beaten him home. The small town pipeline was swift, if not accurate. “We made a groom’s cake together. It was fun.”

“For Rusty Addams and his fiancé, I bet,” she said. “He’s marrying a real nice girl. He brought her to church a few weeks back.”

He took another long sip of coffee. “Yep. Kelly said he’s a doctor now. Hard to imagine.”

“A good one, from what I hear.” She moseyed closer. “Kelly’s a good one too. Y’all were baking all night long?”

“It’s a big cake.”

“There had to be some talking. Maybe good memories to think about together,” she prompted.

“Sure.”

“I don’t guess I should go hoping you might stick around and see where that goes, should I?”

“No.” He finished off his coffee and put the empty mug in the dishwasher. “If you ask Kelly, I think she’ll tell you that bridge was burned to a crisp. No fixing it.” Only he wasn’t convinced that was the case.

“Let me tell you this. If you still love that girl, don’t lose her again. Women don’t take kindly to getting their hearts broken.” She stepped right in front of him and poked her finger in his chest. “You might have a long row to hoe to earn back her trust, but it can be done. If it was real love all those years ago, it’s still there. I promise you that. Loving your work is not the same as having love in your life. If you love that girl…fight to get her back.”

Why muddy things up when he’d be back in France in just a week or so? Kelly had made it perfectly clear that her heart was still in Bailey’s Fork. How could he leave an executive chef position behind? For love? That sounded crazy. But his emotions were in turmoil. Anxiety and excitement fought for position. What would things be like back here in Bailey’s Fork? Could he open his own restaurant? He’d done it for Francois Dumont several times now. Suddenly nothing in his life seemed clear.

“I’m going to sleep on that.” He walked back to his old bedroom and climbed into the queen-size bed. Between the trip back, time zone changes, and being up all night baking with Kelly, every bone in his body ached for sleep, but all he could think about was her.

He’d left a wake of heartache behind when he’d left Bailey’s Fork. He wasn’t proud of that.

He set the alarm on his phone to be sure he wouldn’t miss lunch with his father. At least that was one thing he could definitely reconcile while he was home.

He closed his eyes. Kelly had succeeded. She’d done exactly what she’d dreamed of and more and hadn’t changed a bit in the process. The way she looked. Smelled. Moved in that kitchen. The banter. They’d always loved picking on each other. And she could still dish it out. He punched his pillow and nestled down into the feathery softness.

When his alarm rang, he was more tired than when he’d laid down. He forced himself out of bed and pulled the faded green York Equipment Company T-shirt out of his bag. The thing had seen better days, but he’d packed it for this reason. Kind of an olive branch to Dad. He might not be working at his side, but he was proud of the family business and he wanted him to know that.

He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water, still feeling dehydrated from the travel and lack of sleep, then headed over to Dad’s shop. Fidgeting with the satellite radio in search of something he could sing to, he finally brought up an old Brooks and Dunn song from his phone to the radio. Singing was supposed to ease anxiety, but he couldn’t even keep his mind on the words to his favorite song on the short drive.

The dusty parking lot was filled with equipment and customers’ pickup trucks.

Walking toward the door, Andrew squared his shoulders, trying to appear relaxed and non-confrontational.

Dad looked up, and when he noticed the T-shirt Andrew was wearing Dad smiled with approval.

“Don’t know how you kept up with that shirt all these years.”

He glanced down at the faded, once navy-blue shirt. It had definitely seen better days. “It’s family.”

“Yes it is,” Dad said with a smile.

“The shop is pretty busy right now. Are you still up for lunch? We can make it another day if we need to.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” He shouted to the back. “Heading out, guys.”

Dad came toward him, and they walked outside together.

“I can drive,” Andrew said. “Where do you want to eat? Hot dogs at Tucker’s?” They’d been Dad’s favorites for as long as he could remember. Chili and onions, no mustard.

“No. I’ll drive. I know just the spot.”

Andrew climbed into the passenger seat of Dad’s old pickup truck.

Dad cranked the diesel engine and pulled out onto the main road. Old country music flooded the cab of the truck. Andrew was thankful to not have to fill the ride with conversation.

They were clear on the other side of town before Andrew put together where they were headed. “Are we going to Parker’s Farm and Grill for lunch?”

Dad nodded and smiled. “Been a long time since we’ve been there together.”

“It has.” It had been their father-son lunch spot. “I hope they still have that amazing pimento cheese Mrs. Parker used to make.” They’d made lots of good memories over Parker’s home cooking. Parker’s Farm and Grill had served farm-to-table before it was even a thing.

But when they pulled into the parking lot, Andrew didn’t even recognize the place. It used to be in a repurposed tobacco barn, a small one, still carrying the aroma of the drying leaves that it had once stored. But now it had doubled in size, and the parking lot, formerly shell sand, was shiny black asphalt with bright yellow lines marking the parking spaces.

“This place has changed,” Andrew said, and he wasn’t sure he liked it as much. The old place had charm.

Вы читаете The Secret Ingredient
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату