What's Cooking?

by Sherryl Woods

  When she couldn’t bear staring at the walls another instant, she picked up the phone and called Melanie. Maybe her sister could offer some words of wisdom. At least she wouldn’t denigrate Rick or say anything to reinforce Maggie’s own insecurities. Melanie was far more diplomatic than Ashley.

  “I suppose you called because you’re worried about Rick?” Melanie said as soon as she heard Maggie’s voice.

  “Worried about him? Why would I be worried about him?”

  “Uh-oh,” Melanie whispered. “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew what?”

  “That he’s out with my husband and Jeff. Mike called a few hours ago to say that you and Rick had some sort of disagreement and Rick needed company. They’re drinking.”

  Maggie was shocked. Rick didn’t drink, at least not much more than an occasional glass of wine with a meal. After being reared by an alcoholic, he was religious about cutting himself off after one drink.

  “Rick doesn’t really drink,” Maggie said worriedly.

  “Well, something changed tonight. Did you two fight?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a fight exactly. He overheard something I said to Ashley, and it made him angry. I pushed a few more buttons, and he stormed out of here. I actually thought he’d get over it long before now and come back, so we could sort everything out.”

  “He’s not over it apparently,” Melanie said. “I can tell you where they are, if you want to go over there.”

  Maggie sighed. “No. Rick needs to figure this one out on his own.”

  “Is he the only one with a problem?” her sister asked.

  “No, but he’s the one with the solution. I’m just not sure if he’ll ever figure that out.”

  “He loves you, Maggie.”

  “There was a time when I thought he did.”

  “He does,” Melanie said confidently. “Otherwise he wouldn’t be with my husband right this minute trying to drown his sorrows.”

  “That’s love?”

  “It is for a man who’s fighting it. Be patient, sis.”

  “Not one of my virtues,” Maggie said. “I think we all know that.”

  “Then it’s about time you developed it,” Melanie chided. “If things aren’t better by this time tomorrow, call me. Until then, hold tight.”

  “I’ll try,” Maggie promised. Even if it killed her.

  It was dark as midnight when Rick got back to Maggie’s cottage. He’d had a half-dozen cups of coffee after Mike and Jeff had dropped him at the farmhouse. Thankfully Matthew and Sally had been asleep. He’d sat alone in the kitchen drinking cup after cup of coffee until he concluded he was not only reasonably sober, but wide-awake enough to do what he had to do. Now that he was here, though, he didn’t feel half as steady as a man should when he was about to make the most important pitch of his entire life.

  Maggie was sitting on the porch. He could smell the faint scent of jasmine she always wore. Maybe she was waiting for him. Maybe she was sulking. Either way, at least he wasn’t going to have to wake her from a sound sleep to get this over with before he lost the last of the false courage he’d bought himself with a couple of beers.

  “I thought you might be in bed by now,” he said, standing on the bottom step and waiting for some sign that he’d be welcome after the way he’d stormed off earlier. Not that a lack of welcome would turn him away, but it might change his tactics ever so slightly. He might be forced to resort to those flowers Mike had recommended, even if he had to go into the garden and yank them out of the ground. Right now, he was relying solely on himself and the message he needed to deliver.

  “I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until we talked,” she said.

  “Then you knew I would be back?”

  “You said you would be, so, yes, I believed you.”

  He gave a nod of satisfaction, then realized that on the moonless night, she couldn’t see him. “Good. Then you do have some faith in me…in us.”

  “I want to,” she said, her voice shaky.

  “What will it take to convince you?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Does this lack of trust really have anything at all to do with me, or is it about your past relationships?” He’d realized somewhere between the farm and here that it was all twisted together. Did she recognize the same thing?

  “Both,” she said at once, surprising him with the admission. At least she could see that he wasn’t entirely to blame for all the doubts she had.

  “What have I done, not in the past but to you, to inspire your distrust?”

