to give them a bit more assistance.

  The grandparents she knew flew to Europe and took cruises on giant ships. They didn’t sail around the world over and over again or grow coffee in Hawaii.

  She didn’t know these people. She had no emotional connection to them, but she couldn’t escape a biological one. She was who she was, at least physically, because of Serenity and Tom. She had brothers and apparently a couple of grandparents. She might have aunts, uncles, cousins…

  Over the next few minutes, she busied herself checking on the dining room table, then setting out the food that didn’t have to be warmed or cooled. She noticed her mother had put Tom and Serenity on the same side of the table, which meant she was sitting across from them in her usual spot.

  No escaping it now, she told herself and refilled her champagne glass.

  Serenity followed her into the kitchen. “How are you doing?” the other woman asked.

  “Fine,” Jenna said automatically.

  “I’m only asking because I’m sensing you’re struggling with something.”

  Jenna stared at her, wondering if Serenity’s direct line to the universe really gave her unexpected insight. “Everything is great,” she said, lying. “There’s no struggle.”

  “Of course there isn’t,” Beth said as she walked into the kitchen. “Jenna is very happy with her store and what she’s accomplished in such a short period of time. Aren’t you, honey?”

  Jenna nodded but couldn’t shake the feeling Serenity wasn’t convinced.

  It didn’t take long for the quiches to finish, the cinnamon rolls to brown and the breakfast meats to heat. She and Beth carried in everything while Marshall seated their guests.

  “The quiche in the white dish is only eggs and cheese and vegetables,” Beth said as she set it down next to Tom. “The other has bacon and ham in it. I’m sorry to say, we’re meat eaters in this house.”

  “I understand,” Serenity told her. “But I hope you’ll try the rice pudding.”

  “Of course,” Jenna said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Serenity smiled, then showed them a couple of pictures. “My boys. Dragon is the one on the left.”

  Jenna stared at pictures of two men she’d never met yet were related to her. They were both dark-haired and good-l
ooking. Dragon looked as if he were holding in a smile, and she found herself thinking she would like him. Wolf was more serious but still appeared friendly.

  “They’re very handsome,” Beth said with a sigh.

  “I hope you can meet them one day,” Serenity murmured, taking back the pictures.

  “Sure.” Jenna smiled brightly. “Let’s eat.”

  When they were all seated, they paused for a moment to say grace. It was a Sunday morning tradition. When Marshall had closed with “Amen,” heads went up and food started to circulate.

  Jenna put both bacon and sausage on her plate before passing it to her father. She sampled from both quiches and then, because she was curious, she took a scoop of the rice pudding. With Serenity watching, she took a bite.

  The rice was well-cooked, the texture creamy. It was sweet, and the dried fruit was just moist enough to balance the consistency.

  “This is good,” Jenna said, hoping she didn’t sound as surprised as she felt. “Could I get the recipe? I think it’s something I could make with my mothers and kids class. A few of the children are lactose intolerant.”

  “Of course. Commercial dairy is filled with hormones,” Serenity said. “I hope you tell your customers to buy organic.”

  “Pass the butter,” Marshall said.

  Jenna knew better than to look at her dad. If she did, she would start laughing. Instead, she glanced at her mother, who was giving her husband a “You’re going to get it later” glare.

  Tom put down his fork. “I have some wine for you back at the apartment,” he said. “We brought a few bottles with us.”

  “You have a winery?” Marshall asked, looking interested for the first time.

  “I told you that,” Beth said.

  “I must have forgotten.”

  “We own about a thousand acres in Sonoma and Alexander Valley,” Tom said. “We grow mostly reds. Merlot and Cab, Malbec and some Petit Verdot. We’re a small winery, but we’re growing. Everything is organic.”

  “What is the winery called?” Beth asked.

  Serenity smiled at Jenna. “Butterfly Wines.”

  Jenna set down her fork.

  “After our little girl,” the other woman added.

  “I inherited some money right out of high school,” Tom said. “Enough to buy an old winery and their land. It was all overrun and poorly maintained, but we were young and determined.”

  Serenity laughed. “We didn’t know anything about making wine, but it seemed the right thing to do.”

  “A suggestion from the universe?” Jenna muttered under her breath.

  “I took classes at UC Davis,” Tom said. “Worked for a few wineries. After a few years, we started to get some decent grapes. When it came time to bottle it, we had to design a label, which meant coming up with a name.”

  “We wanted you to be a part of things,” Serenity said. “We always felt your spirit was with us. That it was just a matter of time until you wanted to connect with us.”

  Jenna did her best to look pleased with the information, but inside she was angry and confused. They had named a winery after her but had never bothered to come find her. It’s not that she was sorry they hadn’t been a part of her life, it was more that she was having trouble believing their sincerity. And what was with the pressure of expecting her to go find them?

  “There’s a Butterfly Creek in the area,” Tom continued. “Which gets confusing, but we like what they do so it’s all good.”

  “It sounds wonderful,” Beth said. “What a great place to live.”

  “It is,” Serenity said. “You should come visit.”

  Jenna scooped up some quiche and refused to glance up to see if Serenity was looking at her as she spoke.

