by Andrea Hurst
The two women began carrying the boxes into the kitchen and unloading the contents into the refrigerator. Lily began rearranging the trays and bowls. “Pretty crowded in here, but I think I can make a bit more room.”
“So, is there anything else I can help with, Lily, anything?”
“Jude, the one thing I need help with is finding the darn brownie recipe.” Lily pulled out some tall glasses and filled them with fresh ice-cold raspberry lemonade.
“You got me there, Lily, that’s a hard one. Have you looked through every cupboard and drawer?”
“I’ve literally torn the place apart. She didn’t even leave me a clue. I’ve found recipes for every dish from scones to cheesecake, but no brownie recipe,” Lily sighed.
“Do you want me to help you look for it again?” Jude offered.
“That’s okay, Jude. You go ahead back into town, you still have your lunch rush to deal with. Thanks again for everything!”
“No problem, any time,” Jude said with a wink.
Lily sat in the porch swing and watched Jude drive away. She rocked softly, remembering all the times she’d played on the porch with her grandmother. A cool breeze, sweet with Jasmine, blew in from the Sound. In the distance a ferry horn blasted. And she could almost hear Grandma Maggie calling, “Time for supper, my little pony, whoa now.” She had loved running around the yard, her long pale hair loose in the wind. Lily closed her eyes and remembered the sweet smell of fresh chocolate chip cookies and spiced apple cider that her grandmother would serve her while she played dolls in the afternoon. They’d had their games and secrets between them. When Lily couldn’t fall asleep at night, Grandma would tell her the never-ending stories about a little girl named Kayla who ran away to the forest because she was so sad at home. Lily would listen intently. There was always a kind old woman, or a guardian angel or friendly fairy, who would lead Kayla back home and tell her wonderful things about herself.
A smile spread across her face. She no longer wanted to run away, she had found home. She remembered her favorite game—find the hiding place. And when she’d found the hiding place, her grandmother always left a treasure to uncover as well. Lily abruptly stopped rocking. Her mind snapped back to the secret place they had left messages for each other. My pony…THE PONY, the white ceramic horse they always hid secret messages in. Of course, sitting in plain sight in the china cabinet, the beautifully sculpted, silky smooth porcelain horse that had been her mother’s as a little girl. That was it! Hopes building, she tore into the house and threw open the glass door of the mahogany china cabinet. On the bottom shelf, where it had been kept since her grandmother was a little girl, stood the shiny white horse with the hole in the bottom of its platform.
Lily carefully lifted out the horse. Of course, where else would her Grandmother leave her the most important message of all? She turned the horse upside down and reached in carefully, her fingers a bit larger than when she was eight years old. Deep inside she could feel a stiff piece of paper, just out of her reach. She tried again, this time using her little and ring finger, and was just able to grasp it. Slowly, she slid the paper down through the small hole. Sure enough, rolled up into a tiny scroll and inserted in the hiding place was a message just for her.
Her heart skipped a beat. Memories flooded. She could smell Grandma Maggie’s familiar gardenia scent, hear her sparkling laugh. “You finally found it, dear.”
Time and place blended together…she was a child anticipating the treasure, she was a granddaughter cherishing a last message, she was a woman hoping for the last secret to be revealed. She unrolled the scroll. Her grandmother’s curvy scrawl covered the page.
My dear Lily,
I know in my heart you will find this message meant only for you. Never have you left my heart, not a day has gone by that I did not dream of you and wonder what kind of incredible woman you had grown up to be. Know, my granddaughter, that I am still with you and pray that you will find the love I have on Madrona Island and recapture the pure joy we found here together when you were a child. Everything I hold dear is yours, from the beautiful inn to the magical people who will fill it once you have touched it with your grace and love.
My last legacy to leave you is your favorite, and many others as well, the Grandma Maggie’s Heavenly Brownie recipe. May it bring you blessings in all forms.
For eternity,
Your Grandma Maggie
Lily stared at the recipe, trying to read it between her tears. The ingredients registered on her palette. She lowered herself into the velvet rocker and held the recipe to her heart.
