Love's Encore Series (Books One and Two)

by Miranda MacLeod

  The table was set with three places grouped together on one end. A few serving bowls were already on the table, fancy china that most people would save for special occasions. Is this a special occasion, or do families like this just eat off china every night? Rorie felt more of the insecurity she thought she’d left behind at the Louisiana border. Though, speaking of Cajun country, beside one of the bowls was a small bottle of Rorie’s favorite red pepper sauce, still in its plastic wrapper and obviously purchased just for her. Rorie smiled, feeling most of the self-doubt melt away. No matter how much of an outsider she’d been in their college days, Cecily had been the one person who’d made her feel like she belonged.

  Rorie took a seat on one side of the table and Tyler sat across from her, leaving the head spot for Cecily. She entered the dining room balancing a platter in each hand. The apron was gone, but the full skirt of her dress still gave her a vintage air. It suited her. Her accent might sound clipped and northern now, but deep down Cecily had always been the perfect southern lady. It was part of what made her so charming. And infuriating. As she set the platters on the table, the garlicky aroma of roast lamb and potatoes tickled Rorie’s nose and made her mouth water.

  “This looks amazing, Cici,” Rorie said as she scooped a generous portion onto her plate. “I had no idea you could cook.”

  “Oh, Mom’s a fantastic cook,” Tyler said, jumping in before Cecily had a chance to answer. “She watches those cooking shows, and gets all the produce fresh from the farmer’s market, and everything. She could totally be a professional chef.”

  “My son exaggerates,” Cecily demured, blushing. “I’m just a housewife. It’s not like I’m winning awards with my cooking or anything.”

  “Well, it looks fantastic,” Rorie assured her. “I’ve been living off of sandwiches and microwave dinners since I arrived.”

  “No wonder you agreed to come over for dinner. You were starving!”

  “Ha! More like your son is very persuasive. And talented. He showed me his film project.”

  “Tyler!” Cecily scolded. “I told you not to force Rorie to watch your film. That’s taking advantage.”

  “No, I’m glad he did,” Rorie countered. “Like I said, he’s got some real talent. More than enough to get into film school.”

  “Film school?” Cecily looked questioningly at her son. “You never said anything about film school. You told your father you had your application ready for the early decision deadline at Yale. He’s going to go ballistic if he comes home and finds out you didn’t apply.”

  “No, Mom, I do. I will,” Tyler answered, fidgeting uncomfortably in his chair. “It’s just that Rorie said … .”

  “Rorie said what?” Cecily’s voice was sharp.

  Rorie groaned inwardly, sensing the start of an argument. “I only told him that if he was thinking of applying to film school, I’d write him a letter of recommendation. That’s all.”

  “But, he’s going to law school. That’s what he—” A shrill beeping sounded from the kitchen, interrupting her. “Oh, shit!” Cecily bolted to her feet and raced toward the kitchen door. “I forgot the cake was still in the oven.”

  Rorie and Tyler stared at each other across the table. “Sorry if I got you in trouble with your mom just now,” she said, breaking the awkward silence.

  “Nah, I probably should’ve mentioned that my parents didn’t know about film school yet.” Tyler shrugged, looking embarrassed. “Getting in might be the easy part, compared to getting them to come around to the idea.”

  “Don’t worry. I think your mom—” Rorie stopped at the sound of clattering metal pans from the other room, accompanied by muffled swearing. “You know, I think I’ll just go check on your mom, okay?”

  A thin haze of smoke hung in the air when Rorie opened the kitchen door. Two metal cooling racks sat in the middle of the floor, topped with a hot pad and the crumbled remains of a cake still partially in its pan. Cecily stood staring at the mess in a daze, rooted in place and visibly shaken.

  “There was a hole in the hot pad,” she explained, blinking back tears. “I burned my finger and dropped the cake.”

  “Oh sweetie, come here. Let’s run it under some cold water so it doesn’t blister.”

  Rorie took Cecily’s hand and led her to the sink, Cecily following meekly behind, sniffling. Rorie continued to hold Cecily’s hand, guiding it under the stream of cool water coming from the faucet.

  “Better?” she asked.

