Spicing Things Up

by Judi Lynn

  Chapter 46

  A hundred people checked into the inn on Wednesday. Tyne and Paula had decided to make a lighter supper, since Thursday’s meal would be so heavy. Ian was excited at how well his specials were going over. If they weren’t careful, he’d start making up holidays for guests to celebrate over the winter months. After Christmas, New Year’s Eve, and Valentine’s Day, he’d already added a St. Patrick’s Day special to his calendar.

  Paula and Tyne were both putting in extra hours. For tonight’s supper, they worked together to make pan-fried bass and a fruited pork stew. They kept the sides simple, only a huge green salad, broccoli rabe, basmati rice, and Parker House rolls. That way, they could get an early start on tomorrow’s menu.

  They’d agreed to help Tessa make some of the desserts. There were too many of them, so while Tessa made the pumpkin and mincemeat pies, they’d make pumpkin rolls with a cream-cheese filling and the apple and pecan pies. They’d decided to make half a dozen turkeys, each a slightly different recipe, regular stuffing, oyster stuffing, and chestnut stuffing, along with hams for slicing. There’d be the usual green-bean casserole, oven-roasted Brussels sprouts, and corn soufflés. Tyne was in charge of the cranberry sauce and maple-roasted parsnips, and Paula was cooking roasted potatoes and sweet potatoes with marshmallows.

  Thankfully, Ian had decided the inn would serve brunch on Friday, as well as Sunday this time, thinking no one would be ready to stir early in the morning after Thanksgiving dinner. And Friday’s brunch would be lighter fare—crepes and French toast with fruit fillings and toppings, along with scrambled eggs and juices. Ian switched Friday night’s usual menu of prime rib and salmon to Saturday night, and they’d served pasta with vodka sauce and mushroom risotto instead.

  The rest of the weekend returned to a fairly normal schedule, just with a lot more people. They’d be busy, but not buried. Ian was offering a charcuterie board for lunch on Saturday, featuring specialty cheeses from the area, along with Brie, Fontina, camembert, cheddar, and blue cheese, along with salamis, patés, and smoked kielbasa. They’d serve pickles, olives, and baguettes on the side. Tyne offered to make sugar-and-spice mixed nuts and balsamic fig jam while Paula made flatbreads. Ian ordered extra wines.

  The planning turned out to be perfect. The guests enjoyed the big meals as well as the smaller ones. By the time Sunday rolled around, Tyne and Paula had made so many dishes that took extra care that doing their traditional brunch felt like a cinch. Holidays were always labor intensive in restaurants, but Ian had gone all out for this one. Who knew what he’d think of for Christmas.

  When the last customer left the dining room on Sunday, Paula sagged onto a stool at the stainless-steel worktable and stretched her aching back. “We did it. If those people don’t spread the word about Ian’s specials, something’s wrong.”

  Tyne scraped a hand through his hair. “I’m not looking forward to Christmas and New Year’s Eve back to back.”

  “We’ll need extra help, more than usual.”

  Tyne agreed.

  “Did you hear that Daphne spent Thanksgiving by herself? When I stopped at the grocery store, Art told me she’d stocked up on frozen turkey dinners for Thursday.”

  Tyne wrinkled his nose. Frozen dinners appalled him. “What did her parents do?”

  “Before you became such an issue for them, they’d invited Beatrice to their house for Thanksgiving. The woman lives alone, and they felt sorry for her. Daphne said she didn’t want to be in the same room with her, so Beatrice brought her famous deviled eggs, and she and Daphne’s parents celebrated alone.”

  Tyne stretched his legs under the table, angling them so that he didn’t bump Paula’s stool. “Serves them right. Beatrice is the nasty little snitch, isn’t she? But who wants a frozen dinner for Thanksgiving?”

  Paula pulled a spare stool closer to prop her feet on. “Aah, that feels good.”

  “You were telling me about Daphne.”

  “Yeah, right. Miriam invited her to her family gathering, but Daphne said that would feel odd. Bless Miriam, she even volunteered to miss her family get-together to stay with her, but Daphne wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Miriam’s the best.”

