by Marci Bolden
“It’s not what I imagined,” he admitted.
“Did you expect toothless farmers and endless corn fields?”
His image of the consummate grandmother faded as her warm smile turned a bit mischievous. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a wink.
She laughed—a sound that was surprisingly strong coming from her small body—and it made Will smile even more.
“Mama,” Carrie said, carrying a platter in one hand and a plate in the other, “did you cut up all this fruit?”
“I was up with the sun this morning. I knew you’d have your hands full, so I put myself to good use.”
“Thank you.” She eased the fruit down on the buffet and then put a plate in front of Will. “Between the two of us, we may have made too much, though.”
“Mike and the boys will finish up what they don’t, I expect.” Mama’s eyes glazed over as if she were deep in thought. It lasted only a moment before she snapped back. “I should make more juice. One of those girls is bound to be on an all-liquid diet.”
Doreen left, and Will focused on Carrie, who was wiping her hands down her apron. “This smells amazing,” he said, and his stomach grumbled in agreement. He cut into an egg and watched the yolk ooze out. “Who is this elusive Mike person Mama keeps talking about?”
Carrie paused in her movements for a moment before she finished straightening a place setting on the table. “Her son. My husband.”
The distant sadness in Carrie’s voice was unexpected, not the usual tone someone took when referring to a spouse. “Oh?”
“He died. Three years ago. She has early onset Alzheimer’s, so…she forgets.”
“Oh, geez.” He cringed. “I’m sorry.”
Carrie glanced up long enough to meet his gaze.
As he looked into her eyes, he again saw the underlying strength he’d noticed the day before. She was going through something bigger than anyone would have ever guessed by the soft grace she presented to the world.
“She’s okay most days,” Carrie said. “We have some excitement once in a while, but we do all right.”
“Excitement?”
She returned her focus to prepping the table. “Last week she decided to go visit a friend. Only, she left at four in the morning, and her friend doesn’t live in the house Mama walked to. The couple who does live there were nice enough to sit her down with a cup of tea and call the police. I didn’t even know she was gone. It was more frightening than exciting, really.”
“That’s tough,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
She shrugged casually. “We do okay.”
“So, it’s only you here to take care of her?”
“Mike was her only child, and her sister passed away years ago. She doesn’t have any family other than me. Besides, she doesn’t need around-the-clock care. Other than occasional bouts of confusion, she can still take care of herself. For now.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah, it is good.”
He looked at the doorway when several of the other actors came in and walked around her without so much as a “hello.” He was immediately irritated to see how demanding yet dismissive they were of their hostess. That was the way with most rising stars, though. What better way to make oneself feel important than by making someone else feel less so?
Will hated to admit he used to be the same way. When he’d had his first brushes with success, his head had filled with all kinds of egotistical thoughts. If he were honest with himself, those thoughts had only recently started to fade. Reality had taken a bit longer to catch up to him than it did to some others, but the truth couldn’t be denied forever. As much as Will and the others fancied themselves above it all, they weren’t better than anyone. On some levels, they were worse than most.
He watched, eating his unhealthy breakfast, while Carrie catered to every whim with the same ease and calm that had lured him in the night before. When she ran out of juice, she announced she’d be right back and disappeared.
Juliet sauntered into the room then abruptly stopped. “What is that smell?” She scrunched her nose and put her hand to her chest. “Is that…meat?”
“It’s sausage,” Will said, “and it is spectacular.”
“You ate that?” She widened her eyes at him. While some might have been taken in by her innocent deer-in-the-headlights looks, Will had to wonder if she ever stopped putting on a show for those around her. “Do you have any idea what that will do to you?” Juliet demanded.
“Fill me up until lunch, I expect.” He stuffed the last of his breakfast into his mouth as he stood. “Excuse me, I need more juice.”
As Will neared the kitchen, he overheard Mama say, “The troupe seems happy.”
He slowed his stride at the sound of Carrie’s flat response. “They seem to like the house.”
“My great-great-grandfather built this house right after—”
“Mama,” Carrie said with a hint of impatience. “Would you slice more oranges?”
“I can do that.” Mama walked to the island and took a few oranges from a bowl as Will stood in the doorway unnoticed. “I like cooking with you,” Mama said.
Carrie rinsed a dish in the sink and grabbed a towel. “I like cooking with you too. We make a good team.”
“Mike always tells me how much he likes your food,” Mama said.
“That’s nice.”
Will couldn’t see Carrie’s face, but he heard her voice. She said the words, but there was a sad undertone. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for her to constantly be reminded that her husband was gone.
“This isn’t going to be too much work for you, is it?” Mama grabbed a few more oranges. “All these people needing your attention.”
“I can handle it. Why? Do I look overwhelmed already?”
Doreen laughed. “You looked overwhelmed when you woke up this morning, dear.”
“Well, I can handle it. I’m Superwoman, you know.”
“You try, that’s for sure. I don’t want to see you working too hard. You always work too hard.”
Carrie snagged an orange half from the pile Mama had cut and put it in the hand juicer. “Don’t worry. I won’t work too hard.” She pushed the handle down, and the juice ran into the bowl beneath.
