Spicing Things Up Page 4

  With a careless wave, she called, “It’s on Garth.”

  Sure it was. On the drive to work, he took courage from the fact that the inn was full of couples right now, people who wanted a quiet getaway to spend time with each other—women who were into their partners, who’d leave him alone.

  Chapter 7

  The minute Tyne opened the kitchen door, the aromas of lemon, garlic, thyme, and bacon surrounded him. Paula and Steph looked up from the dish they were finishing and grinned. Uh-oh. Something was up. Paula could always be naughty, but Steph was usually pretty straightforward. Then he caught the excitement that buzzed in the air. Steph practically vibrated, ready to burst with her news.

  He reached for his apron and narrowed his eyes at her. “You look way too happy.”

  She laughed and hurried toward him, her left hand outstretched so that he’d see the ring. “We finally made it official. I told Ben either he set a date or I was leaving for culinary school.”

  Steph would, too. She didn’t put up with any crap. Thin to the point of no shape, with limp blond hair, she gave the impression of being wimpy. Far from the truth. The girl had a steel core. Tyne had been surprised when she’d decided to stay in Mill Pond instead of going to cooking school with the other kids he and Paula had mentored during the summer, but she’d decided Ben was more important. Tyne had met him. He was a decent enough person. He’d started his own business, cutting and trimming trees. In the busy season, he worked part-time with Buck Krieger at his landscaping business. The boy had ambition, but still, Steph had given up a great opportunity to be with him. Tyne wouldn’t have done that.

  Steph wiggled her ring finger under his nose. “I know you’re a guy, the least romantic one I’ve ever met, but you have to at least look at it.”

  He focused on the gold band and small diamond. Yup, it was a ring. He wasn’t much into jewelry, didn’t have a clue what to look for, but smiled. “It’s pretty.”

  Steph laughed. “It’s nothing to brag about, but I don’t care. I don’t need a big diamond or something expensive. It means Ben’s set a date. We’re getting married January first, a fresh beginning to start our new life together.”

  “New Year’s Day. Symbolic, I like that.” He did, too. Every culture used symbolism to add meaning to their lives—it had probably started when people in ancient times celebrated spring solstice—the promise of sun and crops and survival.

  Steph stretched onto her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “You’re a good friend. Glad you’re happy for me.”

  “I am.” And he meant it. Every person had his own agenda, his own bucket list that brought him happiness.

  “Tell him the bad news,” Paula said.

  Steph grimaced. “I’ll probably have to quit working here to find a full-time job. I’d like to make more money.”

  She worked eight hour days during the busy seasons, but when the number of customers slowed down in winter, her hours got cut. Tyne pressed his lips together in a grim line. He’d hate to lose her. “I’m bummed. You have talent.”

  “Thanks, you guys have taught me a lot. I appreciate it.” Her voice sounded tight. She gave Paula a wave. “Now that I’ve made him look at my ring, I’m outta here. Are you about done?”

  Paula faked a bright smile. “All I have left is to impress Tyne with our magnificent offering.” She motioned him over. “Wait till you see it.”

  Steph grabbed her jacket and was gone. Paula’s shoulders sagged, but she squared them again and lifted the foil off two huge baking pans to reveal forty-eight bacon-wrapped trout, one for each guest staying at the inn this week. “I’ve seared them, so all you have to do is finish them in the oven for twenty-five minutes.”

  They were beauties. Tyne loved the variety of offerings in Mill Pond, but he doubted these had come from around here.

  “We made sweet potato casserole to go with it,” Paula said.

  “Perfect.” Tyne followed her lead. They wouldn’t talk about Steph leaving them. They’d force themselves to be happy for her, and they’d concentrate on their food.

  Tonight, he was making lamb, olive, and caramelized onion tagine with couscous. Paula’s traditional dishes would blend well with that and the other sides he’d planned. He’d cooked the tagine ahead and only had to reheat it. It benefited from resting for a while to let the flavors mingle.

  Paula stalled a minute before leaving. “Chase told me the professor went back to his wife. How’s Daphne doing?”