  Paula raised an eyebrow. “Glad you think so. She’s one of your staunch supporters. She still wants you and Daphne to get back together, Art told me.” Art? From the grocery store? Why didn’t that surprise him? Everyone knew everyone else’s business in Mill Pond.

  Tyne untied his apron, grateful Ian had hired extra help for cleanup so it went fast. “She told me, too. The woman has a set of gonads. Gotta admire that.” He yawned. “I’m too tired to think right now. I’m going to go home, stretch out on my sofa, and vegetate. I have to be back in here tomorrow morning.” He grimaced. “Sorry, you have to be back for the new guests at supper shift tonight. Want some help?”

  “I made pot pies ahead of time, and your loin of pork cinghiale’s ready to go. There are only thirty guests. Most people need to recuperate after Thanksgiving, so our numbers are low.”

  “Good, then we’ll have an easy week.” He said his good-byes and headed for his apartment. He couldn’t help but think about Daphne, sitting alone in her cabin, eating thin slices of turkey—Was it really turkey? It never looked quite right to him—for Thanksgiving. He needed to make a decision.

  He left for California to see his brother soon. If he left without claiming Daphne as his, it wouldn’t happen. He’d talk himself out of it. He knew himself. Absence didn’t make his heart grow fonder. It helped him forget.

  Chapter 47

  Daphne was busy in her workroom Monday morning. Every time she got caught up on inventory, customers wiped her out again. She was making an oval-shaped, stained-glass piece with green glass forming a pine tree and a cardinal sitting on a snow-covered branch. It would work for Christmas and for the winter months, too. She looked up when the shop door opened and Paula walked inside. She felt a smile tug her lips. Paula and Chase must be tweaking his apartment above the bar. They made a great couple, but Daphne was sure Chase’s place could use some feminine touches.

  Daphne walked out to greet Goth Girl, as Tyne called her. She’d softened her look a lot since she’d married Chase. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail instead of clipped high on the back of her head to form a spikey fringe. She still rimmed her eyes, but not with the harsh blacks she once used. She was more attractive than she realized, and Chase had fallen for her—hard.

  Daphne motioned to the rows of stained glass. “Hi, can I help you find anything?”

  Paula pressed her lips together, looking uncertain. Finally, she blurted, “I don’t make a habit of interfering in people’s lives, okay? But I care a lot about Tyne. And I had all the words right in my mind when I drove here, but now they sort of disappeared. I can’t think of the right thing to say.”

  Daphne blinked. Where in the world was Paula heading? “Are you trying to find something for Tyne? A present? Something unusual?”

  Paula waved that away. “Look, I’ve never been diplomatic. I don’t say the right thing at the right time. I might as well just spit it out: You and Tyne are both being stupid. You’re perfect for each other. Do something about it.”

  “Me?” Daphne’s voice squeaked. She sounded like a frightened mouse. Why did she crack when someone confronted her? “I don’t think Tyne wants to see me. The last time he came in the shop, he left, angry.”

  “Because he was jealous.”

  “What?” That didn’t make any sense. Daphne shook her head. Impossible. Tyne jealous?

  “He was waiting around, trying to make a move on you, when Keavin barged in the shop and kissed you right in front of him. Keavin said, ‘I love you, love you, love you,’ and Tyne instantly hated him.”

  Daphne almost laughed. That was just silly. “Everyone knows Keavin’s married, that we’ve been friends since . . .”

  “I didn’t know you were friends. Tyne didn’t even know he’s married. We’re new here, r
emember? Tyne’s seen Keavin around, but he’s never spent time with him.”

  Daphne put out a hand to brace herself. “Tyne thought I’d fallen for Keavin? So fast?”

  “He thought you were settling again, but this time, he thought you might have picked a winner.”

  The shop spun. Words tumbled out. “Tyne was so mad at me. I thought he’d heard about the quilt I’m making, that he thought I’m silly, that he was angry because . . .”

  Paula interrupted her. “None of that matters. Do you want Tyne or not?”

  Daphne gripped the counter so hard, her knuckles turned white. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

  “He leaves for California next week. He says he’s coming back, but if his brother offers him a new opportunity, an interesting restaurant—you know how he loves to travel, how he loves a new challenge, especially if he wants a fresh start.”