The scene was so common, so normal, Will could have stood and watched them working together all day. There was a kind of harmony in the room that seemed to be an extension of the two women. Something there drew Will in and made him want to sit at the island and partake in their joint effort to make juice. Carrie had squeezed three orange halves before she glanced up and noticed him in the doorway.
She plastered a forced smile to her lips as soon as she noticed him. “Did you get enough to eat?”
“More than enough.” He patted his flat stomach. “It was wonderful.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve got this,” Mama said, practically pushing Carrie away from the juicer.
As Carrie stepped around the counter and closed the gap between her and Will, he offered her a much kinder and genuine smile than she’d offered him. “I’m sorry about them.”
Carrie creased her brow. “Sorry about what?”
“The superstars out there.” He nodded toward the dining room. “They’re jerks.”
She didn’t dispute his assessment. “Well, it happens.”
“Yeah, unfortunately it does. Doesn’t make their behavior okay, though.”
“I’ll take this out,” Mama said, bypassing them with a glass of orange juice.
Carrie started to stop her but clamped her lips shut. “Hopefully only one person is thirsty,” she said lightly. Once they were alone, Carrie returned her dark eyes to Will. “It isn’t out of line for them to treat me like what I am: their chef and their maid. That’s my job.”
“They can be respectful about it.”
She shrugged slightly. “Some are more respectful than others. That’s par for the course. I appreciate you being concerned, but I
don’t take their treatment personally, Will.”
He glanced around the kitchen. “Okay, but if anyone takes that too far, let me know.”
A slow grin curved her lips, and he realized, belatedly, that he’d sounded like some kind of wannabe hero, a tough guy coming to the rescue of a damsel in distress.
“You’ll be the first to know,” she said in a way that wasn’t quite patronizing but close enough he was slightly embarrassed by his bravado.
He had no idea why he felt the need to come to her defense. He’d never been one to go out of his way for others. Then again, he supposed he did know. The last few years had changed him in a lot of ways he was still trying to sort out. Being part of this film made his skin crawl. Not because it was a bad movie, but because he felt like he’d sold himself out to be part of it.
“They’re about done,” Mama announced, walking back into the kitchen. She stopped, looking at Carrie and Will standing next to each other as if she was confused, and then eased the dishes in her hand onto the counter. “They did ask for more juice. I must have forgotten. Other than that, our first breakfast was a complete success!”
“It was delicious,” Will said to Doreen.
Giving him a slight bow, she said, “Thank you very much, sire.”
“We’ll be heading out soon.” He focused on Carrie one more time. “I should get ready. Have a good day, Carrie.”
“You too, Will.”
He winked at Doreen. “Try not to get into any trouble today, Mama.”
She laughed as she grabbed a few oranges from a big bowl. “Oh, that’s nearly impossible.”
Carrie clicked open the container that held Mama’s evening medications and dumped them into Mama’s palm.
“I so love having actors in the house,” Mama said, ignoring the pills. “They appreciate my theatrics.”
Carrie smiled. “They certainly do.”
“You know, I was going to run off to Hollywood when I was younger.”
“Until you met the love of your life,” Carrie said as Mama popped her pills into her mouth.
“Oh, he was so handsome,” she recalled after swallowing the medication. Handing Carrie the glass of water she’d used, she heaved a dreamy sigh. “I had such a weakness for bad boys.”
Carrie chuckled, thinking of all the rules Mike used to convince her to break. Sneaking off to make out in the field when she was supposed to be washing dishes or slipping into a room while she was making the bed and pulling her into the closet for a few breathless kisses. Despite having a heart of gold, Mike had been a rebel all his life, and she suspected he never would have changed. If he were alive today, Carrie imagined he’d still be dragging her into the pantry while she had flour on her hands and dough under her nails.
Damn, she missed that.
“Me too, Mama,” Carrie said as she pushed thoughts of her late husband from her mind.
“He takes after his father, you know?”
“Hmm?”
Mama grinned in a knowing way. “That blush on your cheeks, missy. I know what you’re thinking. Mike’s father was just as bad.”
Carrie gasped and tried to stop a giggle from slipping out. “Go get changed. It’s getting late.”
Mama disappeared into her bathroom, and Carrie sat on the edge of Doreen’s bed, lifting the old photo of Doreen and her husband. He’d died in a farming accident when Mike was a boy. As far as Carrie knew, Doreen had never even considered allowing another man into her heart. Carrie loved Mike, she missed him every single day, but she hoped someday she’d be able to move on. She didn’t know when someday might be, though.
She supposed that didn’t really matter. With Doreen’s memory loss and steadily declining health, Carrie didn’t have time to even consider dating. She didn’t have the energy to give to anyone else. As Natalie loved to remind her, she was already spread too thin.
“And then he said,” Doreen said as she came into the room.
Apparently she’d been talking but Carrie hadn’t heard her. She didn’t need to. Within a moment, she recognized the story about how Mama was won over by a farmhand.
Mama rested her head on the pillow. Taking Carrie’s hand, she smiled up. “I would be lost without you.”
