by Judi Lynn
Water glasses were already filled, waiting by each white plate. Mom carried carved roast chicken to the table on a white platter and her dad followed with a dish of green beans—the same meal Mom made every Wednesday night.
She could tell the day by the meal on the table: Mondays were meatloaf; Tuesdays, spaghetti; Fridays, baked fish; Saturdays, pork chops; and Sundays, roast beef. They usually ate pizzas on Wednesdays and stopped at Chase’s bar on Thursdays. Occasionally, they switched it up and changed days, but the choices were the same. She smiled. Mom and Dad were creatures of habit.
When they’d filled their plates, Daphne mentioned that Tyne had invited her to eat at the inn’s kitchen, and she’d been surprised how much she loved the stuffed chicken breasts he’d made. Her mom pinched her lips together and shook her head. “A waste of money. Good, simple food is enough. Chicken is delicious as is.”
“I love roast chicken,” Daphne hurried to say, “but his recipe was fun for a change.”
Dad forked a roasted potato and shook his head. “All of a sudden, everyone wants to make Mill Pond into something it isn’t. They want it to be a bigger tourist destination. That will only bring more people to our town. The stores and streets are already crowded.”
“Isn’t that good? I’ll sell more if more people come. It’s good business.”
Mom tsk-tsked. “It will change the fiber of our town. We’re a quiet, close-knit community with solid values. Tourists only care about having fun, being entertained. Harley’s already throwing more and more wine parties at his vineyard, and Ian’s starting to offer special holiday deals. Before you know it, we’ll have the same morals as Indy. We’ll sink to their level.”
“Indy?” Daphne had never thought of it as especially scandalous. When she wanted to splurge and find new things, she was happy to make the hour-and-a-half drive to the bigger city. “I’ve never felt threatened there. I like visiting it.”
“People like New Orleans, too, but would you want to live there with all that jazz and drinking? And then there’s the drugs.”
Daphne supposed most big cities dealt with drugs, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she asked, “Harley’s giving a Halloween party. Have you thought about going?”
Her mother wrinkled her nose. “We don’t drink. We’ve never attended his events, even though we do enjoy jazz.”
“You are going to hand out trick-or-treat candy, though, aren’t you? You talked about quitting, but kids love going from house to house. I sure enjoyed it when I was little.” It wasn’t the same these days. Kids were only allowed to go from house to house for a few hours, most of them when it was still daylight. When she was little, you waited until the sun sank, then raced to every house you could before people went to bed. You came home with a pillowcase brimming with candy, and you tried to eat as much of it as possible without getting sick.
Her dad rose and gathered their dirty plates to take to the kitchen. “Are we ready for dessert?”
“You made one?” Daphne couldn’t believe it. She turned to her mom. “That’s so sweet. You went all out since we missed a couple of dinners together. Sure, I’d love some.”
Mom stood to carry the chicken platter and bowl to the kitchen. When her parents returned, Mom brought three small bowls of sorbet and Dad carried a tray with three cups and a carafe for coffee.
“Decaf,” her mom assured her. “It won’t keep you up tonight.”
They usually only had desserts for special occasions, so Daphne tried not to be disappointed. She loved sorbet. But no cookie? Not even a wafer? But those were empty calories, as her mother often told her.
After her father filled each cup, he said, “We wanted to let you know, dear, that we’re not going to be in town for Halloween. We know you’ve always come here to help us pass out candy, but children don’t really need so many sweets.”
Daphne stared. “It’s Halloween, once a year. It’s tradition.”
Her mother hurried to explain. “What your father meant to say is that we’re leaving for a short vacation soon.”
Daphne’s hand went to her throat, she was so shocked. Her parents traveled twice a year. They spent a week in Florida every February and a week sightseeing somewhere different every July. “Where are you going?”
Mom and Dad exchanged glances. “We feel so bad about this,” her mom said, “but you were with Patrick when my sister invited us to spend two weeks with her in Carolina. We’d have invited you, too, but we thought you’d rather stay in Mill Pond with him.”