  “Nothing,” she admitted at once. “But I do know your pattern, Rick. I’ve seen you change since we’ve been here, but I’m terrified to trust those changes.”

  “Patterns can be broken—at least I’d like to think some of them can be. Yours and mine, anyway. If we’re going to talk about what we want, then you should know that I want to believe that you and I have what it takes to make a whole new pattern, one we can live with forever. I want us to wind up like Matthew and Sally, together in our old age, not letting anything get between us.”

  The words hung in the air, and for a long time he thought she might not respond at all, but she finally whispered, “What do you mean?”

  He grinned at her caution. It was plain she didn’t intend to take a chance on misinterpreting. He could hardly blame her after the way they’d gotten it so wrong earlier tonight.

  “In my own clumsy way, I’m asking you to marry me,” he said. “Do you suppose I could come up there where I can see your face while I try to convince you about this?”

  “I guess,” she said, sounding doubtful about the wisdom of it.

  Rick could see he was going to have his work cut out for him. That’s why he’d taken a few precautionary measures to ensure his success. He’d taken them earlier in the day, but he had a hunch they were even more essential now.

  Maggie was sitting in a rocker, so he took a seat in the one next to her. He set it in motion to match the somewhat agitated pace of hers.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a piece of paper.

  “It’s too dark. I can’t read it,” she said, clearly frustrated. “What is it?”

  “A contract. I’ve bought a place a few miles from here.”

  “The orchard?” She guessed at once, not even trying to hide her disbelief and her excitement. “You actually bought it from Matthew and Sally?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you do it just to help them out?” she asked, that familiar note of uncertainty in her voice.

  Rick wondered how long it would take before he could wipe that need for hesitance away. He had to start trying now. “Actually, I thought it would make a good place for us to raise our kids,” he began, then tried to sell the idea. He leaned toward her. “We’d be close to Melanie and Mike. The rest of your family is bound to turn up here at the cottage from time to time, so it won’t be like you’ll be separated from them. You’ve been able to do your job from here, but even if you had to give it up, there are other regional magazines that would welcome having you on staff, especially if you can guarantee them that we’re a team and I’ll shoot all your photos at a reasonable cost.”

  A gleam immediately lit her eyes. “What’s your definition of reasonable cost?” she demanded.

  She asked in a suddenly businesslike tone that had him smiling and trying to hide it. Even though he’d sidetracked her, he could tell he’d almost won.

  “I think you’ll find my rate acceptable,” he assured her.

  “Too vague,” she retorted. “Spell it out for me.”

  He did laugh then. “Okay, here’s what I have in mind. You’ll use Sally’s recipe and bake me an apple pie and eat it naked with me in bed, like we did the other night.” He heard the chuckle she couldn’t quite conceal. “Of course, the fee I charge the magazine will be in dollars and cents.”

  “Of course,” she said primly.

  “There’s another thing,” Rick said, digging into
his pocket. He handed her a velvet jeweler’s box. “I thought this might tie the deal together.”

  “Buying an orchard was pretty impressive,” she admitted.

  “But this is sort of traditional, and something tells me that you need the traditional when it comes to the really important things,” he said. “When we met, I thought you were a fairly unconventional woman, but I’ve found out differently. You’re a lot more complicated than that.”

  She shoved the box back at him, and he thought for one heart-sinking moment that he’d blown it, after all.

  “My hands are shaking,” she whispered. “You open it. Besides, that’s even more traditional.”

  Rick had looked at a couple of dozen different rings, some flashy, some understated. He’d settled for something in-between. He removed the simple emerald-cut diamond from the box, then dropped down on one knee in front of her. When it came to tradition, he’d come here prepared to go for broke.

  “Maggie D’Angelo, will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life proving that no woman on earth could entrance me and fascinate me the way you do?”

  He waited for what seemed like an eternity for her reply, but when it came, it was the last thing he expected.