  Fear lodged in her throat. Misery permeated her bones, burrowing into her marrow. What would she do if Tyne left Mill Pond? How would she feel? Even when they didn’t see each other, she still caught glimpses of him, could keep track of what he was doing. If that were gone? It would be as if a giant hole had been ripped from her heart.

  Paula gave her an encouraging smile. “He works the early shift today. He’ll get off about three or three thirty. Today’s your best day to see him.”

  Daphne nodded. Her brain felt overloaded, numb. What would she do if she threw herself at Tyne and he rejected her? How long would it take for her to lick her wounds this time?

  Paula patted her on the shoulder. “Good luck.”

  After she left the shop, Daphne stood frozen in place while she tried to sort through her thoughts and feelings. One thought that kept repeating itself. She couldn’t avoid it. What if she didn’t try? What if she cowered in her shop and Tyne left Mill Pond? Even worse, what if Paula was right, and she could have Tyne, but she wasn’t brave enough to let him know she wanted him?

  She took a deep breath. How happy had playing it safe made her? She wanted Tyne.

  She turned the sign in her door to CLOSED. She pulled on her coat, locked up, and drove to Art’s Grocery. Every important moment she’d had with Tyne involved food. This time, the food had better leave a lasting impression.

  She passed a few tourists on the sidewalk, who hurried from Lydia’s coffee and candy shop to dash into the antique store next door. Mostly, the sidewalks were empty. In another week, Mill Pond would wrap evergreen boughs around every lamp post on Main Street. Christmas lights and balls would adorn them. Wreaths would don every shop door, and tiny, white lights would sparkle around the perimeters of each shop’s windows. The town would decorate a huge tree in front of the courthouse. Music would spill over the shops that lined the streets, and tourists would bustle along the sidewalks again. But for now, there was the quiet of anticipation. And she was anticipating more than usual this holiday.

  At Art’s, she walked down an aisle stocked with baking goods and vinegars to stare at the meat counter at the back of the store. She sighed. Steaks were too ordinary. Chicken wasn’t exciting enough. Maybe she should browse in Art’s new section, filled with specialty goods. She was chewing her bottom lip when Art came to help her. She’d known the store owner since she was little, and he always had a friendly smile. Medium height with a stocky build, he gave the impression of being dependable. And he was.

  “You look puzzled. Are you looking for something special?”

  “Special, yes.” She scanned the meat behind the glass nervously, then plunged on. “What do people make for Valentine’s Day or anniversary dinners? When they want to go all out?”

  “Some people make surf and turf—a filet mignon with shrimp on the side.”

  She nodded. Simple and straightforward. Surely she could find cooking preparations on the internet. “That’s what I want.”

  “For one?”

  She shook her head. “For two.”

  Art’s smile widened, a knowing glint in his dark eyes. “If you’re trying to win Tyne with food, I’d make steak Oscar.”

  Daphne grimaced. “Miriam talked to you, didn’t she?”

  “We both have our fingers crossed for you.”

  “Do you have any recommendations for pity parties, in case he turns me away?”

  “Send Miriam in, and we’ll figure something out, and it will be on the house.”

  He meant it, she knew. “You’re a nice person, you know that?”

  “I’ve known you a long time, watched you grow up. Now, let me find you a recipe. Big stores in the cities offer recipes when you buy certain cuts of meat, so we decided to try that, too.” He went into the back room and returned in a few minutes with two pages of printed instructions. “We know that not many people around here have made this, so we have detailed instructions.”

  She’d need those if this meal had a prayer of turning out decent. “What should I make with it?”

  He gave a gentle smile. “For you? I’d go with baked potatoes.”

  She laughed. “Do you have a recipe card for those?”

  “Prick the skin and put them in a four-hundred-degree oven for an hour.”

  She could manage that.

  “And I’d add a side salad.” Another grin. “We have ready-made bags. All you’ll have to concentrate on is the main dish.”

  She took her groceries to the check-out lane, and Art’s daughter, Melissa, looked at the items, impressed. Her eyes—the same deep brown as her dad’s—sparkled. “Even a chef should like this.”

