Spicing Things Up

by Judi Lynn

  He frowned and rose to his feet. “Sorry. I didn’t give you anything to drink.” He came back with a glass of white wine.

  She took a sip and made a face. “What is it?”

  “Chardonnay.”

  Not every new experience was good. She shook her head. “Too dry.”

  “It’s an acquired taste.”

  “Someone else can acquire it.” She took another forkful of food to erase the taste of the wine.

  Tyne went for a glass of water and looked at her, amused. “You were dead-out honest about that. You’re turning over a new leaf. I’ve never heard you be so frank.”

  She blinked. He was right. Mostly, she tried to be diplomatic. She didn’t seem to mind being blunt around him, though. Was that a good thing?

  He nodded, as though he’d read her mind. “I like it.”

  Her shoulders relaxed, and she finished her meal. “Thanks for this. It was wonderful.”

  He glanced at the clock. “I’ve gotta get back to work, but stop at the store on your way home tonight. I saw inside your refrigerator and cupboards. No wonder you don’t have mice at your place. They’d starve.”

  She flushed. “It’s because of the cat.”

  “Sure it is. Stop at Art’s and push a cart around and try to fill it.”

  She nodded. She deserved the lecture. “Will you get off early tonight?”

  “Nah.” He motioned to the young boy at the dishwasher. “I promised Cody I’d help him tinker on his truck. It’s his first set of wheels. It needs a little work to hold the rust together.”

  She stared at him, surprised. “You’re staying over to help a kid?”

  Tyne gave Cody a teasing glance. “He’s not too bad for being wet behind the ears.”

  They liked each other, she could tell. How did Tyne make friends so easily?

  She thought about that on her drive home that night. Bags of groceries bumped on her back seat. Tyne had told her to stop at Art’s, so she had. Not that she had to, but he was right. She did her best to avoid shopping, but sometimes it was necessary.

  She passed the turnoff to the high school and thought of Miriam. Would they be friends if Miriam hadn’t bullied her into it? Probably not. What was the deal? Was she trying to be a recluse or hermit? No, she’d like to hang out with more people, but whenever she saw someone interesting, she always asked herself why they’d want to spend time with her. What did she have to offer anyone?

  She pulled into her double garage and closed the overhead door. When she opened the door to the kitchen, Shadow came running. The cat “helped” her unload the groceries and put them away. Shadow jumped into the empty brown bags and knocked them over. Daphne wadded up papers and tossed them inside the sacks for him to chase. She was enjoying herself so much, everything was put away before she realized it. And then her thoughts returned to Tyne.

  He made friends easily. Why wouldn’t he? He was good-looking, funny, and smart. When she met people, she became tongue-tied. The right words never came out. She made a horrible first impression. People had to be stuck with her for a while to appreciate her at all.

  She changed into her pajamas and sank onto the couch to watch TV. Some people were exciting. She wasn’t. And she’d been fine with that. She didn’t know why she was feeling so restless lately, like she wanted more. It must be because Patrick dumped her. She felt even more inadequate than she had before. But that was silly. She’d been happy on her own before Patrick, and she’d be happy on her own again. Shadow jumped onto her lap. And this time, she had a cat. She’d be fine.

  Chapter 12

  The phone rang at four a.m. Tyne scrubbed a hand through his hair. Had something happened to one of his parents? Nah, if it had, they wouldn’t call him. They’d call Holden, and eventually, his brother would let him know.

  The buzzes stopped, then started again. He punched the button and recognized Maxwell’s voice.

  “Sorry to bother you, but India’s not doing well this morning. I spent most of the night up with her and could use a little help at the bakery to get all the bread done for today.”

  Tyne inwardly groaned. After working on Cody’s truck last night, he’d stayed up later than usual, reading. The last thing he wanted was to leave his bed, but he knew it had cost Maxwell a lot to call him. Max didn’t like to ask for favors. “How soon do you need me?”

  “A half hour ago.”

  Tyne grumbled, but stopped himself. Maxwell sounded stressed enough. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

  He washed his face, brushed his teeth, and yanked on his old jeans and T-shirt. The bakery got too warm for long sleeves. Then he slipped into his hoodie and set off. It was still dark outside. The air nipped.