“Two weeks?” Even if they’d asked, she couldn’t leave her shop that long this time of year. Her shop was still too busy.
Her dad said, “Sophia and I both have an abundance of vacation time, so we said yes. Your mom’s sister lives close to a historical area that we can explore, and she’s close to the ocean . . .”
Her mother added, “We’re so sorry about this. We can cancel. We can be here for you since you lost Patrick.”
Oh, no! Not that. The gut reaction caught her by surprise, but she hurried to say, “No, please, I want you to go. I want you to have fun. You’ve earned it.”
She meant it. They had. It was time they enjoyed life more. Her father looked relieved. Her mom looked worried.
Daphne smiled. “Don’t worry about me.” She almost said that Tyne would keep her busy, but decided that wasn’t a good idea. “I’ve sold out of so much inventory, I need to make more stained-glass items. I can get caught up in the evenings.”
Her mom hesitated, still not satisfied. “I could make meals ahead for you, and you could freeze them.”
“That’s just silly.” Maybe Daphne would experiment with cooking for herself. She bit her lip. Her mom wouldn’t want to hear that either. “No, I’ll go to Ralph’s diner and buy frozen dinners to have on hand. Your supper’s are better, but I’ll survive for two weeks.”
Her mom looked hopeful. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Go! Enjoy. I’ll be fine. When do you leave?”
“On Monday morning. We couldn’t make up our minds whether we should go or not.”
“And miss Carolina? And seeing your sister? I’m happy for you.” As much as she loved her parents, a small hope blossomed. She’d never been a child who rebelled, not even during her teen years, but the promise of being on her own, to do as she pleased, suddenly appealed to her. The allure of freedom almost made her giddy. She tried to quash it, but it wouldn’t die. Two weeks. Alone. She couldn’t wait.
Chapter 15
Before work the next night, Tyne bundled into his black leather jacket and climbed on his motorcycle for one more ride to Harley’s winery. Paula had agreed to leave the inn early to meet him there. Yes, the wind had a nip to it. Yes, he was glad he wore gloves. But the roar of the bike and the drone of the tires pulsed in his veins, singing of freedom. Once the snow fell, his bike would be stored for the winter. He meant to enjoy it as long as he could.
He found Paula and Harley in the tasting barn, sitting at one of the square tables. Harley’s dad and Vicki were busy behind the bar, and Kathy was in the office, doing paperwork.
Since Paula wasn’t in a kitchen, she’d unclipped her black hair and let it fall to her shoulders. Tyne was always surprised how much that changed her look. She was cute with her hair up or down, but she looked softer with it framing her face. That face reminded him of a Kewpie doll with her huge, sapphire-blue eyes, small nose, and round cheeks.
She grinned up at him now. “You have a nice, rosy glow about you. Hope you don’t sneeze or those jeans are going to fall right off you, they’re so low. Lookin’ good, Hot Stuff.”
Tyne groaned and turned to Harley. “Don’t encourage her. She’s enjoying herself too much.”
Harley, who was just as tall as Tyne, wore his jeans low, too, so decided to play it safe. “Paula was telling me you guys are going for fun for Halloween at the inn, but you’re not doing finger foods. I can do those. Have you thought of anything for Ian?”
“As a matte
r of fact, I have.” Tyne looked at Paula. “What do you think of a hog roast?”
“Perfect!” Her face lit with excitement. “We can do the old-style, backyard get-together—potato skins, baked beans, mac and cheese . . .”
Tyne nodded. “I thought we could do a seven-layer salad, popcorn balls, and dirt cakes with jelly worms, maybe cupcakes decorated like eyeballs.”
“I love it! We can have apple cider and mulled wine to drink.” Satisfied, she leaned back, looking pleased with the world.
Tyne knew something that would please her even more. He looked at Harley. “You’ve heard that Steph’s going to start working with Maxwell, haven’t you?”
Harley narrowed his eyes. He could tell there was more news coming. “Yes?”
