The Secret Ingredient (A Place to Call Home Book 2)

by Laura Browning

  The Secret Ingredient

  A Place to Call Home

  Laura Browning

  Published by Laura Browning Books, 2017.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE SECRET INGREDIENT

  First edition. December 28, 2017.

  Copyright © 2017 Laura Browning.

  Written by Laura Browning.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Coming in May 2018 – Last Call – A Place to Call Home #3 | Chapter 1

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  About the Author

  Dedication

  I love to bake. I don’t have as much time for it now as I used to, nor does anyone in my family really need to consume a lot of baked goods. I guess that’s one of the hazards of getting older. My love of baking goes back to my mother.

  Particularly during the Christmas season, I remember making Christmas cookies with Mom. She had a sugar cookie recipe from her mother that she used which required refrigeration before it could be rolled and cut to shape. Waiting was torture, but it was worth it. We would cut out the cookies, bake them, let them cool, and then ice and decorate them. It was one of those holiday traditions that I had to let go. I miss it, just as I miss Mom.

  Every time I open my recipe box, though, I find her inside—her handwriting, her recipe cards, and other recipes that I’ve written down that she shared with me. There are recipes in there that her mother shared with her, some that have become increasingly hard to make because of the difficulty of finding ingredients—like persimmons. Many people around here get rid of the trees because of the mess.

  The secret ingredient in all of those recipes is love. Her mother passed it to her. She passed it to me. In turn, I will pass it to another generation at some point. The recipes are a treasure, but it’s that extra, secret ingredient that really makes them special.

  Chapter 1

  Eli wiped down the table where old man Tarpley had just finished his lunch. The door had just dinged behind the owner of the Mountain Meadow General store, who now toted a bag of takeout for his wife. Eli focused on the other conversations around him, specifically the talk at the table nearest the lunch counter.

  “Poker’s at Luke’s house tonight so Joe can sneak over for a few hands,” Jake Allred, the town’s police chief, told the other two men at the table. Sam, the county sheriff, leaned back in his chair and held up his tea glass for Ruthie. The diner’s older than dirt waitress refilled on the fly and held the pitcher up at the third man at the table.

  “Evan, you want any more?” she asked in her tobacco-raspy voice.

  “No. Court in twenty minutes. The last thing I want is to ask permission to take a piss.”

  “Pee break,” Eli corrected as he covered the ears of his son, Sebastian. “Did I hear you mention poker?” he asked over the top of Bash’s head.

  Jake’s smile was slow and calculating. “Sure. Think you can play with the big boys? This isn’t like that nickel and dime crap you and the twins used to get up to. Stoner’s sitting in too. Stakes will be higher.”

  “I think I can manage.” Eli had come a long way since those high school poker nights with Caleb and Noah, Jake’s younger brothers.

  Jake grinned. “Can you get grandma and grandpa to babysit the squirt?”

  “Sure thing.” Eli grinned back, amazed at the sudden feeling of freedom flowing through him. He’d had his nose to the grindstone since he’d returned to Mountain Meadow to take over running Mercer’s, the restaurant that had been in his family now for three generations. The restaurant was a new start, away from his ex, for him and Bash. A little relaxation might be just the thing. “I need to bring anything?”

  “Host house provides food and beer. You want anything else to drink,” Sam said, “you bring it.”

  Evan eyed Eli. “Now we’ll have another single guy to pick on.”

  Jake wiped his grin and soberly stared at Eli. “Hmm. Hadn’t thought about that. You might want to steer clear of our poker group.”

  “Why’s that?” Eli asked.

  “We all started out single,” Evan said as he looked around the table, his expression somber. “Next thing you know, we were all falling like flies. Jake and me, then Joe, Sam, and finally, Luke. We don’t count my dad. He’s only an honorary member. Gotta keep the old folks happy.”

  Eli snorted. “Right. Classifying your dad as “old folk” is about as likely as me getting married again.”

  In the lull between lunch and dinner, Eli finally had a chance to step outside. Activity on the other side of the town square drew his eye. Workers were hoisting a sign over the doorway of the old W. O. Smith hardware store building. His narrowed gaze dropped to the tall, curvy shape of Becca Allred standing out front laughing with her brothers. Becca had been hard to miss from the time she developed the breasts to go with the rest of her body. With a personal guard of four older brothers, though, it was strictly hands off.

  Work vans and delivery trucks had come and gone the past few weeks getting her bakery, coffee house, or whatever it was ready to open. If she thought just because her last name was Allred that she would be able to put a dent in his business, she was dead wrong.

  “Daddy?”

  Eli looked down at the cherubic face lifted to his. He blinked to bring his thoughts back in focus. “What’s up, Bash?”

  His son grinned, showing off two deep dimples. Bash was already adept at using his limpid blue eyes and angelic looks to get his own way. “Can I play with my twucks out fwont?”

  “Trucks,” Eli automatically corrected. “Use your tongue.”

  “Twrucks.”

  “Better.”

