But Zack had a point. She needed to quit living life only to please other people. Lauren had her goats. Zack and Maggie had the wildlife center. Rowan loved to cook, but did she want to be a chef? Chefs worked when everyone else was home having dinner with their families at the end of the day.
She had called the culinary school to ask for more time to think it over. They were gracious, but they agreed to hold the spot for her for only two weeks, to give other prospective students time to enroll for the fall semester if the spot opened. People were lined up for the opportunity that had dropped into her lap. Would it be ungrateful to turn it down?
She set aside the cheese and pressed the button on the microwave to nuke the cup of tea she’d abandoned. While it warmed, she dug out the catalog the culinary school had enclosed with the letter and settled at the kitchen table to look through it once again.
The bachelor’s degree included sixty credits of culinary classes but also liberal arts and quite a few business classes. Rowan already had a master’s degree in business, but none of her credits would transfer since they were more than ten years old. Did she want to do it all again?
“Good morning.” Patrick padded across the kitchen to the coffeemaker.
“What are you doing up so early?” Rowan would have made the coffee if she’d known he was awake.
“Thought I’d head over to the Little Susitna and see if I can catch my limit of reds. Want to come?”
Thoughts of salmon recipes immediately flitted through Rowan’s mind. The dillweed in the vegetable garden was growing like, well, a weed. “I can’t. I’m working the tasting room this afternoon. But if you catch ’em, I’ll cook ’em.” She got up and turned on the oven. “The breakfast casserole I put together last night will take forty-five minutes to bake, but if you’re in a hurry I could scramble you some eggs or something.”
He waved his hand. “Sit down. I can wait on myself. What’s that you’re looking at?”
“The degree requirements from the West Coast Culinary Institute.” She flipped to the next page, which listed a degree in restaurant management. Nothing interesting there. If she wanted to be a manager, she’d have specialized in management instead of marketing.
Patrick poured a cup of coffee and sat down at the table next to her. “How many degrees do they offer?”
“Four bachelor-level degrees, several associate degrees and some specialty short courses—” she flipped to those pages “—like starting a catering business, for instance.” She looked up from the book. “You like your career, right?”
“I like it a lot.”
“How did you know you would? I mean, I know you’ve been tinkering with machines since you were a little kid.” Patrick had always been the official fix-it person for the family, repairing ailing alarm clocks and kitchen appliances. “But when did you decide you wanted to be a professional electrician, rather than just do it as a hobby?”
“Well, you know Mom and Dad wanted me to study business, the same route you took, but that never appealed to me. I knew I wanted to live in Alaska, and I didn’t want a desk job.”
“You could have studied engineering.”
“I could have, but it would still be mostly a desk job. I wanted something hands-on. The electrician apprentice program had openings.”
“That’s it? They had openings? Electrician wasn’t a calling?”
“Working outside with my hands was a calling. I suppose I could have been a welder, or a carpenter, or a plumber. I probably would have been happy in any of those careers. But this one’s good. I like working all out for two weeks on the slope, and then having two weeks off to help on the farm.”
“Even when it’s forty below zero on the slope?”
“We only work outside down to thirty below.”
“Oh, thirty below. So, no problem, then.”
He laughed. “Okay, still darn cold. Wire gets brittle and diesel engines revolt at those temperatures, so it’s a challenge. I like it, keeping the lights on and everything running. It’s a good job.” He looked toward the refrigerator, where Lauren used magnets to post snapshots of family, friends and goats. “More importantly, it’s a good life. It’s all about balance.” He drained the last of his coffee. “Guess I’d better get my fishing gear together. If the run holds, I’ll probably go again in a couple days. Pencil it in on your calendar.”
“I’ll do that.”
She opened the catalog again, flipping through the various offerings until a particular short course caught her eye. The germ of an idea formed, but she had no idea if it was feasible. If it was, this just might be the way to find that balance Patrick was talking about.
* * *
RIPLEY POUNCED ON a rolled-up sock that dropped from the basket Becca carried into the laundry room.
“Ew. What’s that smell?”
“Your swimsuit.” Zack tried not to breathe as he dumped it into the washer. Leaving it in a plastic bag for two days had allowed an aromatic colony of something to establish a foothold. “I forgot to get it out of your backpack.” He took the basket of dirty clothes and dumped it in with the towels and swimsuit. He knew he was supposed to sort, but who had time? “Is this everything from your hamper?”
Becca nodded. “I’m hungry.” She took the stray sock from Ripley’s mouth and handed it to Zack, who unrolled it, tossed it in with the rest and set the washer to Run.
“I’m hungry, too. How about hot dogs for supper? They’re quick.”
“I guess.” Becca dragged her foot along the floor. “When is Rowan coming home?”
He’d answered the question several times already, but Becca kept asking. “I told you, I’m not sure. She’s got a lot going on right now.”
He hated himself for sending her away, and yet, what else could he have done? She deserved a chance to be her own person, to chart her own path. But he hadn’t fully anticipated how much he would miss her. How empty it all seemed without her smiling face.
“Rowan is still coming to the campout on Tuesday, isn’t she?” Becca asked. “She promised.”
Oh, shoot. He’d forgotten all about the end-of-year campout. You’d think the camp would have sent a reminder—and then he noticed the soggy piece of paper that had been in the bag with the swimsuit. He unfolded it and managed to read enough of the blurred print to verify that it was, indeed, a reminder and suggested packing list.
Becca stared up at him, waiting for his answer. After his insistence that Rowan move out to have a neutral space to make her decision, was it fair to drag her back in? But Becca was counting on her. “After dinner, I’ll call her and ask.”
“Can you call her now?”
“I thought you wanted to eat.”
“I want this more.”
“All right. I’ll call.” He shooed Becca and the dog into the kitchen and followed them, closing the door behind him. He dialed and held his breath, waiting. Would she even answer? She hadn’t been too happy with him when she drove away.
“Zack?”
“Hi. I hope I’m not disturbing anything.”
“No, it’s okay. How are you?”
Sad. Lonely. Miserable. “Fine,” he managed. “You?” He wanted to ask if she’d come any closer to a decision, but the whole point was not to rush her.
“How about Becca? Anything new about the hearing?”
“No, but Becca is the reason I called. Her overnight—”
“That’s day after tomorrow, right? I’m glad you called. What do I need to bring?”
“So, you are planning to come?”
“Of course. I promised.”
If he hadn’t already fallen in love with Rowan, he would have at hearing her say that. It didn’t matter that she’d moved out. She’d made a promise to Becca, and it had never occurred to her that she wouldn’t keep it. “They sent a packing list, but it’s kind of hard to
read.”
“Ah, she put it in with her wet swimsuit, I’ll bet. I’ll see if they posted it on the camp’s website. Tell Becca I can hardly wait.”
* * *
MONDAY AFTERNOON, Rowan got a call from Jessie. “Hi, you’re doing the campout tomorrow night, right?”
“Yes. I’ve gathered my sleeping bag, my mosquito repellant and my appetite for s’mores.”
Jessie laughed. “Sounds like you’re all set. I just picked up the girls from camp, and Becca said she needs to ask you something.”
“Okay.” Rowan waited for Becca’s voice.
“Rowan?” She must be in the back seat, because the speakerphone sounded as though she was calling from inside a tunnel.
“Hi, Becca. All set for the campout tomorrow?”
“Almost. I’ve got all my stuff together. I’m taking Zuma, but he needs his sleeping bag.”
“Can’t he share yours?”
“He has his own. Daddy got it. But it’s at my other house.”
“Oh.”
“Zack can’t take me to get it because somebody brought in a fox and he has to do surgery.”
“And my daddy has a softball game we have to go to,” Charlotte volunteered.
