by Marina Adair
And how embarrassing was that? It was like high school all over again. She knew if she hesitated, he’d ask her to stay but not for the right reasons. Her backbone snapped straight, and the weight of the world went back to where it had been her entire life—only this time it felt heavier, as if she would crumble the second she walked out of the hangar.
She forced a smile. “You’re right. I should take the job.”
“Of course you should. This is everything you’ve ever wanted. You’ve worked hard for this. You deserve to finally start your life.”
“In Los Angeles?”
“Where else?” he said as if there were no other option than starting a new life, three thousand miles away—from him.
Her heart sank to her toes and her stomach hollowed out, making her want to throw up. Here she’d been thinking about the possibility of buying her parents’ house, moving in with Hudson, and he’d been, well, she didn’t know. But they clearly weren’t looking for the same things.
“There were two options on the table, but I guess I chose the wrong one.”
“Mila,” he said, but she didn’t look at him, couldn’t for fear she’d lose it.
She was tired of waiting for the right time, the right opportunity, the right man—only to realize she’d once again gotten it wrong. For once she wanted someone to see her magic, to choose her. To tell her she was their person.
But the longer she waited, the more certain she became that he wasn’t going to say any of those things, so she turned and headed for the door.
“I’d better go,” she said, not looking back, knowing if she did, she’d cry. “I have tickets to book, plans to make. Oh, and I have to tell my parents the news.”
Outside, it had started raining hard, matching the pressure building in her chest. So she clutched her hands over her heart, to make sure it stayed in one piece until she made it to her car.
She reached for the handle as the first sob rolled through her chest and broke free. Followed closely by another, and by the time the third one wracked her body she was soaking wet, leaning against her car, the rain crashing down around her.
Chapter 9
Hudson sat at the bar, sipping a beer and feeling as if his heart had been tossed through a propeller.
“What are you doing?” Ford asked, taking way too much joy in Hudson’s current situation.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He picked up the glass and drained it.
“You know she’s leaving today.”
A whole month early. Hudson rubbed his hand over his chest, trying to ease the raw ache that had been gnawing at him. It didn’t help. Nothing he seemed to do helped. It just got worse—deeper, hollower.
“She texted me good-bye yesterday.”
“Did you text her back?” Ford asked, and Hudson remained quiet. “Man, you’re an idiot.”
Maybe, but he’d come to terms with his decision. It had been a week since Mila had walked through that hangar door and out of his life. He knew if he’d asked her to stay, she would have put her life on hold to retrofit it around someone else’s needs. He cared for her too much to let that happen.
So, he’d let her go. And he sure as shit didn’t want to rehash it all. “Love you too. Now, get the hell out of my face.”
Instead of walking away, Ford took the stool next to him and signaled for another round.
“That’s the opposite of what I asked you to do.” Not that Dakota would bring Hudson anything. She’d been sending him the buzz-off-and-die glare since he’d walked in. He didn’t blame her. He knew he’d hurt Mila, had seen it in her eyes, but he’d made the right call. In a few months, when her life was full of opportunity, she’d see that.
“You’re not the boss of me,” Ford said. “Thank Christ, because ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time you get it wrong.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But this is one of those point-one times.”
“Let me guess, you breaking her heart is your way of protecting her.” Ford clapped him on the back. “Then congratulations, Bro, job well done.”
“What would you have had me do?” he asked in a tone that would have a smart man running. “Make her choose between me, a guy she’s been with for less than a month, and the job?”
His twin was never the smart one. In fact, he was as stupid as they came, because he leaned forward, bringing his smug mug within punching distance. “You should have given her the choice. Not made it for her. You didn’t just screw this up. You took her choice away.”
He stared at the inch of foam left in the bottom of his glass. “What if she didn’t choose me?”
Ford sat back and crossed his arms. “She’s not Dad.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
Hudson wasn’t sure anymore. He thought he knew a lot, but, apparently, he knew jack shit when it came to women.
“You should have more faith in yourself. And if that’s too hard, then at least have faith in Mila.”
He looked over at his brother. “And if she still leaves?” “You really think that’s what would have happened? I have no idea how you’ve ever gotten laid.” Ford smiled. Hudson didn’t. Because, looking back, he realized she wouldn’t have left. He’d essentially chased her away and he knew exactly how that felt.
“You know what your problem is, right?” Ford asked.
Hudson shot Ford a hard look. “I guess you’re about to tell me.”
“You love her.”
He shoved Ford nearly off the chair. “You take that back.”
“Can’t. Not when it’s the truth.” Ford snatched Hudson’s phone and hit Mila’s speed dial, then held it out.
Hudson looked at the phone as if it were radioactive. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m going to do you a favor and call her, then ask her not to get on that plane.” Ford paused. “Maybe you should ask her. And be sure to say please.”
He hated it when Ford was right. But Hudson wasn’t just in love. He was in so deep he couldn’t see a future without Mila. He should have given her the choice. He owed her that. She deserved that. And God help him, if she chose L.A. it would hurt more than the bullet that had pierced his shoulder in South Africa, but he’d live with whatever she chose.
“What are you going to do?” Ford asked.
Hudson took his phone. “Tell her I love her, then ask her not to get on that plane.” He hit dial and heard it ring—in stereo.
He turned around and there she was, standing at the tavern door, dressed in a pretty yellow sweater and matching scarf. With her phone to her ear, she walked across the floor toward him. “I didn’t get on the plane.”
“I can see that,” he said into the mouth piece, standing and walking toward her.
“I couldn’t. Not without telling you what I was going to say in the hangar.”
“What were you going to say?” he asked, and then she was right there, in front of him, those big brown eyes, red from crying, staring up at him.
“That I want to stay.” She was still talking into the phone. “In Moonbright. Not for a job and not for a guy. But for my guy.”
He liked the sound of that, but he needed to be sure of what she was saying. He took the phone from her and pocketed it along with his own. “What about your dream?”
She stepped so close he could smell the rain on her skin. “You’re my dream. You’re who I’ve been waiting for and I finally found you—why would I leave?”
“God, Mila, I don’t even know where to begin,” he whispered, resting his hands on her hips. “I’m a disaster in the kitchen, no one would ever call me even tempered, and I don’t even own a tie. The only thing throw pillows are good for are naked pillow fights and I am so far from perfect I’m holding my breath, waiting for the day when you decide to call me on it.”
“I burn eggs, have been known to honk at slow pedestrians, and I’m realizing ties are overrated. I’m up for a good pillow fight and you are perfect. For me.” She slid her
arms around his waist. “And I would always choose you, Hudson James, because I love you.”
Ford smacked his arm. “You were supposed to say that first.”
Hudson ignored him. “I love you so much, I didn’t want to take anything from you. I just wanted what was best for you.”
“You will always be what’s best for me.” She smacked his chest. “That was a dumb move you pulled, and I almost fell for it. Don’t ever do something that stupid again.” Then her eyes welled up and she smoothed her hand up and around his neck. “You love me, Hudson James?”
“Guilty as charged, Buttercup.”
And then she kissed him and, in that moment when her lips met his, he knew not only that magic existed but, out of all the people in the universe, he’d found his person.
Enjoy these recipes from the Corner Café!
Blueberry Butter Cake
(This recipe was handed down from a great-aunt who extensively traveled New England. She first sampled the cake during a summer visit with an old friend who owned a small restaurant. Desserts were a specialty. The owner graciously shared the recipe with my aunt. It became a family favorite over the years.—Kate Angell)
Yield: 12 servings
Ingredients
½ cup butter or margarine
¾ cup white sugar plus 1 tablespoon
¼ teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large egg yolks
2 large egg whites
1 ½ cups all-purpose flour plus one tablespoon
1 teaspoon baking powder
⅓ cup milk
1 ½ cups fresh blueberries
Directions
1. Preheat oven to 350° F (175° C). Grease and flour an 8-by-8-inch-square pan.
2. Cream butter or margarine and ½ cup of the sugar until fluffy. Add salt and vanilla. Separate eggs and reserve the whites. Add egg yolks to the sugar mixture; beat until creamy.
3. Combine 1 ½ cups flour and baking powder; add alternately with milk to egg yolk mixture.
4. Coat berries with 1 tablespoon flour and add to batter.
5. In a separate bowl, beat whites until soft peaks form. Add remaining ¼ cup of sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, and beat until stiff peaks form. Fold egg whites into batter. Pour into prepared pan. Sprinkle top with final 1 tablespoon sugar.
6. Bake for 50 minutes, or until cake tests done.
Classic Chocolate Whoopie
(This recipe is from Whoopie Pies by Sarah Billingsley and Amy Treadwell, whom I had the pleasure to interview when I worked as a food writer for the San Francisco Chronicle about how whoopie pies, once an East Coast treat, were sweeping the nation.—Stacy Finz)
Prep time: 20 minutes
Cook time: 20 minutes
Yield: 24 whoopie pies
Ingredients
For the Cakes
1 ⅔ cups all-purpose flour
⅔ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 ½ teaspoons baking soda
½ teaspoons salt
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
4 tablespoons vegetable shortening
1 cup (packed) dark brown sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup milk
For the Marshmallow Filling
1 ½ cups Marshmallow Fluff (or other prepared marshmallow
cream, which will do in a pinch)
1 ¼ cups vegetable shortening
1 cup confectioners’ sugar
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
Directions
For the Cakes
1.Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat the oven to 375° F (190° C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
2.Sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt onto a sheet of waxed paper. In the work bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the butter, shortening, and brown sugar on low speed until just combined. Increase the speed to medium and beat until fluffy and smooth, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and vanilla and beat for another 2 minutes.
