The Marriage Recipe

by Michele Dunaway

  “I just use the flaked stuff in that blue package.” Heather began to fill her plate with a sample of everything from chips and dips to brownies. “I don’t know how you managed. How do you even crack one?”

  “You drill a hole, drain the milk and then bake the shell. That makes it easier to crack when you hit it with a mallet. Then you scoop out the inside.”

  “So are you done?” Heather asked.

  “I wish. I still have a lot to do before Saturday. My grandmother took over baking some of the regular diner staples this week. That’s helped out. I’m still baking five-dozen bear claws a day, though. She’s not about to pick those anytime soon. Too sticky. Although I modified her recipe. More taste and less mess.”

  Heather added carrot sticks to her plate. “You need to load up and not just eat one thing at a time,” she told Rachel.

  “I’m good,” Rachel answered. Meaning she was fine on food. Heather had deliberately misconstrued her words.

  “I’m not so sure about that, but I bet I know someone who’d like to find out.”

  “Don’t go there,” Rachel warned. “Not where Kristin could overhear anything you say.”

  “What—is there some good gossip being spilled over here?” Kristin asked as she moved to add more crackers to a tray.

  “Colin’s still got a crush on Rachel,” Heather announced.

  Rachel momentarily closed her eyes as her jaw dropped open. “Heather!”

  “It’s okay. We’ve all known that. That’s old news,” Kristin said, as if that made everything better.

  Rachel wished the floor would open up and swallow her. Unfortunately, it was too early to bow out gracefully from the party and go home. “Great. Everyone in town’s probably been talking about me.”

  “Yeah, and most of them are here,” Heather teased.

  “And I wasn’t coming to this party tonight. Why did I change my mind?” Rachel asked. She reached for a small piece of brownie and popped the chocolate in her mouth. Yep, stress made you eat. Big-time.

  “Ah, don’t let Heather here scare you away,” Kristin teased. “You know we can’t take her anywhere. Besides, my mother’s the busybody. She’s been raving for a week about the Easter cake you’re bringing Sunday. I think she wants to hook you up with my brother just so he doesn’t starve. The man can’t cook a bit.”

  Rachel remembered the incident with the flour, and her face heated. Kristin didn’t seem to notice as she continued, “Mom’s the one you have to worry about, so I would try to avoid sitting by her.”

  Kristin finished loading the cracker tray. “I myself believe my brother’s an idiot and any woman would be a fool to take him on. Here, let me get you some more wine. You’re just about empty. If this is only your first glass, you definitely need a refill.”

  Kristin took Rachel’s glass and made away with it, empty cracker box in her other hand. “I’m going to kill you later,” Rachel promised Heather.

  Heather had the gall to smirk. “No, you won’t. You love me too much and have missed getting grief from people who care about you. Your life in New York has been stodgy. I’m making it my mission to liven it up. Besides, Kristin’s married to a shrink. She’s using reverse psychology on her brother and you. I use the technique on Keith all the time. Works wonders.”

  “Great.” Rachel’s sarcasm was obvious.

  At that moment a group of five girls, two of them twins, raced into the room and grabbed plates. “Mom, she’s butting!” one of them shouted.

  “Cut it out and take turns!” Kristin hollered.

  “I am so not ready for this next phase of my life,” Rachel said as one of the young girls accidentally jostled her.

  Heather grinned at Rachel’s discomfort. She’d left Erin at home with her husband, who was probably enjoying the semifreedom. “Sure you are. Now, let’s go look at the jewelry. Moms like the reasonable stuff since grimy little hands grab it all the time. This company guarantees everything. I’ve returned one or two things and never had a problem.”

  “We’re not going to play any of those silly games, are we?” Rachel asked, succumbing and taking a plate and covering it with veggies.

  “That’s at the basket party. Beware, you get on our party circuit and you’ll get hit up for candles, too. Now, those you can really use. Light a few and let the magic happen.”

  “I’m going to remove your entrails. I’m trained to use knives. I know how to do it. You should see me bone a chicken,” Rachel said.