“Can you take me to get Zuma’s sleeping bag?” Becca asked. “Please?”
“Sure. Where should I pick you up?”
“I was going to take her with us to the softball game,” Jessie said, “but if you’re coming now, I can drop her at the vet clinic on the way.”
“Sounds good. Becca, I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes.”
Rowan was there in ten. When she stepped inside the clinic, she spotted Becca in the corner, watching the adoptable kittens through a window. When the bell rang to signal an opened door, Becca turned and launched herself in Rowan’s direction. Rowan caught her and they shared a long hug.
“I missed you so much.” Becca sniffed.
“I missed you, too.” Rowan blinked back a tear. “Are you ready to go?”
Becca nodded and went to grab her backpack. Rowan exchanged greetings with the receptionist, Karen, who volunteered, “Zack just went into surgery. Someone hit a red fox with his car.”
“That sounds bad. I hope the surgery is successful.”
“It will be,” she said with confidence. “Zack is a great surgeon.”
“Yes.” And a great brother, who deserved custody. The fact that he was risking that to give Rowan thinking space with this hearing looming next week...
“Rowan?” Becca was standing at the door with her backpack over one shoulder. “You ready?”
“Yes, let’s go.”
They stopped by Zack’s house first so that Becca could drop off her backpack and Rowan could collect the keys to Zack’s dad’s house. Becca ran upstairs and returned with her precious stuffed animal. “Zuma is glad you’re going to the campout tomorrow.”
“I’m glad, too.” If she took the scholarship, would Zack still allow her to contact Becca and spend time with her during breaks? The thought of never seeing Becca again made her stomach hurt.
During the drive over, Becca caught her up on everything that had happened at camp for the past several days. They parked in the circle drive in front of the big house. Rowan unlocked the door and dealt with the alarm system while Becca ran up the stairs. Rowan followed a moment later to find herself in a long hallway. “Becca, where are you?”
“In my room.” The voice came from the end of the hall. Rowan followed it to find her crawling under a bed with a white footboard trimmed with gold curlicues. The matching headboard was partly masked by white netting hanging from the ceiling. Embroidered gold crowns embellished a pink bedspread.
The rest of the room carried out the theme, with pink walls glazed in subtle stripes of glossy and matte, a vanity table with an oval mirror and padded stool, and a pink satin slipper chair. Beautifully and professionally decorated, it reflected none of Becca’s personality.
“I got it!” Becca dragged out a small suitcase and carried it over to an alcove near the window. This was the only part of the room that looked like Becca, with a rocking chair, a pile of stuffed animals, three big floor pillows and a low bookcase with an ornate molding across the bottom that looked familiar. The shelves were half filled with books. Rowan suspected most of the collection in residence in Becca’s room at Zack’s house must have come from here.
Becca opened the suitcase and rummaged until she found what she was looking for. “See?” She pulled out a blue quilted miniature sleeping bag. “I told you Zuma had his own sleeping bag.”
“How about that! What else do you have in there?”
“These are his costumes for holidays. Daddy got them. This one is for Halloween.” She held up a cardboard rectangle displaying a mask and a cape with a tall collar. “And this one’s for Christmas.” A red-striped sweater and Santa hat. She picked up the next one: a red, white and blue sequined vest. “Oh, we missed the Fourth of July.”
“I bet Zuma had fun watching the fireworks even without his costume,” Rowan said. “These are all so fancy.”
“Do you want to see his fancy collar? I’ll show you.” Becca crawled over to the bookshelf and pressed what looked like a knot in the wood on the side near the floor. The heavy molding that ran across the bottom of the lowest shelf lifted up.
“A secret compartment?” Rowan got down on her knees to look. “Wow.”
Becca giggled. “You’re the only one who knows about it. You and Daddy. He got me this bookshelf.” She pulled out a flat box. Inside were a collection of childhood treasures, including pretty rocks, a feather, a Denali National Park quarter and a rhinestone bracelet. Becca fastened the bracelet around Zuma’s neck.
