by Maddie James
Ah.
Suzie lay back in her garden tub, a rolled towel at her neck, hair piled on top of her head, bubbles up to her ears. Lilac drifted through the humid heaviness of her bathroom. She breathed deep. Sighed. The perfumed bubbles mimicked the fresh scent that drifted through her bedroom in early summer from the lilac bush that lived outside her window.
With the flick of one finger she switched on the jets. Nice. Yes. The hard streams of water worked on her tired and tensed muscles. This was her third cycle of hot water added to the tub. The bubbles grew larger, and she wanted to lose herself in them.
She sank lower. Maybe if she stayed here long enough, the bubbles would erase all the bad stuff that happened in the past few hours.
Well, she supposed it wasn’t exactly bad stuff.
Uncomfortable, yes. Unplanned, that too. Thinking…sure, there were things to think about. Funny, when Cliff told her he wanted a divorce, she did not have to think about it. She accepted it and told him to go on his merry way. When she realized it was her sister he wanted, well then, that had required thought.
Wouldn’t any woman think about that?
Her sister was younger, thinner, attractive. She had cornered the market from an early age on cute and bright. In fact, she had earned three degrees while attending state university on a cheerleading scholarship.
And she was fertile.
Yes, she was that.
Apparently. She and Cliff got pregnant oh-so-quickly after they had married. At last, one of the daughters gave her parents the grandchild they’d longed for. The one Suzie had never given them.
Yes, little sis Chelly was quite the girl. Landed herself quite the man. Now had quite the baby. Along with an ideal little picket-fence life in Dalton Springs. Thank God they decided Legend was too close for comfort.
When Suzie had decided she needed to leave Legend—leave Cliff for a while—she was overjoyed to finally put her culinary skills to good use. Something besides cooking dinner for Cliff every night. That’s all he’d thought she was good for. Her husband never wanted her to work. He didn’t like the thought of her cooking for other people. Only tolerated her working on her cookbook because he thought it was a great hobby.
Hobby. Bleah.
Suzie slapped down a handful of bubbles that begged to tickle her ear. “Cliff never saw my cooking as important,” she muttered. “I have no clue why I put up with him for so darn long.”
Now Brad. He found her culinary skills very useful. Which was probably one of the reasons she’d fallen for him, lock-stock-and-barrel. When she’d taken the job at the haughty Mountain View Resort Hotel in the Smoky Mountains outside of Gatlinburg, he’d hand-picked her for his sous chef after a week as line cook.
Brad Matthews was the top-dog chef at Mountain View, the Chef de Cuisine for the resort, and he was a damned good one to boot. Suzie hadn’t worked with anyone as skilled at the Cramdon University School of Culinary Arts in New York. She’d longed to work someplace where she’d actually be valued for her talent and was eager to please Brad in every sense of the word.
They’d quickly fallen into a relationship. Maybe it was all the attention he’d paid her that attracted her to him. Probably. Cliff never gave her that sort of attention. And of course, Brad was unlike shoe-salesman Cliff. Brad was a six-pack, Adonis-type bad-boy from Atlanta. Cliff was nearly bald and from Dalton Springs. Brad was five years her junior. Cliff was seven years her senior. Brad was fit and buff and quite the ladies’ man. Cliff was, well, pudgy.
But so was she. She had a little pudge around the middle from all those years of cooking for Cliff. To say she was surprised when Brad Matthews made a pass at her late one evening after cleaning up was an understatement. She’d admired Brad as a chef. Loved his style of running the kitchen. Couldn’t wait to get to work each and every day to see what new delectable dish he would serve up.
But she never, ever, in a million years thought he’d be interested in her in a romantic way. Or a sexual way. Pudgy Suzie. A little thick around the middle. Five years older.
And barren.
Of course he didn’t know about the barren part. It was not the kind of thing you blurted out to someone who you were having an affair with. And just as well. When Brad shared his dreams with her one evening, dreams of being his own boss, having a family, settling down into life, it was then she knew she had to end it.