  “I’m wearing shorts and a T-shirt,” she wailed, her voice choked with sobs. “And no…no shoes.”

  Rick laughed, his heart suddenly lighter. “Mind telling me what that has to do with anything?”

  “I should be dressed up, and there should be candles and music.”

  She sounded so forlorn, he said, “We can do this over tomorrow night. Of course, it won’t be quite as much of a surprise.” He started to withdraw the ring.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said, then held out her left hand. “I love you, Rick. It scares me sometimes when I think about how quickly this happened and how much you matter. I know that ring isn’t a guarantee of anything, but I think it’s time I take it on faith that we’re strong enough to weather whatever comes along, even a parade of size-two women.”

  “Sweetheart, they’re no competition for you at all. I love food too much to spend my life with someone who exists on yogurt and the occasional lettuce leaf.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I can cook, isn’t it?”

  “It was the first thing I fell in love with,” he said, then yelped when she pinched him. “Okay, the second thing, but now the list’s so long, I can’t even count that high.”

  “Nice save,” she commended him, then held out her hand to admire the ring that was winking in the faint light shining from the living-room window. “You have excellent taste, Flannery.”

  “I picked you, didn’t I?”

  The smile that lit her face would stay with him forever. It appeared he’d gotten the words exactly right.

  Epilogue

  “I can’t possibly put a wedding together in two weeks,” Colleen D’Angelo protested when Maggie called to tell her mother about her engagement. “Why on earth can’t one of my daughters do things the traditional way and have a nice long engagement?”

  Maggie laughed. “You should have brought us up to be less impetuous.”

  “So, it’s my fault?”

  “You’re as good a person to blame as anyone. At least Rick and I are getting married in Boston, instead of in grandmother’s garden at Rose Cottage the way Melanie and Mike did.”

  “You know perfectly well the priest will never agree to perform a ceremony on such short notice,” her mother fretted.

  “Then Ashley will marry us and we’ll have a church ceremony later. She’s a notary,” Maggie said. “We want to get married at home, anyway. Just something small, Mom. It will be fine. We’ll be up tomorrow to help with the preparations. I can’t wait for you to meet Rick.”

  “I wish your father were here right now. Maybe he could talk some sense into you. Couldn’t you at least wait till October? A fall wedding in New England is always lovely.”

  Maggie laughed. “We’ve already booked our honeymoon. We’re going to Paris in September.”

  “Of course you would arrange things backward,” her mother said with a sigh.

  “We could forget about the wedding altogether,” Maggie suggested slyly. “I hear marriage is highly overrated. Living together could work nicely.”

  “Absolutely not! I’ll manage. I always do. And your sisters will pitch in, I’m sure. Thank goodness that case of Ashley’s is finally wrapping up. This wedding will give her something positive to look forward to. She’s been taking a beating in the media.”

  “Why?”

  “Everyone seems convinced her client is guilty, but she’s defending him so aggressively, it’s all but certain she’ll win. I don’t know how she’ll live with herself if she finds out too late that everyone was right.”

  Maggie thought of Ashley’s despondence on her last visit to Virginia. She must have known then that she was going to get hammered by the media for her passionate defense of her client. It must have been weighing on her terribly. She was used to being victorious, not vilified.

  “I’m sure she’s doing what she feels she has to,” Maggie told her mother. “Ashley has a very strong sense of justice as well as faith in the system.”

  “I know. I just pray this isn’t one of those times when her faith is misplaced. But,” she added briskly, “that’s enough of that. Let’s concentrate on making your wedding day perfect.”

  “As long as you guys and Rick are there, nothing else matters,” Maggie said. “The frills aren’t all that important.”

  “Well, they are to me,” her mother said. “I’ll have samples waiting for you when you get here.”

  “Samples of what?”

  “Everything…dresses, cakes, flowers. And I think I know someone who could transform the living room on short notice. What about music? Do you want a string quartet?”

