by Tegan Maher
DEE AND I WORKED TOGETHER in the kitchen until five or so when Nikki showed up. She oohed and ahhed about how well the place was coming along, then picked up my menu.
"I can help with some of these," she said.
Dee shot her an evil grin. "Did you get the rest of your test results back? I'd hate for you to give anyone your cooties."
Nikki's lips turned up in a Cheshire Cat smile. "I'll have you know that little comment is already paying off for me. Ms. Sampson, who is the cheapest bore in the entire county, called and canceled her cut, color and style, which opened up two spots on my calendar. Both ended up filled by walk-ins who are here for the wedding. Not only were they good company, they tipped twenty-five percent on top of it."
"I almost feel like I should get a cut of that," I said, smiling at her as I cut broccoli.
She grinned back. "Put it on my account."
Frowning, she said, "You have two hundred deviled eggs on this menu. Are you nuts?"
I furrowed my brow. "I didn't think I was, but apparently I am. Are you taking umbrage at the number or the fact that I'm making them at all?"
"Both. First, you're probably going to have people bringing them. If you want to make them just to be sure you have them, though, you only need half that."
"Really? For fifty people?"
Dee nodded. "Yeah. A hundred will be more than enough. That's two apiece, plus it allows for more than that because some people won't eat them. You could probably get away with seventy-five." She and Nikki shared a glance. "Because she's right. People will probably bring them."
"Not ones like mine, they won't," I said. "I'm making spinach and cream cheese ones."
"Oh, then that's an egg of a different color," Nikki said, her eyes warming. "By all means, do a hundred. Even if they don't get eaten at the wedding, I wouldn't mind having leftovers of those."
"Yeah," I said, my mind turning. "I might stick with the original numbers. If they don't get eaten, I think I'd like to have a little thank-you party for everybody who's come out to help us pull this off. Also, I don't want to count on people bringing food to the wedding. Anything they bring, I'll just consider icing."
"That would be awesome!" Dee exclaimed. "We did the whole Fourth of July thing, but that was almost too big, and it was mostly looky-lous interested in getting a glimpse of the lodge and chowing down on free food. I've met some really nice people here, though."
I gave a decisive nod. "Then that's what we'll do. I'll pass the word. We'll do it Monday."
We plugged away, knocking most of the side dish components off the list, or at least the ones that would keep, so that we'd just have to put them together on Sunday. Much of the stuff would have to wait until tomorrow, but the broccoli salad and sauce was made, and the eggs were cooked and peeled. We whipped up fresh salsa and cubed four different kinds of cheese, then finished by rolling up the Spanish meatballs.
When I checked those off the prep list, I smiled, content.
Annie walked in and gave a low whistle. "You realize you have enough food here to feed an army, right?"
"Good," I said, sliding a tray of plastic bags filled with cheese into the fridge. "Better too much than not enough."
"Well you certainly practice what you preach. I'll give you that." She peaked into the fridge. "Look at those roasts! You're still going to do a meat carving station?"
"Actually, no," I said. "I'm just gonna put it out there in serving pans already sliced. A station is too big of a pain."
Dee stretched a piece of plastic wrap over the last of the dips and slid them into the fridge, too. "So what do you think about the garden? I took a peek out there a couple hours ago and it looks like a totally different place. Maisey has to be beside herself."
At her name, our ghostly roommate popped in, smiling. "I think it's wonderful. I'm a little ashamed to admit that I've been a terror a time or two today, yet those boys just kept pluggin' along." She pivoted toward me, her shimmering cheeks pink. "You and Scout have worked hard and I've been a nagging ingrate. I'm sorry. And grateful."
I gave her a small smile. "Thank you. I'm glad you're happy with it."
Her eyes twinkled. "So, would it be pushin' it to ask that young man who fixed the fountain to work his magic on the one out front? There's a story behind that one. My wonderful husband said he chose Cupid because he wanted me to remember how much he loved me every time I came home."
"That's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard," Annie said. "If only we were all so lucky."