  Another tricky topic. Chase had been entranced by Daphne before he’d fallen for Paula. Some women would hold that against her. Not Paula. Two women couldn’t be more different. Daphne was quiet, cerebral. Paula was a go-getter with tattoos and two kids. But they were both warm and giving. Tyne told her about taking Daphne to Harley’s wine party. “I had to practically twist her arm, but I got her to agree to go.”

  “She didn’t want to go with you? Are you losing your touch?”

  Tyne rubbed his scruffy chin, thinking. “From what I can tell, Daphne either works, holes up at home, or spends time with her parents. She’d rather curl up with a book or watch a movie with subtitles than mingle and have fun.”

  Paula nodded sadly. “That girl needs to spread her wings.”

  “She doesn’t trust she can fly. It’s going to take her a while, and it will be one small step at a time.”

  Paula patted him on the shoulder. “Get her in gear, Hot Stuff. If anyone can do it, it’s you.”

  “Hot Stuff? Really? The Goth Girl is going to follow Betty’s lead and use her nickname for me?”

  Paula spread her hands in innocence. “Hey, you’re in the kitchen and you love the heat. Besides, you just called me Goth Girl.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, and I kinda liked it. I might do it again.”

  She shook her head on the way out the door, and he turned his attention to the food he needed to prepare. He put the lamb stew in the oven to reheat and had started on the slow-roasted tomato, goat cheese, and mint salad when a woman knocked on the back door and walked into the kitchen. A sign clearly said PRIVATE, PERSONNEL ONLY, so his hands went to his hips. What the hell did she think she was doing?

  The woman motioned to herself and said, “We’ve never met, but I’m Miriam Reinhardt, Daphne’s best friend. We’ve known each other since I stole her lunch in second grade.”

  He scowled. “I can’t picture you two together.” Miriam was almost as tall as he was, had to be close to six feet, and toothpick thin. Short, dark curls—like corkscrews—framed her narrow face. Vivid blue eyes pinned him in place, and her wide mouth was quirked to one side as she studied him. “Are you an artist, too?”

  She barked a laugh. “Nope, we don’t have much in common besides books, but I knew I wanted her as a friend the minute we met. She tried to run, but our school only had one of each grade back then, so she couldn’t escape me. She finally had to make nice to keep me from driving her nuts.”

  Interesting. “What drew you to her?” And what could possibly keep them together?

  “Her big heart. Quick mind. You’ll never meet a more generous friend.”

  He nodded. That, he knew. He supposed she and Miriam were alike that way.

  Miriam looked him up and down. “So what’s the deal? Why are you pestering Daphne? Because if you’ve tagged her for sloppy seconds, I’ll tar and feather you and drive you out of town.”

  A warrior. He grinned. He liked this woman more and more. “What are you, her protector?”

  “Yes.” She crossed her arms. “The professor hurt her enough. I’m warning you off.”

  “You’ve got it wrong. I don’t have to chase women. They chase me. I’m pestering Daphne because she’s a friend. I think the professor’s a dick, and I don’t want her to retreat back into her shell since he dumped her.”

  Miriam’s eyes went wide. He doubted too many people surprised her, but he must have. “So, you’re playing the Good Samaritan?”

  “I don’t make a habit of it. And I’m not all
that patient, but I thought I’d give it a shot.”

  He watched Miriam’s right eyebrow rise. He knew that look. He was the recipient of it many times. “Are you a teacher?”

  “That obvious? High school English. But don’t think I hide behind books. I intend to rattle Daphne’s cage, too. I don’t care if I end up single, living with cats, and talking to myself, but she will. She took a step. I want her to keep going.”

  “So do I.”

  Miriam nodded. “Good, then I don’t have to threaten you or hire someone to hurt you. You do your thing, and I’ll do mine, and hopefully, we’ll move Daphne in the right direction.”

  Holy crap! He loved this woman. Miriam didn’t scare him, but he sure wouldn’t want to be on her bad side. “Nice meeting you.”

