“Nonsense.”
No sooner had the words escaped Eileen’s mouth then the front door of Berkner homestead creaked open. Eileen half expected to see the business end of a shotgun greet her. Relief washed over her at the sight of Mabel offering a wary smile.
“Now, since when do you two make afternoon calls?”
Afternoon call? This woman really was living in the last century. Gentlemen callers and afternoon social visits had long ago fallen by the wayside along with prohibition and suffragettes. “I’ve been thinking it’s time to redo the kitchen at the ranch house, and Sister tells me you’ve recently redone yours. Thought you might be willing to show me what you did.”
“Kitchen?” Mabel’s expression faltered briefly. “That was nearly five years ago.”
“Then I guess it’s time we saw it.” Sally May came to a stop beside Eileen. “I hear it can make a person’s mouth water.”
Times like this it really paid off to have sneaky friends who could take a short lead and lie like a rug. The kitchen excuse was pretty lame. If Eileen had thought about it she would have realized it had indeed been years since the sisters mentioned Mabel had dropped a pretty penny on a fancy new kitchen. Which at the time had made no sense since they were pretty sure Mabel didn’t like to cook.
“Sisters couldn’t stop talking about it.” This was the part where Eileen hoped Sister and Sissy had actually seen the kitchen remodel. And judging from the bright smile that bloomed across Mabel’s face, Eileen was pretty sure Mabel had bought their story, hook, line and sinker.
“I’m afraid the house is a bit of a mess.” Still grinning, Mabel shoved aside a couple of large boxes stacked along the hallway. In the kitchen a few more boxes were lined against the inside wall.
“Are you going somewhere?” Sally May frowned down at an open box.
Taking two Mason jars off the kitchen island and slipping them into the empty spaces in the top box, Mabel quickly closed the lid and spun around. “Thought I’d give another shot at canning vegetables and using my great granny’s recipe for preserves.”
Eileen nodded. With most of the family moved out and on their own, Eileen’s vegetable garden was a fraction of the size it had been when the kids were growing up, and yet she still had enough canned goods in the pantry to survive a nuclear meltdown.
“As you can see,” Mabel waived an arm from one side of the kitchen to the other, “this is not my grandmother’s kitchen.”
There was no denying that. Sleek mid-century, or would that be Scandinavian, cabinets lined three walls. Stunning solid surface countertops made this place a baker’s dream. Eileen was no expert on appliances, but any fool could see the huge stainless steel range was commercial grade, and the double built-in fridge was one of those insanely expensive custom models.
“I would kill for a full fridge.” Eileen opened the refrigerator side of the appliance and peered inside. She had one of those French door refrigerators that gave her a good amount of space, but never enough.
Mabel patted the freezer side door. “Can’t imagine going back to having my freezer in the mudroom again.”
Both Eileen and Sally May moved around the kitchen oohing and ahing, lovingly stroking the marble counters and custom cabinets.
“Would you look at these?” Sally May fingered the cabinet handles. “If these aren’t the cutest things. Forks and spoons, I love it.”
Mabel beamed as though someone had just told her she’d won an international beauty pageant. “That was my idea. Found them online and knew they would be perfect for that little bit of country feel.”
Little just about covered it, because there was nothing else about this kitchen that said country. Eileen knew the Berkner family had always been well-off, but she didn’t realize how well-off until now. She wasn’t a builder, but she knew enough about pricing a kitchen remodel to know this kitchen had to have cost Mabel what some young folks pay for a new starter home in these parts.
“I struggled between quartz and marble.” Mabel ran her hand across the Carrara counters. “But in the end the marble just looked so pretty.”
“That it does.” Sally May pulled one of the stools out from under the island and took a seat. “I could do some serious baking on this sucker.”
Eileen dropped a fisted hand on one hip. “When was the last time you baked?”
“Don’t know, but for this counter, I take it up again.”
The three women laughed. Probably the first time Eileen could ever remember Mabel Berkner not looking like she’d sucked on a lemon.
“Shall I put on a pot of tea, or do you ladies want to just tell me why you’re really here?”
Eileen shot Sally May a sideways glance before focusing on Mabel. “I really did want to see this kitchen. I have no idea how old the ranch kitchen is, but older than me is a fair guess.”
“And…?” Mabel took a seat, smiling, but shaking her head. “If you think you can flatter me into not protesting the new liquor license laws, it’s not going to work.”
“How much do you know about the establishment that Jamison and the family want to open?”
“I don’t need to know the details to know this town has done very well for itself in a dry county. We don’t have a lot of drunk and disorderly behavior, no trouble with teenagers getting all liquored up in a field. Having to drive all the way to Butler Springs for a six pack of beer, never mind a bottle of whiskey, has kept our town nice and peaceful, just the way we like it.”
“It’s not like Jamie is going to be serving every teenager in town whiskey.” Eileen threw her arms up.
Sally May raised a finger at Mabel. “And it’s not like they can’t find homemade hooch closer to home.”
“We’ve never had a problem with teenagers partying on local moonshine.”
“That we know of.”
