Thirty minutes later I added the small meatballs I’d made and frozen weeks earlier into the simmering soup. The chicken broth had come from the freezer as well. I preferred to make my own. Seeing how well it was simmering, I placed a lid on the soup, and I decided to sit on the porch, giving the ingredients and flavors time to meld.
In other circumstances, I would have shared the bounty with Mark. When he’d worked on preparing my vegetable garden, I’d promised that I’d give him a portion of whatever the land yielded.
The sad fact was, I wasn’t sure Mark would appreciate seeing me for a while. After he’d delivered the lumber for the gazebo, he’d conveniently disappeared. Not that I blamed him.
If past history was anything to go by, I might not see him again for a week or more. Mark generally stayed away for a few days when I got emotional about Paul or when I drilled him for information about himself. One of the things I appreciated most about Mark was the fact that he didn’t hold onto hard feelings for long.
Rover let out a bark and then raced down the porch steps, running to the very edge of the property.
“Rover,” I shouted after him. For the most part, my rescue dog stayed close by my side. After losing him that one afternoon not so long ago, I kept close watch over him.
It wasn’t long before I realized what had gotten Rover’s attention. His tail started to wag and Mark Taylor rounded the corner of my property. He looked disgruntled, his face marred by a barely disguised frown.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked him.
“I’ll tell you in two words: Peter McConnell.”
I’d forgotten the other man was making himself at home at Mark’s place for the night. I’d been surprised when Mark had made the offer to house Peter, seeing how protective Mark was of his privacy. Even now I wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted the generosity. One thing was evident: My handyman didn’t consider Peter a friend. My guess was that Mark had been looking to protect me, and I suspected it was from more than the other man’s inability to pay for the night’s stay.
I was surprised to see him and at the same time grateful. I hadn’t been looking forward to spending the evening alone. “I thought you told me you didn’t know where Peter had gone.”
“I didn’t,” he grumbled.
“I take it he’s returned.”
Mark snickered loudly, making his feelings clear. “He settled right down in my favorite chair, reached for the television remote, and ate his way through the contents of my refrigerator.”
“In other words, he drove you out of your own house.”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh?” Clearly, more had taken place that Mark wasn’t telling me.
“Okay, if you must know, I left because otherwise I was going to punch him. He had the gall to tell me I should go buy him a six-pack. As far as I’m concerned, he’s lucky he’s in full possession of his teeth. The man doesn’t lack for nerve.”
I hid a smile and changed the subject. “I’ve got a kettle of soup on. Most everything in it came from the garden. Are you interested?”
“You serving anything else with that soup?”
“Like what? A sandwich? Cookies?”
“No, interrogation?”
I smiled, wanting to reassure him. “You’re free to enjoy your soup without me hounding you with questions.”
He studied me skeptically, as if he wasn’t sure he should believe me. “What kind of soup is it?”
“Your favorite.”
Again, he frowned. “How do you know? I like more than one kind of soup.”
“You told me.”
“When?”
“I don’t remember. Good grief, talk about looking a gift horse in the mouth.”
He broke into a rare wide smile, his eyes twinkling.
I didn’t know what his game was. “Do you want the soup or not?”
The smile made him look almost boyish. “Guess you don’t like being hounded by questions any more than I do.”
He’d made his point. “Touché.”
He followed me into the kitchen, and when I removed the lid from the kettle, he took an appreciative sniff. “It’s that spinach-and-meatball concoction you make, right?”
“Right. I picked the spinach just an hour ago, and it’s called Italian wedding soup.”
“I know; I just don’t happen to like the name.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“The soup’s good,” he assured me, “but the reference to weddings is enough to turn off most men.”
“Oh, for the love of heaven.” I shook my head and brought down two deep bowls. I had a loaf of Asiago cheese bread I’d picked up earlier in the day at the bakery when I met Peggy and planned to use for breakfast. It went really well with poached eggs, but even better with soup. I could easily change my breakfast menu to stuffed French toast, another favorite. I cut off a couple thick slices and set them aside.
“How about eating outside?” I suggested. Early in the summer, I’d purchased a small wicker table with two chairs for the deck. I ate out there most evenings. It was perfect to sit in the fading sunshine with a view of the water and the mountains and absorb the beauty and shadows of the setting sun, reflected on the water.
Mark regarded me as if I’d suggested we do something illegal. “What’s wrong with the kitchen table?”
“Nothing, but why eat inside when it’s such a lovely evening?”
His frown darkened. “Are you going to light a candle and put on music, too?”
“Hardly.” He couldn’t seriously believe I wanted to make this meal of soup and bread into some kind of romantic interlude.
Still, he hesitated.
“Fine, you eat in the kitchen, but I’m going onto the deck.” I picked up my bowl and bread and headed toward the porch. Faithful companion that he was, Rover followed me. I’d taken my seat and had reached for my spoon when Mark appeared.
