by Miles, Ava
“I talked to the kids last night. Annabelle cried on the phone. She wanted her princess cookies. Rory didn’t say anything, but he never does.”
Her heart broke, hearing that. The poor kids.
“You must think we’re monsters.” She twisted her pearls. “To treat children like that.”
Tory, who’d been checking the blueberries for stems, looked up at her with a soft smile. “Amelia Ann, you were in the kitchen making cookies with the rest of us. And now you’ve gone to all this trouble to make sure the kids get what they made. You’re a good aunt.”
Amelia Ann sniffed, reached into her small white purse, and pulled out an embroidered handkerchief.
The woman had an embroidered handkerchief? Tory hadn’t seen one of those since her grandma died.
“I’m really not. If I was a good aunt, I’d stand up for the kids like Rye did.”
She delicately blew her nose, managing not to make a sound. Tory was impressed—she always sounded like a goose.
“That’s why I came this morning. I did some serious thinking last night, and…I want to talk to Rye.” Her usual grace was gone as she stutter–stepped forward. “I want to make a break from family tradition like he did.”
What could that mean? “Amelia Ann, I don’t usually give advice, but you need to find out what’s best for you. It may not be the same as what’s best for your brother.”
“I know that, but…”
Rye walked into the kitchen wearing only a pair of worn jeans. Beads of water still clung to his chest. Did the man have something against drying off and wearing a shirt or was he purposely teasing her?
“I’m hungry. Breakfast about ready?”
Right. Breakfast. Her mind had gone blank, erased by that mouth–drying, awe–inspiring chest. “Yes, I was waiting to put the pancakes on until you came out.”
He turned to his sister. “Mornin’, Amelia Ann. Ah…I didn’t have anything to eat last night, so I ran out of the shower before dressing properly.”
Even Tory thought it was a lame explanation.
“Be right back,” he said and turned and left.
Embarrassment crept across her cheeks.
“My, my, are you sure there’s nothing between my brother and you?” his sister asked with a sly smile. “I know what you said, but… He was raised to never walk around shirtless unless we were at the lake.”
Tory had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. “Have you seen his promotional materials? His chest and butt are prominently featured, guaranteed to inspire salacious fantasies in even the most repressed schoolmarms.”
Amelia Ann smoothed an invisible wrinkle in her dress. “Yes, but that’s business. And that’s not here. I figured he’d revert back to some of his old habits.”
Tory did laugh this time. “I’m sorry, but are we talking about Rye Crenshaw?”
“You can laugh, but people who were raised in a rigid and structured environment tend to do two things. They keep following the straight line like Tammy. Or they swing too far the other way—like Rye. I’m hoping to end up somewhere in the middle. But I need help. That’s why I’m here.”
Tory studied the young woman closer. She might look like a frothy confection from an elite bakery, but there was more substance to her than Tory had originally expected. “You’re absolutely right, Amelia Ann.”
She smiled, and this time there was a barbed edged to it. “Being a cultural anthropologist, I thought you would have understood something about my brother. Rye Crenshaw is as big a fake as Rye Hollins was. He still hasn’t figured out who he is.”
Tory felt her chest tighten. Yes, she had begun to suspect that very thing. The man she had slept with on the couch last night was so much more complicated than she’d originally thought. And more endearing. There was trouble there—and heartache.
She didn’t want to think about why she wasn’t running away from it.
***
Rye strode into the kitchen wearing a white T–shirt. He’d noticed Amelia Ann’s surprise when he emerged bare chested. It irritated him to think about how he’d turned tail and run from the kitchen because his sister had caught him trying to make a move. Where was his mojo? Hell, he was used to fifty people milling about and taking pictures of him in revealing clothing.
Tory was flipping pancakes on a smoking griddle when Rye walked up and kissed Amelia Ann on the cheek. He froze when her arms clamped around him. This was not her usual embrace. Uh–oh.