“Maxwell has all those ovens. Steph has always wanted to get into catering, so they’ve agreed to work together on that, too, on the side.”
Paula’s eyes went wide. “Steph told you and not me?”
“Only because I was free and you were working. She’s meeting us today. Thought she’d already be here by now. She volunteered to help with the food Harley needs.”
Paula gave a satisfied sigh. “Good, it’s time Mill Pond has a caterer. It’ll make everything easier.”
They heard tires crunch on the gravel drive, and they turned to see Steph stride through the doors to join them. “Tyne told us the good news. Congratulations all around.”
“What good news?” his dad called from the bar.
“I’m engaged.” Steph waved her ring for all to see. “And I’ve started working with Maxwell. We’re going to bake breads together and start catering on the side.”
“Way to go!” Gino gave her a thumbs up, then glanced at Vicki. “Steph works at the inn with Tyne and Paula, but she’s expanding.”
Vicki sent a smile Steph’s way. “I’m happy for you.”
Gino’s expression almost melted, and Tyne and Harley exchanged smug glances.
Harley lowered his voice. “The old man’s got it bad. He’s trying to fight it, but I don’t think he’s winning.”
Paula shot him a sympathetic glance. “It’s hard. When I lost Alex, I didn’t think I’d ever get over it, and then, when I realized that I was happy once in a while, I felt guilty—like I shouldn’t. But it’s lonely being a widow. It’s wonderful to find someone new. I wish him the best.”
“Me, too, but it will take him time,” Harley said. “It’s too soon to talk about it.”
He didn’t have to tell them to keep the news to themselves. Steph sat across from Tyne and said, “So, what have we decided about Halloween?”
Paula told her about the hog roast, and then they moved on to ideas for Harley.
“I want my party to be fun, too,” Harley told them, “but on a smaller scale. What kind of finger foods would work?”
“Mummy dogs,” Paula said. “Hot dogs and sausages wrapped in cornbread dough to look like mummies.”
“Shrimp with creamy cashew nut sauce,” Tyne added. “It has fall colors. And buffalo-chicken bites on crostini. They don’t look like Halloween, but they taste good.”
“Caramel apples and cookies decorated like ghosts and spiders,” Steph said.
Tyne went on. “Korean ribs and coconut curry puffs, shaped like half-moons. I’m all about fun food, but I want something with substance, too.”
Harley nodded. “That should be enough, don’t you think?”
“Maybe little pumpkin cakes, too.” Steph liked to bake.
Paula, who knew the basics for appetizers at parties—how many to make per person to keep the budget intact—put down her pen to scan the list. “Looks like a good mix to me. I think we’re set.”
Tyne glanced at Paula. She got his message without his having to say it. She needed to take Steph aside and teach her the business side of catering. Maxwell wouldn’t know. He’d never done it before. Thinking of Maxwell made Tyne ask, “How’s India? Any better?”
Steph shook her head. “She couldn’t get out of bed today. I’m glad Maxwell hired me. He had a big order for bread sticks that he couldn’t get to. I did those and the braided loaves. He struggled to finish his regular orders.”
Harley grew serious. “How old do you think India is?”
“Forty-five,” Steph said. “Maxwell told me that she’s three years younger than he is.”
“She looks older.” Tyne realized how bad that sounded and grimaced.
“I’ve never seen her without a cigarette.” Harley glanced at Vicki at the bar. She had pure white hair, but smooth skin. “Smoking ages you.”
“Hell, it kills you,” Paula said. “I’m glad I quit.”
“You smoked?” Tyne realized he shouldn’t be surprised. She must have been something in her late teens and early twenties. She had more tattoos than he did.
“Let me guess.” Paula rolled her eyes at him. “You kept your body pure?”
He motioned at his muscled torso and grinned. “My body’s a temple. I have to be good to it.”
She snorted. “Well, this body pushed out two kids, and it shows. But Chase loves it, and I’m going home to him now. He worships it, pudgy or not.”
“Not that pudgy anymore. You’ve lost weight.” Steph sounded proud of her.