“Seriously, Eileen,” Mabel said. “You don’t think your nephew, the chief of police, would say something if we had a problem with teenagers getting drunk on moonshine the way underage teens can buy booze in the big cities and hang out the back seat of cars or empty fields until they make themselves sick?”
“I agree.” Eileen nodded. “We don’t have a problem with drunken behavior, and letting the pub open isn’t going to change that.”
“It’s a slippery slope. One establishment opens and then another and then another and before you know anyone can buy liquor at a grocery store or a gas station. Eventually there could be more places to buy booze than coffee in this town.”
Eileen pushed to her feet. “Now Mabel, you’re exaggerating. Not only is this town not going to turn into sin city because of one Irish pub, but the town is only going to issue one liquor license.”
“One?” The old biddy looked truly surprised.
Eileen nodded. “One. And Hemingway’s is fighting awfully hard for it to be their establishment that gets it.”
“And how does this affect me?” The sourpuss expression had returned to Mabel’s face.
“At least O’Fearadaigh’s will be looking out for their own. We care about this town as much as you do. And those West Coast corporate types only care about the bottom line.”
Mabel’s gaze narrowed. Eileen couldn’t tell if the woman was on the verge of agreeing or disagreeing, or getting ready to blow her top or give in.
“We can be sure,” Eileen continued, “that the pub would serve the local wine from the Brady’s vineyard, local baked goods, local raised beef, and Jamie’s working really hard to get a craft beer company to move their operations out here. You don’t need me to tell you how much good it would do a town to get a handful of new families in our school system, shopping in our stores, buying our vacant properties and sprucing them up.”
Mabel continued to stare silently, her lips pressed in a thin line. Eileen didn’t like the looks of it. Maybe coming here wasn’t as good an idea as she’d thought. Maybe Sally May was right and there’s no convincing this old bag to change her antiquated way of thinking.
“Well,” Eileen stood up. “I’ve said my piece, hoping you’d consider working with the Farraday’s for this town and not against us. But either way, we’ll keep working to fight for this pub and fight hard. There’s plenty of business to be brought in from around the county and new business is good for Tuckers Bluff.”
Sally May pushed away from the counter and nodded at Mabel. “I know how you feel Mabel, but we can’t stop the world from changing.”
The sour expression on Mabel’s face remained intact. Without a word she escorted the two guests to the front door.
“Thank you for letting us look at the kitchen.” Eileen turned on the front porch to face Mabel. “It really is everything the sisters said it was.”
A hint of a smile tugged at one side of Mabel’s face. “Thank you, ladies.”
Two feet off the front porch, Eileen noticed the small vegetable garden to her right. Looking over her shoulder at Mabel still standing in the open doorway, she pointed to the vegetables and hollered, “You may want to plant some marigolds in there. That will stop the garden pest problem you’ve got going here.”
Mabel shifted her attention to the sorry looking garden in the front yard and then back to Eileen. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
Not till the engine had started and they’d turned back onto the driveway did Mabel close the door.
“Well that went well.” Sally May forced a smile. “At least you didn’t make me tie her to a chair and lock her in the closet until all the decision-making is over.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. There’s no need to exaggerate.” Eileen pulled onto the main road toward town.
“I’ll tell you something else, as good as that woman can be at making trouble for us, she’s equally going to be as bad at canning vegetables. If that woman manages to get a week worth of food stored, I’ll dance naked down Main Street.”
“Oh heck no. I’d better get myself over to Mabel’s and help her fix that vegetable garden.”
“That puny thing? The woman hasn’t a clue what she’s doing.”
The two women cracked up laughing. Truth was they were both in pretty good condition for women of their age. Neither of them had the svelte figures they’d had in their twenties, but working a ranch most of their lives had kept them in good enough shape.
“Do you really think having Mabel on our side would make much of a difference?” Sally May asked.
Eileen cast a last look at the Berkner homestead fading in the distance. “I honestly don’t know. But if she insists on protesting, I sure as heck hope not.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Almost another full week under his belt and Jamie was starting to feel like he was getting the hang of this running a kitchen thing. He wouldn’t have wished injury on anyone, but Frank’s hurting his foot was turning out to be a pretty good learning lesson for Jamie. What hadn’t been so easy was keeping a safe distance from Abbie. As much as he admired Frank, every day, the more he learned about Abbie the more amazing she was to him. In the short drives home, he’d learned she was an only child who had lost her parents nearly a decade ago, she loved helping people, blueberry pie, and she painted flowers because she had a brown thumb. The first week after driving her home, out of sheer respect for how tired she had to be, he’d turned down the invitation for a late night cup of coffee. By the second week he’d said no simply because he wanted so badly to say yes.
Tying a knot on the black garbage bag, he opened the rear door and only made it two steps when a familiar fuzzy blur bolted at him from behind the trash cans.
Dropping the bag on the ground, Jamie squatted just as the puppy leapt at him, knocking him flat on his butt. “You really have to stop doing this to people,” he laughed, scratching behind the dog’s ears.
Oblivious to Jamie’s admonishment, the fuzzball happily licked his face, squirming in place.
“Okay, okay, calm down.” Jamie shifted, getting a better grip on the dog. “What I’d like to know is who you belong to that keeps letting you out loose.”