Brad Matthews was a fantasy. He wasn’t real life. Five years younger than her and wanting a family. Something she could never give him. She’d decided to take herself out of the picture and high-tail her thirty-six-year old little (okay, pudgy) fanny back to Legend where she belonged.
Of course, she had no earthly idea that Cliff and Chelly were waiting in the wings to break the big news to her.
Oh, well.
Suzie shook herself. The water was getting cold again, the bubbles were dying. Her fingers and toes were like tiny prunes.
“Time to get out, Suzie-Q.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out. A few bubbles churned up and flitted away. Suzie-Q. Suzette. Brad’s pet names for her. She hated to admit it, but she’d missed them.
How in the hell was she going to send him packing?
****
“Aunt Bertha is drinking the cooking wine again.”
Suzie tossed a glance over her shoulder while slowly stirring the fondue pot full of white cooking wine, a little kirsch—the latter of which she’d purposely kept away from Bertha Hertz—and a mixture of Emmental and Gruyère cheeses. “Precisely why, Sarah Hertz, that I do not put the good stuff out for my cooking classes. Although it pains me to cook with anything but real alcohol, I will not waste expensive liquor on your aunt’s indulgences.”
“Harrumph! Nasty stuff!” Bertha replaced the bottle on the counter and toddled away.
Suzie watched Bertha move toward her bedroom, supposing that when one was ninety-nine and holding, one could do whatever one wished.
“Sarah, honey, perhaps Aunt Bertha is ready for her nap. Why don’t you take her back to my bed to doze?”
Always the obedient niece, fifty-year-old Sarah Hertz did just that. After a few minutes, she returned. “Aunt Bertha will sleep like a baby now.”
Suzie swiped her brow with the back of her hand. “Good,” she whispered under her breath.
This Saturday’s cooking class was a disaster waiting to happen. Now that Bertha was safely tucked into bed and out of harm’s way, however, Suzie figured they could get down to business.
“Ladies…and gentleman.” She nodded toward Jim Hood. His new wife Lilly sat to his left. Ever since she moved to Legend a few months earlier, Lilly was fast becoming a close friend of Suzie’s. Her gaze swept the remainder of the group. Finally, she had everyone’s attention. “The fine art of fondue. A great way to use old bread, cheese and leftover wine and a really cool way to impress a date or hubby.” She glanced at Jim again. “Or wife. Spouse, I guess I should say. Of course, most hubbies around here wouldn’t know what to do with a fondue if it hit them in the face on a Tuesday afternoon since it didn’t once stand on all fours, eat grass and moo. But nevertheless, the more cultured of us Legendarians might like to spice up the moment with something new. Hence, fondue.”
Suzie had no earthly idea why she was rattling on.
Five sets of blank eyes stared at her.
“All right!” She shoved the small fondue pots toward her students. “You each have your own pot and can choose the kind of fondue you want to make. You can cook in broth or oil, make cheese fondue like I’ve demonstrated, or do a chocolate desert fondue. The recipes and the ingredients are in front of you. Choose your poison.”
Her students appeared hesitant.
Sarah looked from Suzie to the fondue pot and back to Suzie again. Being a true Libra (and the local astrology guru, sharing her forecasts with anyone who would listen) it would be a while before Sarah made her decision, balancing out her choices. Was she eating meat this week? Or was she on a vegetarian kic
k again? Hm. Jim and Lilly leaned close together and mumbled over their choices, finally choosing chocolate with lush strawberries for dipping. Suzie should have known. The stuff of love. Betsy McClain, still home on pregnancy leave from the real estate office had talked it over with very young and just-wed Macy Grey. The two of them decided to do cheese again.
“Suzie, one question.”
She turned and smiled. “Sure Jim-boy, what’s up?”
He grinned one of those half-sideways grins that she’d learned long ago meant trouble. Damn. She wasn’t in any mood for this today.
“Well, Ms. Cookie. I just gotta know. What the hell happened to your head?”
Suzie’s right hand flew up to the bump above her right temple. “Oh!” She felt herself turn six shades of crimson. Last thing she needed.
