Lessons in Lemonade

by Andrews, Kathryn

  Now I can see in her eyes that it won’t be.

  She lets out another sigh, one that’s filled with resignation. “Ain’t that the berries, as my grandmother would say.”

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. What else is there?

  “It’s fine. Only a handful of us know that’s what was planned. The guest won’t know the difference at all. I called Taylor, and she just sent someone to the store to buy oranges and lemons. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to slice them, layer them in the vases, and then just use the greenery we bought to overflow out the top. It’ll be pretty enough.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not the vision you had. The florist couldn’t provide you with anything else? She has to have something pretty. I mean between her and all the others in town, they should be able to come up with something.”

  “We talked about that, but with the event, the pickings are slim, and I didn’t want to use overly common flowers. To me that takes away from the essence of the brunch: Southern and chic. I know that sounds terrible because I’m certain she could come up with something, but an arrangement with roses . . .” She shakes her head. “How unoriginal.”

  “Okay. If you’re sure?” I ask, just trying to get a read on her one more time.

  “I am. It’s not what I wanted, but it’ll be pretty. Like I said, I just had a moment. I think it’s a combination of all the stress and anticipation of tomorrow, but I’m past it. On the bright side, all the food was delivered today.”

  I can’t help but smile. Leave it to Meg to find a silver lining when she’s sad.

  “The food would be the most important part,” I reply sarcastically then lean back in my chair. “Other than that, how did everything else go today?”

  “Good. It officially doesn’t smell like paint anymore, and we got everything prepped that we could. The tables are all set, minus centerpieces, and Zach dropped off all the wine.”

  Dumbly, during the carriage ride, I offered to help paint the ceiling blue, and she thought it was the best idea ever. She switched shifts with Taylor the next day, and she and I stayed up all night moving furniture, shifting drop cloths, and painting the damn ceiling what Sherwin-Williams calls Open Air. Don’t get me wrong, it’s beautiful, but it was a huge undertaking just days before this event.

  “I wish they were staying here with us.” I frown. I haven’t spent hardly any time with my friends since the injury, and I miss them.

  Zach, taking advantage of this opportunity to the fullest, decided to surprise Shelby with a large hotel room and tickets to one of the event dinners tonight. Since they spend so much time secluded at the winery, he thought it would be a nice date night for the two of them. Of course, Meg was a little disappointed that Shelby wouldn’t be here like old times, but she understands.

  “Me too,” she says quietly. “But she’ll be there first thing tomorrow, and that’s when I really need her.”

  “So, I know you’re heading to bed early, but tonight I am going to cook us dinner while you sit back and relax.”

  “Oh, really?” Her mood is already shifting back to normal. She eyes me suspiciously. “There is that new fuzzy robe Shelby brought me, too. It’s so soft, and I could totally use some cuddle time on the couch with it.”

  “Hey now, I’m a good cuddler, too,” I tease.

  Her cheeks turn pink and she looks away. “I suppose you’ll do.”

  With that, she heads to the living room, and I head to the kitchen. Dinner isn’t fancy—I’m just grilling chicken and some vegetables—but it’s work she doesn’t have to do and I know it’ll taste good. I also bought some peanut butter cookies for afterward. Dip them in a little milk and it’ll put her right to sleep.

  Laying everything out on a plate, I walk outside to turn the grill on. While waiting for it to heat up, I look around at her beautiful garden, taking in the delicious smells of the early evening air. Across the fence, my eyes catch on something in her neighbor’s yard, and I’m struck with an idea—quite possibly a great idea.

  Prickles of adrenaline and excitement move down my arms into my hands. Meg said she wanted unique Southern arrangements, and this just might be the solution.

  First, on the sly, I call Taylor and ask her what she thinks. She loves the idea but doesn’t see how I’m going to pull it off. I tell her not to worry, and she agrees to meet me an hour earlier than planned in the morning.

  Next, I call Eddie. He picks up on the third ring.

