The Chesapeake Diaries Series 7-Book Bundle: Coming HOme, Home Again, Almost Home, Hometown Girl, Home for the Summer, The Long Way Home, At the River's Edge

by Stewart, Mariah

  “I do know. One of my neighbors in Kentucky had a pit bull. She was all white and she was so soft, such a sweet thing. I wouldn’t mind having one like her.”

  Jesse finished chopping the onion and he dumped that into the mix.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “The thyme needs to be chopped really small.”

  “I got it covered.” He washed the thyme and cut it into tiny pieces. “Good enough?” he asked.

  When she nodded, he scattered it into the bowl.

  “That’s everything?”

  “Except for some lemon rind.” She took a zester from the bag and ran a lemon over it until all the rind had been removed and the lemon was white.

  “You brought your own tools?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t think you’d have one of these.”

  “You thought right.”

  She washed her hands, then gave the bowl one more mix with the spoon. “You wouldn’t happen to have a cookie sheet, would you? If not, a plate will do.”

  “There’s a flat thing in here that my sister made cookies on when she was here a few months ago.” He knelt down and found it in a cabinet.

  Jesse watched her spoon up the mix, then roll it into balls that she placed on the cookie sheet and flattened with the palm of her hand.

  “That looks like fun.” He stepped next to her. “Can I make a few?”

  “Go wash your hands.” She slanted a look in his direction. “You forget I know where those hands have been.”

  “Should have thought about that before you had me chop up all that other stuff.”

  She made a face, and he laughed.

  They made eight crab cakes then set them in the refrigerator to rest while potatoes and asparagus roasted. They drank wine by the fire, then cooked the crab cakes in a skillet and ate at the kitchen table.

  “So I suppose there will be cupcakes for dessert?” he asked after he cleared away the dishes and rinsed them.

  “Are you getting tired of cupcakes?” Brooke frowned. Maybe she should have brought something else. “Are you over my cupcakes?”

  “I will never get tired of your cupcakes,” he said solemnly. “I’ll never be over them.”

  “I meant the kind I bake.”

  “Them, too. If you baked it, I’ll love it.”

  “You’re very accommodating,” she observed.

  “Well, I do need you to stick around to bake for my grandfather’s birthday.”

  “You’re going to have to give me a head count when you have one. I have orders for a dinner party that same weekend and a list of customers who want cupcakes for Thanksgiving.”

  “Then you’ll be rolling right into the Christmas season. I’ll bet you get a lot of orders for December.”

  “I already have a lot lined up. Plus the big wedding on December tenth.” She was grateful for a few minutes to just sit and watch him. She liked the way he moved, liked the way his hair fell across his forehead when he leaned over to stack the dishes in the dishwasher. “And since I’m one of the attendants as well as one of the bakers—both brides want spectacular cakes and spectacular cupcakes—I will be a busy girl that weekend.”

  “I guess the paparazzi will be following you all over town, since you’ll be with Dallas.”

  “They’ll be following Dallas all over town. Or not, maybe. She’s not publicizing this, so unless someone she invites spills it to the press, she just might get away with a wedding without photographers swinging from the chandeliers.” She couldn’t stop watching him. It was as if she’d been hypnotized a few days ago and hadn’t come out of the trance yet. “Want to go with me to the wedding?”

  “As your date?” He paused, a plate in hand, and turned. “Did you just ask me out?”

  “I asked you if you wanted to go to the wedding with me, so yeah, I guess that counts as a date. So yeah, I asked you out.”

  “And this dinner …” He gestured to the crab cakes left on the plate. “This was your idea.”

  “I suppose it was. So what?”

  “So if I go to the wedding with you, it would be our second date,” he said thoughtfully.

  Brooke couldn’t tell if he was talking to himself or trying to confuse her by stating the obvious.

  “Does that mean something to you?” she asked.

  “Depends. On whether or not you agree that the wedding would be our second date.”

  Brooke shrugged. “Okay. It’s our second date.”