  “So not listening,” Heather chanted, leading the way into the large family room. Rachel found herself sitting between Heather and Colin’s mother as the home-party lady began displaying her wares. Kristin brought Rachel a refilled glass of wine and Rachel sipped the liquid gratefully.

  She knew most of the people present, but others were more recent Morrisville transplants. All but Rachel were married, yet no one seemed to mind or care about Rachel’s single status. Even better, no one mentioned Colin or fixing her up with a brother or some divorcé they knew at work.

  She hadn’t socialized exclusively with women, if you didn’t count her mother and grandmother, in ages. She’d never spent much time with Marco’s sisters. They’d liked her, but they hadn’t made much of an effort to do things with their future sister-in-law. And they were to be my bridesmaids, Rachel realized ruefully. Funny how she was more comfortable with the people from Morrisville, Indiana, who thought rings from some home-party catalog were pretty high-fashion stuff.

  Rachel studied the various rings on display, which were at least made with fourteen-carat gold. Suddenly, one caught her attention. The ring was woven gold in a simple floral design, but Rachel fell instantly in love with both the ring and its forty-dollar price tag.

  Why not, she said to herself. The jewelry from Marco that she hadn’t sold she’d put in her mother’s safe-deposit box. She had no idea what to do with the various pieces, which were gaudy and worth hundreds. She also had no place to wear them and out of sight was out of mind.

  “You should get that,” Heather said as Rachel tried the display model on her left hand.

  “I don’t know. It’s not like I wear jewelry when I bake. I’m also trying to save up. It seems like too much of an indulgence. I’m getting used to my hand being bare again,” Rachel said as her second thoughts started.

  “Live a little,” Heather encouraged her. “Tell you what. Put that ring on my ticket and I’ll buy half. Consider it an early birthday present.”

  “Oh, no,” Rachel said, shaking her head as she realized the implications. “You are not getting me a present or throwing me a party.”

  “Never said that,” Heather responded as she tried on a necklace.

  “Maybe not, but I know you,” Rachel insisted. “I’m turning thirty. You would do something like that.”

  “I might. Thirty is a milestone,” Heather admitted with a guilty expression. “I’ve been thinking about hosting a small gathering around April 15.”

  “Don’t,” Rachel warned. “I’m not in a partying mood.”

  “Fine,” Heather said, removing the necklace and reaching for another one. “But no matter what, you are purchasing that ring.”

  In the end, Rachel caved and bought the ring. However, she paid for her only item herself. “You should receive your purchase in about three weeks,” the party consultant said as she handed Rachel her receipt.

  “Thanks.” Rachel stood. Checkout was in the dining room and she’d just survived her first American home-sales party unscathed. Already someone else waited behind Rachel to order the items she’d selected.

  “Hey, Rachel,” Kristin called into the room. “Would you be able to take Mom home? She doesn’t drive at night and I’m not going to be able to get out of here for a while yet.”

  “Sure,” Rachel agreed. “Do you want me to take her now?”

  “Whenever you’re leaving is fine. No hurry,” Kristin replied.

  Less then ten minutes later, Rachel drove Loretta Morris home. Sh
e pulled into the Morris driveway, right behind a silver Aura.

  “Oh, Colin’s here. He must have come to see his father. They’re working on a case together. You’ll have to step inside and say hello.”

  Rachel recognized she was being set up, but before she could decline, Loretta was already out the passenger door and halfway up the walk. The motion sensors caught her movements and light flooded the yard.

  “Mom? Is that you?” Colin walked through the front door and onto the porch. “Hi, Rachel. What are you doing here? Mom, I thought I was to pick you up if you wanted to leave early.”

  “With the price of gas what it is, that would be silly,” Loretta said, pointing. “Rachel was driving this way. She lives right next door, you know.”

  “How well I do.” Colin stepped off the porch and gave his mother a kiss as she passed by. He walked over to where Rachel waited, protected only by her driver’s door.

  “I think we’ve been set up,” she said.