  Maxwell met him at the door. He looked flustered, unusual for him. Maxwell didn’t get hot and bothered about much of anything, took life’s ups and downs in stride. “Thanks for coming. I can’t get everything done on my own. India usually helps.”

  “No worries. How’s India doing? Is she okay?”

  “She finally fell asleep. She’s breathing better.”

  Tyne nodded. She must have given Maxwell a good scare. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I have a special order for two dozen tea breads. Six different kinds. I have the recipes all laid out over there. If you could do those, I can do the yeast breads.”

  Tyne nodded. “No biggie.” He could manage both, if he had to, but avoided baking when possible. Tea breads were a lot easier than fiddling with yeast.

  They settled in to work, and the kitchen got warmer and warmer. Tyne was glad he’d worn short sleeves under his hoodie. He glanced at Maxwell in his usual striped, drawstring pants and button-down shirt. How did the man keep from melting in those long sleeves? Maxwell had turned the radio on, and music blared as Tyne made four apricot-walnut loaves, four blueberry loaves, four banana breads, four pumpkins, four cherry-almond breads, and finally, four zucchini breads. Twenty-four loaves in all, six different kinds. Jeez! When he slid the last loaf pans into the ovens, he wiped his forehead and turned to see how Maxwell was doing.

  The man was already removing long, crusty loaves of Italian bread from the ovens that lined his side of the kitchen. Tyne hadn’t seen so many huge mixers and ovens in one place except at Tessa’s bakery. She specialized in cakes, pies, and cookies, besides making the desserts for Ian’s lunch-hour teas, the breakfast muffins, and two desserts to choose from at suppers. Yup, she needed a lot of ovens, too.

  Tyne looked at the giant bowls of dough rising on Maxwell’s far counter. “You make a lot of bread.”

  “That, I do.” Maxwell slid loaves of challah into an oven. Rye rounds went into another. “Area restaurants keep calling and wanting more. More customers are coming in for individual orders. I’m reaching my limit.”

  “Are you this buried when India helps you?”

  Maxwell grimaced. “I love my woman, but tea breads are about all she can handle. Everyone wants something unique these days. I have orders for Tuscan, pumpernickel, and gluten-free. It’s getting to be too much.”

  “Maybe you should hire some help.”

  Maxwell didn’t argue. “I’d love to, but it’s not so easy to find someone who’s dependable and learns fast.”

  Tyne thought about Steph. “Paula’s sous chef works part-time at the inn, but needs more hours. She’s getting married and wants more cash. Could you hire her full-time?”

  “Not right now, but like I said, things are getting busier. Give me her number.”

  Tyne reached for his cell phone and read it off. “She’s a good worker, always shows up on time. Will India mind, having someone else in the kitchen?”

  “She’ll be relieved. It’s been a struggle for her to help as much as she used to. Thinks she ate something that didn’t agree with her last night. Had chili for supper. I like it hot—lots of spice. Might have been too much for her. She coughs a lot these days.”

  They stopped for a coffee break, then got back to work. Tyne was helping
with an order of four hundred dinner rolls when Maxwell raised his head and turned down the radio. Only then could Tyne hear the dog barking.

  “Chester needs a pit stop.”

  Tyne stared. “You have to quit to take your dog out to whizz?”

  “India isn’t up to doing the stairs most days. I can’t keep Chester down here with me, so I have to get him. Come with me. Say hi to the old girl. She loves company.”

  Tyne had never been up to their apartment. He stopped by every once in a while to shoot the breeze with Maxwell, and sometimes, India was in the kitchen with him. Other than that, they didn’t socialize, so he was surprised when he climbed the stairs to their apartment and it turned out be a bohemian holdover. Big pillows were scattered on the floor. Huge posters decorated the walls. A bong sat on their low coffee table.

  India waved a limp hand when she saw him. She sat on their oversized sofa, propped up with bright-colored pillows. Tyne did a double take when he saw her. She looked bad, was having a hard time breathing.

  “Has she been to a doctor?”

  India gave a slight smile. Maxwell looked frustrated. “The doc’s done with her. Says he can’t treat her until she slows down on the cigs and the smoking.”

