Our Now and Forever (Ardent Springs #2) (22 page)

“You’ve been cooking again,” Snow said as she stepped into the house. “I could smell it before I reached the porch.”

“I didn’t soak those beans overnight for nothing.” Caleb gave the sausage and beans a stir. “This is authentic Louisiana red beans and rice. Prepare to lose your mind.”

He scooped a piece of andouille sausage onto the wooden spoon and offered her a bite. The moment it hit her tongue, amber eyes closed with sheer pleasure.

“That is delicious,” she said around the food. “How long have you been working on this?”

“All afternoon.” Caleb checked his rice. “And in less than fifteen minutes, we’ll be chowing down on the best food ever invented.”

Snow leaned over the pan of sausage and breathed deep. “What about gumbo?” she asked.

He’d forgotten about gumbo. How did a Cajun forget about gumbo? “You’re right. We’ll be chowing down on the second-best food ever invented. So how was your day?”

“Funny you should ask,” Snow said, sliding past him to pull a glass off the shelf. “Miss Hattie came into the store today.”

Caleb’s hand hesitated in stirring the rice. He hadn’t expected Hattie to see Snow before he did, which meant he hadn’t asked her to keep the house thing a secret.

“She did, huh?” he asked, keeping his attention on the stove.

Filling her glass from the faucet, she said, “Yes. And she seemed to know something that I don’t.”

So much for his big surprise. “I was going to wait until after dinner.”

“Wait until after dinner for what?” Snow set her glass on the counter and then wrapped her arms around his middle, laying her cheek against his back. “You aren’t really going to make me wait, are you?”

“All right.” Caleb extricated himself from her arms and wiped his hands on his apron. “Since the surprise is ruined.” He disappeared into the bedroom and returned seconds later with his hand behind his back. “If you don’t like it, we can look at something else. And I want you to be honest. Don’t say you like it to make me happy.”

“I’m sure I’ll love it,” she said, her eyes glowing.

“Okay,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Here we go.” Caleb pulled a flier from behind his back and held it under her nose. “What do you think?”

“I . . .” Snow’s eyes dimmed and clouded with confusion. “I don’t know what to say.” She tried to cover her disappointment while shoving the curls off her forehead. “What is it, exactly?”

Caleb glanced over the top of the slip of paper. “What does it look like?”

“It’s a real estate ad,” she answered. “For some house over on Green Street.”

“Three bedrooms, two baths, fenced yard, and still under construction so we can decide on the finishings we want.” Caleb tapped a picture in the bottom corner. “Two-car garage in the back, and we’ll have to do some landscaping, but that’s easy enough.”

“Hold up.” Snow took several steps away. “You bought us a house?”

“No,” he assured her, kicking himself for doing this all wrong. “I looked at it to make sure it was worth you taking time away from the store to check it out.” Caleb had expected Snow to be happy that he really wanted to settle down here. That they could have their own place. A real home. “We can look at something else. It doesn’t have to be this one.”

“You went to see this?” she asked, nodding toward the flier. “Today?”

“I did,” he said, feeling like an idiot. Of course he should have included her from the beginning. “We can forget it for now.” Caleb returned to the stove, removing pans from burners and pulling plates from the bottom shelf.

As he loaded the first scoop of rice onto a plate, Snow said, “I don’t know what to say.”

Trying not to sound disappointed, Caleb said, “You don’t have to say anything.”

“Of course I do,” she said. “You want us to buy a house in Ardent Springs. That’s a big step. That deserves a response.”

He’d hoped her response would be a little more than “I don’t know what to say.”

“We don’t have to buy anything,” he said, turning to face her. “If you’re not ready—”

Snow set the flier on the counter as if it were on fire. “
We’re
not ready.”

Caleb ran a hand through his hair. “Will you at least look at it? For me?”

If she’d only walk through the front door, she’d see the life they could have. A married couple needed a place they could make their own. That was the rational next step. Caleb just had to convince her.

Snow looked as if he’d asked her to drink vinegar, but she said, “I’ll go, but I’m not making any promises.”

Chapter 23

By Thanksgiving morning, Snow had picked out paint colors, a new couch, and marked off where all the flower beds would be. She’d also earmarked several pieces from the store that would decorate her and Caleb’s first home.

Not that she’d agreed to buy the house. But she
really
wanted to buy the house. Damn the man for convincing her to look at it.

Though she regretted not spending the holiday with her family, knowing she’d be with them at Christmas made the day easier to get through. She’d called them first thing this morning and spoken to several relatives. Mama must have put them all on their best behavior, since no one gave Snow a hard time about her extended absence.

“Does this pie look burnt to you?” Caleb asked. He’d been fussing all morning, stressed about getting the pecan and apple pies just right. Apparently, knowing his would be measured against Lorelei’s grandmother’s concoctions turned her carefree husband into a frazzled mess.

