Losing Penny (26 page)

“I could ask you the same thing,” Rawlings
said through tight lips.

“Have you seen Blair?” Drake asked.

“That’s why I came here, to see Blair,” Alec
said. He balled his hands into fists and shoved them into the
pockets of his jeans. “I assume that’s why you’re here.”

Drake cleared his throat and ran his hand
through his hair. “Blair has gone to see you.”

“To see me?”

Drake nodded. “She went to wait for you at
your house. I take it you haven’t been there.”

“No, I came straight here.” Alec raised his
eyebrows. “And I found you.”

“I’m reading something for Blair.” He thought
about adding “and she’s reading something for me,” but after
another glance at Alec’s face, he decided to end his sentence.
Maybe if he didn’t begin any more sentences, Rawlings would go
away.

Alec looked like he wanted to beat Drake
until all that remained was a bloody pair of Bermuda shorts. Drake,
who was confident in his lecturing ability, chose his words
carefully.

“She’s upset. She’s had a really bad day, so
I made her dinner.” Drake looked at the kitchen table and then
tried to make eye contact with Alec, but his glance slipped away.
“I know she wants to talk to you, why don’t you call her?”

“A bad day, huh?” Alec took a step closer.
“How do you know about that?”

Drake took a long time to answer, and Alec
lowered his eyebrows at him. Finally, Drake said, “Because I was
there.”

Alec took another step closer, and Drake
backed up against the ottoman. He shuffled for a moment and then
dropped the history. The small, leather-bound book fell open, and
Alec obviously recognized Blair’s handwriting sprawled across the
pages. His eyes narrowed.

He picked it up. Drake remembered Blair’s
lyrical prose, “Summer night, hot with desire, a low sky blanketed
in midnight blue and pierced with stars. I rest with my head
against his chest and feel his breath that rises and falls in
rhythm.”

“What’s this?” Alec flipped to another page
and read about a night on the Sound.

“It’s not for you,” Drake said.

“It’s not for me, but it’s for you?”

“I don’t think you understand,” Drake
said.

A vein in Alec’s neck throbbed and Drake
stared at it until Alec wheeled away, still clutching the book.

“Hey!” Drake called out after him.
“Seriously, you can’t take that. Blair will kill me.”

Alec turned and dropped the book onto the
table near the front door. A lone piece of paper fell loose. For a
second neither man spoke. Alec picked it up, read it, then crumpled
the sheet of paper into a wad and shoved it into his pocket before
finishing his exit.

Drake sat down hard on the ottoman and waited
for the sound of Alec’s truck to fade away. Then he went to the
table that he had so carefully set and thought about removing the
knives.

Blair might have just cause to kill him, but
he didn’t have to provide a weapon.

If you can set aside the sometimes
embarrassing side effects of eating beans, you’ll find that the
health benefits far outweigh that problem. In fact, when cooked the
right way, the gaseousness of beans is virtually eliminated.

From
Losing Penny and Pounds

“The secret is to
create buzz,” Penny told Andrea. She pulled the tinfoil off the
cookie sheet and revealed the soldier-like rows of tiny cornbread
muffins. “It’s a chili cook-off, but the muffins are going to draw
the crowd.”

“It still seems like cheating,” Andrea said.
She bit her lip and watched Penny place the bit-size muffins into a
basket lined with a red checked cloth.

“How can you call an itty-bitty muffin a
cheat? We’re still in the chili contest and ours kicks serious
Tabasco butt! The muffins are just a happy side note.”

In keeping with the Frontier Day’s theme,
Rose Arbor’s town green overflowed with women in long skirts,
aprons, and bonnets and men in overalls and straw hats. White tents
set up in rows crisscrossed the park. A pavilion rigged with
overhead lights and microphones was at one end, and the food stands
were at the other. In between there were carnival games including a
ring toss, a fishing booth, and face painting. Near the center of
the festival Mayor Mayweather sat on a platform above a water tank
calling taunts to his constituents, egging them on to try to send
him into the water.

“Now, don’t you two look darling,” Melinda
gushed, coming up to their stand with her camera poised. “Let me
take a picture of the winners of the chili cook-off!”

A stir of uneasiness wiggled in Penny’s
belly, but she dismissed it. She shouldn’t be suspicious just
because Melinda chose to be nice. Penny wrapped her arm around
Andrea’s waist and smiled for Melinda’s camera.