“What’s the matter? It’s not Daddy, is it?”
“No. I’m just so glad you’re here, Rye.”
He smoothed a hand over her blond hair and closed his eyes. “I’ve missed you, too.”
She took a deep breath and stepped back, and he braced himself for what she was going to say next.
“Rye, I… Ah, I need your help. I got into Vanderbilt law school, and I want to go.” The words rushed out faster than the usual cadence of her speech.
If his mama had streaked at a church picnic, he wouldn’t have been more shocked. “You what?”
Her brow furrowed, and her lip trembled for a moment. “I said that I got into Vandy law school.”
“I know, but…” Was he sputtering?
“I took the LSATs and scored a 180.”
“A 180!” Holy shit. He’d only scored 172, and that had been considered superlative. “But I don’t understand. You’ve never mentioned wanting to do this before. I’m plumb flabbergasted, Amelia Ann.”
Her voice fell to a whisper as she confessed her darkest secret. “I joined the debate team at Old Miss, Rye, and I loved it. From then on, it’s been my dream to become a lawyer.”
Debate? His sister? She never stood up for herself at home.
“And I’m good at it, too. When I make an argument and win? Well, it’s probably the best I’ve ever felt in my whole life.” Her eyes twinkled at that.
“This is a huge decision, honey,” he said. Mama would raise holy hell, and he wasn’t sure what it would be like to have his sister live so close to him. His lifestyle wasn’t exactly…upstanding. “Are you sure—”
“I don’t want to end up like Tammy or Mama,” she whispered, her eyes suddenly wet with tears.
His mouth opened, but nothing came out. Oh, shit. What could he say to that? “I know you don’t…and you won’t. You’re nothing like them.” But a lawyer? His baby sister?
Her face practically glowed in response. He craned his head to look at Tory, hoping to change the subject. “Breakfast ready yet?”
She nodded and set a platter of steaming pancakes on the kitchen table. “Why don’t you both sit down, have some breakfast, and talk?” She poured them coffee, her face carefully blank. “I’m going to take a walk in the woods.”
Don’t go, he nearly called as she walked away. He loved his sister, but he didn’t have a clue what to say to her.
Amelia Ann smiled as brightly as a used car salesman as she sat down. “Well, isn’t this just the best looking breakfast? That Tory sure can cook. You’re lucky to have found her. Too bad there’s really nothing more than friendship between you. She seems lovely, Rye. Just lovely.”
Her well–trained artifice was worse than toothpicks under his fingernails. When she reached for the platter with trembling hands, Rye sat down, grabbed them, and squeezed gently. “Stop. You’re killing me here.”
She looked down at her lap.
“All right, you’ve clearly thought this out. Tell me more.”
The women in Mama’s family graduated from Ole Miss before marrying, and the Hollins men went to Vandy for law school and married after that. This would be a big break with tradition, and she knew it. No female in their family had ever done anything like it.
Amelia Ann finally met his eyes, and in them he saw a fierceness he’d never seen before. “I want to go to Vandy like all the Hollins men, Rye. Mama will have me married next spring if I don’t leave here. She already has Barton Pembroke picked out. We’ve had three dinners with his family sin
ce I’ve been home this summer, and Mama keeps mentioning him. It’s been near impossible to stay away from his pawing hands when no one is around.”
Oh, Christ, this was just getting worse. He’d always hated Barton Pembroke, a mama’s boy with a predilection for seersucker and pinching girls at church picnics when the adults weren’t looking. And his sister was right. His mama would do everything in her power to force her to marry into that venerable family if she’d set her mind to it. Hadn’t she done the same with Tammy?
“I don’t want to be like Tammy, Rye,” she whispered. “Sterling’s not a good husband. He’s never home and doesn’t spend time with the kids. There’s talk that he runs around on her.”
A frown spread across his face. Part of him wasn’t surprised, but even though he and Tammy didn’t get along, he didn’t want her to suffer.
