Two
The best thing about Russian River House, the bed-and-breakfast out on Westside Road in Forestville, a small town smack in the middle of Green Valley, California, wasn’t just the view of the sparkling Russian River, the wine tastings on the adjoining property every evening at six o’clock, nor Mellie and Cook’s breakfasts every morning. It was all those things, of course, but it was also, definitely, unequivocally, the muffins.
Lillian Parker’s muffins, to be exact. All thirteen varieties.
At least that was what anyone reading the 1,392 reviews of Penny Parker’s quaint establishment on TripAdvisor.com would think:
“Best muffins EVAH!”
“You must try the innkeeper’s daughter’s carrot ginger muffins. They’re to die for!”
“Wonderful place to spend the weekend with my wife. Don’t leave without trying the lemon poppy. Steal two or three if you can for the plane ride home.”
The key was in the fresh ingredients and applesauce. Yes, applesauce replaced the oil in most of her recipes and provided not only moisture and a light, pleasant flavor, but an unexpected elegance you just couldn’t get from the standard oily muffin. