First and Again

by Jana Richards

  A look of such profound sadness crossed his face that without thinking she reached up and put her arm around his shoulder. What caused the sadness she sometimes saw on his face? Was he thinking of Leslie’s mother?

  He kissed her, his lips warm and tender. A part of her screamed that she should stop and run away. But another part felt like she’d just come home. It was as if she’d rediscovered a long lost treasure, something cherished and beautiful that she’d forgotten about for a very long time. She leaned against him and his arms encircled her, holding her securely. It felt natural to be in Jack’s embrace, to kiss him. The thought unsettled her. She’d once felt the same way about kissing Ben.

  She pulled away and was immediately struck by a pang of regret.

  “I don’t want to promise you things I’m not sure I can deliver,” she said.

  He ran his fingers gently over her cheek. “I understand. I’m not looking for a serious involvement either. While you’re here in Paradise, why shouldn’t we enjoy each other?”

  He smiled and then slipped through the rails of the corral. He untied his horse’s reins and led him back to the barn.

  Bridget let out an unsteady breath as she watched him walk away. She’d known that any relationship with Jack would have no strings, at least as far as he was concerned. But having him spell it out still disconcerted her.

  His offer was tempting. No, Jack was tempting. It was more than just his looks, though those were pretty enticing. It was the whole package, the complex, funny, kind man that he was.

  Did she want to take him up on his offer of a no-strings affair? She’d been faithful to Ben all through their marriage, hadn’t even thought of other men. Since her divorce, she’d been too busy surviving to think about dating.

  Could she get involved with Jack, make love with him, and then walk away at the end of the school term without breaking her heart?

  Maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bridget stirred the port and cognac sauce as it simmered gently on the back burner and checked her watched. Six o’clock. Jack’s German guests should be arriving in about a half hour for drinks, with dinner to be served at seven.

  The luncheon earlier in the day had gone well and she was hoping for two for two. However, the luncheon had been a much simpler affair with a buffet and an undemanding menu. Because the guest list had increased, she had increased the amount and the variety of the food served for lunch. Along with the beef Stroganoff and tomato and onion quiche, they’d served a creamy borscht soup and several salads, along with fresh breads, deli meats and cheeses so guests could make their own sandwiches if they chose. She and Tina decided to save the pie for dinner and for dessert at lunch made rhubarb crumble. Judging from the amount of food consumed at lunch, it had been a hit.

  But Bridget was taking no chances. For tonight’s dinner she and Tina were pulling out all the stops. Leslie had helped Tina set the table a short while ago before Jane had taken her to her house for the evening. The dining room glittered with the soft glow of candles and the light reflecting off the shining crystal glasses.

  For the dinner menu Bridget was trying dishes she’d once prepared often but hadn’t made in over two years. For the beef dish she’d made one of her favorites, roast beef tenderloin served with a port and cognac sauce. The dish was easy to prepare but looked and tasted impressive. She pulled another spoon out of the drawer and sampled the sauce. Perfection. A vegetarian lasagna packed with fresh mushrooms and a luscious béchamel sauce warmed in the oven, while a variety of salads, including a lentil salad featuring lentils from Gavin’s field, waited in the fridge. The pies lined the counter, ready to be topped with fresh whipped cream. She was nervous and felt a little rusty, but damn, it felt good to be working in a kitchen again.

  She ignored the butterflies doing the rumba in her stomach and went over her schedule. Everything was going according to plan. Maybe this evening would proceed smoothly. The thought made the butterflies sit out a couple of dances.

  Unfortunately the reprieve didn’t last long.

  “I told you, that’s my job.” Rebecca’s voice was raised in anger as she entered the kitchen. “You’re supposed to keep the water glasses filled. I clear the plates.”

  “Who says?” Tina’s daughter’s face was flushed bright red.

  “I told you before, my mom says. My mom’s in charge.”

  “My mom has just as much say as your mom. And she said I can clear the plates.”

  “Please don’t fight, you guys.” Megan sounded close to tears.

  “What’s going on?” Bridget said. Her butterflies began the cha-cha.

  “Shawna said she’s going to clear the plates but you said that was my job.” Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest, her mouth turned down in a frown.

  “What difference does it make?” Shawna asked. “My mom said I can clear plates.”

  “You just want to cause trouble,” Rebecca said. “Megan and I were better off without you.”

  Shawna’s face crumbled and she began to cry.

  “No one likes me anymore.”

  Tina went to her daughter and put her arms around her. She sent an annoyed look toward Rebecca. Bridget knew she had to take control before the situation escalated into total chaos. She banged her wooden spoon against a stainless steel pot.

  “I want all of you to listen to me very carefully. And that includes you, Tina. And you too, Mike.” She nodded at her nephew, who watched uncomfortably from the entrance to the kitchen. “There can be only one head chef in the kitchen and that’s me. I give the assignments and I expect them to be carried out with efficiency and without argument. I will not tolerate any fighting in my kitchen. If any of you have a problem with that, now’s the time to leave.”

  She looked pointedly at Tina. She stared back without blinking.

  “Good. I’m glad we’ve got that clear. If I hear one word of complaint or argument while our guests are in the house, you’re all fired.”

  They all stared at her dumbfounded for a few moments until Rebecca started to grin. “Very funny, Mom. How can you fire us? We’re volunteers.”

  She pointed to the kitchen door. “Try my patience in the kitchen, Rebecca, and see how fast you land on your ass outside that door.” She would not let her daughter’s rebelliousness ruin Jack’s business dinner. “Remember why we’re doing this. We’re helping Jack so that he gives you riding lessons. Do you really want to disappoint him?”

  She bowed her head. “No.”

  “Good, I’m glad to hear it. You and Shawna have been fighting over Megan like two dogs scrapping over a bone. It’s not fair to Megan and it’s upsetting her.”

  Rebecca reached for Megan’s hand. “I’m sorry, Meg.”

  “Me too, Megan,” Shawna whispered.

  “You said some pretty unkind things to Shawna just now, Rebecca. What do you think you should do about that?”

  Rebecca looked from Bridget to Shawna and back to Bridget. “I guess I should apologize.”

  “Yeah, I guess you should.”

  She turned to Shawna. “I didn’t mean what I said about not wanting you around. I’m sorry.”

  “Okay,” she said with a tremulous smile.

  Bridget nodded, satisfied that for at least the duration of the dinner they would quit fighting over Megan. “Good. It doesn’t matter to me who does which job, just that it gets done, and gets done well. If you can agree to switch assignments that’s fine. If one of you wants to stay in the kitchen and help with the prep work, that can be arranged as well. It’s up to the four of you to work it out between you.”

  Rebecca turned slowly to Shawna. “I guess I could fill water glasses if you’d rather clear plates.”

  Shawna wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Sure. I can do that.”

  “Can I help with the prep work, Auntie Bridget?” Megan asked.

  “Of course you can. I’ll show you what to do.”

  The doorbell rang, making th
em all jump. Bridget tightened her apron strings.

  “It’s showtime, people. Man your battle stations.”

  They worked furiously for a few minutes getting the trays of appetizers ready. A short while later Mike ran into the kitchen to let them know it was time to bring them to their guests. Each girl took a tray.

  “Girls, before you go I want to tell you how proud I am of you for working things out.” She looked at Tina. “You can never have too many friends, you know.”

  An unspoken understanding flowed between them. Tina grinned back. “And you never know where you’re going to find them.”

  Bridget laughed. “Amen to that, sister.”

  * * *

  Tina mopped the kitchen floor while Bridget washed the last of the pots and pans. When she finished, she let the water out of the sink and dried her hands.

  “I think the dinner went pretty well,” she said.

  Tina leaned on her mop. “Pretty well? We were freaking awesome! The food was fabulous, the table looked beautiful and the servers managed not to kill each other. What could be better?”

  “It was kind of awesome, wasn’t it?” She leaned against the counter and sighed. “I’ve really missed working in a kitchen. I’d almost forgotten how much fun it is.”

  Tina lifted her mop and looked up at her with a grin. “Oh yes, lots of fun. And don’t forget glamorous.”

  “It beats the hell out of cleaning toilets,” Bridget said.

  “Too true. I’m hoping it pays better too. You haven’t forgotten about our deal, have you?”

  “I’m not likely to forget with you reminding me every five minutes.”

  “I spoke to my neighbor and told her we’d cater her daughter’s wedding reception, but I didn’t quote her a price. I didn’t know what to tell her so I said we’d get back to her on that right away.”

  Bridget groaned. “Do we have to do this now?”

  “Yes. Time is money.” Tina found her purse and took out a pad of paper and a pen. “How much should we charge per person?”

  “That depends. What do they want?”

  “Basic stuff, turkey and ham, cold cuts with salads. The hot dishes would be mashed potatoes, cooked vegetables and cabbage rolls. You can’t have a wedding around here without cabbage rolls,” Tina said, referring to the dish consisting of rice and bits of bacon or sometimes minced pork rolled into a cabbage leaf bundle, smothered in tomato sauce and baked in the oven until tender. Bridget had never been a fan, but she knew cabbage rolls were well loved in this part of the world and served at many prairie functions.

  She did some quick figuring in her head and came up with a number. Tina almost choked.

  “Are you kidding me? That much?”

  “I’ve charged twice that for a similar meal in San Francisco,” Bridget said, “minus the cabbage rolls.”

  “But this isn’t San Francisco. That’s kind of high, isn’t it?”

  “There are more expenses than you think. Quality ingredients are expensive. We’ll need serving dishes and other supplies. We’re likely going to have to make a trip or two into Bismarck for the things we need. That’s going to cost us.”

  Tina’s brow knit together in worry. “I’m not sure they’ll go for our price. Maybe they’ll decide it’s not worth the bother to have a reception. It is a shotgun wedding, after all.”

  “So you’ve mentioned. Several times. We’ll have to do some research on food prices before we can give them a firm number, but if we’re going to make anything on this job, the price is going to be in that ballpark. If you’re not comfortable with that, maybe we should forget the whole thing.”

  “No, I don’t want to do that. I need the money.” Tina tapped her pen on the table. “What can we do to lower the cost?”

  “We don’t serve cabbage rolls. I don’t make them so we’re probably going to have to buy them from somewhere.”

  “I’ve made them hundreds of times. I can show you. If we do the work ourselves can we charge a little less?”

  “Probably, if you don’t consider the time it will take us. Like you said, time is money.”

  Tina grinned. “Right now, I have nothing but time. We’ll check out our prices, figure out a reasonable cost and then I’ll talk to our client.”

  Bridget nodded. She enjoyed sparring with Tina. She knew she could speak her mind and Tina would speak hers, no-holds-barred. There was something very liberating about being honest with each other.

  Tina rose from her chair and stretched. “I’m exhausted. I’m going to head home.” She picked up her purse and stuffed her pad of paper and pen back inside.

  “You worked hard. You deserve a good rest. The kids worked hard too, don’t you think?”

  “They did. They got off to a rocky start, but you certainly straightened them out. I didn’t think you had it in you to be so tough.”

  “I’ve had to be. If a chef’s not on top of everything in her kitchen, it all goes to hell in a handbasket very quickly.”

  Tina chuckled. “Well, tough love seemed to work. I never thought the girls would work together so well.”

  “Or that they’d all go over to Megan’s house for a sleepover.”

  “Miracles do happen. Look at us.”

  “Yeah, no kidding. You are the last person in the world I ever thought I’d work with.”

  “Right back at you. But you’re not so bad once you get past the prickly-city-girl outer core.”

  “And you’re okay under the gossipy, two-faced stuff.”

  “Thanks, I think.” Tina pulled her jacket from the closet and put it on. “Well, it’s been a slice, but I’m outta here. I’ll see you here about seven tomorrow morning. Good night, sweetie.”

  She pulled Bridget into a hug. For a second Bridget held herself stiff, then she relaxed and hugged her back.

  “See you tomorrow morning, bright and early.”

  “Good night.”

  With a wave Tina slipped out the door. A moment later Jack entered the kitchen.

  “Was that Tina?” he asked.

  “Yeah. We just finished cleaning up.”

  “I wanted to tell her, tell both of you, what a fantastic job you did. My clients were very impressed.”

  He stepped close and put his arms around her. “They asked me to extend their compliments to the chef.”

  Her heart rate increased with his touch. She looked up into his face. His blue eyes smiled at her, his mouth curved in a flirtatious grin. His lips were so close that she needed only to lean forward a fraction to kiss him. She trembled, wanting him so much it was almost painful.

  “You did an amazing job, Bridget. You’re an amazing woman.”

  His face took on a seriousness that told her he meant what he said. A flirtatious Jack she could handle, but a serious Jack was much more dangerous.

  His head lowered slowly. When his lips touched hers a firestorm of emotions flared inside her. Excitement and fear danced just under the surface of her skin. He’d kissed her before, but this was somehow different, more real. Bridget wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer.

  Her body hummed with pleasure as he cupped her bottom. Bridget pressed herself against him, running her hands over the strong muscles of his back. She loved the solid feel of him, the strength of his hands and his body. It had been so long since she’d been touched like this, since she’d felt desired like this.

  How long would she maintain Jack’s interest this time? How long would it take him to find someone new if she returned to San Francisco?

  She pushed away from him. All that was in the past. Why was she bringing up ancient history? What the hell was the matter with her?

  Jack must have been thinking the same thing. “Are you all right?”

  She touched her hand to her forehead to quell the jumble of confusing thoughts there. “Yes, I’m fine. Maybe this is just a little too fast for me.”

  “You know I want you to stay with me tonight, to make love with me.”

  She l
icked her dry lips, her mouth suddenly parched. “Yes, I know. I don’t think I’m ready, Jack. I’m sorry.”

  He closed his eyes briefly and then smiled. “It’s okay. I understand.” He stepped away, his eyes carefully averted from hers, but not before she saw the hurt clouding his expression. Her heart caught in her throat.

  “Jack—”

  “Hey, it’s okay.” He took several more steps away from her. “It’s late. I’m going to turn in. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

  She reached inside the closet for her jacket. “Okay. I’ll be back at about seven to prepare breakfast. Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  She left the house quickly and headed for her car, fighting against the urge to run back into the house and hold Jack in her arms. She wanted to tell him she’d changed her mind, that she wanted to make love with him. For a long time she stood next to her car and watched the house, only getting inside when the lights in the house went out, one by one.

  At seventeen, she’d loved Jack with all her heart, but as far back as junior high school, she’d known she couldn’t stay in Paradise. She had dreams and ambitions that couldn’t be fulfilled by staying in the small town. If she’d stayed for Jack’s sake she knew she’d soon grow to resent him, and she couldn’t bear that. Better a clean break than a slow, painful death. But she hadn’t been prepared for the shock of the pain that hit her when she’d learned of Jack’s marriage so soon after their split.

  Had anything really changed in twenty years? It struck her as ironic that they were in exactly the same position they’d found themselves in back then. Jack’s life was here and hers was...

  Where exactly was her life? Did she and Rebecca belong in Paradise? Or were they better off back in San Francisco? Perhaps somewhere else?

  She put her car into gear and gunned the engine. The answer wasn’t any easier now than it had been twenty years ago.

  Chapter Thirteen