Of course, he couldn’t be happy with an old-fashioned apple pie. Caleb’s pie had to include caramel. Her husband had a sweet tooth the length of Main Street, and he loved being in the kitchen almost as much as being elbow-deep under the hood of an old car.

Snow leaned over the warm pie and breathed deeply. “Lorelei is going to insist you give her the recipe for that,” she said. “And I’m tempted to cut the thing right now.”

“Don’t even think about it.” He covered the confection with aluminum foil before she could reach for a knife. “Grab a couple bath towels so we can get these over there without burning your lap along the way.”

“My lap?” Snow asked. Why couldn’t his precious pies ride in the backseat?

Caleb ripped another piece of foil. “I’m not taking the chance of these things flying around in the Jeep. One quick stop and they’ll be nothing but a pile of mush on the floor.”

He had a point. Snow retrieved two towels from the tiny linen closet in the bathroom.

“You know,” he said, helping her settle both pies across her lap, “next year, we could be the ones holding this dinner.”

Their eyes met, and Snow winced at the joy in Caleb’s eyes. “Like a real married couple,” she said, cutting her eyes away.

Dropping a kiss on her palm, he said, “I’m thankful I found you.”

“I am, too,” she said, her voice catching on the emotion. “Though I wish I’d never left in the first place.”

“But you got us here.” Caleb gave the pies one last check to ensure they wouldn’t move. “So none of that matters now.”

She wished none of it mattered, but there was still the issue of his mother, who had left Snow a less than friendly message the day before, reminding her that she expected her son to return home by Christmas. Alone.

Snow didn’t want to give her husband up to please the hateful woman, but she also had no idea how or when to make a full confession. What she did know was that she would not ruin Caleb’s Thanksgiving by clearing her conscience today.

“You ready?” he asked.

Coming back to the present, Snow held tight to each pie pan. “Ready and already getting warm thighs. Let’s get moving.”

Dinner was incredible. Rosie Pratchett, Lorelei’s grandmother, along with her friend Pearl Jessup and Lorelei, offered a feast like nothing Caleb had ever seen. He’d grown up with all the typical Thanksgiving staples, but his mother had never touched a ladle let alone prepared the home-cooked versions of what had been on the table today. Eight people had gathered at the Pratchett house to celebrate together, including Carrie, who could barely reach the table for her protruding belly, and Mike Lowry.

“I’m thinking I should have worn sweatpants to dinner,” Spencer said, leaning back in his chair with hands flat on his gut. “These women are trying to kill us.”

“As if I held a gun to your head and made you eat that third helping of dressing,” Lorelei teased, giving Spencer’s stomach a conciliatory rub.

Rosie Pratchett sure knew how to cook a turkey. Caleb had taken it easier than Spencer on the dressing. Though he’d snatched all the white meat he could without hogging it all.

“It wasn’t only females who did the cooking today,” Snow said. “Caleb did make two pies.”

Spencer groaned while Mike said, “I’ve been dying to try that apple pie since my first whiff. I’ll help you cut, Rosie.”

Once the sweets were dished up and passed around, Caleb brought up the suggestion that had come to him a few days before. “Has anyone around here considered setting up a preservation society?”

The table occupants exchanged glances before Spencer said, “Like a historical thing?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. “I attended an auction out at the Brambleton place with Snow, and it seems a shame that all those antiques were scattered far and wide. And then there’s Silvester House. Not that Hattie is going anywhere anytime soon, but I’d hate to see the same happen there. Add the Ruby to the list, and Ardent Springs has a solid collection of historic structures.”

“Some of downtown would qualify, too,” Pearl said. “But what would forming a preservation society require?”

Between his family’s association with restoration projects and his own research, Caleb had a ready answer. “First would be to talk to folks around town. Civic organizations. Chamber of Commerce. Merchants. See what kind of interest and response we get on the subject. Eventually, if we really wanted to form a nonprofit, we’d bring a key group in for organizational meetings, draw up bylaws, and file some papers.” Accepting the slice of pie Rosie offered, he added, “The Ruby committee has proven that enough locals are willing to step up with their time and energy. My guess is a full-out preservation society would be a welcome option.”

The crowd grew quiet enough that Caleb thought maybe he’d crossed a line he didn’t know about. After all,
he
wasn’t a local, and probably shouldn’t be suggesting how these people should or shouldn’t run their town. But then Spencer broke the silence.

“We were so focused on the Ruby, we missed the bigger picture.”

“When you say ‘file some papers,’ what do you mean?” Lorelei asked.

“Establishing the group as a nonprofit would require filing with both the IRS and the state of Tennessee. That way anyone who donates to the society would be able to write it off on their taxes.”

“And the society wouldn’t have to pay taxes on the money raised,” Lowry added. “But how would this tie in or conflict with the Ruby committee? A group looking to preserve the history would have a lot to say about what restorations should and shouldn’t be done.”