“Sex is great exercise.” When Harley choked with surprise, she laughed. “If Steph here doesn’t watch out, she’s going to be skin and bones. She’s already thin.”
Harley gaped at Tyne, but Tyne just shrugged. “You never know what’s going to come out of that woman’s mouth. I was young and innocent before I started working with her.”
Harley threw back his head and laughed. “Sure, you were.”
They all stood to leave then, and Tyne teased, “You sure know how to clear a room, Goth Girl.”
“Isn’t it time you got to work?” she asked him.
He was still chuckling when he started the drive back toward town. He had to make a quick stop at his apartment to change into his chef’s clothes, and as he circled the block to the alley that ran behind Daphne’s shop, he noticed the professor’s car parked at the front curb. What the hell was he doing here? Instead of trotting up the back steps to his apartment, Tyne meandered into the shop. Business was brisk. Tyne spotted the professor lurking around while customers chose items and paid for them. Tyne decided to stall around, too.
Daphne, he noticed, offered stiff smiles to her customers and glanced nervously at the professor between transactions. Why was the guy here? How did Daphne feel about it? If he’d left his wife again, would she take him back? Anger simmered, and Tyne tried to shrug it off. That was Daphne’s decision, not his. But the thought still rankled. Surely, Daphne was smarter than that. Besides . . . His thoughts pulled up short, then he forced himself to be honest. He’d been about to admit that he’d miss Daphne if she hooked up with Professor Plum again. The good prof was such a waste; Tyne would like to strangle him in the library with the handy dandy rope.
A woman came to look at a stained-glass piece, and Tyne backed away to give her more room. She stepped to look at the piece where he stood. When he moved again, she followed. Duh! She wasn’t interested in the glass; she was invading his personal space. She turned her head and smiled at him. “These are beautiful, aren’t they?”
He nodded. “Almost as beautiful as the artist who makes them.”
Her expression crumpled. “You two are hooked up?”
“We’re seeing each other.” It was true, just not in the way she’d interpret it. But that gave him an idea.
She gave him a rueful sigh. “Sorry, can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“Hey”—he held up his hand—“no ring. I look like fair game.”
“No, you look like a good time. If you and your artist break up, give me a call.” She reached in her purse and handed him a business card.
He grinned and jammed it in his back pocket. “Enjoy your stay in Mill Pond.”
She glanced toward Daphne. “Oh, I will, but not as much as she does
.” Then she went to her friend, and they left the shop together.
People started clearing out, and Daphne had a minute with no one at the cash register. When the professor started toward her, Tyne hurried to swing behind the counter first. He threw his arm around her shoulder and tugged her close. “I have to leave for work soon, but thought I’d better remind you about our date tonight.”
She blinked up at him. “Date?”
“You promised to stop by the kitchen to keep me company, remember? I’ll be looking for you.” He bent to drop a kiss on her nose. “Nope, you forgot. Thought you would.”
The professor stood at the counter, glaring at him.
Tyne smiled and focused on Patrick’s empty hands. “Nothing to buy? Sorry. You must want to ask her a question. I’m Tyne, and I’m leaving. She can help you now.”
“I’m a friend of Daphne’s,” Patrick said stiffly.
Tyne narrowed his eyes to size him up. “You’re the professor she used to see, aren’t you? So happy you and your wife worked things out.”
Patrick looked flustered, then affronted. “I came to speak to Daphne. I’d rather do it in private.”
“In her shop? During business hours? Go figure.” Tyne gave Daphne one more hug, then headed to the stairs. “See you tonight!” he called and jogged up the steps.
Once he was alone in his apartment, he smacked himself on the forehead. That probably wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever done, but the professor left a sour taste in his mouth. How mad had his antics made Daphne? Would she speak to him the next time he saw her? Then he cussed under his breath. What had gotten into him? Hopefully, he’d shown Daphne that she didn’t have to settle for old stick-in-the-mud. But Tyne was still irritated. If he had his way, he’d plant his foot on the professor’s backside and shove him out the door.