“Oh, silly me. Um. Yesterday, I was doing some planting.” She turned to the rest of the group, “Did you all see my new flowers by the lake side of the house? Well, I got carried away and stepped back on a shovel and well, clumsy old me, it went wonk and hit me upside the head.”
They all continued to stare at her like she had three heads or something. It wasn’t that big of a bump.
“Suzie Schul, you don’t have a clumsy bone in your body.” Jim grinned again. Damn him. Did he know something?
“Well, ha! Yesterday, I guess I did.” She waved him off. “You guys get to work. I’ll float around and will be here if you need any help.” She believed in learning by doing, and wasn’t about to guide these adults step-by-step through the process. Mistakes made were lessons learned, in her book.
And anything to get them off the subject of her head was fine by her.
“Oh, Suzie. Your flame went out under your pot.” Suzie looked toward where Sarah pointed.
“Darn. You’re right.” The little canned flame under the fondue pot had been difficult to light earlier. She guessed it was out of juice.
She rounded the kitchen island and leaned over to inspect the flame. With her lip tucked between her teeth, hands on hips, she rose to assess the situation. “Need my lighter,” she said under her breath. After rummaging around in a nearby utility drawer, she finally found one. Bending again, she pulled the can-o-flame from under the fondue pot and struggled with the snap-snap-snap of the trigger to ignite a flame.
She looked up. All eyes were still on her.
“Never mind about me, y’all, go on with your ingredients. We’ll light your fires in a minute.”
She bent to fiddle once more with the lighter.
“Darn thing.”
She snap-snapped. No luck.
“Mind if I try?”
The voice startled her. She rose to find herself face-to-face with a very nice black t-shirt covered chest—a chest that she knew all too well—and then gazed up into an incredible set of chocolate-colored eyes.
Brad.
“Huh?” She licked her lips.
“Mind if I try lighting your flame?”
Jim guffawed.
Suzie swallowed. “Um.”
Finally, Brad took the lighter out of her hand.
Five pairs of eyes were stuck like glue to her. She could feel it and whipped back around to face them. “Are you all going to make fondue or what?”
Five sets of hands scrambled to grab something in front of them, hastily assembling their ingredients.
“Fondue is the greatest thing.” Brad talked to no one in particular and everyone at the same time while he fiddled with the lighter. Within a few seconds, he’d managed to light the flame, carefully move it back under the fondue pot, and hand the lighter back to Suzie.
“There, that should do it.”
She managed a half-smile. “Um, thanks.”
Brad peered over into the pot of cheese and then picked up a whisk off the counter. “One of the keys to a good fondue,” he began, all eyes on him again, “is in the light whisking of the cheese and wine mixture.” With several rapid flicks of his wrist he managed to whip the cheese and wine into a batter-like consistency. Suzie couldn’t help but take in the sinews of his forearm and wrist and the firm grasp his long fingers had on the whisk.
She swallowed back memories of his hands. Smoothing. Whisking. Laying them on her.
A flush of heat snaked up the sides of her neck and settled on her cheeks. Crimson. She was growing even more crimson, likely. Great.
“Suzette?”
She glanced up. Brad grinned and handed her the whisk. “Um. Oh. Thank you. That demonstration was...um, nice. I’m sure we all will benefit from your hands, er, whisking, er, motions. And, the lighting of the flame thing.”
Brad dipped his head with a devilish grin. “Always ready to light your flame, ma’am.” With a sly wink, he edged out of the room.
Suzie’s jaw dropped.
For a moment, nothing else moved. Then collectively, every woman in the room sighed—long and hard.
On the heels of that collective exhale, Jim released a loud cackle.
“Looks like our Suzie’s got herself a boyfriend.”
She spun toward the man who had been her best friend since childhood. “I do not!”
“Do!”
“Not!”
“Do!”
“Not!”
“Well then tell me, Ms. Cookie, just one thing. That bump on your head have anything to do with the shiner over his left eye? You guys been touching toes or something and get a little frisky?” He belly-laughed as he spat out the words.