  Tyne caught that cigarettes and smoking were two, distinct activities. “I thought pot was good for your health.” They grew medicinal marijuana, didn’t they?

  “My girl might overindulge.” Maxwell cast an affectionate glance her way.

  India smiled. Part black, part white, and part Hispanic, she was beautiful, but frail. A charming mix. When she pushed to her feet to stand beside Maxwell, she looked tiny. Maxwell hugged her to him. “You just take it easy, luv. We’re in good shape downstairs, and I can take care of Chester. Just be nice to yourself.” He helped lower her back on the couch.

  She looked worn out from the effort.

  “You sleep now. We’ll be back later.” Maxwell picked up the Chihuahua to carry him downstairs. “He’ll bark when he wants to come in.”

  Once Maxwell got the dog settled, they washed their hands and got back to their baking. When they finished the bread orders for the day, Maxwell thanked Tyne. “Don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t shown up.”

  “No problem, but you might want to call Steph, maybe hire her. We might even be able to work out something so that she works part-time for both of us. You have a lot of volume these days.”

  As Tyne left, though, he wasn’t thinking about how much bread Maxwell had to bake. He was thinking about India. Her health was iffy, at best. She was going to be able to help Maxwell less and less.

  Chapter 13

  Tyne walked into the lodge later than usual for work that night. He usually came early, so that Paula could leave once the bus dropped her kids off after school. The door to Paula’s old apartment—located in the east wing and now occupied by her mother and Maya, who helped her with babysitting—flew open. Aiden and his little sister, Bailey, raced across the lobby and attached themselves to his legs.

  Tyne grinned at them. “You’re here? Your mom hasn’t taken you home yet?” Paula’s mother watched them until Paula finished her work in the kitchen. Tyne had spent more time with the kids than he’d expected last summer, when they’d hung out at the inn while their mom worked. He wasn’t exactly a kid lover, but these two were pretty cool.

  Aiden made a face. “Mom and Steph are waiting to hug you. They went on and on about how wonderful you are.”

  Maxwell must have already called Steph, and she must have liked his offer. “I am wonderful. Just ask me.”

  Bailey tugged on his arm. “We’ve missed you.”

  “Who wouldn’t?” He scooped up each one of them by an ankle and dangled them, upside-down, in front of him. It was easy with six-year-old Bailey, but Aiden had grown since the last time he did it. He’d turned nine in September. It took more effort. “I haven’t seen you two hooligans much since school started. What have you been up to?”

  Squealing and giggling, they fought for balance when he returned them to their feet. “You always go to the kitchen too early. We’re not home yet,” Bailey pouted.

  He gave a solemn nod. “That way, I’m safe. Two ruffians don’t attack me.”

  “We might be able to beat you now.” Aiden pushed back his shoulders, proud of himself. “We’ve learned three new karate moves since you practiced with us last time.”

  Tyne cocked an eyebrow. He’d taken martial arts all during middle school and high school. It came in handy once when he was hiking in South America. A thug should think twice about jumping him on a nature trail. “Really?” He smirked. He knew how to get Aiden wound up. “Bet you’re not good at them.”

  “Are too!” Bailey protested.

  “Prove it.” Aiden went through the motions and Bailey followed him. Tyne couldn’t help but smile. Time to rattle their chains. “I’ve seen better.”

  “Nuh-uh.” Bailey stuck out her chin.

  “Three teddy bears could whoop you. Come on. Let’s sneak outside. Your kicks need to be sharper.” He let them “practice” on him until he was out of time. “Chase can work with you tonight.” He’d taken martial arts, too. “I have to get in the kitchen. Your mom’s probably wondering what happened to me. Don’t attack her when she comes to take you home.”

  They gave him quick hugs before they took off. He made his way into the steamy realm of chefs. Pots simmered on the stove, and the ovens cranked out heat. When Paula saw him, a huge smile split her face. “Maxwell offered Steph a job. She can bake with him from four to eight and then come work with me. If he gets busier, Steph can work more hours, and Grams will help us find someone else.”

  “You’re okay with that?”

  “Are you kidding?” Paula came to hug him. “This way, Steph can keep up her cooking skills.”

  Steph hugged the other side of him. “Sandwich time for Hot Stuff. Thanks, friend.”