  The corners of Colin’s lips inched upward into a grin. “Looks like. But it’s okay. I needed to talk with you anyway. Running into you makes things convenient. Marco’s attorneys answered my letter. I was going to call you tomorrow and arrange a meeting so we could discuss their response and what to send back to them.”

  A tremor of fear gripped her. “Is it bad?”

  “It’s not what we’d hoped for, but certainly not the end of the world,” Colin said easily, as if he had few worries about dealing with her case.

  “It’s nerve-racking for me,” she admitted.

  “I understand. That’s the hard thing about negotiations. You have to be patient. You come from opposite ends and meet somewhere in the middle. We’ll end up where we want. Trust me.”

  Somehow, she did. He was a professional and he wouldn’t steer her wrong. He was on her side. She nodded.

  “So you had fun tonight?” he asked.

  The words slipped out. “I bought a ring.”

  “Ah. Fingers feeling a little naked.”

  She shook her head, the desire for companionship overriding her urge to leave. “I’m not sure if I was simply caught up in the moment or what, but I really like the ring. The party lady said I’d receive it in about three weeks. I hope I still want it then.”

  He was more confident. “You will. Can I ask how much you spent?”

  “Forty. Plus tax. Shipping. So it was about forty-six something altogether. I probably shouldn’t have.”

  He chuckled. “An occasional urge to be irresponsible is normal. I’m glad you let go a little. This whole thing with Marco and moving home has you uptight. You are feeling better than yesterday, right?”

  She nodded and stepped out from behind her door. “Absolutely. My grandmother’s taking on some of the baking this week to help out. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day, as is Thursday. Everyone’s going to church Friday, since it’s Good Friday, so I’m doing all the icing that day. Pickup is Saturday. The diner will be crazy.”

  “So should we talk about the case now?” He glanced at his illuminated watch. “It’s only nine. When are you due at the diner?”

  “Actually, I’m off. Kim banned me from arriving until one. I left enough bear claws for everyone to get their fix.”

  “So you don’t have to turn in right away.” He’d edged closer to her.

  “No, I’m all right. We could talk now if that’s what you’re suggesting. That might be a good idea, because I doubt I could sleep worrying about what’s in that letter they sent.”

  “Then let’s get out of here and head over to my place. I brought your file home so I could work on it tonight.”

  She’d never seen his house. She hesitated, deliberating.

  “It’s not as cold as yesterday, but I’m not wearing a coat—it’s inside,” Colin said, prodding her gently to make a decision.

  “I’ll follow you in my car,” Rachel said. That was safer. By driving to his place in her own vehicle, she could leave whenever she wanted and not rely on Colin to take her home.

  “That will be fine,” he said. “Do you want to come in and say hello to Dad?”

  She shook her head. “Do you think he’ll mind if I skip it? I’ll see him Sunday.”

  “He’ll be okay with it. He’s watching one of those made-for-TV movies. Let me get my coat and be right out,” Colin said, disappearing.

  By the time he returned, Rachel had backed her car up, giving Colin enough room to easily do the same. He led the way to a newer part of town, a subdivision of middle-class homes built about ten years earlier. She knew which house because a garage door was going up, and within seconds he’d parked his car inside and was waiting for her to pull into his driveway.

  “Home sweet home. Come on in,” he said as she stepped out.

  She followed him through the garage and into a small laundry room. Then they entered his kitchen. The entire house was clean and devoid of decorating essentials.

  “It’s nice. Tidy,” Rachel hedged. His house was, in a word, bland.

  He laughed at her fake compliment. “Oh, don’t hold back. Be honest. My sisters call the place institutional. I’m afraid the next time one of them gets pregnant, she’ll come over and paint the entire place.”

  “Everything is pretty beige,” Rachel admitted. “The house could be really nice, though, if you fixed it up.”

  He shrugged. “It’s a starter home. Nothing fancy. Picked it up during the last housing downturn for a steal. Needs a woman’s touch, but so far I’ve fended off my sisters by telling them I’m broke. I’ll tell them my excess money goes toward two priorities—my retirement fund and my plane payment. I’m never home much anyway.”