3.Add half of the flour mixture and half of the milk to the batter and beat on low until just incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl. Add the remaining flour mixture and ½ cup milk and beat until completely combined.
1.Using a spoon, drop about 1 tablespoon of batter onto one of the prepared baking sheets and repeat, spacing them at least 2 inches apart. Bake one sheet at a time for about 10 minutes each, or until the pies spring back when pressed gently. Remove from the oven and let the cakes cool in the pan for about 5 minutes before transferring them to a rack to cool completely.
For the Classic Marshmallow Filling
1. In the work bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together the Marshmallow Fluff and the vegetable shortening, starting on low and increasing to medium speed until the mixture is smooth and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Reduce the mixer speed to low, add the confectioners’ sugar and the vanilla, and beat until incorporated. Increase the mixer speed to medium and beat until fluffy, about 3 minutes more.
To Assemble the Whoopie Pies
1. Spread the filling onto the flat side of one of the cakes, using a knife or spoon.
2. Top it with another cake flat side down. Repeat with the remaining cakes and filling.
3. Alternately you can use a pastry bag with a rounded tip to pipe the filling onto the cakes, which will give you a smaller, neater presentation.
White Bread Rolls
(This is a family recipe that my mother and aunt used to make as a braided loaf. In the last few years, my sister altered the loaf into dinner rolls. She usually makes them during the holidays and they are the first thing on the table to go.—Stacy Finz)
Ingredients
2 packages of active dry yeast (¼ oz. each)
¾ cup warm water
2 ⅔ cup warm water
¼ cup sugar
1 tablespoon salt
3 tablespoons shortening (Crisco)
9–10 cups flour
Directions
1. Dissolve yeast in ¾ cup warm water. Stir in rest of water, sugar, salt, and shortening. Add 5 cups of flour and beat with an electric mixer until smooth. Add remaining 4–5 cups of flour until it feels a little sticky but not so sticky that you can’t get a ball of dough to drop from your hands.
2. Turn dough onto a lightly floured board and knead for 10 minutes. Place the dough in a greased bowl, then turn the dough over so both sides are greased. Cover the bowl and let the dough rise for one hour. Punch the dough down and divide it in half, putting the second half in another greased bowl. Let both doughs rise to double in size, about another hour.
3. Take handfuls of dough (a little smaller than the palm of your hand), roll into a ball, and flatten on an ungreased baking sheet. Brush the tops lightly with melted butter or egg wash. Bake at 375° F (190° C) for 20 minutes or until golden brown.
Grannie Stowell’s Pumpkin Custard Pie
(Granny Stowell spent most of her childhood picking what needed picking from farm to farm all over the South. She never missed Wheel of Fortune and prided herself on having the best pie at every potluck. In the 1950s Granny opened Hot Biscuit, a locals-only diner that served homemade blue-plate specials, gravy-covered scratch biscuits, and three-layer-crust pies so deep they had to be baked in a lasagne pan. But her signature dessert was her pumpkin custard pie, a family-only treat that graced our table every holiday season. Even though Grannie Stowell is no longer with us, I make sure her pumpkin custard pie is the centerpiece of our holidays.—Marina Adair)
Ingredients
16 oz. room-temperature cream cheese
½ cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 (9-inch) graham cracker crust (store-bought or homemade)
½ cup pumpkin puree
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground ginger
teaspoon ground nutmeg
Directions
1. Preheat oven to 325° F (175° C).
2. Combine cream cheese, sugar, and vanilla extract and beat until creamed. Add eggs one at a time, beating until smooth.
3. Spread 1 cup of the cheesecake batter into the bottom of the graham cracker crust. Set aside.
4. In a separate bowl, combine pumpkin puree, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and nutmeg. Add the remaining cheesecake batter and whisk gently until well combined. Pour the pumpkin batter over the cheesecake layer and smooth evenly over top with a spatula.
5. Bake 35 to 40 minutes until center is almost set. Allow to cool for an hour, then refrigerate for a minimum of 4 hours or overnight.
If you enjoyed THE CAFÉ BETWEEN PUMPKIN AND PIE,
you can visit Moonbright, Maine, again!
Love is the sweetest treat....
THE COTTAGE ON PUMPKIN AND VINE
USA Today Bestselling Author
Kate Angell
Jennifer Dawson
Sharla Lovelace
“Delightful and spicy.”—RT Book Reviews, 4 Stars
Welcome to Moonbright, Maine . . . where the
scents of donuts and cider waft through the
crisp night air . . . with just a hint of magic.
It’s time for the annual Halloween costume party at the cottage on Pumpkin and Vine, the perfect place to celebrate the pleasures of the season. Guests return to the picturesque B & B year after year to snuggle up in its cozy rooms, explore the quiet, tree-lined streets, and enjoy all the spooky fun of the holiday. But local legend whispers that it’s also a place where wishes have a strange way of coming true.