  He sighed, smashed between them. What was it about nicknames? They stuck, even when you didn’t want them to. “Maxwell’s a decent guy. You’ll learn a lot about yeast and breads.”

  Steph gave him one more small squeeze and then headed for the door. “I have to go. You’re later than usual tonight. I’m meeting Ben at his parents’ cottage. His cousin’s coming for supper.”

  “Have fun!” Paula called and watched her leave. Then she cracked the oven doors so that Tyne could see the long pans inside it. “Osso buco. Steph made mashed potatoes and has them ready for you to reheat.”

  “Yum.” He loved that combination. “Tell Chase your kids need to work on a few karate moves.”

  “Did they attack you?”

  “Only a little.” He went to put on his apron. “But when Aiden turns ten, I won’t be able to lift him with one hand anymore. The kid’s grown.”

  “Yeah, kids do that.” She glanced at the checkmarks on the chalkboard Tyne used for their friendly competition. Aiden and Bailey chose pretty evenly between his dishes and hers. “I heard you brought Daphne here for supper last night. Her vote doesn’t count. You probably charmed her into trying yours.”

  “Would I do that?” He pulled chicken breasts out of the refrigerator for the Spanish chicken with chorizo and potatoes he was making tonight. He usually wouldn’t cook chicken two nights in a row, but they complemented Paula’s dishes so well, he’d decided to go for it.

  “How is Daphne?” Paula asked. “Hanging in there?”

  Tyne reached for the salt, pepper, and smoked paprika. “I’m pestering her enough to keep her off balance. She hasn’t had time to disappear back into her usual-usual.”

  Paula thought about that. “Maybe she likes her usual-usual.”

  “Maybe, but at least she’ll have to choose. She’ll know what she’s giving up.”

  Paula tilted her head and gave him a saucy look. “You’d better watch out, you know. You’re spending time with a woman who’s not throwing herself at you. That’s how she caught Chase’s attention, by being elusive. Every woman
threw herself at Chase.”

  “God, that’s true. I bet they all went into mourning when he married you. Has anyone stepped up to take his place?”

  She snorted. “Who could? Maybe you, if you didn’t ignore them all. The thing is, women hang on you, too. Daphne won’t. You might like that.”

  Tyne gave his cocky grin. He knew it was cocky, because it used to drive his brother nuts. “If I wanted a spark from Daphne, I’d get one, but I’m just being a good neighbor.”

  Paula laughed. “You’re so full of yourself! But that’s how Ian and Tessa ended up married, because she considered him off limits. Proceed with caution.”

  They bantered back and forth a while longer. They enjoyed teasing each other. Before she was ready to leave, though, Tyne asked, “Has Ian decided what we’re doing for Halloween yet? A sit-down dinner? Finger food? Bobbing for apples?”

  “He told me he wants something fun, not fancy. Not exactly a party, but not the usual either.”

  “What’s the time frame?”

  “Guests check in on Friday and leave after brunch on Sunday. Ian doesn’t want to compete with Harley’s Halloween party at the winery, so they agreed to have them on different nights. We need to plan ours out.”

  They would have by now, if they hadn’t been so busy with Harley’s last party. That had been worth it, though.

  Paula glanced at the wall clock. “I’m going to make you late. I don’t want you to have to rush. I’ll grab my munchkins and you and your staff can get busy.”

  He nodded. He’d lost some time tonight. He had to get serious. Paula left, and he hurried to finish his dishes.

  Chapter 14

  Daphne drove to her parents’ house for supper. They lived in the old part of town with big, impressive Tudors, Queen Annes, and Colonial Revivals. She pulled in front of their American Foursquare—“Solid and simple like us,” her mom often said—and walked down its brick sidewalk to the front door. She gave a brief knock and went inside.

  The front room’s furniture was stiff and formal, for guests: A rose-sprigged, Victorian-style sofa. Two wing-back chairs in rose-colored satin. A green velvet settee. Two matching shepherdess lamps with fringed shades. She passed through to the dining room. They always ate at the walnut dining-room table. A modest chandelier hung overhead, its crystals blinking in the slanting rays of the sun. The small kitchen held a tiny table with two chairs where Mom and Dad ate breakfast and lunch, but dinner meant sitting in the dining room.