  A ragged sob was Cecily’s only response. Rorie looked up in alarm to see her face awash in tears.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she assured her. “Maybe a little blister, but that’s all.”

  Cecily nodded, using her uninjured hand to wipe her eyes. “But I ruined the cake!” she wailed.

  You’re melting down over a dessert?

  “The cake doesn’t matter, Cici.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound too harsh, but it was a silly thing to be upset about.

  Cecily’s crying stopped and her breathing steadied. When she finally looked at Rorie, she was mostly composed. “But it does matter.”

  Rorie was taken aback. That wasn’t what she’d expected her to say, and she almost always knew instinctively what Cecily was going to say. “Why? Was it an award-winning cake or something?” she asked, shutting off the faucet and handing Cecily a dish towel.

  That made Cecily laugh, not a hearty laugh but a mirthless chuckle. “No, it didn’t win any awards. But that’s kind of the point. I’ve never won awards. I’ve never had a career on Broadway or made partner at a law firm. The only thing I’ve done in my adult life is be a wife and a mother. And honestly, I know I’m not a very good wife, but I thought I was a good mom.” Cecily sniffed. She was fighting back tears again, and paused to dab her eyes with the damp dish towel in her hand. “That’s what I’m supposed to be good at. That, and baking a cake. Only it’s pretty obvious right now that I can’t do either.”

  “Is this about Tyler and film school?” Rorie asked, feeling a stab of guilt. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  Cecily shrugged. “He didn’t feel like he could trust me. He confided in you, but not me. And I’m his mom so I should’ve known what it meant to him. Instead I let his dad talk him into something he obviously doesn’t want to do, just like I let my parents do to me. I never wanted to be like them, Rorie.”

  “Well, now you know, and you can fix it. About the only thing you can’t fix,” Rorie cast a dubious glance at the messy floor, “is that cake. Which smells amazing. The longer we stand in here, the more I’m regretting saying it didn’t matter because I’m pretty sure I’m going to be dreaming of cake tonight. What kind was it?”

  “Apple spice, with fresh apples from a local orchard.” Cecily perked up visibly. “And actually, it did win an award, sort of. I make it for St. George’s bake sale and gets a blue ribbon every year. And outsells Polly’s vanilla cupcakes, two to one. Not them I’m counting.”

  Rorie laughed. “Sure you’re not. So, maybe you’d make it again sometime?”

  “Really? You’re willing to risk giving me another chance to prove my baking skills, even after dealing with my nervous breakdown from the first attempt?” Cecily smiled. “You’re very brave.”

  Rorie shrugged. “I don’t know about that. I guess I’m just kind of a believer is second chances, sometimes.”

  Though her tone was nonchalant, she knew that part of her was talking about more than the cake. And that she shouldn't be. She breathed a sigh of relief that Cecily was too distracted with sweeping up the crumbs to catch any other meaning in her words. She barely knew what she meant herself.

  Chapter 13

  Rorie reached for the keys that hung from a hook by her apartment door, wondering for the hundredth time if going to Vanessa’s party might be the stupidest idea she’d ever had. She glanced at herself in the mirror, tucking a few stray curls back under her scarf. She gave her outfit an appraising look, satisfied with the result. Her sh
irt and pants were black, as always, but they were good quality and fit her well. At least she’d look her best if her ex-girlfriend, Lacey, and that slut she’d cheated on her with, decided to make an appearance tonight as she’d been warned they might. Was she ready to face that? On impulse, she looked in the mirror again.

  Lipstick? Maybe she needed some lipstick. She never wore the stuff, but one of her roommates might have a spare tube in the bathroom. She should check. “Oh, God,” she moaned. “When did I turn into such a neurotic mess?”

  Rummaging through a basket in the bathroom, she found a color that looked suitable and dabbed it on, not certain how she felt about the result. Was her desperation as obvious as her red-stained lips? Being alone had never bothered her this much before, not even after she and Lacey broke up over the summer. But since she became friends with Cecily, she’d gotten used to near-constant companionship. The prospect of an entire weekend surrounded by the silence of her empty apartment was enough to drive her mad. In fact, she must already be mad if Vanessa’s frantic phone call to warn her about Lacey wasn’t enough to deter her. She felt empty and the longer she thought about it, the more it would consume her. She needed to go out, have fun. Meet someone new.