Lilly side-armed him in the gut.
Suzie picked up a strawberry and just threw it. She missed his open mouth by a mile.
Chapter Five
One last swipe at the cooking island and Suzie glanced around her. The kitchen was back in order. Finally. Bread crumbs swept away. Cheese and chocolate drips wiped clean. Every one of her students was sent home with a plastic container of their fondue-of-choice and dippers du jour.
What a day.
Even her bones ached.
She was ready for more bubble-therapy.
She glanced at her kitchen wall clock, a retro-version of a black cat with a swinging tail, silhouetted against her yellow walls, ticking off the seconds.
Four-forty-three.
“Hell’s bells.”
The town meeting was at five. She needed to get moving.
No time to change, but she did manage a quick look in the bathroom mirror and frowned at her face that started out the day with make-up on. She pulled her long hair into some semblance of a ponytail and headed for the back door. At the last second she paused at her bedroom full-length mirror and took in her reflection.
Ugh.
She had a little height…that helped. And at thirty-six she supposed she wasn’t too pudgy. Her snug jeans fit nicely at her hips and she still had a hint of a waist. At least she wasn’t top-heavy and didn’t look dowdy. She hated dowdy. She leaned closer. Her complexion was nice. Pale and clear skin, a smattering of freckles, no age blemishes. Hair. Still long and thick and….
She was still five years older than Brad.
Ugh.
She turned and studied herself back and front for a moment longer. Could Brad really be interested in her? Did she have what it takes? Him being a younger man and all? It didn’t bother her eighteen months ago.
Or him.
Did it?
Forget about it, Suzie.
But the thing was—was she interested? She hated to admit it, but she was. Darned hard to forget those blissful two months she’d spent in his arms. She had to admit that the memories of her nights spent with him warmed her on cold lonely nights this past year.
And she still got hot every time he was near. Like this afternoon. Damn him for interrupting her cooking class and setting her cheeks on fire.
Could she even consider it?
Is that really why he came back? To get back together? Permanently?
What other reason could there be?
The chime of her grandfather clock signaled five o’clock. She
raced out the door and stumbled down her back steps. Lucky for her the antique clock was permanently set ten minutes fast. Although she had tried, there was nothing she could do to set it right. Most days it worked to her advantage. Like now.
Her Honda Element sat in the drive pointing toward the road. Brad’s bike was no longer on the gravel short lane. She’d not seen him since his fondue demonstration an hour earlier. Good. She wasn’t in the right frame of mind to deal with him.
But maybe he’d realized that.
He’d been in and out all day and she’d barely seen him. Business, he’d called out from the door when she’d laid out coffee and muffins early this morning. He’d grabbed a to-go foam cup, filled it to the brim with her special blend, stuffed one of her fresh-baked signature muffins into a large paper napkin, and vamoosed.
She had to wonder what kind of business Brad Matthews had in Legend besides her. Interesting….
Nevertheless, she was late for the meeting. Luckily, Legend’s Old Meeting House was only seven and a half minutes away if one drove the speed limit.
Which she did. Of course.
The meeting this evening was one in a series to discuss the natural progression of Legend’s growth. Most of the town residents were for development and job security. They wanted the factory to come to town. Others wanted to keep Legend as it was: a replica of Mayberry R.F.D. Suzie found herself somewhere in the middle. Although, she was all for doing whatever was needed to keep the town’s economy stable, she felt the goal could be accomplished by successfully revitalizing Legend’s downtown business district, which was definitely on the upswing the past couple of years. Making good with what was already here, rather than leveling prime woods outside of town to build big box stores or adding an industrial park, made sense to her.
She, like many others, didn’t want Legend to become another Pigeon Forge. Although she liked to shop in Pigeon Forge, she couldn’t imagine living there. She wanted her little mountain town to stay the same—just be more economically sound.
The Mayor and the Town Council had been meeting with local committee members, town planners, business developers, and consultants over the past year. Tonight the topic was on the local economy and how to keep Legend alive and vital for future generations.