  “Hey, man,” he says.

  “Hey. Are you busy tonight?” Eddie’s been married for almost five years and has a toddler at home.

  “Not really, why?” The sound of clinking weights echoes in the background.

  “I need some help with something, and we’ll probably be out late.”

  “I’m intrigued. Keep talking,” he says, closing what I assume is his office door as silence descends on his end.

  I tell him my idea, describing what it will entail, and he’s totally on board.

  Hot damn.

  Peanut Butter Cookies

  THIS MORNING, I choose to walk to work. Yes, it’s dark out and I know Jack will be mad when he finds out, but I need the cool air and the extra time in my head to sort through my excitement and anxiety about today.

  I know there’s always a possibility of something going wrong, but we’ve planned, organized, and rehearsed the flow; the only thing left to do is execute it. Clutching the box of the place card menus under my arm, I visualize each step and each course of the brunch. I’m certain people will be pleased with what they’re served, and if they’re not, well, then my style isn’t for them. But come on, the menu is delicious—at least that’s what Jack told me as he tasted it all.

  Jack.

  What am I going to do about him? Letting out a sigh, I shift so my bag sits higher on my shoulder.

  Every day it seems to get harder and harder to keep him in the friend zone. I knew he was charming, but I never expected him to be this charming and sweet. He’s gotten under my skin, and although I keep reminding my heart of the promises I made to myself, I don’t know what to do about it. Yes, he’s still a little off from the injury, not as exuberant as he once was, but I like him. In fact, I really can’t think of anything I don’t like, from his face, his laugh, and his hands when they hold mine to his thoughtfulness and his sense of humor. There’s a reason he quickly became my best friend, but lately I just don’t know. I like him living with me, way more than I should, and I worry about how I’m going to feel when he leaves.

  But this, him, these feelings—I need to think about all that another day. I can’t do it right now as I need to focus on the brunch, and I know this. So, I shake my head, as if that will rid my thoughts of him, and go over in order the things I need to do first today. I have to focus on OBA.

  Rounding the corner of the block, I see the lights are glowing from inside the restaurant. Taylor must already be here—seriously, the poor girl is going to need a raise after this. She’s worked her butt off, and I’m so grateful.

  Through the window, I see movement from several people, which confuses me, then as I open the front door, I’m met with a sight and a floral scent so wonderful my jaw drops and I freeze.

  “Surprise!” Taylor yells, throwing her arms out.

  As I take a few tentative steps in, the door swings shut behind me.

  “I don’t understand. What . . . ? How?” I look from her to Jack—which throws me off because I thought he was at home sleeping—to a guy I don’t know, and then to Diane, the florist.

  “Did you do this?” I ask her.

  She smiles and shakes her head. “He did.” She points to Jack.

  My eyes whip back to him and I see that he’s a little dirty, but with his hands shoved in the pockets of a nicely worn pair of athletic pants and that smolder he wears so well, he still makes butterflies take flight in my stomach.

  “How did you do this?” I again look at the tables.

  “You said you wanted to create a Southern
ambiance, and outside of azaleas, I couldn’t think of anything more Southern than these.” There’s a hint of vulnerability in his voice, but there shouldn’t be—what he did is amazing, and I’m in awe.

  The arrangements have been made, and yes, they still lined the vases with the slices of fruit, but every one of them is overflowing with magnolias. Where I had wanted orange blossom branches, he replaced them with magnolia buds and then surrounded them with the large white blooms. They are beautiful, and there are so many of them.

  Tears gloss my eyes.

  “They’re perfect,” I tell him, shaking my head in astonishment. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

  “I did have some help. Meg, this is Eddie.” He points toward his friend. He looks to be about the same age, but he’s smaller in stature than Jack is.

  “Hi, Eddie.” I smile at him, and he smiles back.

  “Nice to meet you, Meg.”

  “And Diane and Taylor helped put them together,” Jack says as he moves toward me.