“It used to be Mommy’s, but she didn’t like it,” Becca explained. “So, Daddy gave it to me.”
Hmm, maybe they weren’t rhinestones. “It’s very pretty. I can see why you keep it in your treasure box.”
“Daddy said Zuma shouldn’t wear it except at home, so it doesn’t get lost.” She removed the collar, returned it to the box and picked up the feather. “This feather is from an eagle that lived at the wildlife center while her wing healed. Wanna touch it?”
Rowan let Becca spend as much time as she wanted going through her things, but after a while, Becca returned the sleeping bag to the little suitcase and picked it up. “I’m ready to go home.”
Home. She meant Zack’s house, of course. That was home for her. This was just the place she used to live, with her daddy. Rowan couldn’t let Becca get caught up as a pawn in a possible scheme of Clarissa’s.
“Let’s go, then.” Rowan eased the molding closed over the secret compartment. “I need to pick up some sunscreen for camp tomorrow. Want to shop with me?”
“Yes!”
The local grocery was the most convenient place to buy sunscreen. Near the door, though, Rowan spotted some good-looking eggplant on sale. Tempting. Zack was always looking for ways to get more vegetables into Becca’s diet. Why not? She collected the eggplant, an onion, plum tomatoes, and then, because she didn’t want to take the time to swing by the farm, added a bunch of fresh basil and mozzarella and Parmesan cheeses.
They had just checked out and got into the car when Zack called. Rowan punched the speaker button. “Hi, Zack.”
“Hi. I just got out of surgery and got Jessie’s message you were taking Becca to the other house to get something. Sorry, I didn’t tell Jessie about—”
“We’re on the way home now. Buckle up, Becca.”
After a brief hesitation, Zack asked, “Am I on speakerphone?”
“Yes,” she said, relieved that he understood why she’d interrupted.
“Hi, Becca. Did you get everything you needed at the house?” he asked.
“We found Zuma’s sleeping bag and I brought some more clothes for him, too.
And some more books.”
“You were in surgery for a long time,” Rowan said. “Will the fox be okay?”
“She should recover. I’ll need to stay here another hour or so. You can drop Becca at the clinic.”
“Is it okay if I stay with Becca at the house?” Surely, she wasn’t banned entirely.
“Are you sure you have time?”
“I’m sure,” Rowan said.
“Then thanks. I will be there as soon as I can.”
Once they got home, Rowan sliced and salted the eggplant and started cooking the tomatoes. With her help, Becca made a salad. Fluff walked into the kitchen and rubbed against Rowan’s ankle.
“While you set the table, I’ll be browning the eggplant,” Rowan told Becca. Fluff yowled. “And feeding the cat.”
Becca giggled. “Zack says—”
“I know. We’ll tell him we already fed her. Otherwise, she’ll meow our ears off.” Rowan tossed out the last of the remaining kibble and replaced it with identical kibble, which Fluff immediately devoured. Rowan would never understand the workings of that cat’s mind.
Once Rowan had arranged the breaded eggplant in the bottom of a casserole, she had Becca spread the tomato sauce and sprinkle basil leaves and cheeses over the top. “Doesn’t that basil smell wonderful?” She slid the baking dish into the oven and went to wash the pans they’d used.
Zack walked in the back door and stopped when he saw Rowan standing at the sink. She met his eyes, suddenly feeling as though she was trespassing. “There’s eggplant Parmesan in the oven. Just take it out when the timer rings and let it set for ten minutes before serving. Becca made a salad, too.”
Becca grasped her hand. “Do you have to go?”
Rowan looked at Zack, but he didn’t jump in to invite her to stay. “I’m afraid so, sweetie. I will be at your camp tomorrow morning for the overnight. We’ll have a great time.” She hugged Becca, picked up her bag and started toward the door. “Bye, Zack.”
Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set Page 46