  Daphne, who usually kept her thoughts private, surprised herself again. “It’s a go-for-broke meal. Wish me luck.”

  Melissa winked. “He’s a go-for-broke kind of guy. I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

  Daphne drove home and went straight to her kitchen. The interior of the house was as gloomy as the outdoors. She switched on lights as she went. Shadow ran after her and played in the brown-paper bag after she put her groceries away. She reread the directions twice. They couldn’t be more step-by-step. She could do this.

  First, she called Tyne and left a message on his cell. “I need to see you. Can you stop at my house on your way home from work?”

  She was pretty sure he’d come. He might not want to see her, but he had a hard time turning friends down.

  Next, she took a long shower, scrubbed her hair, and took her time when she blew it dry. She dressed in jeans—she had the feeling he liked those better than slacks—and a snug, long-sleeved top. She applied her makeup with care. Then she gazed at her reflection. She’d lost a little too much weight, but she was tolerable.

  She seasoned the two filets and left them on the counter to reach room temperature, but she didn’t start cooking them. It was too early. If Tyne stormed out before she started dinner, she’d call Miriam and ask her to join her.

  Tires scrunched in the driveway at a quarter till four. Tyne knocked on the door and she called for him to come in. He’d changed out of his chef’s clothes and dressed in jeans and a loose sweater. He looked so sexy—his blond hair mussed, his shoulders tense—she had to clasp her hands behind her back to keep from touching him.

  He looked around the cabin. “Is everything okay? Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not.” She went to sit on the arm of her favorite chair. She raised her chin and locked gazes with him. “I want you, Tyne Newsome. I don’t want to lose you.”

  His dark eyes went wide. “What about your parents?”

  “What about them?” She motioned to the kitchen. “I mean to bribe you with a fancy supper.”

  Now, a smirk tugged at his lips. “Does it come out of a box?”

  She huffed. “I’ll have you know I’m going to make steak Oscar for you tonight.”

  “With Béarnaise sauce?”

  “I even bought the tarragon.”

  He blinked, impressed. “And what do I have to do to earn this expensive meal?”

  She turned toward her bedroom. The quilt was already turned down
.

  He stared. “You don’t have to take me to bed to get me to stay.”

  “This isn’t about you. The bed’s for me. You can pay for your supper now or later.”

  He grinned, and Daphne caught her breath. His grin made her stomach do flip-flops. “I hate being in debt. I’d rather pay up front.”

  She’d rather he did, too. “Just remember that this is an exceptional meal.”

  He laughed and scooped her into his arms. His biceps bulged. His chest and abs were rock hard. She could stay here a long time. Before he tossed her onto the bed, though, he stopped abruptly to stare. “You have a new quilt.”

  “My grieving quilt.” She shrugged. “It’s all about you.”

  He gently put her down. “Is this how you see me?”

  She pointed to the large center square: “You’re a chef.” Next came the motorcycle: “You love your bike.” Then the leaves: “You love to hike in the national forest.” She pointed to each piece and explained it.

  He twined his arm through hers, listening intently. When she finished, he frowned. “There’s something missing.”

  She looked at him in surprise. “What? I even added a can of coconut milk for your Thai food.”

  He turned to gently touch her cheek. “There’s no you, and that’s the most important piece of all.”

  Tears misted her eyes. She had to swallow, hard. “I thought I’d lost you. I listened to my parents and messed up, and I thought . . .”

  “You think too much.” He bent down to kiss her.

  She stretched to kiss him back. He placed his hand behind her head to ravage her lips. He pressed closer, and the back of her knees hit the bed. Another step forced her to sit down, and then he moved on top of her, pinning her against the mattress. Her hands went to the hem of his sweater and slid underneath it. She ran her fingers over his hard abs, felt how solid he was, how strong. He yanked his sweater over his head, then reached for her tee.

  Shadow leapt on the bed beside them, and Tyne shook his head. “Sorry, fella, you’re too young to see this.” He cradled the cat in his arms and carried him out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Then he bent and lifted Daphne, moving her higher on the bed, so that he could remove the quilt. “It’s too new to be broken in.”