  “I just . . . You guys . . . Thank you. Thank you so much,” I tell them, looking to each person. Everyone is pleased with my reaction, and that just makes this so much more wonderful. I’m beyond humbled that they did this for me.

  “Well!” Eddie claps his hands together. “On that note, I’m heading home.” He walks over to Jack, they give each other a one-armed man hug, and Jack thanks him again. “Good luck today, Meg. I can already tell it’s going to be great.”

  “Thank you, Eddie. I really do appreciate it.”

  He waves to the four of us and heads out the door as Diane picks up her bag.

  “If you need anything else, just give me a call.” She smiles at Taylor, at me, and then lingers on Jack. “Well done,” she says to him, and then she’s gone too.

  Silence falls over the three of us, and I turn to face Jack, completely forgetting that Taylor is in the room. All I see is him. All I want to see is him.

  “I’m so happy,” I tell him, walking to stand directly in front of him. Those chocolate eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles at me and drinks me in. It’s not a coincidence that I’m wearing his favorite pair of heels today. He’s previously commented on them twice, and I like the way he made me feel in them. They put an extra boost of confidence in my steps, and I need that today.

  “I’m glad.” His voice has dropped a little, and it’s rough. Just two little words, but I feel them deep in my soul. Gently, he lifts a hand and brushes back one of my curls, tucking it behind my ear.

  Without thinking, I jump up and wrap my arms and legs around him. He catches me easily and holds me to him. The warmth, the solidness, the feel of him against me—I instantly melt into him, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

  “Taylor, give us five minutes,” he says over my shoulder as he starts walking toward the kitchen.

  “No worries! Take all the time you need. Well, maybe not all the time—I need to start the madeleine cookies soon.” She laughs.

  “Your knee,” I blurt out.

  He chuckles. “Not really thinking about that right now.”

  Stepping through the swinging door, Jack turns us and pushes me against the wall. It’s just him and me, and I’m over the moon with appreciation and gratitude.

  “How did you do this? Where did you get all of them?” I rest my arms on his shoulders and lace my fingers through his hair.

  “If you tell anyone, I’ll deny it until the day I die, but Eddie and I might have driven around all night and cut them out of trees.”

  I blink. “You what?”

  “You wanted Southern, so we went straight to the source.” One side of his mouth quirks up.

  “You stole them?” I whisper.

  “Stole? That’s a harsh word. Besides, they don’t really have any monetary value.”

  A vision of him and his friend climbing trees in the dark makes me giggle.

  “Oh my God, what am I going to do with you?” I shake my head.

  He doesn’t respond, but my gaze drops to his lips as his smile grows even more. His perfect full, pink lips . . .

  “You keep staring at me like that and I’m going to kiss you.” His voice is thick with a longing I’ve not yet heard.

  My eyes rise to find his, and my heart thumps hard. He’s serious, and suddenly I can’t think of anything I want more.

  As I tighten my legs around his waist, he leans forward so our bodies are flush against each other, and he slowly lowers his head until our lips are centimeters apart. His hair has fallen over his forehead and his breath is warm as it brushes against my skin. He’s giving me a moment to change my mind, but I don’t, and my eyes slip shut as I close the distance between us.

  Warmth like I’ve never known before spreads through every nerve ending at this one simple touch, his lips against mine. I’d like to say I’m surprised by the feeling, but I’m not. Secretly I’ve been dreaming of what it would be like to kiss him for a while now, and my curiosity is being satisfied at last.

  I know this kiss should be forbidden—after all, friends don’t kiss their friends—but as his lips slowly begin to move against mine, I can’t find it in me to have regrets.

  With my weight anchored against the wall, he moves his hands, which tremble slightly, to cradle my face so he can angle me just where he wants me. As our lips part and his tongue dips in to find mine, I hang on tight just before he devours me whole.

