The Marriage Recipe (18 page)

“I guess Heather and Kristin will have to cancel the party they were planning.”

So they had been thinking of something for her thirtieth birthday. She'd suspected a secret. Her guilt intensified. “Well, you know me—I'm not the party type. But I'll be back to visit. I won't be a stranger.”

Yet she already was, and this truth seeped into her bones, where it became mired in the pain overwhelming her. All these people cared for her. They'd understand, but her leaving would hurt them. Never had she been this conflicted. The door to her future had opened and she hesitated about going through.

“I'll walk you out.”

She rose to her feet and wobbled. “No. I couldn't bear it. Just stay here and finish your pizza. I know the way.”

“That I don't doubt,” Colin said.

His tone was harsh, bitter, and she fled. If he'd followed her or touched her, she might not have the strength to do what had to be done. She might not have been able to leave.

When she entered her silent childhood home a half hour later, she realized she'd have to break the news to her grandmother and mother, who weren't going to be happy, either. Still, Rachel could be back in New York by the weekend. Nothing seemed “right” anymore, though she was free to follow her dream. As the world around her seemed to implode, she focused on that.

 

C
OLIN SAT THERE
long after the pizza had grown cold. He finally stood and threw the remains in the trash. He'd had to set her free. He couldn't have done the long-distance thing, and he couldn't live in New York any more than she could live in Morrisville. They loved each other, but they loved their own cities more. The realization stung, yet he'd known this was going to happen. Still, one was never prepared for the ensuing pain.

He remembered that old saying his mother would use—that if you loved something, you had to set it free. And that if it came back to you, it was yours. If not, the love wasn't meant to be.

He loved Rachel. He had set her free. He didn't delude himself, though. She wouldn't be coming back.

“Rachel, we need those cookies out there stat! All that's left on the tray in the case are crumbs. These cookies don't have to be perfect, just iced. Chop, chop! Time is money!”

“Coming right up,” Rachel said. She wiped the back of her hand over her brow, not because she was sweating but because she was stressed. She'd been working at Bitsy's Bakery for almost a week. Today was her thirtieth birthday, and here she was—at 11:15 a.m. on April 15, the deadline for people to file their United States taxes—piping the last drops of decorative blue frosting onto a few dozen of Bitsy's world-famous butterfly-shaped cookies.

As discontent settled, Rachel reminded herself that she was lucky to have gotten the decent-paying job. She'd also scored the weekday shift, starting at nine-thirty and ending at six. She'd arrived back in New York too late to get the job as Bitsy's Internet-development person. However, the restaurant manager who'd hired her had promised Rachel lots of connections, and she hadn't had to sign a noncompete agreement. So there was a silver lining in the melancholy Rachel was experiencing.

She hadn't expected to be so busy, but at least that kept the loneliness at bay. She'd been running on adrenaline since her return to Manhattan. Sadly, this time when she crashed, Colin wouldn't be there to reheat broccoli-cheese soup.

She tried to get him out of her head, but like every other time, she failed. She thought of him constantly, wondering what she was doing. She hadn't had much contact with anyone from Morrisville, including her family. They'd been very disappointed in her decision.

Her cell phone had been silent, adding to her stress. Life in New York had moved on while she'd been away; the city hadn't missed her in the slightest. Aside from Glynnis, she no longer was friends with those she'd known when she'd dated Marco. Of course, once she'd taken up with Marco, she'd lost many of the friends she'd made when she'd first arrived in the city at eighteen. At that time she'd been eager to escape Morrisville and hadn't really appreciated all she'd left behind. Now she felt a profound sense of loss, as if she'd left behind part of her soul.

She tried to think positively. She'd started out alone in the city once before, and she could do it again. She was just a year or two off on her goal plan, that was all. It happened, and she'd deal.

“Rachel! Cookies! Now,” Bertha Blevins, Rachel's supervisor, yelled again. Bitsy, the restaurant's namesake, had retired long ago to Long Island and let the management company she'd hired run the business. Bertha supervised the day shift.

Rachel thought the woman fit the negative connotation of her name perfectly. Not wanting to incur Bertha's wrath any more than was necessary, Rachel finished the cookies and toted them out to where the constant crowd waited.

 

“S
O HAVE YOU
heard from Rachel?” Reginald asked Kim. He was seated at the diner counter. It wasn't Reginald's regular spot—he preferred the booth in the corner—but he'd chosen the seat because of its proximity to Kim.