  “And both times you asked me, right?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Do you have a bet going with someone?”

  Jesse laughed. “No.”

  “Then are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

  “Someday.”

  “Are you sure you and Clay don’t have some thing going on here?”

  “I swear, no. No bets. Besides, Clay is too hung up on his own love life to worry about mine.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean Lucy Sinclair came into Cuppachino the other day and he embarrassed us both by drooling all over himself. It was sad, Brooke, to watch a grown man reduced to—”

  “Are you sure? Lucy?” Her eyes widened at the thought.

  Jesse nodded. “I sat right across the table from him, gave him CPR after she left.”

  “Well, the wedding should be interesting, since she’s the wedding planner and he’s going to be in the wedding.” She grinned. “Should be fun.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Brooke’s cell phone rang, and she reached into her pocket to check the caller ID. “My mother,” she told him. “Hi, Mom …”

  “Are you at home?”

  “No, actually, I’m at Jesse’s. We just had dinner. Why?”

  “Because Clay called and asked if I’d pick up Logan from Tiffany’s birthday party and drop him and Cody off at Berry’s house. Clay and Wade are still at some brewery over in Rehoboth talking to the brewer. Dallas is out and Berry isn’t driving at night these days. My car has a flat, and I’m waiting for—”

  “What time does he have to be picked up?”

  “Ten minutes ago.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “I’m sorry that I had to disturb you.”

  “That’s nice of you, but not to worry. I’ll leave right now. Thanks, Mom.”

  She disconnected the call and tossed the phone into her bag. She explained the situation to Jesse.

  “I’ll go with you,” he said. “We can drop off the boys at Dallas’s, then come back here.” He pulled her to him. “You could sleep over since Logan’s not going to be home.” He kissed the side of her face. “What do you say?”

  She pretended to mull it over. “Your car or mine?”

  Chapter 16

  Jesse took his time approaching the house that occupied a full block at the very end of Old St. Mary’s Church Road. While not the oldest house in St. Dennis, it was certainly one of the largest and grandest. It was said that the original owner had been a tobacco planter, and had styled the house after a mansion owned by a cousin of his somewhere in one of the Carolinas before the Civil War. Jesse’s great-grandfather had bought it for his wife over one hundred years ago, and the house had remained in the family ever since. Jesse had only been inside three times, and hadn’t seen much more than the front entry hall—which he’d thought was cavernous—and his grandfather’s study.

  It was hard not to be impressed, Jesse conceded as he rang the doorbell. The house and grounds had been beautifully maintained over the years, and the residence was even now quite the showplace. Why, he wondered, would one person want to live alone in a house that big?

  A moment later, his grandfather appeared, greeting him warmly and holding the door open for him.

  “Right on time.” Curtis nodded approvingly.

  “Can’t be late for our six o’clock reservation at Lola’s,” Jesse said.

  “They’d hold our table but it’s always best to be prompt. Besides, I’m starving. I got caught up
in reading something this afternoon, never did stop for lunch. Now, let me just get my overcoat …” Curtis paused. “Do I need an overcoat?”

  “I think you’ll want it later,” Jesse said. “It’s cool out now and likely to be cooler by the time we finish dinner.”

  His grandfather’s coat lay over the back of a chair in the living room, which was visible from the hall. Jesse retrieved it for him and helped him into it. His overall impression of the room was of dark antiques and too many portraits on the walls.

  “Thank you, son. Now”—Curtis patted Jesse on the back—“shall I drive?”

  Jesse couldn’t help but smile. While a ride in the old Caddy was tempting, he thought maybe Curtis might like a spin around town in the two-seater.

  “I’ll drive, if you don’t mind,” Jesse told him.

  “Fine with me.” Curtis locked the front door behind them. “Always wondered what it would be like to drive one of these things. Should have bought one for myself when I was still young enough to enjoy it.”

  Jesse held the keys out to him. “Can you drive stick?”

  Curtis shook his head. “Not these days.”

  They arrived at Lola’s with several minutes to spare, so they sat in the bar and chatted over drinks until their table was ready. Curtis was surprisingly up-to-date as far as the firm was concerned—thanks, no doubt, to Violet. But while he appeared to know the status of most of the ongoing cases, he wanted the details, the more complete, the better.

  “Now, tell me how you approached Harold Lansing on that property issue of his,” Curtis would say, and Jesse would tell him, step-by-step.

  “And the Macallister divorce. How did you ever get Peter to agree to share the Rehoboth house with Nancy?”

  “That squabble among the Hillyer kids over Cyrus’s will … how’s that going?”

  “Wish I’d been there to see the look on old Jack Winbry’s face when the jury came back in favor of our client.” Curtis had chuckled over Jesse’s defeat of an old adversary.

  By the time they’d ordered dessert, Jesse figured Curtis knew as much as he did about the cases that had come into the office over the past ten months.

  “The last thing I should be thinking about is pumpkin pie,” Curtis told him, “but I just can’t resist. Your grandmother made one hell of a pumpkin pie. Never did find one that rivaled it.” He looked across the table at Jesse, his voice lowered. “I’m sorry you didn’t know her. I’m sorry she didn’t know you.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Pop. I feel like I know her a little, though, through different things that Violet has said from time to time. I know it’s not the same thing, but I have an idea of the type of person she was.”

  “She was one in a million, son.” Curtis stirred cream into his coffee. “Only woman I ever loved, and I loved her the minute I laid eyes on her. Hate to even admit how many years ago that was.”

  He raised the cup to his mouth and took one sip, then set it back down in the saucer.

  “You ever been in love, Jesse?” he asked, and Jesse shook his head, no.

  “At least, I don’t think I have. I’ve been in like a couple of times, in lust several more, but I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” He thought of the way he was starting to feel about Brooke, which was definitely different from anything he’d ever felt for anyone. But was it love? How would he know? “I haven’t given up, though.”

  “Well, I hope you find her here, and I hope you find her soon. You are getting up there, you know.”

  Jesse laughed. “I’m only thirty-six.”

  “Long past the time when you should have found the right girl, settled down, gotten married. Started a family.”

  “I’d like to think that’s in my future.” Jesse stirred cream into his coffee. “But you know, my parents’ marriage wasn’t very good, and my father …”

  “Didn’t set a very good example for you, did he?”

  “Not when it came to relationships.” Jesse thought for a moment. “Or much of anything else, I’m afraid.”

  “I’ve never been able to understand Craig. He was the boy who had everything. He was smart, he was athletic, he was good-looking, he had a magnetism about him … he could have been anything. He had the family firm waiting for him, he had a family that loved him and wanted him to succeed. And yet he chose to be, well, what he is.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jesse found himself saying.

  “Oh, son, no need for you to apologize. Believe me, your father started messing up his life long before you came along.” He shook his head. “We could never figure out where we went wrong, and God knows, Rose and I tried everything we could think of to help him turn it around. But it was like standing on the sidewalk watching a car go out of control. There was nothing you could do about it unless you were the one behind the wheel. After a while we just stopped trying. It occurred to me one day that nothing was going to change Craig unless and until he wanted to change. I never saw any sign that he wanted to.”

  “He never did.”

  “That business at that last law firm he was working for, that whole embezzlement thing.” Curtis shook his head sadly. “I suppose that was the last straw as far as your mother was concerned.”

  “They’d actually split up before that,” Jesse told him. “We’ll just say that he’d already picked out wife number three and we’ll leave it at that.”

  “Your mother is a fine woman. Smart, lovely, charming. A good woman. I’ll never understand what she saw in him. Her or Craig’s first wife.” He paused. “Did you ever meet her? Delia?”

  “The famous mystery writer. No, we never met, but I’ve heard a lot about her, and I’ve seen her on TV a couple of times, read a few magazine articles. She seems like a nice lady.”

  “Terrific woman. Rose and I loved her. Never did find out what happened there. Craig wouldn’t discuss it, and when we tried to get Delia to open up, she shut us out. I mean, literally, shut us out. Wouldn’t let us anywhere near the kids, no real explanation behind that. That was back in the days before grandparents had any rights.” Curtis glanced at Jesse. “You do know there were children from that marriage?”

  “I know I have a half brother and two half sisters, but we’ve never met.” Jesse nodded and thought about the invitations that had already gone out, and hoped he’d made the right decision. Violet seemed to think so, had encouraged him to invite all the Enright offspring, and she would certainly be the one to know.

  “That’s a shame. For all of you. That shouldn’t have been allowed to happen.” Curtis sighed deeply. “It’s very disappointing to get to this stage in your life and to look back, only to find you have so many regrets, so many things you wish you’d done differently.”

  “You can’t change the past, Pop. We both know that.” Jesse patted his grandfather’s arm reassuringly. “And the decisions that my dad made … those are all on him.”

  “I have something to say to you that’s long overdue.” Curtis sighed and put down his cup. “I’m sorry I ever let my feeling of anger and frustration with your father come between us. You and the others. I deeply regret that I haven’t done right by any of you. Those times when your father wasn’t there for you, I should have been. Same for Nick and the girls. I should have been there for all of you. I shouldn’t have taken no for an answer from any of my former daughters-in-law. At least when you became adults, I should have—”

  “It’s okay, Pop.” Jesse felt his throat tighten. “Water over the dam now.”

  “You’re a fine young man, Jesse. You make me very proud.” It seemed Curtis, too, had a catch in his throat.

  “Well, now, look,” Jesse said, “we’re here and we just had a great dinner together and everything is fine. No need to look back, Pop. Just look ahead. You have lots of time to get to know all your grandkids.” He grinned. “It ain’t over till it’s over.”

  “God, Rose would have loved you.” Curtis chuckled. “When did you say your sister would be coming back for another visit?”

&nb
sp; “In a few weeks.”

  “Good, good. We’ll plan dinner or something special while she’s here.”

  “Sounds good. I know she’ll look forward to that.”

  The waiter served their desserts, pumpkin pie for Curtis, a Black Forest cupcake for Jesse, who couldn’t help but smile when he ordered it. Everything about Brooke seemed to make him smile. He hadn’t stopped thinking about her from the minute the door had closed behind her that morning. The way she looked all tousled from sleep when he’d awakened, the way his heart had swelled when she opened her eyes and reached for him …

  “That looks tasty,” Curtis remarked as he eyed the two cupcakes that were set before Jesse.

  “Oh, these are wonderful,” the waiter confided. “Made right here in St. Dennis.”

  “Brooke made them, Pop,” Jesse said, his smile still in place. “Brooke Bowers.” When his grandfather appeared a little confused, he added, “Brooke Madison?”

  “Ah, yes. Little Brooke. She’s a baker now?” Curtis chuckled. “She must take after her aunt Francie. Now, there was a woman who could bake. Took the blue at the county fair for both her lemon pound cake and her rhubarb cake every year for … I don’t even remember how many years.”

  Jesse took a bite. The flavor was rich and sweet, the chocolate dense and delicious. Remarkable, but he could almost taste her in her creation.

  “That must be one pretty darn good cupcake,” Curtis mused. “You’ve been grinning from ear to ear since the waiter brought it out.”

  “You tell me.” Jesse cut off a wedge and passed it to his grandfather, who used his fork to take a bite.

  “Yes.” Curtis nodded. “It is quite good. You be sure to ask her if she got this recipe from Francie when you see her again, hear?”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Curtis snapped his fingers. “Of course, of course. Brooke was the Halloween queen. There was a picture of her on the front page of the Gazette the other day. Dancing with a tall, dark-haired fellow who looked an awful lot like you.”

  “Pop, it was me.”

  “Thought he looked familiar.” Curtis went back to his pumpkin pie. “Lovely girl, Brooke.”