  “Can I? I won’t be in the way.” Long dark lashes batted at him as his son peered up from beneath shining golden ringlets.

  The bell rang over the door. Late afternoon rush. No longer his parents’ restaurant, Mercer’s had been his since he’d returned to Mountain Meadow last month. He glanced across the square. Now it appeared he was going to have competition, and Eli knew he couldn’t afford to lose business—lunch or dinner—and stay alive.

  Normally, his mom watched Bash after pre-school, but since school let out for summer, Eli had brought him to town a couple days a week to give her a break. He hated to call her now when he was hoping to join the poker game at Luke’s later on.

  “Yeah, sure.” As Bash happily scooped up his box of cars and trucks, Eli cautioned. “Make sure you keep out from under everyone’s feet. And don’t go anywhere!”

  Bash smiled. “I won’t, Daddy. I pwomise!”

  “Promise.”

  Bash was already out the door and happily setting up shop with his fleet of die cast miniature cars. Eli shook his head. Already at five, Bash could tell any unwary listener every make and model of car in his collection, and heaven only knew where that came from. Eli was more likely to be able to taste an entree and identify the specific spices used in it.

&nbs
p; He glanced again at the sign over the door of the brick building across the square. The Secret Ingredient. He’d see about that. Almost as if she were aware of his gaze, Becca turned in his direction. He could imagine those sea green eyes and waving black hair.

  He’d crushed on her hard when they were teenagers, but she’d never looked at him, even if he’d spent more than his fair share of time looking at her. Hell, at thirteen and fourteen, she’d been drawing more surreptitious glances than the Mountain Meadow Homecoming Queen. No one gaped for fear one of her older brothers would slap the taste right out of them. The intervening years had only improved on all those luscious curves.

  Eli might look, might even fantasize, but that would be it. He had Bash to keep safe, a business to run, and still no desire to run afoul of Becca’s big brothers. Besides the fact they were as big as him, the twins were two of his closest friends.

  Eli scanned the square. Luke and Jake had already left from in front of Becca’s new business. In fact, they were headed toward the police station. Eli doubted The Secret Ingredient would run to cheeseburgers slathered with chili, slaw, mustard and onions—a Mercer’s specialty and an Allred favorite. Luke and Jake had polished off a couple of them just a short while ago, so those were probably two people he could count on still coming in for meals.

  “Hey, Eli!” Ruthie called. “Are you fillin’ in for Eddie or what? I got orders in.”

  Eli was pretty sure Ruthie had started work the same day Mercer’s opened for business so many years ago, he’d lost count. Now she stood in the doorway, a hip shot out and one fist cocked at her waist.

  “Coming, Ruthie.”

  As he walked by, she leaned toward him with a knowing smirk. “You quit starin’ at that girl, Eli Mercer. She ain’t never gonna settle down around here.”

  And that was probably the truest truth he’d heard so far today. Eli did not need additional complications in his life. His son and running Mercer’s were enough.

  * * * *

  Becca swiped her finger across her smart phone, relieved when she didn’t end up in voicemail. She’d found a valuable mentor in former U.S. Senator Stoner Richardson, but he was a lot busier than she had expected for a man who had retired from public life.

  “Hey, Senator! Yeah, they got the sign up...it looks great! I can’t thank you enough for the seed money for this...I know I’ve said it before, but it’s worth saying again. After sinking what I had into renovations and upgrades to the building, it would have taken me a whole lot longer to get my start-up capital in line without your help... Yes, I’m still looking at Saturday for my grand opening.”

  They chatted for another minute then Becca tapped end and shoved her phone back into the pocket of her khaki shorts. Richardson came from a blue-blooded family with money to burn. Lucky for her, he had latched onto the idea she’d proposed when she’d catered Luke and Rachel’s wedding. She brushed a hand across her forehead to wipe away the moisture there. Well, the idea was just about reality.

  It was getting hot, and Becca was thirsty. She glanced over at Mercer’s and bit her lip. Afternoon rush. Tea time in the South. Not the hot stuff. Folks were headed in for a tall glass of ice cold sweet tea, and Mercer’s had the best in about four counties. Chances were excellent a few fries and dogs would accompany the gallons of tea.

  She’d been tempted to take Luke and Jake up on their offer of a burger earlier, but she was trying to lay off the fat. Besides, the last time she went in there, Eli stared right through her. She shivered. It seemed like all he did was glare at her. In some ways, it didn’t seem much different than high school. He’d spent time glaring then too....

  Did he look at her as a threat? Becca grinned. She had no doubt she would get some of his business, but she was convinced there was room for both of them. Once again, Becca looked at her sign and above it to the lace curtains in the second story windows. Her home and her business. She was so lucky her mother had kept the building in the family, and even luckier her brothers and parents had agreed she could use it.

  Becca needed a fresh start, a fresh perspective on cooking and baking. Her love for her career had waned over the last year. She’d learned some hard lessons too, like not mixing business and pleasure. When one went south, the other was sure to follow. Now she was home and had a great opportunity not only to prove herself, but help the area find a new niche for itself.