  This is a terrible idea, she thought, for at least the hundred and first time.

  She should just stay home, maybe watch a movie. That was supposed to have been the plan anyway, if only Cecily’s stupid boyfriend hadn’t ruined things. If Cecily hadn’t abandoned her for a weekend in New Orleans with Chet, she never would’ve accepted the party invitation to begin with. She’d be halfway into Hitchcock’s The Lady Vanishes right now. I wish Cici were here, she thought, far from the first time that day, and hated herself for it.

  Cecily’s just a friend, and she’ll never be more than that, Rorie chastised herself, no matter how much you wish otherwise. A very straight friend, with a fiance, and a conservative senator for a father.

  What a nightmare.

  Maybe spending the weekend apart was a good thing. Maybe they should spend less time together in general. A new pang of loneliness hit her at the thought, making it obvious she was onto something that was probably for her own good. Things that are good for you are rarely pleasant. But the truth was, she was getting too close. Starting to hope for things that were impossible. A little space would help her remember the facts of the situation before she set herself up to get hurt.

  A knock sounded from the front door, summoning Rorie to the living room. She opened it to find Cecily standing outside. “I thought you were in New Orleans,” she said, confused and not entirely convinced that this wasn’t just some trick her brain was playing on her. Could panic over being alone or running into an ex-girlfriend trigger hallucinations? Should she be worried at the exhilaration that coursed through her the second she opened the door?

  “I was. Now I’m not. I don’t really want to talk about it. May I come in?” She stepped inside as Rorie swung the door wider and gestured for her to enter. “Chet’s cheating on me,” she said the second both feet were through the door.

  “This is you not wanting to discuss it?” Rorie asked with a laugh. She should probably feel guilty that her best friend’s news made her giddy, but she didn’t. “Have a seat on the couch and you can not tell me all about it. Iced tea?”

  Cecily nodded and Rorie ducked behind the raised counter that separated the living room from the apartment’s galley kitchen. She emerged a minute later with two tall glasses of tea.

  “Sugar?” she asked, extending a handful of crumpled paper packets.

  “You mean it’s not already sweetened?” Cecily asked, her voice reflecting the horror of a true southerner. She grabbed the entire handful and lined them up neatly so she could rip the tops off and dump all seven packets in at once.

  “Do you need more?” Rorie asked, eyeing Cecily’s glass with a mixture of awe and revulsion.

  Cecily shrugged. “Only if you have it. I don’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  Rorie disappeared again, reappearing with several more packets and a spoon. “That’s the last of the sugar, just so you know,” she said as she watched the last few grains fall from the final packet into Cecily’s glass.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you need some too?”

  Rorie shook her head. “That’s all right. I think if I just set mine on the table close to yours it will absorb all it needs through the ether. Anyway,” she added, sitting on the couch next to Cecily, “you were about to tell me all about what happened in New Orleans. Or were you serious about not talking about it?”

  “It was a disaster.” Cecily gave her tea a vigorous stir, the ice clinking against the glass. “It started out fine, I guess. Chet took me out to dinner last night for my birthday to a nice little place in the French Quarter.”

  “Wait, you didn’t tell me yesterday was your birthday.”

  Cecily shook her head. “Actually, it wasn’t. It’s today, but he had plans with his mock trial team tonight, so … .” She shrugged dismissively.

  “Well, happy birthday!” Rorie said, though it felt a bit incongruous under the circumstances.

  “Thanks.”

  “So what happened between last night and now to make you think he’s cheating?”

  “I saw him with her!”

  Rorie's jaw dropped. “You mean you caught them in the act?”

  Cecily paused. “No, not exactly. I saw him with her in the hotel bar. Her name’s Angie. She’s one of the first year law students.”

  Rorie bit her lower lip to keep herself from laughing. Cici's imagination was working overtime to make the leap from hotel bar to tawdry affair so swiftly. “And you’re sure they weren’t just having a friendly drink?”

  Cecily took a sip of tea. “No. He’s sleeping with her. Or someone, anyway. I found condoms in the wastebasket in his hotel room, and some bobby pins on the floor next to my nightstand. And Angie had her hair up in a bun.”