  Seconds—no, minutes tick by as he takes his time exploring every bit of my mouth. This kiss is euphoric, the best first kiss I’ve ever had, and I become pliable, wanting to be what he wants, what he needs. Over and over he comes back for more, only stopping to catch his breath, until he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against mine.

  His eyes are still shut, his long dark lashes lying on top of his cheeks, and beneath his shirt I can feel the fast pace of his heart as mine tries to mimic it. I find it endearing, and I would be lying if I said this moment—him, the flowers, the thoughtfulness, the sweetness, the love for my friend—didn’t put a chink in my very comfortably worn armor.

  “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he says quietly, honestly.

  “But we’re just friends,” I reply, not wanting to admit the same. A slight sensation of panic rises in my chest. He’s my friend, and I need him to stay that way.

  He pulls back and looks me in eyes. “Are we?”

  I don’t answer him, and he doesn’t say anything more on the subject.

  He lowers me, and I slide down his body until my feet hit the floor. “I’m going to run home, get cleaned up, and change, but I’ll be back a little later to help you however I can. Okay?”

  “Okay.” I give him a small smile, the panic receding as his hand again cradles my face and his thumb rubs back and forth across my cheek.

  Bending down, he kisses me one more time, and then he takes a step back. “I’ll see you later,” he says, giving me a wink, and then he’s through the kitchen door and gone.

  Holy moly.

  What just happened?

  Well, actually I know what happened—the best kiss, with my best friend. I clutch my chest as I suddenly feel winded, like I just ran a marathon.

  I’m still standing by the wall when Taylor walks in and pops a knowing eyebrow. A blush burns through my cheeks at what she’s very accurately assumed, but I can’t help but think this is already the best day, and the sun isn’t even up.

  Sweet broiled grapefruit parfaits

  Asparagus and pea soup with parmesan crackers

  Fennel and citrus salad with mint

  Cornbread eggs benedict

  Roasted okra with tomato-glazed shrimp

  Seared foie gras with aged gouda grits

  Butterscotch and pecan sticky bun

  Today could not have gone any better.

  Granted, I started on cloud nine thanks to one very tall, dark, and handsome guy, but as the guests arrived and the first course hit the table, everything went as smoothly as possible. From being
back in the kitchen and working side by side with Shelby like the good old days to having Jack and Zach both dressed in suits with no ties charming the guests and serving the different sparkling wines with each course, it was as if everyone was in a relaxed, blissed-out trance.

  Then again, maybe it’s the magnolias. Jack doesn’t know this, but like jasmine, the smell the flowers produce binds to receptors in the nose that send signals to the brain, telling it this is the scent of romance. When diffused into the air, magnolia creates a calm and serene atmosphere. It helps relieve stress-related tension, reduce anxiety and depression, and ultimately relax the mind and body—just what we want when people sit down to dine with us.

  And dine with us they did. Over and over we heard murmurs coming from pleased palates, photos were taken of the dishes, and nearly every plate of every course was wiped clean. It was a chef’s dream come true.

  “Something is going on between the two of you,” Shelby says speculatively as she slides up next to me. We’ve just thanked the last guest for coming and returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up. She pulls an elastic from her pocket and whips her blond hair up into the perfect ponytail as I grab an apron to wrap around my waist.

  “Oh yeah it is,” Taylor chimes in almost immediately as she exits the walk-in cooler and overhears us. Staff members are moving around us, cleaning to close things down, and politely ignoring what they’ve just heard. They’re good like that. Taylor and I have had many conversations in the kitchen, and not once has my sous chef or any other employee so much as raised an eyebrow our way.

  Zach and Jack left a little bit ago to go grab a beer together before Zach and Shelby head back to Georgia, and right this second, with the two of them staring at me, I wish I had gone with them.

  “What do you mean?” I ask Shelby as my attention turns back to her. Her arms are folded across her chest and my insides take a dive because I know that look. I’m about to get a lecture, even though I don’t want one.