by Betty Bolte
She selected a tomato and started dicing it. His silent perusal disrupted her usual precise strokes, reducing her slices to awkward chunks instead of the small squares she’d aimed to make. It would have to do. She sighed inwardly so Grant wouldn’t suspect how discombobulated his being so close made her feel. Pulling off a decent meal with an appealing presentation remained her primary goal. Secondly, to do so without making a fool of herself.
Grant turned at a sound in the hallway. “Look who’s feeling better.”
Beth sauntered into the kitchen, a slight smile gracing her lips. “Sorry I didn’t say hello earlier.”
“No problem. I could tell you weren’t your usual cheery self.” He pushed to his feet and turned the chair around with a flip of his hands. “Have a seat.”
“You didn’t need to do that.” Beth accepted the invitation, crossing her legs as she smiled up at Grant. “But thanks.”
“You look like you feel much better.” The fact he’d acted the gentleman didn’t escape her notice. Drat the man. Tara scraped the last of the diced tomato into another bowl and then crossed to the sink to wash her hands. Drying them on a towel, she turned to inspect her sister’s features for any signs of distress or pain. “I’m glad you’re back on your feet.”
“I didn’t want to miss out on your dinner this evening.” She tossed a glance up at Grant, where he leaned against the counter. “Especially with our esteemed guest.”
Good. Beth continued to be interested in Grant. Tara could step away and encourage them to explore their likes and dislikes, their similarities and differences. Ultimately for Beth and Grant to fall in love and move away, which would satisfy all three of them. The plan would work. Despite the clawing jealousy bursting to life inside by the simple thought. She squared her shoulders, prepared to fight her own inclinations for everyone’s sanity.
“Beth, if you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you take Grant on the nickel tour of the house?” Spend some time together and get him out of here, is what she really wanted to say. Before she succumbed to the temptations he embodied. “Grant hasn’t seen it yet.”
“I’d like that.” He pushed away from the counter and offered a hand to Beth to help her stand. “If you don’t mind, that is.”
Beth took his proffered hand and rose to her feet. She started and then flicked a surprised look at Tara for a heartbeat. Turning back to Grant, she angled her head with a smug smile. “Follow my lead.”
“Be sure to tell him the history behind the dining room table. That’s a great story.” Tara lifted both brows as she speared her sister with her gaze. “And the horses.”
Grant shot her a glance, brows raised. “Horses?”
“Right. We’ll get to that. Our grandfather liked to work with his hands and made furniture. He converted a baby grand piano into the most amazing table.” Beth pivoted and sauntered out of the kitchen, in tour guide mode, with Grant beside her. “Come on; you’ll like this.”
Tara had a moment of triumph after they left the kitchen, Beth’s voice fading as they made their way through the house. Roxie would come home in a few minutes, so Tara turned to start the meat to cook. She retrieved the boxes of shells and then turned the oven on to preheat. Pulling a sheet pan from the cabinet beside the stove, she banged it onto the counter as the door opened and Roxie sashayed inside.
“Hey, is that Grant’s car out front?” Roxie placed her purse on the shelf by the door and stuffed her keys inside. “I wasn’t expecting him until a little later.”
Tension in Roxie’s shoulders hinted at a difficult day at the store. With the busy holiday season about to descend upon the popular book and gift store, more customers also meant the need for more stock and patience to deal with the sometimes rushed, gruff, or even rude people. Roxie had amazing people skills, friendly and welcoming, but when too many of the latter type of people invaded the tranquility of the Golden Owl, her nerves ended up raw by the time she returned home. Perhaps Tara had stumbled on the cause of Beth’s distress as well.
“He drove me home from Edna’s earlier this afternoon.” Tara opened the box and removed the shells, arranging them on the pan as she glanced at her sister. “He’s been hanging out with me.”
“Lucky you.” Roxie winked at her and then rolled her shoulders a few times before crossing the room to peer at the bowls of tomato, avocado, and lettuce. “Want me to do anything?”
Tara studied her sister’s tired expression and then returned to the task at hand. “Nope. Dinner will be in about ten minutes, so you have time to freshen up if you’d like.” She arranged the second set of shells beside the first before turning to stir the sizzling meat and onion. “Beth is giving Grant the tour.”
“Oh good. This old house has quite a history; one people need to remember.” Roxie nodded to herself as she walked across the room. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Tara pivoted to open the cans of olives and peppers. Draining the excess liquid in the sink, she dumped the contents of each into separate ramekin bowls. While the meat cooked, she carried the bowls to the table and arrayed them in the center. Then she hurried to grab the pan of shells and pop them into the oven to warm for a few minutes. She spun around when she heard Grant’s booming laughter in the hallway, footsteps drawing near. Her pulse quick-stepped in her veins.
“So they stabled the horses in the basement during the war? That’s incredible.” Grant’s rich, dark-chocolate voice held admiration as he walked beside Beth into the kitchen. “And outrageous to boot.”
“Did you show him the scrapes on the stones from the horses’ metal shoes?” Roxie trailed behind them, her long brown hair confined in a loose bun at the back of her head. “I find it fun to imagine what it must have been like, what it must have smelled and sounded like to have horses in the basement.”
Tara laughed at the shock on Grant’s face. “What, Grant? You didn’t think about the smell?”
He met her gaze and shook his head slowly. “Awful. Just awful.”
They all laughed at his expression. Tara liked his easy manner, the way he fit into the group without fanfare or obvious effort. He didn’t need to be the center of attention even though in this instance his status as a guest made him their focus. She smiled at him, especially when he offered to help Beth set the table. Roxie took drink orders and filled glasses with beer or wine as each requested. Tara lifted the lid off the skillet and stirred the meat, pleased all the elements of the meal would finish at the same time. She set the lid on a cold burner, turned off the heat under the skillet, and then drained the meat before pouring it into a large bowl. Carrying the steaming bowl to the table, she sniffed. Was something burning?
Oh no. Not again. She thumped the bowl onto the table and then whirled around. Unlike the sticky buns earlier in the morning, the shells were not just singed but on frigging damn fire. Flames flickered inside the closed oven, smoke seeping out and setting off the damn alarm. Yet again.
She ran toward the oven, but Grant sprinted to reach the stove first. He yanked open the door and grabbed the lid, slamming it on the shells to smother the flames. Tara stared in horror at the sight of the crushed and charred shells, a sight that only made the smell of burned corn worse, choking everyone and making them cough, combined with the sound of the blaring smoke alarm Roxie frantically fanned with a towel.
“I’ve never seen taco shells ignite before.” Grant used pot holders to lift the pan out of the oven and put it on top of the stove. Closing the oven door, he turned off the heat. “What happened?”
“I have no clue.” Tara glared at the ruined mess. “I’ve never had them burst into flames. Ever.” She crossed her arms and glanced at Grant, then Beth, and finally Roxie. How was she to salvage this disaster? All the toppings but no shells. “Taco salad without the tacos, anyone?”
Roxie’s giggle grew into a chuckle and then exploded into guffaws. Her laughter proved contagious, and soon everyone but Tara was wiping tears from their eyes as they tried to regain contr
ol.
After several minutes, Tara clapped her hands sharply and glared at each of them, which brought their laughing fit to an abrupt halt. “I don’t find this situation funny.”
“We’re not laughing at you, sis. But you must admit it is rather ironic.” Roxie dried her eyes as she smiled at Tara. “Besides, it’s not a total loss. We can always eat the other stuff nachos style.”
“Sure. I’ll grab the chips.” Beth hurried to the pantry and pulled out the bag. “Let’s eat.”
Grant smiled kindly at Tara, which only served to make her more embarrassed at this unprecedented failure. “No worries, Tara. Everything else looks really good.”
“You have to say that since you’re the guest.” She sidled past him to take her seat, avoiding any possible contact as discreetly as possible. “Why don’t you sit beside Beth and I’ll sit over here.” Across the table, as far away as she could position herself.
He winked at her as he did as she instructed. “Fine by me.”
Was that a smirk on his face? Why? It didn’t matter. She planned to push him toward her sister at every turn. Encourage the two of them to fall in love, marry, and move away. Her stomach fell as a shiver shimmied up her spine. Never mind. She’d grow accustomed to the idea over time. She smoothed a paper napkin into her lap before piling chips on her plate. She looked up and then froze when she understood why he acted like he’d won first prize. She sat directly across from him so that every time she lifted her gaze she’d be totally aware of the gorgeous man she most wanted to avoid. She looked to her plate, intent on ignoring him as best she could.
Dinner couldn’t end soon enough.
Chapter 6
Rain drummed on the roof of the house, matching Tara’s mood. Dark, dismal, wet. Perfect. She rolled out of bed and padded to the bathroom to start her day. With luck, nobody would mention the fire. Mortified by the extreme kindness radiating from Grant in her direction all through dinner had left her feeling irritable. After she finished her morning routine and dressed in forest green leggings and a bulky sweater, she headed to the kitchen for coffee.
She didn’t blame Grant for not sticking around very long after the meal. After all, she avoided eye contact with him the entire time he sat across from her, tempting her to meet his gaze. What an awful, embarrassing evening too.
When she strolled into the kitchen, Beth glanced up from the newspaper she read at the table. “Morning, sunshine.”
“Not likely.” Tara shot her a grimace as she opened the cabinet to select a mug. “Please don’t mention it.”
“What?” Beth blinked wide eyes in a failed attempt to feign innocence.
“Just drop it.” Tara poured hot brew into her cup and replaced the carafe. Holding the mug with both hands, she took a sip while Beth chuckled and returned her attention to the article she’d been perusing. A change of subject. That’s what she needed. “What are you reading?”
Beth pointed a finger at the text, tracking where she read. “Seems there was a mild earthquake centered about thirty miles from here up on the plateau. A known fault line but usually inactive, according to this. So the quake was a surprise.”
“So far out there won’t be any damage or injury.” Tara sipped and contemplated her sister’s sudden interest in geology. Promising. Upsetting, a little voice whispered. She ignored it. “At least it wasn’t strong enough for us to feel it.”
“Which is a huge relief to me.” Roxie strode into the room, the scent of her perfume vying with the aroma of the coffee.
Tara peered at Roxie, surprised and amazed at how sharp her ears must be to add to an ongoing conversation immediately upon entrance into the room. “Why is that?”
“I’ve made a decision, and I don’t want anything to interfere with it.” Roxie filled a mug in several swift moves and then leaned against the counter to address Tara and Beth. She slowly smiled, her gaze resting on Tara for several moments. “It’s something I think will help you, in particular. Guess what it is.”
Roxie’s expression hinted at mischief by the glint in her eyes and the upward tilt of her lips. A slight flush also indicated heightened excitement along with the small opening of her mouth as she waited for them to follow her lead. The longer Tara looked at her, the more certain she became she wasn’t going to like her decision.
Tara studied her, finally realizing she’d stared too long. “Must we play games so early in the morning?”
“Spill it, Roxie.” Beth turned the page of the paper but kept her attention on the conversation instead of the headlines, one hand laying on the newsprint. “Neither of us are in the mood to guess.”
“You guys are no fun this morning.” Roxie shook her head and shook a finger at them. “Fine. I’ll just tell you. We’re going to throw a good old-fashioned Thanksgiving dinner.”
Tara’s heart nearly stopped at the idea. The three of them in the kitchen together? Panic filled her chest, beginning as a flutter and slowly expanding into a swarm of agitated butterflies frolicking inside. “We are?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the hard stuff. You know, the turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, and gravy.” Roxie pinned Beth with a look and continued. “You can take care of the green bean casserole, candied yams, glazed carrots, and whatever other veggies you choose.” Those hazel eyes landed on Tara. “All you have to do is make desserts. Whatever kinds of pies or cakes you’d like. Easy peasy.”