Maisey took on a faraway look, and opalescent tears gleamed in her eyes. "He was a good man," she said. "That's my only regret about staying behind. I outlived him by two decades, but I was never interested in finding another man."
She sniffed, then smiled around the tears. "Don't get me wrong. We had our bumps. The man was stubborn as a mule. Once he dug his heels in, it would take a nuclear blast to move him, not that we had those back then. And pride"—she drew her brows down and shook her head—"for the first five or ten years of our marriage, that man would take a stand and not back down, even when he knew good and well I was right. Course, I had my fair share of it, too. I was head over heels for the old coot, but for those first few years, I wasn't sure both of us were gonna make it through. We finally hammered out a damned good thing, though, and by the time we got all that ironed out, we were a force to be reckoned with."
It didn't surprise me at all to hear all of that because I couldn't imagine Maisey married to a weak-willed man. She'd have chewed him up for breakfast in the first month, then picked her teeth with his bones.
"So where are you on the murder?" she asked. "Is that miserable old bat gonna make it out in time to see her daughter get hitched, or do you think she done it?"
"I don't know," I said, wiping the table. "We're stuck, but to be honest, I'm starting to believe she's innocent. Or at least I believe there are better suspects."
I told her what all we'd learned, which wasn't much, and she rubbed her chin. "I haven't had any run-ins with this generation in particular, but I did know their ancestors. The Smalls settled a few years after we did, then the Bells came a decade or so later. Both hard-workin' families that done almost as well for themselves as we did, but that only lasted a couple generations. Angelica Small had four kids, and all but one of 'em was cut from the same cloth as their parents. That fourth, though, he was a bad seed."
She paused and shook her head. "The poor woman lost the three good ones when influenza came in on a British ship, and she struggled with that one remainin' boy for the rest of her life. He had himself a passel of youngins with a poor girl who didn't know what she'd gotten herself into until it was too late. The boy never hit a lick, unless you count the beatings he put on his wife."
I loved it when Maisey talked about the history of the town and told us about everyday life back when she was alive, but some of it was just sad.
"So what about the Bells?" Annie asked.
"They're another story. Stella and Marcus were good folk, and their kids were decent people, too. Built quite a fortune, but their daughter never married and their son raised two kids—a boy and a girl—to be entitled hellions. Their oldest son was the worst of 'em. My granddaughter got tangled up with him, but me and her mama put our feet down and flat-out forbade her to see him. Her daddy met him at the door with the shotgun the last time he came callin', just to make sure he got the message."
She heaved a big sigh, and I glanced around the room. Everybody else was as enthralled as I was.
"So what ended up happening to him?" Nikki asked.
She snorted. "He had himself a fine time spendin' his family's money, gamblin' and rabble-rousin', but never contributed a dime to the kitty."
Dee nodded. "That sounds about right. Kristina's daddy was the same way. Mean as a snake and allergic to a hard day's work."
"That explains why both families live in big ole houses but ain't got a penny to their names," Nikki added. "If I had to guess, that little bit of money Kristina and
her brothers inherited was the last of the family fortune."
"Probably so, but it speaks to how hard their great-great-grandparents worked," Maisey said. "It took how many generations of ne'r-do-wells to squander what they built."
"So what about your descendants?" I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. I knew how hard Maisey and her husband had worked, and it would break my heart if their fortune had ended up in the same sort of hands as the others.
To my relief, Maisey beamed with pride. "My youngins and their youngins, then their youngins after them were all hard workers." She drew her brows down. "Well, 'ceptin' for one of 'em, and his daddy had the good sense to give him an allowance, then cut him outta the will. My boys followed in their daddy's footsteps and stayed in shipping, and so did their kids. The next couple of generations took different paths and became doctors and lawyers and developers, but they all added to the family fortune."
Her face fell for a second, but then her lips curved up in a wry smile. "It breaks my heart a little that they let the homestead go, but I reckon those things happen. And it may have took a few decades, but it ended up in good hands."