Pup barked a single yap response.
The sound of Jamie’s name drifted through the open doorway.
“I’m out here.”
Abbie stood in the doorway, the light filtering behind her like a halo. “What is this?”
“We have company.” Jamie sputtered through laughter.
No longer interested in Jamie, the pup scooted over to where Abbie stood.
“Aren’t you just adorable?” Squatting on her haunches, she scratched under his chin with one hand and rubbed his back with the other. “Who do you belong to?”
“I was just asking him the same thing. Whoever it is really shouldn’t let him out on his own like this to get into more trouble.”
Lifting her gaze away from the dog, Abbie focused on Jamie. “More trouble?”
Jamie nodded. “With all the commotion and concern after Frank’s injury, I may not have mentioned this little guy was the reason Frank fell off the ladder.”
Her voice soft and low and sweet, Abbie lifted the dog’s nose to her face. “I really should be very annoyed with you for what you’ve done to my cook. But you’re too adorable to be angry with.”
A long lick, straight from chin to nose was the puppy’s response.
“Okay.” Abbie coughed and rubbed around her mouth. “You’re not that adorable.”
Her face all scrunched, Jamie thought she looked absolutely adorable as well. “Do you suppose he’s astray? Maybe Frank had been feeding him?”
“That’s doubtful. Frank probably would’ve said something to us when he fell off the ladder.” Abbie continued to scratch and pet the puppy now sitting perfectly still, his eyes glazing over with delight.
Lucky dog, Jamie thought. And that was why he’d yet to accept an offer of late night coffee.
Abbie lifted her gaze from the puppy to Jamie. “I have to ask Frank if he’d noticed someone getting into the trash.”
“Nothing’s been out of the ordinary since I’ve been working the kitchen. Tonight’s the first time I’ve seen any sign of him. I had just assumed he’d gone home to whoever his owners were and hadn’t gotten out again.”
“Well he doesn’t look like he’s very hungry. I know he’s not wearing a collar, but maybe he has a chip.”
“That’s a great idea. We can take him to Adam to scan for a chip. Find out who the owner is and let him know that the puppy keeps getting into trouble.”
“That’s not true.” Abbie lifted the pup’s nose to her face again, not as close as last time. “You’re not in any trouble.”
“Babies and puppies.” Jamie rolled his eyes to the night sky and back.
Abbie kept her attention on the soft fuzzball. “What about them?”
“They can do no wrong.” He chuckled and reached out to scratch the other ear. He certainly wasn’t going to tell her that at the ranch all it took was one cute baby to turn all of his cousins into goofy sweet-talking babbling halfwits. Pushing to his feet, he brushed his hands clean. “Are we done for the night?”
Abbie stood up and nodded. “Last customer just left. Grace and her husband are inside. She’s heard from Crocker.”
“At this late hour?”
“Guess it’s not too late to be working in California.”
Leaning sideways Jamie looked over her shoulder into the kitchen. “Good or bad?”
“She didn’t say.”
“Then let’s get this over with.” Jamie looked down at his feet, first left then right. “Where did he go?”
Abbie spun around a full three hundred and sixty degrees. “I don’t see him.”
“He has to be around here somewhere.” He grabbed the trash bag, carried it over to the garbage bins, watching every step for the dog. “A regular Houdini.”
Walking a few feet away from the door, around and back, Abbie shook her head. “No sign of him.”
“I really would like to know who that animal belongs to, but I’ve got more important things to look after
right now.” Letting his hand fall on the small of Abbie’s back, he nudged her inside, through the kitchen, and pushed the double doors open.
Abbie shifted to one side. “I’ll finish cleaning up.”
“Uh uh.” Jamie shook his head. “You’re as much a part of this now as I am. We’ll both hear what Grace has to say.”
Abbie hesitated a brief moment before nodding. Placing his hand at the small of her back again, he walked with her to the booth where Grace and her husband were seated waiting. He liked the feel of Abbie under his fingertips. The warmth of her standing beside him. Yep, he definitely liked the feel of her just a little too much.
****
“It’s official, we’re on.” Grace practically bounced from her seat.
Abbie wished they’d chosen a table and not a booth to sit in. She wasn’t sure sitting so close to Jamie was very smart. Already she missed the warmth of Jamie’s gentle touch. How ridiculous was that? With no choice, she slid in across from Grace and her husband.
“Are you talking Council approval, or Crocker’s?” Jamie slid in beside Abbie.
Grace laid both hands flat on the table in front of her. “I mean the new restaurant cook-off is official. Not only has the town council approved the idea, but Crocker has agreed to participate.”
“How about that.” Jamie hefted one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I wasn’t sure if they’d get on board with the idea.”
“Well,” Grace rubbed her hands together enthusiastically. “I may have eluded that the only way to attain the liquor license would be to participate.”
“You didn’t?” Abbie didn’t want to think how much trouble they’d get in if the truth came out.
“I did not.” Smiling, Grace leaned back in the booth. “I merely chose my words carefully, how they interpreted those words is not my fault.”
Both Chase and Jamie barked with laughter.
Farraday Country Page 37