He glanced at Harold, who was seated next to him, reading the editorial section of the local newspaper. Hmm, Reginald thought. Maybe the old guy had a method to his madness. He'd probably had a thing for Kim for years. She'd been single about as long as Harold had. Reginald realized he might have solved one of Morrisville's mysteries, one Kim probably had figured out long ago.

Kim finished ringing up a customer, then grabbed a pot of coffee and refilled Reginald's cup. “I called her a few days ago to say happy birthday. She sounded fine, but I think it's a cover-up. She's not as happy as she's pretending. She's not even living in her former apartment. Because she hadn't wanted to lose the rent-controlled studio, she'd signed a contract subletting the place for the full six months of her noncompete, and the person won't be out until August. She's staying in some cheap residence hotel one step above a dump—although she didn't come right out and say that. She said staying there was helping her save money.”

“She seemed all fired up to get out of here,” Reginald observed.

Kim agreed. “Packed the next day and drove off.” She paused and wiped her hands on her apron. “We were a bit surprised Colin got her legal issues settled so fast.”

“I don't believe he was expecting such quick results,” Reginald said. “Having Rachel's case finished certainly didn't help his love life. He's besotted with her, and now that she's left, he's moping. Can't stand it when that boy sulks. He's got a brand-new plane and isn't interested in anything but working. Never seen that boy so dedicated to the firm. Says he's determined not to give me any reason to not name him full partner this year. Sure, his dedication is what I want, but he's lost some of his spunk. He's on overkill trying to prove himself worthy. He'll make full partner. However, I've got quite a few years left before I turn over my part of the firm to him.”

“But that's been your plan all along, right?” Kim asked, resting a hip against the counter.

Reginald nodded and added more sugar to his cup. “I made sure to clarify. Colin told me he wouldn't be happy in New York, even if he wasn't taking over the family firm. Seems he and Rachel are…What was the term he used the other day? Oh, yes, geographically challenged.”

Kim topped up Harold's mug. “A shame. I'd never seen her happier than when she was baking here. She'd even started writing a business plan. When I spoke with her, I asked her how that was going, and she told me she just didn't have time.”

“She'll never have time. Maybe she'll wise up sooner than later and realize it,” he said.

“She's too stubborn,” Kim replied, setting the coffeepot aside. “She'll never notice what's under her nose. She had everything that was important to her here.”

“Maybe you should show her what she's missing,” Harold said. The old codger had lowered his newspaper. Clearly, he'd been listening to every word.

“I'm not understanding you,” Kim said, interested in Harold's viewpoint.

He reached for the silver cream pitcher, poured, then stirred. “I doubt anyone up there cares for her. Not like the people in this town do. Up there she's just one face in a sea of faces. Perhaps a little Morrisville needs to go to New York. Tell her that her bear claws are better than yours.”

“They are?” Kim's indignation came fast.

Harold nodded and took a sip of his coffee. An undercurrent passed between him and Kim. Reginald found the exchange fascinating. “Ah. Show her our support,” Kim clarified.

“Show her exactly what she's missing,” Harold replied. He wiped his lips and put his napkin back on his lap to emphasize his point. “You.”

 

R
ACHEL HAD SURVIVED
a couple more weeks at Bitsy's Bakery. It was now the second of May, and Manhattan was starting to celebrate the nicer weather that appeared with the month's arrival. People were outside more, and flowers had begun to bloom. This was the time of year Rachel liked best—the longer days, the lifting of the spirit before the oppressive summer heat sapped everyone's energy.

Well, she wouldn't be heading to the Hamptons at any point this year, she thought wryly as she placed a tray of cookies in the oven to bake. She set the timer and gestured to her coworker. “I'm going home. You'll need to get these out in eight minutes.”

“Will do.”

Rachel made her way back to the staff area—basically, a wall with some high-school lockers—took off her apron and threw it in the linen hamper. Today was Friday, and thankfully, Rachel didn't have to work weekends.

She exited and began to walk south, then cut over a block to catch the subway. Her residence hotel was about four stops south of Bitsy's. Her current digs were nothing special, but at least the area was safe.

The best she could afford without digging into her financial settlement, the residence hotel rented rooms by the month. The place shoeboxed everyone in between paper-thin walls. Somehow her room fit a twin bed, love seat, table, two chairs, TV and a small kitchenette. Add one closet and a tiny bathroom barely large enough to turn around in, and Rachel had a home.

Once in the room, she set her purse down and flopped into one of the chairs. Her feet hurt. She glanced at her closed laptop. She'd opened up her business plan last night and began looking at the ideas she'd typed up for Sweet Sensations. She should be taking Mother's Day cake orders. But she didn't have a Web site, and so far she'd been too exhausted from the grind at Bitsy's to look for a kitchen to rent—not that she'd be able to afford one in the city, anyway. What had made her ever think she could? Maybe she'd been deluding herself all these years. Maybe her goal was just a pipe dream, something never to be achieved.

A knock sounded at the door. Rachel sighed. Probably the neighbor two doors down. In the spirit of making new friends, Rachel had gone to a club with her last Friday night. Rachel hadn't enjoyed herself much, but the girl had had a ball, and had taken home some guy Rachel wouldn't have touched with a ten-foot pole.

She'd been hit on, certainly, but not one man could compare with Colin Morris. She'd gone home alone.

“God, I'm doomed,” Rachel muttered as she strode to the door. She peered through the peephole, and started in surprise. “No way.” She unchained the door and turned the knob. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that any way to greet me? I don't fly very often, you know.” Her grandmother marched in, glanced around and gave a low whistle. “Not like my room at the Millennium, that's for sure.”

The surprises didn't end.

“You're here for a holiday?”

Kim nodded. “Yep. Until Monday. You can walk to most of the theaters from my hotel. I have tickets to two shows tomorrow. Now, give your grandmother a hug. Took me a while to find this place.”

Rachel gasped with worry as she hugged her petite grandmother. “You didn't walk here?” The Millennium Broadway was on Forty-second Street, just east of Times Square. Bitsy's was only a block north of there.

“Oh, I rode in a cab. Crazy man didn't speak much English, but we made it. I have to admit, I held on tight. I've never seen so many cars.”

“Is my mother here, too?”

Kim shook her head. “Someone had to stay and run the diner, and you know Adrienne. She's not the traveling type.”

Rachel smiled as she thought of her mom. “She never has been. She's never left Indiana, so I always understood why she never considered visiting me,” Rachel said.

“That woman lets the grass grow under her feet. She's never been one for any type of adventure. Now me—I figured it was high time to visit you. I've never been here before, but I'm always open to any new experience.”

“I'm so glad you're here. So you just arrived today? You didn't travel alone, did you?”

“Nope. Loretta Morris came with me. We've been talking about a trip like this forever. She's been to Manhattan a few times already and she said she'd show me the ropes. She's taking a nap, so I had some free time. We're going to walk Times Square later tonight, see all the freaky people and revel in the neon lights.”

Rachel suppressed a smile at her grandmother's reference to “freaky” people. New York was simply a melting pot where you would see all sorts. “Well, come and have a seat. Do you have a minute or two?”

“I do,” Kim said. She glanced around. “You're not this messy at home.”

Rachel felt a pang of shame at the shabby condition of the room. “I'm not here enough and these rooms don't have maid service. I have laundry to do, and then I'll put everything away. At least the dishes are clean. The chef in me won't stand a messy work space, even if the kitchen's not much of one.”

“Speaking of kitchens, Harold says hello. He wants you to know that your bear claws are better than mine. I wasn't exactly happy to hear that, mind you, although I guess it's the truth. Your coconut cake remains the talk of the town.”

Perhaps that was because little happened in Morrisville, Rachel thought. Still, the compliment touched her. Morrisville expanding its provincial taste buds? Who would have thought that possible?

“Also, everyone's asking if they'll be able to order Mother's Day cakes, and if you have your Web site done and are ready for business,” Kim finished.

Rachel wished. “I haven't had the time to work on anything. Even if I did, I'd still be without a kitchen. This venture is turning out to be a lot more complicated than I thought.” Speaking of thoughts, one popped into her head. “Did Colin fly you here?”

“He did,” her grandmother said. “Best plane ride I've ever had. Loretta and I both rode in back and talked over those headsets. We brought our own beverages. Quite comfortable. No restroom, but I'm still spry enough to hold it.”

Rachel grimaced. Too much information. Her grandmother's candor was sometimes unsettling.

“So is Colin staying over in the city, as well?” Rachel asked, struggling to keep her tone casual.

Her grandmother shook her head. “No. He dropped us off at noon today, and turned around and flew home. He's flying up here Monday around one to pick us up. We have tickets to more shows on Sunday.”