Every time Maisey told another story, it reinforced how much she loved the lodge, and my resolve to take care of it as well as she had strengthened. Sometimes fate took a while, but it always managed to set things to rights eventually.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
IT WAS NEARLY NINE by the time we finished up, but I had too much nervous energy to even consider sleeping.
"What do you ladies say we build a fire and roast some marshmallows?" I said. Annie's deadbeat husband had actually picked the kids up after all, so she'd come back to help us cook.
Cleanup was finished, and we'd gathered on the porch to enjoy the cool evening and unwind.
"That sounds heavenly," Annie said from her seat in the porch swing. "I can't even remember the last time I just sat around and enjoyed grownup time uninterrupted and guilt-free."
"I understand uninterrupted," Nikki said, "but why would you feel guilty for taking time to relax?"
Annie sighed as we strolled toward the makeshift fire pit I'd cobbled together in the corner of the yard. It was just a hole in the ground with some chairs pulled around it.
"I just always feel like I should have picked up an extra shift," Annie said. "Everything is always such a struggle. My child support is late if it even comes at all, and even working two jobs, it's all I can do to keep the lights on."
I shook my head. "Something's gotta give, girl. You can't live like that. It's not sustainable."
"I know, believe me. I'm the one living it, but I'm not sure what else I can do. I'm working all the time already."
"Not to put too fine a point on it," Nikki said as she stacked kindling over wads of newspaper in the pit and lit it, "but you did an amazing job here. I think you should put yourself out there as a designer."
Annie lifted a shoulder as she settled into one of the camp chairs. "I don't know. I mean, I like doing it, but I'm not trained. I didn't go to school or anything. I'd feel like a fraud advertising myself as a professional."
I raised a brow at her. "Maybe you should take a good hard look at what you did here, and with only two days to do it in. No so-called pro could have done any better. Let me ask you—what's the difference in eggplant and puce? What's the best fabric for a couch that's gonna have to stand up to toddlers but still look good enough to sit in a formal living room? How can I make a small room look bigger?"
She started to rattle off the answers, but I held up a hand. "You know as well as I do that whatever's gonna come out of your mouth next will be Greek to those of us who are fashion-handicapped. My point is that you know the answers. That's all that matters."
"Maybe," she said, picking at a string on her shorts. "But something like that takes capital. And I'm not even sure how to get my name out there."
I figured we'd planted the seed and had been feeding it for a few months now, but the decision was hers to make.
Bear picked up his head and gave a soft wuff, staring down the yard toward the driveway, so I wasn't surprised when a truck rumbled into view.
"That's probably Scout," I said. "He mentioned he may come back over after he got his evening chores done."
Dee tilted her head to the side and squinted. "Nope. That's Gabe. Scout's headlights are round and his truck is a lot rumblier."
Nikki tossed a marshmallow at me and grinned, her glittery eyeshadow sparkling in the light of the small fire that was growing in the pit. "Woman, if you're gonna do this whole country-livin' thing, you're gonna have to at least learn the difference between your man's truck and everybody else's. I can list about five examples off the top of my head where that was life-or-death knowledge, and it didn't always end well." She winked at me.
"I'll try to do better," I said with cocked brow. Bear pushed to his feet then lumbered over to where the marshmallow had landed. He scooped it up and wolfed it down, then trotted over to meet Gabe, who'd already gotten out of his truck.
"Hey, ladies," he said, then bent over to give Dee a quick peck. "Hey beautiful. How was your day?"
"Long," she said. "But I got all the flowers finished for the cake. Now all I have to do is the final icing and decorating tomorrow, then I'll assemble it right before the wedding on Sunday."
"Are you gonna make cookies and stuff too?" I asked. "I never even thought about any desserts other than the wedding cake."
Dee wrinkled her nose and me and smiled. "Thankfully, you don't have to—you just manage the savory side of things. I'm the sweets lady, remember? I got all that under control."
"I kinda wish I was invited just so I could eat," Gabe said, grabbing a beer out of the little cooler we'd dragged down.
"Actually," I replied, "we're putting together a thank-you party for Monday for everybody who's helped us pull it off. I'm making enough food for the wedding that there should be more than enough left over."
"Oh," he said. "You mean I get all of the benefits without havin' to get dressed up? I'm in."
Bear's head popped up and gazed into the night again, and this time I was ready. I squinted toward the truck when it rolled into view, checking for round headlights before I opened my mouth.
"Okay," I said, once I was sure. "That's Scout."
"Now you're learnin'," Annie said, leaning forward to stick another marshmallow over the fire.
Bear, who'd plopped down at Gabe's feet, hopped up and wandered over to meet his other favorite person. He had five or six favorites, but his love went to whoever was offering food or scratches at the time.
"Hey, big guy," Scout said as he opened the door and let his German Shepherd out. The two dogs did the whole bouncy-dog-greeting thing, then dashed off into the dark.
"Hey, handsome," I said as butterflies went off in my stomach. The man really was the total package, and I still had a hard time believing he'd picked me.
"Hey, yourself," he replied, his lips curving up into that dimpled smile that I knew melted every woman's heart in the county, regardless of age or marital status.
He bent down and added some wood to the fire and poked it with a stick, then took a seat in the empty camp chair beside me. He sighed. "Wow, that feels good. I feel like I've been standing for a week."
Guilt washed over me. "You're taking payment for all the work you've done, you know. It's a group effort, and you're not gonna be the only one working for free."
He'd helped us get the lodge to the point that it was, and so far had refused payment of any kind. We'd traded out labor for him running his cows on my land and cutting my pastures for hay, but this was above and beyond.
"I'm not worried about it," he said. "I had a good batch of steers this year."
"Be that as it may," Dee said, her blue eyes sparkling with mischief, "the check's comin', so you may as well start pickin' yourself out something pretty now."
"I already got somethin' pretty," he said, leaning over and giving me a kiss.
"Oh,
barf," Nikki said, wrinkling her nose and tossing a marshmallow at him. "Get a room. Some of us are allergic to that lovey-dovey crap."
Nikki had the worst luck with men, at least from what I'd been told. The guys she picked seemed normal enough when she met them, but they invariably ended up being one sort of loser or another.
Scout grinned at her. "Step over to the dark side. It's not so bad over here. You know Chris Dover has it bad for you. You should let him take you out."
"Who's Chris Dover?" I asked, intrigued when my friend's face went pink.
Nikki answered me while directing a thousand-watt scowl at Scout. "Chris Dover runs Dover's Construction and has a wife and three kids."
My gaze shot to Scout. I couldn't fathom that he'd suggest such a thing.
Dee was quick to speak up. "No, Chris Dover has an ex-wife and three teenagers. All of 'em great kids and almost adults. Hell, his ex-wife isn't even that bad. I think he's right, Nik. Give the poor guy a chance."
"Me, three," Gabe said. "He had a crush on you in high school, too, if you remember."
Nikki stared stubbornly into the fire for a minute, then turned her gaze back to us. "I haven't heard from him in almost three months, since the last time I shot him down. He used to come into the cafe every Tuesday and Friday even though Friday was liver and onions night before Fiona kicked the bucket."
Annie rolled her eyes. "Have you considered calling him? I mean, the guy did ask you out every Tuesday and Friday for like four months straight."
"Only Fridays," she mumbled.
"What was that?" I asked.
"He only asked me out on Fridays. He just ate and talked to me on Tuesdays."
"He used to leave her little poems on his napkin," Annie added. "And he always put his number underneath it. It was adorable."
"It was okay," Nikki replied.
"How have I not heard of this? I mean, this seems like kinda a big thing. If he came into the cafe on liver and onions night, he musta had it bad."
"It was before all of us were really tight, so it just hasn't come up," Dee replied, smiling. "And you're right. He did have it bad. Fiona twisted his arm and made him get it every single week. He'd eat the mashed potatoes and leave the rest."