  “As long as you’re satisfied. That’s what counts.” She glanced around his kitchen. Basic oak cabinets. Linoleum in a nondescript design. Those laminate countertops everyone had if they couldn’t afford Corian or granite. The kitchen did have one major plus—lots of space to cook.

  “The only room I’ve personalized is this way,” Colin said, leading her into the vaulted great room. Here he’d splurged on an overstuffed sectional sofa, huge plasma-screen television and some aerial airplane photographs that she soon learned he’d taken while flying.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked, settling into a corner of the beige sofa, which was bare of any accent pillows.

  “Couple of years. I rented an apartment before that. Your file is in my office. Let me get it. While I’m at it, would you like anything to drink?”

  She hadn’t realized she was thirsty until he’d mentioned refreshment. “Water, please.”

  “I’ve got other things, too,” he suggested.

  “Your sister plied me with two glasses of wine. Water would be perfect.”

  “Then that’s what I’ll serve.” Colin returned a few minutes later balancing two filled glasses and a file folder. Rachel had turned on the TV. Now she clicked the off button, plunging the screen into darkness.

  “You can leave that on.”

  She shifted, reaching for the glass he held out. “I’d rather not. Then I won’t be able to concentrate on the matter at hand.”

  He laughed. “So you still stare at it the way you did when we were kids?”

  One of her worst habits. “Yes. When a good show is on, it commands my attention. It’s like I’m hypnotized. In my apartment I only had a nineteen-inch screen. Figured the best way not to watch TV was to buy one of the smaller sizes. Even with hundreds of channels, I’ll find myself fixated on any type of cooking show.”

  He sat near her, but not touching. “I don’t watch many shows. I like the noise factor. I’ll have the TV on even when I’m not in the room. I’ve discovered I don’t like silence.”

  “I’m the opposite. My job is so chaotic and noisy that I want my apartment to be still and serene. Although, New York is never quiet. You hear car horns and other noises 24/7. I’ve actually had some trouble falling asleep since I’ve come home. It’s almost too quiet.”

  She sat there
a moment, pondering their differences. “So what do you have for me?”

  He removed an envelope from the file folder and handed it to her. “Here’s the latest letter. In essence, they’re still maintaining your recipes were works for hire and belong to them. They are willing to drop their claim, however, for a fee.”

  Her hand shook as she read the contents. “They want me to pay them for my grandmother’s recipes? They can go to…” Bile rose in her throat, and she quickly sipped some water to keep herself from blurting out the expletive. Since she’d been back in Morrisville, her language had gotten much better.

  Colin held up a palm. “Not to worry. It’s just legal pandering. They’ve already backed down a little by saying they’ll allow you to purchase the recipes. That means they really don’t want them as much as they’re maintaining.”

  “Yeah, but they haven’t conceded anything yet,” she snapped. The whole thing made her angry. How could she have been so stupid to fall for a jerk like Marco? Why couldn’t she have seen the truth? Why was it always too little, too late?

  “Calm down. They haven’t yet, but they will.” Colin exuded confidence, and she tried to focus on what he was saying. “The next demand letter I’ll send will cite United States Appellate Court case law. I also put a staggering price on Marco’s own breach of contract with you, including sending all copies of your bills for the canceled wedding and citing all the emotional distress. Did you know some states still consider infidelity subject to personal-injury litigation?”

  “So a judge would uphold what you’re asking?” That a judge would seemed a tad outrageous and unreal.

  He took the letter from her and returned it to the folder. “We’re nowhere close to filing in court any actual demands. We’re still dancing around each other, negotiating. I’d say that after our next correspondence, Marco will receive a letter from his lawyers letting him know he’s exhausting his retainer and asking for additional fees. At that point, he’ll have to do some thinking about how much this will cost him, both monetarily and socially. I have some friends who work for the New York tabloids who owe me a favor. Cheating Italian business owners who are minor celebrities are juicy topics, especially when the fiancée found the philanderer in bed.”