“We haven’t won yet,” Andrea said after
Melinda tucked her camera into her bag.

“Oh, but you will,” Melinda said, her voice
sweeter than the pot of honey butter beside the muffins.

Trevor turned the corner, caught sight of
their booth, and headed their way.

Andrea stood a little taller when she saw
Trevor. “Melinda, will you try my apple spice doughnuts? I’m
thinking of adding them to my menu, and I want an objective
opinion.”

“Apple spice doughnuts?”

Penny heard the weakness in Melinda’s
voice.

“I’ll try them. Melinda doesn’t eat,” Trevor
said, leaning over his sister’s shoulder.

Andrea shot Penny a quick glance and Penny
gave her a brief nod. Andrea handed him a basket from below the
counter. When Trevor unfolded the napkin off the top, a waft of
cinnamony, warm air escaped.

“You made these?” Trevor asked.

“Yes. Tomorrow I’m going to try gingersnaps.”
Andrea’s tone grew more confident when an expression of bliss
crossed Trevor’s face.

“Maybe I should come by the café and try the
gingersnaps,” Trevor said with a mouth full of doughnut. “You know,
to be helpful with my objective opinions.”

Melinda scowled at her brother. “You are so
easy. You can be bought for a doughnut.”

“Hey, no one has bought me.” Trevor touched a
napkin to his lips before continuing. “And these are pimp-worthy
doughnuts. Don’t criticize me until you’ve tried one.”

“Do you want to try our chili?” Andrea asked,
nerves creeping into her voice.

“Maybe you should try some of the other
chilies,” Penny suggested.

Melinda rolled her eyes. “Please, how can you
lose?”

Something in her tone made Penny uneasy.
Melinda must have learned Penny’s secret, but there wasn’t much
Penny could do about it. Plus if Penny confronted Melinda and she
didn’t know, the situation would turn into an awkward mess.

“Hey! That’s a great idea!” Penny said.

“What is?” Trevor and Andrea both asked at
the same time.

“Someone needs to check out the competition,”
Penny said.

“That won’t be me,” Melinda sniffed.

“Andrea and Trevor, you have to do it!” Penny
said, pushing Andrea out of the booth.

Andrea tripped in the sawdust.

Penny caught Andrea’s arm and handed it to
Trevor. “We need two opinions.”

A tall blonde with honey-colored curls
watched from across the green. Andrea caught her smile and waved.
“Blair,” Andrea said to Penny.

Penny stopped. Of course she wanted to meet
Blair, if only to satisfy curiosity…or compare notes on Drake. They
had both once loved—no, that wasn’t right. She didn’t
love
Drake. Well, maybe not yet, but if her feelings had enough time to
simmer, maybe with just the right seasoning…she was thinking in
food again.

“Hey, Blair, let me introduce you to Maggie,”
Andrea said.

“I can introduce myself.” Penny pushed Andrea
in Trevor’s direction. “I need you to check out our
competition.”

Andrea gave Blair and Penny a bright smile
before she turned and took Trevor’s arm.

Blair was Greek goddess beautiful—perfect
nose, strong jaw line, bee-stung lips. She was the sort of girl who
never indulged in brownies or Snivel Drivel. Maybe Penny didn’t
want to meet Blair after all. Melinda leaned against the booth and
folded her arms, her eyes narrowed like a cat as she watched
Blair.

Penny tried to return Blair’s smile, but her
lips felt stiff. “Would you like a muffin?” Penny asked, as if food
solved every socially awkward situation.

“Thanks,” Blair said. She smiled and reached
into the basket. She hummed with pleasure. “I’ve heard the most
amazing things about your cooking, and now I know that no one
exaggerates.”

“I’ve heard nice things about you too.”

“Really?”

No, not really, but it had to be assumed. She
was Andrea’s best friend, Charlotte Rhyme’s niece, and Drake’s old
girlfriend, so there had to be amazing things to say and hear.

“I read your Viking story,” Blair began.

“You read my story?” It hurt that Drake gave
the story to his old girlfriend.

Blair nodded.

“I thought you were writing a cookbook?”
Melinda turned to her.

Penny shot her a quick, questioning look. “I
am.”