  “I see. That is sort of incriminating. So, you broke up with him?” Rorie did have the decency to feel a little guilty for hoping her friend would say yes.

  Cecily nodded.

  “What did he say?”

  “I’m not sure that he knows yet.”

  Rorie tilted her head in confusion. “You mean you didn’t confront him before you left?”

  “I don’t like confrontation. I packed up my bag and left while he was at his conference. But I left the condoms and the bobby pins on his pillow, so I think he’ll figure it out.” Cecily’s shoulders slumped. “And now I really don’t want to talk about it any more. I’d rather just spend what’s left of my birthday weekend here watching movies, if the offer still stands?”

  Rorie glanced at the clock. She was already late leaving for Vanessa’s party, which she had absolutely no desire to go to anymore. Would anyone really notice if she didn’t show? “Yeah, of course.”

  Cecily narrowed her eyes as if suddenly noticing something. “You’re dressed nice tonight. And wearing lipstick? Oh no! Am I keeping you from a date?”

  Rorie laughed. “No, nothing like that. I was just planning to drop in on a friend’s party, but—”

  “Oh, Rorie, no. I’m sorry. How rude of me to assume you hadn’t made other plans!”

  “No, it’s fine. Actually, the party was a dumb idea. You coming over saved me from making a fool out of myself.” Noticing Cecily’s confused expression, she added, “My ex-girlfriend was going to be there, along with the girl she cheated on me with.”

  “Your ex cheated on you, too?” Cecily looked incensed. “Damn cheating bastards! Yours and mine, both. What’s wrong with people?”

  “Yeah. And I haven’t seen her since we broke up. Honestly, the last thing I wanted was to run into them at the party, looking all pathetic and single. I’d much rather stay home and watch a movie with you.”

  “I think I have a better idea.” A delightfully evil expression crossed Cecily’s face. “Why don’t we both go to the party? We can pretend I’m your date and m
ake your ex totally jealous!”

  Rorie thought for a moment, uncertain. It sounded like the type of hair brained scheme that was sure to backfire. Even if it was tempting. “I don’t know, Cici—”

  “Oh come on,” she urged. “It’s the perfect revenge to show up with someone new, acting like you couldn’t care less. I was too chicken to punish Chet properly today. At least let me live vicariously through you one-upping your ex!”

  Rorie looked her up and down carefully, taking in her pastel cashmere sweater and conservative plaid skirt. “It really does sound tempting. But, no offense, the only ‘party’ you’re dressed for is the Young Republicans.”

  Cecily waved her hand dismissively. “I can fix that. Show me your closet and give me ten minutes to change. What do you say?”

  Rorie grinned. “You’re too much, you know that? Yes, fine. Let’s go punish Lacey.”

  “Lacey, huh?” Cecily asked, chugging down the last of her iced tea. “Even her name sounds a little bitchy. This is gonna be fun!”

  They got up from the couch and Rorie showed Cecily the closet in her room. Cecily looked it over with an appraising eye, grabbing a few items off hangers and looking them over with a satisfied nod.

  “This’ll do,” she announced. “Just give me a sec.”

  Rorie retreated back to the living room sofa, her doubts about the wisdom of this plan increasing as she waited. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like something out of an old I Love Lucy episode—if either Lucy or Ethel had been a lesbian, that is. An image of prim and proper Cecily popped into her mind, prompting a chuckle. No one would ever buy them as a couple. Rorie looked like she was headed to a Nine Inch Nails concert, while Cici looked like she was running for president of the local Junior League. It was ridiculous, and that conclusion stung a whole lot more than Rorie wanted to admit.

  Rorie looked up as Cecily emerged from the hallway, and her breath caught as she took in her friend’s transformation. Cecily wore a black miniskirt that Rorie couldn’t remember buying or ever wearing, and that showed off her long legs in a way that made Rorie’s pulse spike. She’d paired the skirt with a purple satin corset-like top that Rorie was positive wasn’t hers, but couldn’t for the life of her figure out where it had come from. Other than that, there was mostly skin. Creamy, smooth, bare skin. The room suddenly felt very warm.