  “I have to go back for a couple of weeks,” Tom said. “Wolf’s wife is pregnant and he’s distracted. I’m going to help.”

  Jenna did look up then. “Are you both leaving?”

  “I want to stay,” Serenity said.

  Tom took her hand in his. “I can’t convince her otherwise, although we try never to be apart. Every moment together is precious. Especially no—”

  “We’ve been together since the first day of high school,” Serenity interrupted, leaning her head on her husband’s shoulder. “We took one look at each other and just knew.”

  The story was similar to Beth and Marshall’s, Jenna thought. Apparently, she came from a long line of people who met early and fell immediately in love. So where had she gone wrong with her love life?

  “Would you like to stay here while Tom goes back to Napa?” Beth asked.

  Jenna nearly choked on her quiche. She managed to swallow it, then grabbed her mimosa. She glanced at her dad and saw he’d paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. Obviously they hadn’t discussed this in private.

  “That’s lovely of you to offer,” Serenity said. “But I’m enjoying our apartment. I’ll be fine there.”

  “All right, but if you change your mind, let me know.”

  Jenna stared at her mother, wondering why she felt compelled to bond with Serenity and Tom. Once again she had the sense that Beth should feel at least a little threatened by everything that was going on. But then her mother had always been one to do the unexpected.

  “Everything went so well,” Beth said as Marshall loaded the dishwasher. “The food was excellent. I saw you took seconds on the quiche.”

  “Don’t tell anyone. Real men and all that.”

  She smiled. “The rice pudding was good.”

  “You’re not going to get any ideas, are you? Start serving tofu?”

  “Probably not. I like a good steak too much. But it was fun to try. I’m glad we did this. Jenna needs to spend time with her birth parents. This is good for her.”

  Marshall straightened. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Getting involved. Inviting those people over to the house?”

  “Those people?” She laughed. “They’re a part of our family.”

  “No, they’re a part of Jenna’s. Have you really thought this through, Beth?”

  She put the orange juice in the refrigerator, then turned to him. “What are you talking about? This couple is the reason we have Jenna.”

  “True and I’m grateful for that. But we adopted her thirty-two years ago. Why are they showing up now?”

  “That’s what Jenna wanted to know. Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it matters a lot. They’re nice enough, but what do we know about these people?”

  She put her hands on her hips. “What does that mean?”

  “We shouldn’t get too involved.”

  “But we need to be there for Jenna. This is important. Do you want me to ignore them?”

  “No.” He sounded as frustrated as she felt. “I think what you’re doing is admirable, but it’s also dangerous. We’re not all going to be one big happy family. Life doesn’t work that way. I don’t like how they’ve just shown up with no warning. What do they want?”

  “Why do they have to want anything?”

  “Because everybody has a motive.”

  “That’s cynical,” she told him, glaring.

  “It’s realistic.” He sucked in a breath. “I don’t want to fight with you. I also don’t want you or Jenna to be hurt. I’m saying be careful. You don’t want to lose your daughter.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Beth said firmly. “Jenna and I have a special relationship. I’m her mother.”

  “So’s Serenity.”

  “That’s different.”

  “No, it’s reality. You’re pushing them together. Make sure you can live with the consequences.”

  “Why do you always have to see the worst in people?” she demanded. “This is a good thing.”

  “I hope so, Beth.”

  He pushed the start button on the dishwasher, then walked out of the kitchen. She stared after him, still angry and suddenly hungry.

  Men were stupid, she told hers
elf. They didn’t understand how important relationships were to women. It wasn’t possible that she could lose Jenna. They meant the world to each other.

  One of Jenna’s earliest cooking memories was how excited she’d been about Tuesday nights. That was the night she got to cook dinner for her parents. The weekend before, she would pore over her Cook’s Illustrated magazine, deciding what she wanted to tackle.

  The magazine had been one of her favorites for years. What she loved was how they explained all the different variations of a recipe they’d tried and why each one worked or didn’t work. Cook’s Illustrated had given her the idea of experimenting with a recipe.

  Once she’d chosen her menu, she’d give her mother a shopping list. Beth would faithfully buy everything, even when it meant going to specialty stores to find the right spice or an imported oil. When Jenna got home from school, she’d go to work.

  Some dinners had turned out exactly as she’d planned, and some had been disasters. But even when the roast burned or the sauce was curdled, she had been delighted with her effort. She’d known she could fix what had gone wrong and would do better next time. Growing up in her mother’s kitchen, she’d found her calling.

  Now she stood in the small kitchen in her rented townhouse and carefully stirred the rice pudding. She’d written down Serenity’s recipe and had risked making a few changes of her own. When the sauce had thickened to the correct consistency, she scooped the mixture into a bowl and let it cool.

  For the first time in a long time, she was excited about tasting something she’d cooked. Deep down inside, she knew it was going to be okay. Maybe not brilliant, but good.

  After fifteen minutes, she couldn’t stand it anymore and took a taste. The texture was perfect, creamy without being too soggy, sweet without being sugary, with a hint of hazelnut. That was her addition. The twist. And it had worked.

  “Are you sure this was a good idea?” Jenna asked nervously, as she put out cans of Italian tomatoes onto the various workstations. “I’m afraid it makes me look desperate.”