Duffy’s home felt like Greg’s—not that she remembered Greg’s apartment in detail. But there was a feeling that everything was in its place in both abodes. The difference was that where Greg’s apartment had felt luxurious, Duffy’s felt utilitarian. There was no real expression of who he was. Only a few pictures of family. No matter what Duffy said about not wanting to have children, his family was important to him. And that made Jess feel warmer than Eunice’s bananas wrapped in ham.
“Were you ever married, Eunice?”
“I was engaged once. A long time ago.” Wistfulness seemed to slow her words. She parceled them out like Scrooge did coins. “Darryl wanted to move to Texas. To work the oil fields. Mama wouldn’t allow it.”
Jess couldn’t imagine walking away from love or family. Poor Eunice.
The older woman’s voice became weak and wispy, the way voices sometimes did when traveling down a lane of memory often avoided. “I was only nineteen. I fancied myself in love. Darryl was tall and handsome, and laughed at my jokes.” Eunice set her coffee on the table, and mustered something close to a smile. “But Mama said it was a silly infatuation. She told me I’d never model again if I married him. I was a model. Few people could say that.” There was a false bravado in her tone, as if she wanted to believe she’d done the right thing.
Jess knew better than most that you couldn’t change the past. “Do you regret letting him go?”
“I didn’t. Not when I was younger.” Eunice’s wrinkled face, her slight body, even her teased hair, they all seemed to shrink. “But...sometimes...now...when I can’t sleep... I think about him and wonder where he is. Did he find someone else? Or was I the one great love of his life?” She swallowed, her gaze landing on Jessica’s stomach. “I bet that sounds foolish to you.”
“Not at all.” Foolish was holding on to love when there’d been none. She wasn’t ready to give up on the idea of having loved Greg yet. “You could try to find Darryl. Everybody’s on the internet nowadays.”
“You’re very kind, but I don’t think I could stand to know the answer.” Eunice reached for her cup. Just holding the ceramic mug seemed to give her strength. She squared her shoulders, and batted her eyes with sly, matchmaking intent. “Duffy keeps to himself too much. You should stay in touch with him. Maybe...go out?”
Date Duffy?
“That’s ridiculous.” Except there was Duffy’s mischievous smile from the night before as he warned her about what she might see inside his home, the subtle humor she sensed behind his guard and how family was so important to him. All of which made her pulse pick up, her body come alive and her chest ache with longing. None of which mattered. She’d rather give her child an uncle and grandparents than explore the whispered inkling of attraction.
Someone knocked on the door.
Duffy startled awake, looking rumpled and grumpy, but it wasn’t a stay-away grumpy. It was an I-need-a-soothing-touch grumpy and it gave Jess pause. In that moment, she imagined her fingers smoothing the curl at his temple, her arms circling his neck, her lips consoling him. Kissing him.
Kissing Duffy, not Greg.
Baby must have been doing somersaults, because Jessica’s head felt as if it were switching places with her toes. She gripped the arm of the couch.
Kissing Duffy was a bad idea. One put in place by Eunice. Wasn’t it?
“If Eunice is here, I don’t know who that could be.” Duffy stood with a steadfastness that Greg had lacked, taking steps that didn’t rush for the sake of show.
I should have fallen in love with Duffy.
The unfaithful thought and the subsequent sickening feeling were interrupted by a chorus of greetings rising above the sound of the rain.
Jess fought with the couch. She needed to sit up, feeling frumpy in Duffy’s sweats.
Instead of smiling cheerfully at his visitors, Duffy looked despondent.
Some of it bled onto Eunice. “Those three always steal my thunder,” she muttered.
“Don’t get up, dear.” A diminutive woman with gray hair cut in a short pixie barreled in with the authority of a school principal. She used the remote to turn off Duffy’s muted television. “Now that the rain’s easing up, we’ve brought you a care package. I’m Agnes.”
“I’m Rose.” A woman with the slight body and regal bearing of a ballerina headed toward the kitchen with a thermos and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. Her snowy-white hair was in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. “Duffy, it’s the perfect day for a fire. Why don’t you start one?”
Duffy might not have heard. He was helping an old woman in a walker over the threshold.
“I’m Mildred.” The walker woman squinted through thick trifocals in Jessica’s direction. With an abundance of white curls beneath her red raincoat hood and her round, pink cheeks, she looked like Mrs. Claus come to visit. “The sheriff says we’re cut off from civilization for another day.”
“Maybe two.” Agnes perched on the arm of Eunice’s chair, blocking Jessica’s view of Eunice.
Purplish curls quivered indignantly, barely visible above Agnes’s shoulder.
Duffy closed the door and leaned against it, probably counting to ten since his bachelor domain had been invaded by not one, but five females.
“We’re helping the sheriff make rounds,” Rose called from the kitchen. “Making sure everyone is all right and doesn’t need anything. Hot chocolate or chocolate chip cookie, anyone?”
Jessica raised her hand. “Baby wants a cookie.” Baby was going to be one sugar-happy bundle of joy.
“That baby needs something more nutritious than sugar.” Eunice leaned around Agnes. Her eyes narrowed. “I brought bananas wrapped in ham with hollandaise sauce. It’s in the kitchen.”
The room quieted.
“Hollandaise.” Rose sniffed deeply, then sniffed again. “That explains the off note.”
“Anyway, we can’t stay long.” Agnes’s statement caused Eunice to brighten.
“Nope. Not staying.” Despite her words, Mildred flipped the seat down on her walker and perched on it. “But it is drafty in here.” She angled her head to look at Duffy. “A fire would be lovely.”
“I said that already,” Rose chimed in, still puttering in the kitchen.
Agnes asked Eunice, “How long have you been here?”
It was as chaotic as the bakery on Saturday mornings. Jessica found herself smiling. Her gaze searched out Duffy’s. His grump seemed to have been punctured, but he looked away without smiling back. Jess was reading him so well their connection should have sparked more memories. But there was no Greg. There was only Duffy. And the guilt of that visualized kiss.
“What is it you do for a living, Jessica?” Agnes asked. The question brought everyone in the house to silence, almost as quickly as Eunice’s banana dish.
Duffy muttered something that sounded like “Here we go.”
Jess was a bit flummoxed as to why her profession would be a conversation stopper. “I’m a master baker at Vera’s Bakery in Santa Rosa.”
The trio of ladies all oohed and aahed. Eunice leaned forward and gave Jess a thumbs-up.
“We don’t have a bakery here anymore,” Agnes explained.
“Used to be one on Main,” Mildred added from her walker seat.
“Cherry Martin ran the place.” Rose handed Jessica a cookie on a napkin and a mug of hot chocolate. “She made incredible scones. Learned it from her mother.”
“Grandmother,” Mildred said.
“Great-grandmother, I think.” Agnes stared at Jess with a gaze that weighed and measured. Whatever she was looking for, Jess hoped she didn’t take into account Duffy’s baggy gray sweats. “Seems like their family had been bakers for a hundred years or more. The sign is still there. Martin’s Bakery.”
Jess broke off a piece of cookie, wondering what it would be
like to come from such a family, one with roots and traditions and generations of recipes. Even Eunice had family recipes. Jess had none.
“No one here can make a decent scone anymore,” Eunice piped up from behind Agnes in that falsely sweet way women had of establishing territories.
Didn’t faze Rose a bit. She added her appraisal of Jess to Agnes’s. “Are you a successful scone maker, Jessica?”
Jess, whose mouth was full of rich, soft cookie, nodded. As if Baby knew she was eating sugar, it bounced eagerly in her belly.
“You’ll have to teach me the trick of it.” There was a casual quality to Rose’s words, as if she were certain Jess had all the time in the world in Harmony Valley.
Jess glanced at Duffy, who was leaning against the door, staring at his feet. Probably hopeful that at any moment he’d be asked to make way for them to leave. “I won’t be around as soon as the roads open.”
“Nonsense,” Mildred harrumphed from her walker. “The town needs a baker.”
“I’ll ask Flynn about the state of the bakery.” Agnes tugged on a short lock of hair thoughtfully. “Why work for someone else when you can be your own boss?”
Jess wasn’t sure what they were talking about. It was every baker’s dream to own their own place, but she was in no position to start up a business.
“Mayor Larry owns the building.” Rose returned to the kitchen and via the pass-through Jess could see her packing up her things.
“Of course, he does.” Agnes leaned back, blocking Eunice from view again. “He owns most of downtown.”
The reins of Jessica’s fate seemed to be slipping through her fingers. “I’m not looking to move here,” she felt compelled to say. Not that anyone seemed to be listening.
“Cherry never did serve good coffee.” Mildred slid her thick glasses higher on her nose. “Coffee’s important to people nowadays.”
“And Rose’s chocolate chip cookies were better than hers,” Eunice said unexpectedly from behind Agnes, switching allegiances.
“But the scones made up for the coffee and the cookies.” Rose sealed up the thermos.
They all looked to Jess. Not knowing what else to do, she nodded.
“It would be nice to have a place to go in the morning besides El Rosal,” Eunice allowed.
Agnes gave Jess a nod. It felt more like the Godfather’s blessing. “Jessica’s Bakery has a homey feel to it.”
Wait. What?
“I’m quite happy where I am,” Jess protested weakly.
“Let them carry on,” Duffy advised. “They don’t actually hear anyone under fifty anyway.”
Jess took Duffy’s advice and occupied herself with her cookie and hot chocolate, while the ladies debated hours of operation, what she should fill her bakery case with and whether or not she needed a fancy espresso machine. They made running a business sound easy to master, as if this were one of their favorite and frequently played games.
“Didn’t you say something about needing to check on other people?” Duffy jiggled the doorknob.
“We did.” Mildred stood, flipping her walker seat back in place. “We’re just excited that Jessica’s in town. A bakery. I can’t wait for warm croissants.”
Agnes stood, barely taller than she’d been when she’d sat on the arm of the dining room chair. “Would you like to come, Eunice?”
“Me?” Eunice looked as if she’d been picked first for the class softball team when she was used to being last.
“Yes.” Agnes shook her car keys. “We’ll stop at El Rosal for lunch.”
“I’d love to.” Eunice hurried to don her rain boots and slicker.
Within five minutes, the house was quiet and Jess was exhausted.
Duffy collapsed into his corner of the couch. “I used to think I had it bad around here, and then came you.”
“You mean they don’t try to rearrange your life?”
“Nope.” The way he looked at her with a half smile, as if they shared a private joke, made her heart beat faster. “They watch me work in the fields. They ask me questions about my social life. But they’ve never planned out my career path as completely as they just did yours.”
“As much as I’d love to own my own business...” Just saying it out loud gave her a tiny thrill. “I have other priorities right now.” She patted her tummy. Baby was still, probably tired after that sugar rush.
“But you’re curious, aren’t you?” There was a gentleness to his voice, a tenderness to his smile. And those eyes. Somehow, Duffy’s gaze cut through to the heart of the matter.
“I am.” Could she put a deal together to make it happen? Could she handle the dual responsibilities of single mom and business owner? The obstacles and pitfalls? The risks and rewards? Her breath caught. She could barely speak. “They’re infectious, those women.” Jess hoped she kept the wistfulness from her tone. “I’d love to look at the place, but I don’t have the capital to start a business.”
Duffy’s smile faded.
* * *
FIFTEEN YEARS OF lies and betrayal were hard to get past.
At least, that’s what Duffy told himself so he’d stop projecting Greg’s swindling ways onto Jess.
She hadn’t asked the town council to drop by and suggest she stay. If that were the case, she wouldn’t have been wearing his old sweats. She’d have presented herself accordingly as a business professional.
Greg’s laughter echoed in his head as Duffy dialed his parents.
“Michael.” Duffy’s mom’s voice was warm and welcoming. “I’m so glad you called. We were just thinking of you. The news showed heavy rain up your way last night.”
His parents were the only people to call Duffy by his given name, one he never thought really fit him. “The road up here is under water, but most of the town sits above the floodplain. I’m fine.”
“That makes me feel better. Let me get your father.” Mom was in good spirits, and would hopefully remain so after his news. Her words became muffled. “Honey, Michael’s on the phone.”
“Mom, hold on. I...” Since Jess was napping, he lowered his voice and stepped out on the front porch, immediately serenaded by the steady beat of the rain. “A woman got in touch with me. She used to be Greg’s girlfriend.”
“Really?” How quickly suspicion came to Mom, thanks to Greg, who’d jaded them all. “What does she want?”
“Nothing. She’s...uh...” He glanced up and down the street, but he was alone. No Eunice lurking behind a bush or staring through her window at him. “She’s having Greg’s baby.”
There were comfortable silences, and then there were uncomfortable silences. This was not a comfortable silence.
“Mom, are you still there?”
“What does she want?” Mom’s voice sounded as rusty as the day they’d held a private service for Greg.
They’d taken a boat out to sea, saying little until Greg’s ashes were spread. At that point, Mom had pronounced, It’s done.
“She must want something,” Mom said, the rust beginning to sharpen.
“Nothing. She wants nothing.” Despite the awning over his head and the door at his back, the cold and wet seeped into Duffy’s bones. Pride may keep Jess from asking, but Greg’s baby deserved a spot in the Dufraine family. Whatever that meant.
Thunder mocked him with deep, rolling claps.
“Michael. Do I need to remind you about the old proverb? Fool me once—”
“Greg is dead, Mom.” Maybe he didn’t think about his twin often enough with compassion. Or maybe it was having Jessica speak kindly of Greg in a way no one had in years that got to him. Duffy just wanted his mother to say something nice about Greg, to believe he hadn’t been rotten to his core. Wasn’t that what mothers were supposed to do?
“Greg’s gone and his people are c
oming out of the woodwork. We can’t afford to give her anything.”
What was the use of wishing? “Mom, he took her money, too.”
There was a clatter on the other end of the line. “Are you staying dry, son?”
“Yep.” Duffy forced cheer into his voice.
There was another painful silence. Duffy hoped his mother would give Jess a chance, give her grandchild a chance, give Greg a chance.
“Did I miss something?” his father asked.
“I’ll let you two talk.” Mom’s voice was as dead as Greg.
Duffy wasn’t sure if his mom wanted him to tell his dad about Jess or not. He told him anyway.
“This is like God giving us a do-over.” Dad, ever the optimist. “I’d like to meet this woman.”
“When the weather clears,” Duffy promised.
The thunder rolled.
CHAPTER NINE
“WHAT DO YOU normally do on a Sunday?” Jess asked Duffy after lunch. Her dark hair fell in tousled waves across her shoulders. Sleep still shadowed her eyes. She sat cross-legged on the couch in the corner across from him, her pregnant belly like a large beach ball in her lap. “I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
The rain outside was as steady as white noise when the cable went out. The day dark and dreary. Or had it merely become so since his phone call with his parents?
Duffy lowered the television volume on the do-it-yourself program. “It’s the one day of the week that I collapse on the couch and watch TV.”
Jess moved with deliberate care to the dining room chair Eunice had occupied earlier. “It’s all yours.” She was always deferring to him.
Duffy refrained from extending his legs across the cushions. “That said, I can’t sit still for long. I usually get bored, so I drive to the vineyards I manage.” He wondered which plots were flooded. “Or I head down to Santa Rosa to see my folks.” Not possible today. And in hindsight, he probably should have waited to tell Mom about Jess in person.
“I’m sorry you’re stranded with me.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t mind having Jess around. She was easy to be with, which was weird considering why they’d met. It was Eunice, her spying and her funky casseroles that got under Duffy’s skin. “And you? What do you usually do on a Sunday?”
A Memory Away Page 7