  “Whoa!” Maggie pleaded. “Slow down. This is going to be a simple occasion, Mom.”

  “Simple doesn’t mean it can’t be memorable,” her mother retorted. “Just leave it to me, darling.”

  “Please don’t go overboard,” Maggie said, knowing the words were falling on deaf ears. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  When she’d hung up, she turned to Rick. “It’s going to be a circus,” she said, resigned to it.

  He studied her. “Will you mind very much if it is?”

  She touched his face. “Not as long as you’re there beside me.”

  “Every second,” he promised. “For the rest of our lives.”

  “We could elope,” she suggested hopefully.

  “And disappoint your mother? I don’t think so. I want to start out making a good impression, not infuriating her.”

  “Then prepare yourself, Flannery. You are about to fall victim to a tornado.”

  Maggie had been right. Rick had had no idea how quickly tuxedo fittings, cake selections and all the other trappings could fill up his days. He barely managed to steal ten minutes alone with his bride-to-be at the end of the day. Thank heavens, they’d decided to be married in two weeks. He wasn’t sure he could have endured the pace for much longer.

  Now the day had finally arrived and as he stood in one of the bedrooms that had been designated for the groom and his best man—Matthew—Rick waited for the expected jitters to set in. Nothing, not even a twinge. All he felt was a deep sense of anticipation.

  “What time is it?” he asked Matthew.

  “About five seconds since the last time you asked,” the old man told him. “For a man who swears he’s not nervous, you seem mighty jumpy to me.”

  “I’m not jumpy,” Rick protested. “I’m eager. There’s a difference.”

  “You’ll have to explain that one to me,” Matthew said.

  “It’s not important,” Rick told him. “Do you think Maggie will be ready on time?”

  Matthew chuckled. “I think Maggie’s been ready for a long time now, a lot longer than you, in fact. You were the one dragging your feet.”

  �
�That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

  The bedroom door opened, and Mike poked his head in. He grinned at Matthew. “You need any help in getting him out here?”

  “Nope. I think he’ll come peacefully.”

  “Then it’s time.”

  “Now?” Rick asked, suddenly overcome with anxiety.

  “Now,” Mike said. “Don’t panic. All you need to do is get out there and keep your eyes on Maggie. Everything else will fall right into place.”

  “Eyes on Maggie,” Rick muttered. “Right.” He glanced at Matthew. “Let’s do it.”

  He walked into the living room and took his place in front of the bay window that had been filled with baskets of flowers. He kept his gaze pinned to the stairs that Maggie would descend.

  Ashley came down first, dressed in a simple, but elegant pale blue satin suit. She took her place in front of him. Then came Melanie and Jo, wearing similar suits in a deeper blue.

  Rick swallowed hard as the music changed. And then Maggie was there on her father’s arm, looking as if she’d stepped out of the pages of one of those fashion layouts he’d shot through the years. How many bridal gowns had he seen in his lifetime, but none had taken his breath away as the sight of Maggie did. The white satin clung to curves and dipped low in the back. It was simplicity at its very best, seductiveness at its most discreet.

  She caught his gaze and smiled and his entire world steadied. “I love you,” she mouthed.

  “I love you,” he said, loud enough to be heard by everyone. He wanted this roomful of people to know right here, right now before the vows that he had no lingering doubts. This marriage was what he wanted.

  Behind him, Ashley laughed. “I think we all heard that. We could dispense with the vows.”

  Rick turned and grinned. “No shortcuts. I want this binding.”

  She winked at him. “Believe me, it will be.”

  He took Maggie’s icy hands in his. “Then let’s do it,” he said softly, his gaze locked with hers. The light in her eyes burned brightly enough to fill his heart with joy. He knew in that instant why people did this, why they took a chance on love. It was for this moment when everything seemed perfect, when two hearts were precisely in tune, when faith was strong that the feelings would last forever. Maybe the rest of the years would take patience and love and hard work, but right this instant everything seemed possible.