“Tammy hasn’t mentioned it,” Amelia Ann continued, “but I know she’s not happy. And now it’s spilling onto Rory and Annabelle.”
His mind was spinning around like the cotton candy machine at the state fair. “Let’s back up here. Going to law school to escape marriage is downright extreme, darlin’.”
“I’m not doing it because of that. I’ve never wanted anything like I want this,” she said. “Will you help me talk to Daddy?”
He took a gulp of his coffee and singed his lip. He stopped the swear word from leaking out. “Why haven’t you mentioned this before?”
“I was afraid,” she whispered, lowering her head. “I know you don’t think I’m very smart, and I wasn’t sure I was brave enough…to bear the consequences. After what they did to you…well, I was afraid to lose my family.”
Who wouldn’t be?
“Mama always says intelligent women aren’t attractive and men don’t like them, so I’ve always pretended not to care about my studies. Well, I’m tired of pretending.”
Yeah, he knew all about pretending.
Growing up, she’d never shown an interest in school other than as a place to hang out with her friends and socialize, just like Mama had expected. While she’d done her homework, she’d been a solid B student, not too smart and not too dumb—just like every other girl Rye had grown up with in Meade.
“I was going to tell you at graduation, because I wanted to ask for your help in person, but then everything went sideways and… I was made for the law, Rye, I just know it. I can remember just about anything I hear or read.”
He was excited for her, but he knew her decision would lead to a whole heap of trouble. “Well, you are a Hollins. We’re all pretty smart.” Even if it wasn’t part of his public image.
She beamed. “Exactly. Who cares that only the Hollins men have been the lawyers in the past? It’s the twenty–first century. Can I help it if I have the lawyer gene?”
“It makes me happy to see you this happy, Amelia Ann. It really does.”
But it also terrified him. Mama was going to pitch a fit, and God only knew what Tammy and Daddy would say. “But you know that it’s not that simple, right?”
She bit her lip and stuck out her chin, embodying both fear and courage. “I know. That’s why I’ve kept quiet. I sat on my acceptance letter for as long as I could, but I finally had to tell Vandy my decision…” She gulped. “I told them yes, praying you’d help me. Then this happened.”
He wasn’t following her. “What happened?”
“Daddy’s heart attack and his desire to reconcile with you. I was rather hoping that since Daddy seems to have taken a different view of you now, he might be willing to form one of me too. And I wouldn’t have to lose everybody.”
Oh Christ.
“Will you talk to him for me?” she asked again. “I know it will be a shock, and I thought perhaps he’d take more kindly to it if he knew you’d look after me while I’m at Vanderbilt. But I’m not sure I want to work at his law firm. You know how they view women lawyers around here. There isn’t a single one. I’d have to practice in a bigger city to…fit in. Like Nashville. Plus it would mean I’d be close to you.”
Responsibility twined around his feet like a creeping vine, tying him down. This was getting complicated, but how could he refuse to help her? This was her dream. “I’ll do what I can.”
She came around the table and squeezed him tight.
“Today?” she pressed.
He took a deep breath, inhaling her signature magnolia perfume. She might be a bright and showy bloom like her favorite plant, but she’d have to have its leather–hard leaves to withstand the Hollins’ wrath.
“Yes, I’ll talk to him.” He kissed her hair. “But I strongly suggest you prepare your argument in advance and compose it as persuasively as you can.”
Her arms tightened around him again. “I’ve been doing that for at least six months, Rye.”
She pulled back and looked at him. “I love you, Rye,” she whispered.
“I love you too, Amelia Ann,” he murmured back, the words rusty on his tongue.
But he felt their power as a new–found warmth swept into the cold, isolated place he’d inhabited since he’d broken with his family to follow his own dream.