Grandma Maggie’s Heavenly Brownies. “YES!” Lily yelled. “Thank you, Grandma.”
Her eyes scanned the recipe, making a mental note of each ingredient and checking off if the needed item was already stocked in her kitchen. Then she smiled smugly; tomorrow there would be a big treat for everyone who attended: The richest, chewiest, fudgiest brownies in the world would be at the Madrona Island Bed and Breakfast Grand Reopening Celebration.
Lily hurried to the computer to type in the recipe and save it in a section only she knew the password for. The possibilities of selling these brownies online were unlimited; she’d be the Mrs. Fields of the Internet. Grandma Maggie’s Heavenly Brownies, what a great brand name. She would need newly designed labels and, of course, a new variety of gourmet flavors. Hmm, how about Lavender Chardonnay, or spicy cayenne bites? She would use Valrhona chocolate, she would swear that brand had magical properties. A brownie test baking was in order, and she was sure she would have plenty of tasters volunteering.
The parlor clock struck 7:00. The sun was just beginning to set. Tomorrow was the grand opening; she would have to stay up pretty late to get a few batches baked, but it would be worth it. For now, she would stick with the standard recipe that everyone adored and bake as many as her stock of ingredients and her waning energy would allow.
She pulled out the dry ingredients and then a dozen eggs and mounds of butter. Probably enough for two large batches, she assessed. The chocolate melted over a low flame in the double boiler while she beat the eggs and measured the flour. A flash of fur flew by as Gretel came blundering into the kitchen, nails tapping on the wooden floor. She landed head on into Lily’s arms.
“Hey, girl, how’d you get in here?
Gretel licked away at Lily’s buttery hands.
“Oh, I see, you must have smelled the brownie prepping all the way across the field.”
Ian leaned against the kitchen entry, holding back a guilty smile. He looked like a little boy caught stealing cookies. “I confess, we saw your kitchen light still on and knew something good had to be going on in here.”
“We saw?” she chided.
He moved toward her and brushed a wisp of flour from her nose. “Well, I saw, Gretel smelled, and we decided to explore.”
Lily kissed his lips, holding her flour-stained body at a distance. He pulled her close, running his hands up her back. The kitchen timer went off, and Lily broke the kiss and rushed to the stove to check the chocolate. “Ah, not burned. Thank you to the kitchen gods.”
Ian leaned over to eye the glistening chocolate mixture. “So, what’s up? I thought you were going to bed early, not diving into a container of Valrhona.”
Lily flashed the neatly typed recipe before his eyes. “I found it,” she said, waving in the air. “The brownie recipe!”
Ian eyed the recipe that quickly disappeared behind Lily’s back.
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s a secret family recipe. Even from you…for now.”
A grin lit her face. “This could be a very valuable commodity soon.”
Ian took a seat at the table, rolled up his sleeves, and asked, “So, how can I help? Beat eggs, line pans?
Hair spilling into his face, tiredness around his eyes, and he was still there for her. It meant a lot.
“We might make it to bed by midnight at this rate,” he said, staring at her with invitation in his eyes.
The
same butterflies went through her as the first time he kissed her.
“Perhaps.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
A florescent hummingbird made kamikaze dives from feeder to flower, gathering nectar. The green of the cedar trees provided a sharp contrast against the deep rusty oranges of the flickering bird. Nestled in the corner office overlooking the lawn, Lily watched, mesmerized by the tiny creature as its wings turned a rainbow of colors in the morning sunlight.
The crape myrtle trees were in bloom; their vibrant petals floated on the breeze and dropped to the ground, creating the effect of rosy snow on the lawn. Everything looked like a fairytale on this early summer day: Puffy white clouds on the horizon, birds’ song echoing in the garden, and the sweet smell of alyssum in the air. A perfect day for a party.
Betty was in her yard snipping flowers for the table bouquets. Lily marveled at how much energy the eighty-year-old woman had–up at dawn, full of energy, positive attitude, what a great neighbor and friend. Mary was in the kitchen, and soon Lily would need to leave her perch and join her there.