  A small hand slipped into hers and Becca nearly jumped out of her skin. When she looked down, an angel beamed up at her. The Littlest Angel. Hadn’t that been a book her mom had read to her? As she recalled, that angel hadn’t been all that angelic, but this one looked entirely too perfect.

  “Hi.” The angel showed off two deep dimples, wide blue eyes, and rosy cheeks—all framed by a mop of perfectly sunny ringlets.

  Completely disarmed, she squatted down. “Who are you?”

  “Sebastian, but you can call me Bash. Who are you?”

  “Rebecca Allred.”

  “Webecca Allwed?”

  She grinned at him. “Kind of a mouthful, huh? Why don’t you just call me Becca?”

  He nodded. “Becca. I’m hungwy.”

  “Well, you know, I was just getting ready to go fix myself a sandwich because I missed lunch. I could make you one, but won’t your mom be looking for you?”

  “No. She’s busy. I’m supposed to play and not get in the way.”

  Becca tilted her head. What kind of mother left her kid in the middle of town to play? Nowadays there was no telling. Was she eating at Mercer’s and dumped the kid outside so he wouldn’t be a bother? She glared over there now, squinting, and saw there was indeed a scattering of toys out front. Standing back up she held out her hand.

  “Come on, Bash. I make a mean peanut butter, banana, and honey sandwich. You ever had one of those?”

  “Daddy likes mayonnaise on his.”

  They both wrinkled their noses and said in unison, “Ew!”

  She took him inside the front door, slowing down as he stopped to look around with wide eyes. Becca looked too, wondering how her shop appeared to the eyes of a child. She’d stripped the walls down to the bare brick, uncovered the original tin ceiling and followed Stoner Richardson’s advice to hang local artwork and photography. In addition to a couple of paintings by the senator’s daughter, Tabitha Taylor, Becca had begged some photography from her older brother Noah, and even had several local quilt makers’ pieces hanging.

  Overall, she was pretty pleased with the effect. The place had plenty of room for seats, and for her to display her own artistry. Cakes, cookies, tortes—those were her favorites—but she was also producing some specialty breads and had made room primarily for a breakfast and brunch type crowd.

  “Is that an aiwplane pwopella?”

  Becca looked up to where Bash was pointing to the ceiling fan. Now she saw her business through the eyes of a child. Who needed paintings and pastries when there might be propellers?

  “No, ‘fraid not. Just a plain old ceiling fan. Come back to the kitchen. I’ll fix us up with sandwiches and a big glass of milk.” She set him on a stool so he could wash his hands and then let him help put the banana slices on the sandwiches. “You want to drizzle the honey over it?”

  At his nod, she handed him the bottle and helped him squeeze it. This was one thing she’d discovered she really enjoyed since she returned to Mountain Meadow. Between her brothers and their friends, there were always lots of little kids running around who thought Aunt Becca made a great playmate. They’d given her some relaxation from the killer pace she’d set in order to be up and running before the summer tourist season started. She’d have to get back to it as soon as she finished feeding her little visitor.

  “Come on, Bash. We can sit out front and I’ll pretend you’re my first customer.”

  “I don’t gots no money.”

  She smiled at him. “This one’s on the house, buddy. My treat.”

  They munched in silence for a while. Bash managed about a half a
sandwich and most of his milk before he started slowing down.

  “Is your mom eating a late lunch at Mercer’s?” Becca asked thinking she might give the woman a piece of her mind, not keeping any better eye out for her own child.

  Bash shook his head as he polished off the last of his milk. “No.”

  She tilted her head. “Is she at Tarpley’s then?”

  Bash set his glass down. “No. My mommy didn’t want me. I have a gwam, but she’s at home today.” He looked out the big windows at the front and his expression suddenly turned sheepish. “Uh oh.”

  Becca turned to see a very worried Eli Mercer hurrying along the sidewalk, his sandy ponytail swinging from side to side as he looked from left to right. She looked from the man’s curly, dark blond hair to the child seated across from her with his golden ringlets.

  Double chocolate fudge!

  “Bash, is Mr. Mercer your daddy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does he have any idea where you are?”

  The little boy stared down at the table, the feet he’d been happily swinging back and forth a minute ago, now hanging still.

  Becca’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh Bash. Come on, honey, let’s get you outside. Where were you supposed to be?”

  “Playing with my twucks. Daddy had to fill in for Eddie.”

  Becca wiped his face and helped him down, once again holding out her hand. She felt Bash’s reluctance as they walked to the front and out into the sunshine and understood completely. She had a feeling this wasn’t going to be fun for either one of them. Her heart thumped harder as Eli turned. As soon as he spotted his son, relief poured over his face, quickly followed by a dark flush of anger.

  “Bash! I told you to stay out front. You promised me you would.”

  When the little boy ducked behind Becca’s legs, Eli’s gaze transferred to her. His dark eyes were nearly black with anger, and Becca felt her own temper simmer.