  She smiled. “A dismissal. I get it. You have to get back to work. Thanks for hearing me out.”

  He thought about her and Daphne long after she left the kitchen. He’d just met a formidable woman, and he liked that Daphne had her for a friend.

  Chapter 8

  Daphne’s mother reached across the square table and patted her hand. Customers at nearby tables sent Daphne sympathetic looks. Everyone in Mill Pond had heard that the professor had moved back to Bloomington and returned to his wife. At first, Daphne worried they’d consider her a floozy for dating a married man, but they all knew Patrick had filed for divorce and moved to Mill Pond to put distance between him and his almost-ex-wife. That, and everyone wanted her to meet someone so much, they were willing to overlook the small technicality of the divorce not being final. She was that pitiful, she realized. Not a cheerful thought.

  Her mother tsk-tsked. “It’s hard to find a good man. I hate to say it, but most men these days run from commitment and never intend to stay faithful like your father here. Men like your dad are hard to come by.”

  Her dad beamed. Her parents had married in their late twenties, but hadn’t had her until Mom was almost forty. She was an only child. “So we can smother you with love,” Mom used to tell her.

  “Smother you is right,” Daphne’s friend Miriam often complained.

  Daphne watched Chase, who owned the bar, carry burgers to the people at a far booth. He was an only child, too, but he’d grown up helping his mom and dad run the business. He was constantly surrounded by people and friends. Her mom was a librarian and her dad, an accountant. They preferred a quiet life and didn’t encourage her to have friends over. Daphne always thought that someday, she’d find a man—like her—who’d rather stay home in the evenings to work in the garden or listen to opera and read, but it had never happened—until Patrick. And that hadn’t ended well.

  When she thought of Patrick lately, anger boiled in her veins. What had she been thinking? And why didn’t she drive to Bloomington to slash his car’s tires?

  That thought shocked her. She wasn’t that type of person. But then again, wasn’t anger one of the stages of grief? So much anger? She pushed it away.

  Chase came to take their order. He gave her one of his dazzling smiles. There was a time, close to when she’d met Patrick, that she’d suspected that Chase might be interested in her, but she must have read that wrong. Why would he be? The man was gorgeous—tall, with streaked, blond hair and a chiseled jaw. What would he see in her? Tonight, he raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “What’ll it be?”

  Chase was as good-looking as Tyne, but their personalities couldn’t be more different. Chase was the laid-back, easy-going type, whereas Tyne could be in your face and intense. Her heart did a tiny, jealous twist, and she was ashamed of herself. Chase sure looked happy now that he was with Paula. He’d found his soul mate. She’d yet to find hers.

  “I have a new burger on the menu, if you want to live dangerously,” Chase told her and her parents. “Some customers have been asking for something spicy, so I made jalapeño burgers to try out.”

  Her mom quickly shook her head. “Peppers give me heartburn.”

  Her dad ordered his usual. “A burger, no bun, no condiments, just plain. No fries. Only carrot sticks on the side. And water.”

  Her mom was a little more adventurous. “Same for me, but I’ll take ketchup.”

  Daphne squared her shoulders. “Bring me the new one and a glass of wine.”

  Her mother stared. Neither of her parents believed in drinking, but she and Patrick usually ordered wine with dinner. Daphne liked a good Riesling, and it just so happened Chase served wines from Harley’s vineyard. Top quality.

  Chase’s turquoise eyes sparkled. “We serve the new burger with a southwest mayo to kick it up even more. Want that?”

  “Why not?” What was in southwest mayo? Would smoke come out her ears? Would her tongue burn and fall out of her mouth? Daphne licked her lips. She was turning over a new leaf. She was going to be more daring. “And add fries.”

  Her mother gaped. “Are you sure, dear? At your age, women need to watch their weight.”

  Daphne shrugged. “What good has staying thin done me? I want something fried.”

  Chase chuckled and gave a small salute. “Coming right up.” He left to turn in their order, and her mother frowned at her.

  “Drowning your sorrows with bad habits is only a temporary respite.”