Lilacs bloomed abundantly along the east fence in shades of purple and white. Whenever she walked out the back door lately, the sweet scent overwhelmed her senses. Tired of paperwork, she left her desk and headed outside to the tool shed. She pulled out a pair of garden clippers. Lilac bunches would make great bouquets for the parlor and dining room today. She could hardly believe how well everything had come together. Her mother, first showing up unexpectedly a few weeks ago in jeans and a work shirt, and now back again, had almost been worth the whole experience. Finally, she had a mother who not only helped her with her complicated divorce, but painted trim and pulled weeds. The check was a very welcome gift too.
There were so many things to do to get ready, and here she was out in her sweats snipping more of the glorious peonies blooming in her yard. A smile crossed her face; there was nowhere else she would rather be. July fourth weekend was the perfect time to launch her new inn, and she would give one heck of a party to thank everyone too. She could hardly believe how well everything had come. She thought of her new adopted family, Ian, Jason, and Gretel, and of course, the angel with the white hair, Grandpa John. She had two soul sisters, Jude and Kyla. With their unflinching support, Lily now felt like she belonged.
She gathered the sweet blossom stalks and brought them into the kitchen to put in water. While Lily had baked and planned, Mary had spent the last two days cleaning and waxing until the inn gleamed. Lily and Mary put the flowers in vases, then pulled out the finely ironed tablecloths, lace doilies, and placemats and brought them into the parlor. The counters were piled high with trays of breads, brownies, and cookies securely covered with pink plastic wrap. Cases of cabernet and merlot were stacked in the pantry, and in the refrigerator, bottles of chardonnay and the local strawberry wine were chilling.
Lily surveyed the trays one more time. Stuffed mushrooms with feta and pine nuts, Roquefort cheese balls rolled in crushed pecans, platters of roasted turkey, and smoked salmon. The outside refrigerator was overflowing too. The smell of freshly ground French roast coffee dominated the room. The last three days had been nonstop cooking, baking, and last-minute cleaning. The fact that the phone had been ringing off the hook for reservations and RSVPs had been gratifying. The magazine article had really helped to get exposure.
She walked upstairs and checked out the rooms one more time before placing a thick velvet rope across the doorways of the guest rooms so they were available for viewing but not entering. In the Rose Suite, all of her mother’s things had been moved out of sight and into the closet. Lily heard a car pulling into the driveway and glanced out the hall window to see who was driving up. She looked at her watch, 8:00 AM. Ian was true to his word when he promised yesterday to have the brochures to her first thing in the morning. She couldn’t wait to see the glossy, full-color work of art that Ian had designed. That man is so creative. From graphic artist to painter, he had amazed her. The watercolor rendition of the B&B for the logo was gorgeous. Ian had wrapped the entire inn with climbing roses and in delicate calligraphy written Madrona Island Bed and Breakfast–Lily Parkins, Innkeeper.
It was Independence Day. And in two more weeks her independence day would come too. After today, she would be truly an independent business owner too. All her hopes were coming true. Only a year ago, she didn’t even know how to dream.
Jude’s car flew into the driveway behind Ian’s. She had insisted on arriving early too. “We come bearing gifts,” Jude and Katherine said, carrying containers of food.
Ian followed, holding a box of brochures and waving one in the air. “Just in time.”
They crowded around Ian, admiring the slick new brochure.
“This makes me want to vacation here myself,” Jude said. “Karen will be here soon to help supervise the food, and her husband has promised to take photos today for you to put on the website.”
“Everyone has been so great, thank you guys.” Lily hugged them both.
Jude led the way up the stairs to the kitchen. “Now, let’s get this party started.”
The dining room table would act as the indoor buffet table. Coffee, ice-cold strawberry lemonade, and some appetizers on silver platters would line the kitchen counters, garnished with herbs and edible flowers. Ian and Katherine were setting up the round tables on the grass. Under the shade of the cedar and dogwood trees was another long buffet table covered in an antique linen floral tablecloth. People kept arriving to help, and pretty soon the place was being transformed into a fairytale setting.