Leaning down, Carrie kissed her cheek. “I feel the same, Mama. Get some sleep.” Turning on the video baby monitor she kept by the bed, she confirmed that the receiver she carried with her was working before she left the room.
Once she was downstairs, Carrie double-checked the locks and poked her head into each room, doing a quick sweep to look for messes before heading to the kitchen. There, she set the monitor on the counter and pulled the cork from a bottle of red wine. As soon as she filled the glass, she focused on getting out a Dutch oven to make another batch of yogurt.
As she did, her mind wandered back to her husband. She had loved Mike so much, she thought her heart might burst. Carrie’s father had hinted that she and Mike were too young to get married, but Carrie had known, without a doubt, she would never love anyone the way she loved him. They were only nineteen when they’d wed, but they’d had a lavish event in the gardens of the inn. Mama had cut the perfect flowers for the bouquet and baked the most delicious cake. Carrie had practically been family from the day she’d come to work at the inn. The wedding had made it official.
She frowned as she considered that she would probably never find that kind of happiness again. That was depressing as hell. She refused to believe her best days were behind her, even though it felt that way most of the time. Someday, she’d have time to breathe and she could return her attention to the dreams that she and Mama had talked about so many times.
Mama had wanted to open a restaurant at the inn. Cooking was her passion. Running her home as a bed-and-breakfast had been a means to an end, not the dream she’d always felt was too far out of reach. Carrie disagreed. She knew they could turn Gable Inn into a successful tearoom. If only they’d had the means. Unfortunately, Mama’s medical expenses had drained what little savings they’d had.
“What’s that?” Will asked, pulling Carrie from her thoughts.
She followed his gaze to the monitor. “Keeping an eye on Mama from afar.”
Carrie hated that she felt the need to do so, but Mama had taken to wandering. When the house got too quiet, Carrie would panic. After running up the stairs one too many times, only to find Mama sound asleep, Carrie decided investing in the monitors would save her from constantly fearing the worst. For a moment, she recalled far too vividly the fear she’d felt the first time Mama had gotten out of the house unnoticed and disappeared.
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as if trying to see through her. “Are you okay, Carrie?”
“Yeah. Of course,” she said, returning her attention to the milk she was warming.
“You know, we only met yesterday, but I’ve already learned something very valuable about you.”
Confused, she furrowed her brows. “What?”
“When you say ‘of course,’ you really mean anything but.”
“What, exactly, is anything but ‘of course?’”
“Well, just now, it meant ‘not really.’ And when you say it to Donnie, it sounds like you mean ‘kiss my ass.’”
Carrie chuckled, mostly because he wasn’t wrong.
Will smiled. “And when you say it to Juliet, that means ‘fuck you.’ Pardon my French,” he said as she laughed, “but that is what you mean, isn’t it?”
She simply grinned, neither confirming nor denying his observations. After turning off the flame and setting a thermometer into the warmed milk, she gestured toward the bottle of wine. “Would you like a glass?”
“Yeah, I would. Thank you.”
He sat at the island as she filled a glass for him. He lifted his glass, surprising her with a toast, but she clinked her drink to his before taking a sip.
Leaning against the counter, Carrie considered her words before speaking. “Juliet is…challenging.”
“Yeah
. Try working with her,” Will muttered.
Carrie tried to hide her smile, but she couldn’t. “Donnie is…”
“A schmuck,” Will offered.
Taking a breath, she opted not to confirm that she agreed with his assessment. “I’ll work harder at hiding my displeasure.”
“Oh, don’t. I find your underlying snark quite entertaining.”
Widening her eyes, Carrie gasped. “Am I snarky? Because I don’t mean to be.”
“Nobody else has noticed.”
“Even so,” she said, “I don’t mean to be disrespectful.”
He considered her words for a few moments before shrugging. “Personally, I think it’s good for them to have someone who doesn’t fall at their feet. They need to be reminded they aren’t as special as they think.”
“That’s not my place,” Carrie said. She took a drink before realizing his glass was already empty. She hadn’t even noticed him finish his drink but didn’t hesitate to pour him another.
“Can I be honest with you about something?” Will asked quietly as he stared at his glass.
“I guess.”
He looked up at her with his gray eyes, and for a moment she saw pain and vulnerability there. Her heart tripped in her chest with the uncertainty of what he was about to confess. The look only lasted for a moment before he blinked the agony away and smirked. “This wine is terrible.”
Carrie laughed lightly. “Well, it does the job.”
Nodding, he focused on his glass again, and she was tempted to try to pry the truth from him. Clearly the wine wasn’t what was on his mind. She sensed something heavier weighed on him, but she didn’t think it was her place to pry, any more than it was her place to make Donnie and Juliet realize their egos were obnoxiously large.
“Being here reminds me of home,” he said. He glanced at her in a way that made her think he was uncomfortable sharing that but couldn’t stop himself.
She understood that. There were so many times she didn’t want to complain about what Mama had been up to, what messes she’d made, or how tired she herself felt, but sometimes she couldn’t stop the words from coming. Sometimes, when she and Natalie were alone, those quiet moments turned into venting sessions that Carrie couldn’t control.