  Temporary or not, Daphne wanted to enjoy herself tonight. “Tyne cooked Thai curry chicken for me a few nights ago, and I liked it.”

  Her mother looked horrified. You’d have thought Daphne told her Tyne had offered to smoke pot with her. Or worse. “You ate dinner with a man in his apartment?”

  Uh-oh, she hadn’t thought this through. “He’s a chef. He found me crying in my shop and wanted to be nice to me.”

  “A respectable man would have taken you to a restaurant.”

  “He lives above my shop. We bump into each other all the time. For Tyne, cooking food for someone is an act of love.” She hurried to add, “Or friendship. It shows he cares.”

  Her mother sniffed in disgust. “He must not have many social graces.”

  Daphne couldn’t argue that. “He marches to his own drum, that’s for sure.” Tyne wouldn’t give a rat’s ass—as Miriam would say—about inviting her to his place. He didn’t waste time worrying about what people thought about him.

  Chase came with their burgers, and she bit into hers, relieved to end the conversation. Two chews, and she felt heat hit her tongue and clear her sinuses. She would have grabbed for her glass of water, but her mother would know her mouth was in flames and shake her head disapprovingly. She was determined to finish the burger if it killed her, and it might. But the more bites she took, the more she liked it. And before she finished, she even ordered a second glass of wine.

  Chase rested a hand on her shoulder. “Tyne would be proud of you. That guy loves the heat.”

  Why hadn’t she guessed? “Did he help you come up with this?” It seemed obvious. It was bold and demanded your attention, just like Tyne did.

  “He contributed ideas for it.”

  Daphne could picture him, playing with different tastes to kick up the old standby recipe. “Tell him he done good. I liked it.”

  Her mother ignored the humor and sighed at her improper grammar. “What’s gotten into you?”

  What had gotten into her? She wasn’t sure.

  Chase laughed and said, “Your burger’s on me tonight for being a guinea pig. I’ll keep it on the menu.”

  When they left the bar, her parents started to their car and she headed to her bright yellow SUV.

  “Have a nice night, dear,” her father called to her. Her parents would drive home and change into their pajamas and robes, then settle in to listen to classical music and read. She usually did the same, but tonight she surprised herself again by heading to Miriam’s stone cottage on the lake.

  As always, when she pulled into its drive, she breathed a sigh of relief. Its Wedgewood-blue trim and doors and its slate roof gave it an English-cottage feel. Its perennial flower beds and many rosebushes added to the effect. Miriam loved
anything Agatha Christie, and her house reflected that.

  Glancing to the water behind the house, she saw Miriam’s rowboat pulled onto the grassy slope. Her friend had already taken in the dock, preparing for colder weather, but she wouldn’t stop puttering around the lake until the water froze.

  Miriam opened the door and came out to greet Daphne before she wandered down the curved sidewalk. She was dressed in jeans and a faded sweatshirt that hung down over her hips. “Still nice outside, isn’t it? We haven’t even had a killing frost yet.”

  Daphne motioned toward her heavy, navy sweater. “I left my jacket at home.”

  “It gets chilly when the sun goes down. You might want to come inside.” Miriam started toward the house.

  The walls of the living room and kitchen were painted white. Dark beams lined the ceiling, and oak floorboards creaked underfoot. A stone fireplace stretched floor to ceiling on the far wall of the living room, and Daphne could glance the blue Aga on the back wall of the eat-in kitchen. Miriam’s cottage would fit in perfectly in the Cotswolds.

  “You hungry?” Miriam asked.

  “I just came from Chase’s bar. Too much to eat.”

  Miriam nodded and headed toward the overstuffed chair by the fireplace. Daphne sank into its match, facing her. Daphne sighed. “You’ve heard, I’m sure.”

  “The pitiful penis professor left you. Are you all right?”

  Daphne considered the question. “I’m angrier than I thought I’d be.”

  “Good for you!” A cat leapt on Miriam’s lap, then another. One rested on one leg, the second on the other. She stroked them both. The orange tabby was a male; the smoky gray cat, a female. Miriam had named them Tommy and Tuppence.