This was true. Caleb had been involved in a restoration project in the French Quarter that turned into a nightmare when the New Orleans preservation group insisted on approval of the building’s exterior colors. In the end, the building had been painted three times, at an exorbitant expense, only to have the original colors approved in the end.

“That’s a hiccup I didn’t consider, but in this case, the committees would probably share several members, meaning the new society is less likely to become an obstacle. And from what I’ve seen at the meetings, preserving historical details are already a major consideration in the plans for the Ruby.”

“You know where you’d get pushback,” Lorelei said, looking at Spencer.

“We can handle Winkle,” he said.

Caleb hesitated with his fork halfway through his pie. “I thought Winkle was the one who wanted things to stay the same. Why would he be against a preservation society?”

“The auction business, remember?” Snow said, speaking up for the first time. “If these old houses stay intact, he has nothing to auction off.”

“So he’d cut up local history to turn a profit?” Caleb put his fork down. “How did this man get elected again?” With all the stories he’d heard, this was the one mystery he couldn’t solve.

“Same as every other politician with no business being in office,” Spencer said. “Tell ’em what they want to hear, turn up the fear, and make promises you can’t keep.”

“You going to run against him next year?” Caleb asked. Boyd might have been young for politics, but he was a born leader.

Lorelei choked on her pie while Rosie said, “I wish to heck he would.”

Pearl added her support, saying, “I’d vote for him.”

“I’m not running,” Spencer said. “Maybe someday, but not next year.”

His words put Lorelei at ease. “Thank God.”

“You don’t think Spencer would make a great mayor?” Pearl asked.

“He would,” Lorelei answered. “But you know as well as I do that once anybody gets into that office, they stay for years. Well, anyone other than Jebediah. And then the town acts like he belongs to them.” She took Spencer’s hand. “Call me selfish, but I want him to belong only to me for a while, before the town takes him.”

“I’ll always belong to you, Lor,” Spencer said, leaning in to give her a kiss.

“And I thought this pie was giving me a sugar high,” Pearl said, but the remark was accompanied by a wide smile.

Caleb gave Snow’s hand a gentle squeeze beneath the table. He’d floated the idea of the preservation society with positive results. Now if his second mission of the day went as well, this would be a Thanksgiving that neither of them would forget.

“I can’t believe he looks that good
and
he cooks. You are one lucky woman,” Lorelei said, as they watched Spencer and Mike do the dishes with Caleb as supervisor. Since the females had cooked, as Spencer had pointed out, the males got to clean. And Caleb’s pies had earned him a reprieve from getting his hands wet.

“Considering that sickeningly romantic display you and your fiancé put on during dessert, you have nothing to complain about.” Snow slid a finger along the rim of her wine glass, enjoying the view of Caleb putting away plates as Mike dried them. This wasn’t the country club set, and yet her husband fit right in. Much better than she would ever fit into his world.

“What are we talking about?” Carrie asked, returning from her fourth trip to the bathroom. Or was it five? The poor woman had reached the waddling stage.

“Nothing,” Lorelei said. “How is little Molly today? Did she like the meal?”

“She’s kicking up a storm, so she either hated it or wants more. I’m not sure which.” Carrie sank into the chair next to the sofa. She took several seconds to connect with the cushion. When Lorelei offered assistance, she said, “I can do it. Getting back up is when I’ll need a hand.”

“I hear you guys looked at a house,” Lorelei said to Snow. “Spencer and I have talked about buying, but neither of us want to leave Granny alone. And, of course, we can’t really afford it right now, with my business still small and his school stuff.”

Spencer was going to school online. Snow didn’t know what something like that cost, but it couldn’t be cheap.

“We looked,” Snow said. “But I don’t think we’re ready for that yet.” When everything blew up in her face—though Snow preferred to say
if
—she couldn’t afford to buy the house on her own. That meant no home buying until the Vivien issue was dealt with.

“It is a big commitment,” Lorelei said. “I don’t blame you for waiting until you guys are better off financially.”

Snow couldn’t help but laugh at the comment. As if money was the obstacle.

“What’s so funny?” Carrie asked.

Surprised by the question, Snow realized she’d never shared much about Caleb’s background with her friends. “Well . . .” she hedged. “Caleb is kind of . . . rich.”

Lorelei and Carrie looked at each other, then back at Snow. “How rich?” Lorelei asked.

“Like ‘trust fund baby in line to inherit a giant media conglomerate’ rich? But he doesn’t really want the business. I don’t think.” She knew that Caleb wanted to make his own way in the world, but would he really turn down running the company? Or would staying with him mean she’d someday be thrust into high society whether she liked it or not?

“Shut. Up.” Lorelei stared with wide eyes and mouth agape. “You tried to walk away from that?”

The question rang in Snow’s ears. Yes. She’d tried to walk away from that. Was still trying. She never wanted to leave Caleb. His money, upbringing, and impending inheritance were what scared her into running. Regardless of where they lived, he was still heir to the fortune. He still lived with enormous expectations, and if they stayed together, so would she.