“Don’t look so worried,” I chided. The truth was, I enjoyed teasing him. “You have nothing to fear from me.”
He grumbled under his breath, but whatever he said was indecipherable. After his first taste of the soup, he nodded appreciatively. “This is good.”
“Thank you.”
“It comes as a real surprise what a good cook you’ve turned out to be.”
“Oh?” He had the most backhanded way of giving a woman a compliment.
“You being a former banker and all,” he added.
It took restraint on my part not to roll my eyes. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“It only makes sense,” he argued. “Women in high-powered positions don’t have time to cook.”
“Mark,” I said, holding up my hand, “stop. You don’t know what you’re talking about, and you’re only digging yourself in deeper.”
“Okay, fine, whatever.”
“Thank you.” It was times like these that I wondered how I could consider Mark a friend.
“Mary Smith,” he said.
I glanced up, uncertain I’d heard him correctly. “What about Mary Smith?” She’d been a guest earlier that spring.
He shrugged one shoulder. “She’s an example of a high-powered businesswoman. I knew the minute I met her that she’d be the type who couldn’t find her way around a kitchen with a road map.” He must have recognized the fire in my eyes, because he quickly added, “Just as an example. I’ve said my piece; I won’t say anything more.”
“That’s probably wise on your part.”
“What did you do the rest of the afternoon?” I asked Mark, making a determined effort to change the subject.
“You mean after I delivered the lumber?”
I nodded and tore off a bit of my bread to dip in the soup’s rich broth.
“We both know I couldn’t go in the house with Peter taking over and eating everything in sight. A plague of locusts leaves more behind.”
“It might be a good idea to count the silverware tomorrow morning.” I was joking, but Mark too
k me seriously.
“I will.”
He’d already eaten the entire bowl of soup. “Mind if I help myself to seconds?”
“By all means.” Most of the time the leftovers got tossed anyway.
He excused himself. Rover lifted his head and watched him go but stayed at my side. Mark disappeared into the kitchen and returned in short order. “I could eat that entire kettle.”
“Take some home with you,” I offered.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Trust me, it would be gone by morning.”
I’d forgotten about Peter. “Right. I’ll save it for you.”
“I appreciate it.”
His attention centered on the soup and then out of the blue he said, “I worked on the cradle.”
Mark had completely lost me.
He must have read the question in my eyes, because he explained. “You asked me what I did this afternoon.”
“You and that cradle,” I muttered. The man remained a complete mystery. He had paying customers clamoring for his services, and yet he chose to work on a project no one had commissioned or paid him to build. He’d started on it shortly after we met and worked on it off and on whenever the spirit moved him.
He wagged his finger at me. “You’ve got that look again.”
“What look?”
“That disapproving one when I say or do something you don’t agree with.”
“I don’t have a look.”
“Yes you do. You got it just now when I mentioned the cradle.”
“Okay, fine.” I wasn’t about to argue with him.
“It’s a big project and I’d like to get it finished.” He seemed to feel the need to justify how he spent his time to me, and he was right.
“But don’t you have other jobs, ones people are actually paying you for?” I argued.
“Yes. So?”
“So, people are waiting.”
“I’ll get to them all in good time. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”
“I wasn’t chastising you.”
“Yes you were. You might not have said anything, but you were thinking it.”
The man drove me to the edge. “So now you can read my mind?”
“In this instance, yes.”
If he wasn’t so right I might have argued further. I brushed off his comment and said, “Think what you want.”
He returned to his soup. “The cradle relaxes me.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You might not have noticed, but I get uptight every now and again.”
“No way.” I made sure my tone mocked him.
“I’m not joking, Jo Marie. I don’t know what’ll happen to that cradle or where it will go, but I enjoy working on it.”
Over the months, I’d seen that cradle several times. Mark had designed it himself. The headboard was intricately carved and was sure to be a showpiece for whoever purchased it.
“Like I said, working on it settles my nerves, and there was a lot that needed settling after you started hounding me for information. Playing host to that bloodsucking Peter McConnell isn’t helping any, either.”
“You didn’t need to invite Peter to spend the night, you know.”
Again he muttered something I couldn’t understand.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Yes you did,” I pressed.
He seemed to be weighing his response. “I don’t trust McConnell and I wasn’t comfortable with him being at the inn.”
“I can handle myself, Mark.”
His look said he doubted it. “McConnell’s a sleazebag, and I didn’t want him anywhere close to you.”
“Ah,” I said, and placed my hand over my heart. “You actually care.”
“I care about a lot of things.”
“So you do care about me?” I was beginning to enjoy this.
“Sure I do,” he said with a frown, “but not the way you’re suggesting.”
“I’m crushed.”
“Yeah, right.”
For a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not.
His wagging finger reappeared. “You’ve got another look.”
