Already Home (10 page)

“Oh, God. That's not good. What happened?”

Jenna gave her the basic details as she put her purse on the shelf and led the way into the store.

“I'm sorry. I should have been more clear with him.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don't think that would have helped. He's a man on a mission. When last I saw him, he was off to seduce the restaurant hostess. What I'm curious about is the potential pool of women. The way he goes through them, isn't he in danger of running out?”

“True, but he travels a lot.” Violet winced. “I'm sorry it was so horrible.”

“Actually, it wasn't. I liked going out and seeing if I could date. I think maybe I could, but I'm not up for a professional rebound guy. Maybe if my biological parents hadn't popped into my life with no warning, but they pretty much burned up all my extra energy. I just wish they'd go away.”

“They weren't that bad,” Violet said.

“You want them?”

An expression of longing briefly passed over Violet's face.

The look surprised Jenna. “You're looking for a family?”

“I never knew my dad and I haven't seen my mom since I was fifteen. She's probably dead and I don't know if I care enough to find out.”

Jenna was stunned. “I'm sorry,” she said quickly. “I was very insensitive.”

“You didn't know,” Violet told her. “It's fine. I haven't had a real family, so it's not like I know what I'm missing. It would be weird if my dad just showed up. I wouldn't know it
was him.” She frowned. “I don't think I'd believe him.” The frown faded. “I have trust issues.”

“We all have something,” Jenna said.

“You have too many parents. It's cool that Beth isn't freaking out. She could be and that would make this all really awkward.” Violet motioned to a stack of boxes by the cash register. “Those Bundt pans finally came in. We can schedule the cake class.”

Jenna wasn't sure if the change in subject was deliberate or not, but she went with it. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Violet's feelings. As much as she and the other woman had started to become friends, Jenna realized she barely knew anything about Violet's previous life.

“Now I have to find a killer recipe,” she said. “Is chocolate too much of a cliché?”

Violet laughed. “Your primary customer base is women. I don't think chocolate is ever a cliché.”

They went over the rest of the class schedule for the coming week.

“Are we sure about working with kids?” Jenna asked more to herself than to Violet. “It's going to get messy.”

“But their moms are looking for new ways to cook healthy.”

“I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I'm thinking I should embrace the messiness. What about turkey meatballs? They're packed with protein and very lean, which the moms should appreciate. We can make them relatively plain for the kids and then do a nice spicy sauce for the parents.”

“That would work. It's a finger food. Children love finger foods.”

“Right. Oh, and for our classic Italian cooking class, I want to feature a Rachael Ray recipe for baked ziti. Everyone loves her and I've tried the recipe. It's great.”

She spoke easily, careful not to let on how much it bothered her to use someone else's recipe. It was worse than cheating—it was admitting she was a failure. Before, she would have simply come up with a recipe herself. Before, when she'd trusted herself.

A few days ago, she'd played with a cake-cheesecake combination. The idea had been so clear in her head. She knew how it was supposed to taste. But halfway through the baking, she'd pulled the cake out of the oven and dumped it in the trash without even tasting it. Because thinking it was horrible was better than being sure.

“I'm sure the Rachael Ray books would sell in the store,” Violet told her, drawing her back to the present.

“Me, too.”

The front door opened. They both turned to greet the new customer. Jenna held in a groan when she saw Serenity.

Today the other woman was dressed in a long, flowing tunic in lavender, and stone-colored loose pants that came to just below her calves. A delicate chain circled her ankle, while sandals showcased a pedicure of purple nail polish.

“Good morning,” Serenity said, sounding happy. “I woke up just before dawn and knew I wanted to see my daughter again.”

Jenna did her best not to bristle at the “my daughter” comment. She would take the words in the spirit in which they were meant, she told herself. Or at least give it a good try.

“Nice to see you again,” she said. “Did you meet Violet last time you were here? She's the brains behind the organization. I'm the cook.”

“We spoke,” Violet said, moving toward Serenity and offering her hand. “But I don't believe there were introductions. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

Serenity took Violet's hand and held on to it. She put her other palm close to Violet's cheek without touching it.

“Your aura is troubled,” Serenity said. “You're unsure. But your future will be happy.” She frowned. “There's a bump in the road ahead, but once you're through that, you'll be fine.”

Jenna stared, unable to think what to say. All this and no tarot cards, she thought, trying to find the humor in the situation. It was that or scream, and it seemed a little early for a full-throated yell.

Serenity dropped her hands and beamed at Violet. “I hope you don't mind. I get a sense about people. Tom reminds me not everyone wants to know what's going to happen to them. He thinks I should edit more.”

Yay, Tom, Jenna thought.

“A happy future is good,” Violet said. “Thanks for sharing.”

“Just watch out for the bump.”

“I will.”

Jenna wondered how Violet could be so calm and rational. Maybe she was more experienced with those slightly off the road of normal.

“We were planning menus for our cooking classes,” Jenna said into the silence. “We try to have a class every day. During the class we feature cookware or cookbooks. For some, we have the ingredients prepared ahead of time, along with a recipe card. Customers can buy them and re-create the dish that night, if they want.”

“That's very innovative.” Serenity picked up the printed list of classes. “I see you're doing organic but not vegan.”

“Not many in the community have embraced the vegan lifestyle. It's tough.” There had been a lot of vegan eaters in L.A., but Jenna and Aaron hadn't catered to that crowd.
Vegetarian they could do, but vegans didn't eat animal products of any kind. In her opinion, the world was a sad place without butter. Not to mention cheese. A little sprinkling of the right cheese could save almost any dish.

“Have you tried any vegan recipes?” Serenity asked.

“No. I don't have much experience in that area.”

“You should. Even if you don't plan on becoming a vegan, you can try a completely different way of thinking about food. You might find it's fun.”

Fun. Jenna couldn't remember the last time cooking had been fun. Although the idea of trying vegan intrigued her. As she'd never done it before, there would be no expectations.

“Why don't I whip up a few things and bring them by for you to try?” Serenity offered.

“All right.” Jenna did her best to sound more enthused than doubtful.

She realized she'd failed when Serenity laughed. “I promise the food won't be horrible. You inherited your cooking ability from me, Jenna. I've been creating recipes since I was very young. My mother and her mother were also great cooks. In fact your grandmother, who was French, by the way, owned a bakery. Her pie crust alone generated three marriage proposals before she was sixteen.”

Her smile turned impish. “When I occasionally go off the vegan wagon, so to speak, I confess it's with a fresh baguette and some cheese. Organic, of course.”

“You're French,” Violet said. “That's good to know.”

It was, but somehow Jenna still resented having the information. Even more uncomfortable, she wanted to ask questions. To know more about her ancestry, even though that seemed like a betrayal of Beth and Marshall.

Serenity flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was a casual
gesture, but one that Jenna recognized—mostly because she did it herself.

“I'm not trying to get in the way,” the older woman told her. “I want to get to know you, just a little. And you to get to know us. That's why we're here. Because we miss you.”

It had been thirty-two years, Jenna thought grimly. It sure took them a long time to miss someone.

She recognized the twisted reasoning of being annoyed they'd shown up at all and resenting how long it had taken them to come find her in the first place. Probably a defense mechanism, she thought. A way to protect her emotions.

“Getting to know each other is probably a good idea,” she said, her voice neutral.

Beth would be so proud. But in truth, Jenna had no plans to connect with her birth parents or even like them very much. They were intruders. She already had a mother and father she loved, and for some reason she couldn't escape feeling that Serenity and Tom were a threat to them.

 

Violet found herself anticipating her second date with Cliff more than she would have thought. They'd been texting throughout the week. Despite having gotten her number, he hadn't called. She had a feeling he was trying to play it cool, which was intriguing. It implied that he cared enough to have a strategy. Very different for a girl who had pretty much always been a sure thing.

They met in front of the Silver and Stone Restaurant. When she arrived, Cliff was already waiting near the elevator.

For this date Violet had gone with fitted black pants and a white silk blouse—one of her ten classic wardrobe pieces. She finished her outfit with black sandals and silver earrings. Casual chic, she told herself as she walked up to Cliff.

He'd traded in a suit for jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He looked good, she thought. Normal. He smiled when he saw her, delight brightening his hazel-brown eyes.

“You came,” he said as he approached, then took her hands in his and lightly kissed her cheek.

“Does that surprise you?”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It kind of does. Are you hungry? I've eaten here before and the steaks are great. So's the service and they have a nice wine list.”

He was talking a lot again. The obvious nervousness was charming, she thought happily, and made her like him more.

They walked up to the hostess where Cliff said he had a reservation. Calling ahead was a small thing, Violet told herself, but still thoughtful.

They were shown to a table by the window and handed menus. Cliff ignored his and stared at her.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Would you mind if I ordered a bottle of red wine to have with dinner? This place has a great wine list and they carry several of my favorites.”

“That would be nice. I enjoy red wine.”

She had a feeling anything he ordered would be nicer than the stuff she bought at the grocery store.

“Wine is one of my things,” he told her. “I've owned a couple of condos, but never a house. When I finally buy one, I want room for one of those freestanding wine cellars. One with temperature and humidity controls.”

“Something to keep in your man cave?” she teased.

He grinned. “I don't think I need a man cave.”

“But there are all those sports to watch.”

He glanced at the table then back at her. “I'm hoping I'll
find someone who likes to watch them with me. When I get married again, I want my wife to hang out with me. I'm not looking for space for myself.”

“That sounds nice.”

“I know there are guys who want to be with their friends, and that would be okay, from time to time.” He grinned. “But I prefer the company of women.”

“We smell better.”

“Yes, you do.”

The server appeared. She was a pretty woman about Violet's age, with huge breasts and big Texas blond hair.

She introduced herself and talked about the specials. Violet was surprised when Cliff barely glanced at her. Instead, he smiled at Violet as the other woman spoke.

“What can I get you to drink?” she asked when she'd finished her list of specials.

Cliff ordered his bottle of wine. The server's eyes widened.

“Yes, sir. I'll bring that to the table right away.”

She picked up the wineglasses already there and quickly replaced them with much larger, more expensive-looking glasses.

Violet raised her eyebrows. “So this isn't the fourteen-ninety-nine special.”

“You'll love it.”

Now she was curious and made a note to check out the label, then go online later to find out what a bottle of Cliff's favorite wine cost.

“Are you planning on being in the Austin area long enough to buy a house?” Violet asked when they were alone.

“I'm hoping to be. My boss has made it clear he wants me here for at least ten years. I've looked around at several of
the neighborhoods and they're family friendly. I want a nice house, though. With lots of room.”

“Do you want a family?” She couldn't remember the last time a guy talked so easily about his future. Most of them were reluctant to make plans more than two days in advance.

“Two kids, maybe three. A boy and a girl, for sure. A dog.” He ducked his head. “I know what you're thinking. Pretty boring, suburban dreams. I can't help it. I'm a guy who likes the 'burbs. It's where I grew up.”

“I'm not thinking that at all,” Violet admitted, a little surprised to feel herself longing for what Cliff mentioned.

A husband and kids. She'd never seen herself with either—probably because girls like her didn't get happy endings. But she'd been changing her life for a while now. Making better choices. That had been the hardest thing—walking away from her old way of life and taking responsibility for acting differently. She'd done it day by day, choosing what was right for her future rather than what was expedient. Maybe Cliff was her reward for the hard work.