Betty and Shirley were placing huge bouquets of roses, foxgloves, and daisies on every table. Lily set out the coffee urn and the beautiful silver tea set. Mary, dressed in a gauzy floral skirt and hot-pink top, carried out several boxes of heavenly scented baked goods and a large sheet cake. The smooth, white icing on the cake was lined with red, white, and blue roses. In the center of the cake was a golden sugar star. The cake, which was baked by Betty and decorated by Shirley, read “To our island star. Good luck, Lily.”
Lily hugged her neighbors. “You both have been wonderful. Betty, you’re like a magic elf, fixing everything, and, Shirley, you’re a mother lion protecting her cub.”
“And with a mane to prove it,” Betty said.
Shirley glared at her. “At least I’m not an elf.”
“Come on, group hug. I love you two.”
Ian walked over and saw the three women a bit teary. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes, yes,” Lily replied. “Just happy.”
Jude walked out. “Lots of work to do, Lily.” Jude clapped her hands. “Get a move on, ladies and gentlemen, it’s almost show time.”
It was 11 AM, and Lily assessed their progress. Her mother was directing the delivery men where to store the champagne. The food was ready, the parking marked. Not much was needed there on this glorious, sunny day. The pond sparkled with droplets of sunlit gold, and an occasional white puffy cloud floated in a brilliant blue sky. Across the Sound, the jagged outline of the Olympic Mountains jutted out across the turquoise sky. And to the south, the imposing peak of Mount Rainier presented itself. “Gorgeous,” she whispered to herself.
Jude took Lily by the hand. “Off to the shower with you. I’m going to go pick up Kyla.”
She hurried inside and bumped straight into Ian. Instead of letting her through, he swept her into a corner for a kiss. She was lost in that blissful place that lovers go, floating in the colors and sensations.
“How are you doing, Miss Innkeeper?”
Lily sighed, still breathless from the kiss. “A bit frazzled, but happy.”
He held her close, pressing his face into her hair. “I knew you could do it. Not for a moment did I doubt this would turn out so well.”
Lily raised her eyes to him. “Thank you, Ian.”
A loud car horn blasted outside. “Go,” Ian said. “I’ll take care of it.”
A bit panicked, she hurried off to the sh
ower. She looked back to see Ian grinning as he watched her stumbling up the stairs. She blew him a quick kiss.
✦✦✦✦
Celtic music floated in the open windows of her bedroom. She took a last look in the mirror and walked outside to greet her arriving guests. Lily glided across the lawn, her rosy linen dress picking up the breeze. Katherine was already greeting guests as she walked over to join them. Ian, dressed in a pale blue shirt and jeans, waved to her as she passed by. He’d set up a face painting station for the kids, and Jason was running around it blowing bubbles. Gretel jumped at the floating objects, punctuating the air with barks.
People smiled, said hello, made their way to the food and wine. Many people she recognized, several were new. The overnight guests with reservations for the weekend would be settling into their rooms after the party ended at 3:00.
“Why, you must be Lily,” a silver-haired lady said. “I knew your grandmother. She would be so pleased how wonderful everything looks.”
“Thank you,” Lily said as people complimented the remodel, the food, her fortitude in reopening in the inn.
Thank you, Grandma Maggie, she whispered to herself.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jude knocked on Kyla’s door and wondered why she was not waiting outside as planned. A voice yelled, “Come in.” Jude walked in and found her friend standing over the table trying to tie a ribbon around a potted bouquet of dried herbs. Kyla’s hands were shaking, and crushed, fragrant leaves spilled to the wooden floor. “Darn, I’m already late and now this. I’m sorry, Jude, everyone must be wondering where the heck I am.”
“Are you all right?” Jude asked.
“Fine, fine,” Kyla said, brushing loose dirt back into the pot. “I’ll just go wash my hands.”
Something was wrong, Jude was sure of it. She followed her friend to the bathroom and watched her briskly comb through her mane of fiery red hair, tightening tortoise shell and amber combs in place. The June sun poured through the window, but Kyla was shaking and rubbing her arms as if she were freezing. She removed a small clump of hair from the comb and tossed it in the wicker wastebasket.