A smile hovered on Blair’s lips. “Will it be
as good as the one about Hans and Ingrid?”

“That’s mostly Drake’s story,” Penny
said.

“Wait— what do you mean
mostly
Drake’s
story? Drake wrote a story about Vikings? When?” Melinda leaned
away from the booth, indignation quickly replacing her haughty
expression. “This summer when he was supposed to be writing my
dad’s book?”

“He did that too,” Penny said.

“When did he finish this Viking book?”
Melinda pressed.

Blair stared at Melinda as if she’d grown
horns. “Does it matter?”

Melinda put her hands on her hips. “I paid
him a lot of money to write my dad’s biography! I booked his stay
at the cottage for the entire summer!”

“And I’m sure he appreciates it,” Penny said,
trying to sound soothing.

“And all the time he was writing about
Vikings?” Melinda rose to the balls of her feet, towering over
Penny.

Blair looked genuinely confused. “I don’t
understand. Did Drake finish your dad’s book? You can legitimately
tag a whole lot of negative adjectives beside Drake’s name, but
irresponsibility isn’t one of them. He’s very dependable. I’m
positive that if he said he’d write your dad’s book that he will do
it.”

“Oh, he’s done it, all right!” Melinda balled
her hand into fists and huffed away.

“What was that about?” Blair asked, her gaze
following Melinda’s retreat.

“I think she wanted more of a romance than a
biography,” Penny said, sitting on a stool and patting the one next
to her. “Please sit down. I want to hear what you really thought
about
Hans and the Sunstone
.”

Blair smiled. “Okay, but I
really
want
to hear how you ended up with Drake.”

Penny’s smile faded. “I didn’t end up with
Drake.”

Blair pulled up the stool and sat down.
“Don’t worry, you will.”

Penny shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“I’ve known Drake for a really long time.
Believe me, you’re under his skin.”

“How do you know?”

“How do you know that nutmeg will be great in
a pumpkin pie?” Blair asked. “The flavors work well together and
complement each other. That’s you and Drake.”

Penny tried to smile, but her lips wavered.
She wanted to be with Drake, but she didn’t want to be the pumpkin
in this scenario. She wished Blair had chosen a different
metaphor.

***

The next morning Penny stumbled down the
stairs to find Drake sitting at the kitchen table and frowning at
his laptop.

“I thought you left,” she said, running a
tongue over her fuzzy teeth.

A scowl creased between Drake’s eyebrows. He
turned his computer screen so that it faced her: TRAVELING COOKING
GODDESS WINS LOCAL CHILI COOK-OFF.

Penny had always heard of the term screaming
headlines, but until that moment she’d never really heard a
headline actually scream. She wanted to scream too, but instead she
whispered, “Oh no.”

The headline was accompanied by two pictures:
one of a chubby, strawberry blond Penny smiling in front of the Taj
Mahal, the other of Penny and Andrea dressed in Bluebird Café
aprons and beaming over the steaming pot of chili.

“What are you going to do?” Drake asked.

“Do? What can I do? The whole world knows I’m
not in India.” Penny sat down heavily on the sofa. “But the whole
world doesn’t matter, only the Lurk matters.”

She considered Drake. He sat across the
table, staring at her. She wanted to ask why was he there, but she
was too happy to see him to risk controversial questions. Maybe
Blair was right. Maybe she had gotten under his skin and maybe he
was under hers too.

“What are we going to do?” Drake asked
again.

The plural pronoun warmed her toes.

“Eat French toast?” Penny’s thoughts went to
other toe-warming things.

Drake stood. “I’ll make breakfast while you
take a shower. We’ll think of something.”

***

“I will avenge my father!” Han’s told his
mother.

“No my son, you must not,” she pled, tears
filling her eyes. “I could not bear to lose you both. Please, let
us leave this place of death and destruction, for as long as we
stay, we will find the enemy at our door.”

From
Hans and the Sunstone

Drake leaned away
from his masterpiece, pleased. “How’s this?” he asked when Penny
came down the stairs, toweling her wet hair. He turned his
attention away from her cutoff jeans and T-shirt and back to his
computer screen.

“Penny Lee, recently returned from the Far
East—”

Penny shook her head. “I need to tell the
truth. I have to maintain credibility. My followers feel like they
know me, and now I’ve lied to them. I can’t lie to cover a
lie.”