“Another one?”
“I can’t read this one as easily as the first, but I’ve seen it before; I just haven’t figured out what it means yet.”
“When you do, let me know.”
He nodded, taking me seriously.
I’d eaten about half of my soup and all of the bread. Carbohydrates were my downfall, always had been and probably always would be. Leaning back in the wicker chair, I sighed, taking in the scenery around me. It was nights like this that I missed Paul the most. He’d been heavy on my mind all day. Despite my best effort, a deep sense of loss filled me.
Mark grew silent, too, gazing off into the distance. It came to me that I owed him an apology. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“You’re sorry about a lot of things, Jo Marie. You think I can’t read that in you?”
He was beginning to worry me with his ability to see through me.
“You’re sorry you don’t have your husband with you any longer. He died much too soon.”
He was right about that.
“You’re sorry you won’t have children.”
How he knew that was beyond me. “Anything else?” I asked, a bit defensively.
He nodded. “Nothing that needs mentioning. If you look into your heart you’ll recognize more. We tend to do that, you know, when we’ve suffered a significant loss.”
We sat in silence for a long time. The only sounds were those drifting up from the waterfront and the birds overhead. And then there was an occasional snore from Rover.
After a few moments, I broke the peace. “I’m glad you stopped by,” I told him.
Mark didn’t say anything right away, and then, in a low voice, said, “I am, too.”
We looked across the table at each other and smiled.
Chapter 12
By the time Ellie Reynolds arrived back at the inn she was walking on a cloud; her feet hardly felt like they touched the ground. For the movie with Tom, she’d silenced her cell phone. Because her mother was sure to make a nuisance of herself, Ellie had kept it off the entire night. They’d kissed several times during the movie and afterward, too. It’d felt natural and good to be in his arms. She experienced none of the awkwardness she had with other relationships. Tom was polite and sweet. She treasured that he was as nervous about meeting her as she’d been about seeing him for the first time. He couldn’t seem to stop looking at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world.
It was after midnight before she got back to Rose Harbor Inn. Everyone else had settled down for the night. Being careful not to wake the others, Ellie let herself in the front door, locking it behind her, and then headed up the stairs to her room.
She’d been with Tom the entire evening, and the hours had sped past. When it came time to part, he’d been as reluctant as she was to say good night. It helped to know they’d be meeting again in the morning, right after breakfast. Tom wanted to take her out on Puget Sound in his friend’s sailboat. Ellie looked forward to the excursion but not nearly as much as she did to seeing Tom again.
This weekend, her visit to Cedar Cove was a test. After spending time together they’d decide if they wanted to pursue this relationship. Ellie already knew what she wanted, and she was fairly certain Tom felt the same things she did. Even now she felt like she needed to pinch herself to make sure this happiness was real and not part of her imagination.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, she closed her eyes and sighed. This was destined to be one of the most incredible nights of her life. And she had a full two days more to be with Tom before she had to return home.
Home.
The word alone was enough to cause her shoulders to droop. No doubt by now her mother was frantic with worry because she hadn’t heard f
rom her. Knowing her mother, Ellie felt sure Virginia would assume that Ellie had been abducted and she’d never hear from her again.
With only a slight hesitation, Ellie reached into her purse and looked at her phone for the first time in several hours. Sure enough, there was another message from her mother. Ellie didn’t bother to read it. It wasn’t necessary; she already knew what it said.
Forcing herself back into the real world, she selected her mother’s number. No doubt her mother would be sitting up in bed, awaiting Ellie’s call. Virginia would be afraid to fall asleep until she was assured her daughter was safe and secure.
Sure enough, Virginia answered on the first ring. “Eleanor? Oh thank God. You don’t know how worried I’ve been.”
“Yes, I know.” She kept her voice flat, devoid of emotion.
“Why didn’t you answer my text?” her mother demanded, as though it’d been a matter of life and death. “If you’d sent me a simple I’m okay it would have made a world of difference.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“Well … tell me how your date with Tom went,” her mother said, slowly releasing her breath as though a heavy burden had been lifted from her heart. “Is he everything you expected?”
“Yes.” Ellie purposely kept her responses as brief as possible.
“Sweetie, I want details.”
“Oh Mom …” Ellie didn’t want to dilute the magic of the evening by relating the specifics to her mother, who was sure to dissect the evening into tiny parts.
“Did he kiss you?” her mother asked, her voice dipping slightly, as if this was a fact to be shared in confidence.
“Mom! I’m twenty-three years old. You make it sound like I’m thirteen and just went to my first boy-girl party.”
“I know, I know, sorry,” Virginia apologized. “I guess no matter how old you are, you’ll always be my little girl.”
That was the problem in a nutshell. Her mother continued to treat her like a child in need of care and protection. “I like him, Mom, so much. Tom is kind and thoughtful and funny.”