When it comes to comfort food on the sweet side, there’s nothing better than combining a chocolate chip cookie flavor in a flaky pie crust. I like to add a little cocoa for extra bite. This sucker is pure decadence and perfect for Sunday dessert with fresh whipped cream or heated to warm on a school night. You can barely keep your eyes open after the first bite, least of all form a complete sentence. It makes even the most sensible senseless. My friend served it when her difficult mother–in–law came for a weekend visit. She gave her guest a piece every day she was there and said it was the only time the woman didn’t find something to complain about. So, if you’re in need of comfort food, chocolate with your pie, or you want to shut someone up—this pie is for you.
Tory’s Chocolate Chip Pie
¾ cup butter
½ cup sugar
½ cup brown sugar
3 eggs ½ cup flour
2 tbsp. cocoa
1 cup chocolate chips
1 cup pecans
Cream the butter and sugar. Add the eggs. Mix. Add the flour and cocoa. Stir until combined. Add the chocolate chips. Pour into an already baked pie crust. Cook at 325 degrees for 50 minutes.
Tory Simmons’ Simmering Family Cookbook
Chapter 12
The house was struggling to keep itself cool, the air conditioner kicking on as regularly as the quarter chimes of the antique Seth Thomas clock above the gray stone fireplace. Tory was reading an article on her laptop about the hunting traditions of the Maasai and the impact of safari groups.
She didn’t know where Rye and Amelia Ann had disappeared to after finishing breakfast, but she appreciated that they’d cleaned their dishes. And she couldn’t wait to hear more about their conversation. Amelia Ann was going to law school? Rye’s head had to be spinning. The revelation had been a surprise to her too, and she barely knew the woman.
Pushing back a lock of hair that was still damp from her shower, she tried to concentrate on an anthropologist’s description of the importance of hunting lions to the Maasai tribe in Kenya. How the men were judged by their prowess in tracking and killing the ferocious beasts. She sighed. She couldn’t help but think how much she’d prefer to look at food websites. Now, that was fun.
She was plodding through her third article when she heard a car drive up. She walked to a window to see who it was, and heaved another sigh. Tammy was climbing out of her sparkling white BMW SUV all perfect and pressed in a matching powder–blue linen suit. She could have doubled for Grace Kelly in that movie with Jimmy Stewart where they watched people from their apartment. Was it Rear Window? Oh, who cared?
Was she ready for another visit from Rye’s family? No way. Then, she remembered the cookies and ran to get them. Hopefully Tammy would leave after she dropped them into her arms.
It wasn’t like she had to invite her in for tea.
***
“Hello, Tory,” she said when the woman opened the door, the name sounding odd on her tongue. “I was hoping I might catch you.”
Surprise raced across Tory’s face. Tammy tried to smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Rye’s still at the house with Daddy. Mama and I just got back from a luncheon. The kids are with the babysitter, so I thought I’d stop on my way home.”
Tory crossed her arms “Did you come for the cookies?”
She gripped her white clutch purse against her stomach. “Yes. Amelia Ann mentioned she’d brought them here.” When had the tension in their family become so intense that they were forced to hide cookies from Mama like they were drugs?
“I thought so,” she said, reaching behind her to pick up the lone container on the bureau in the entryway.
When she thrust them out, Tammy almost frowned. Didn’t this woman know that visitors, even uninvited ones, should always be welcomed inside? “I was hoping we might chat.”
The woman didn’t blink for a moment. “Come in then.”
Tammy followed her into the kitchen. Were those tabloid journalists right? Was Rye really involved with this woman? Amelia Ann didn’t seem to believe Tory’s denials, and Tammy had to agree with her. What else would have compelled their brother to make sugar cookies?
“The kids were terribly upset when we left without the cookies,” she said. That was an understatement. She opened the box and drew out a baby–pink iced princess cookie, so pretty and delicate. “Amelia Ann said she couldn’t save Rory’s soldier cookies, but she mentioned that Rye had done a good job helping him.”
“Yes, he did.” The woman crossed her arms over her chest.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Tory nodded reluctantly.