“But—” She couldn’t. The chaos in her chest increased and consumed her. She didn’t want to bake, let alone make a cake. Pressure built in her chest, her heart skipping a beat now and again. Then she remembered the Sweet Serendipity and relaxed with a heartfelt sigh. She didn’t have to bake anything. “Thank goodness for the new bakery.”
Roxie wagged a finger at her, her gaze sharp and unbending. “Nope. We’re making everything ourselves, just like Mom used to do. It’s a family tradition.”
The tradition was their mother made everything, and they assisted. Tara had mainly contributed by helping with the shopping and on the big day setting the table. Not by actually chopping or blending or whipping. A shudder of despair vibrated along her spine as she blinked at her sisters. Tears slid unheeded down her cheeks. She imagined globs instead of batter, lumps instead of whipped. All the ways she would mangle the act of preparing a dish that would prove both pleasing to the eye and edible. Very high thresholds indeed.
“Why would we go through the effort for the three of us?” Beth looked at Roxie, a double crease of confusion between her eyes.
“Good question, Beth.” Tara smiled at her. She’d provided a potential out to dissuade Roxie from pursuing her crazy idea. “We don’t need to have all that food for us.”
“I forgot the best part.” Roxie glanced at each of them, her eyes twinkling. “We won’t invite our neighbors like we used to, but we will still have a full table. We’re going to invite our cousins.”
Cousins. Oh goodness, how soon she forgot they had new kin. Tara quickly ran through the recent revelations about their cousins. Meredith and Paulette O’Connell were found to be related to the three sisters, thanks to an indiscretion on the part of a shared grandfather. Tara liked them as friends even before they’d learned of their kinship, so adding the two ladies to the family had been a welcome event. She just hadn’t thought about including them in their family holidays. Indeed, the dynamics of all of their family gatherings would change. A bittersweet thought as it meant absorbing new traditions into their existing ones. What traditions did they have that may need to be learned? Another impending change.
“What about Zak and Max?” Beth set her coffee on the table and then stood. “We’re inviting them, too?”
“Naturally.” Roxie dropped her hands from her hips and picked up her coffee to take a sip. “They’re family by marriage.”
The number of guests kept growing. Tara cringed inwardly at the dawning of another possible guest. Given he drove all those miles to spend the holiday with Zak, she had no doubt he�
�d end up sitting at their dining room table. Joy. “I have no idea what I’ll make for dessert, though. Are you sure you don’t want me to put together a nice salad? That would be healthier than all the sugars and fats in the desserts.”
Roxie stared at her, slowly blinking both eyes. “Salad? Are you kidding me? At our first full family holiday dinner?”
Roxie’s disappointed gaze chilled Tara to the core. Thanksgiving dinner had always been about the bounty of the harvest with a wide array of delicious temptations. Salad not among them. Ever. Tara swallowed and braced her shoulders. She’d make something for dessert. Something amazing and wonderful that wouldn’t bring back the disappointment in Roxie’s eyes. She couldn’t stand to fail her big sister in her quest to bring the entire family together officially for the holiday banquet. Especially since it would be the first time with company since their mother’s death.
She thought back over the years, trying to recall what her mother had fixed. Carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and walnuts sprinkled across the top? Her mouth watered at the idea but she couldn’t do it. That was a recipe she and her mom had made together, not one she felt confident to make on her own. Angel food Waldorf cake? Way too complicated for her. Raisin cake? She saw again the result of her last attempt. A gooey mess. No, probably not a good idea. Strawberry rhubarb pie? How did one make a pie crust from scratch? She cringed. Each idea she dismissed as too complicated, but surely she could find something even a klutz could make.
“Fine. I’ll do it, but under duress.” Tara smothered a sigh as she turned to refill her cup, ignoring the slight tremor in her fingers as she poured the hot liquid.
Roxie chuckled and then cleared her throat. “One more thing, Beth.”
At the sound of suppressed mirth in her oldest sister’s voice, Tara slowly raised her eyes to determine what the cause might be. She soon found out.
“Yes, Roxie?” Beth drained her cup and set it on the table.
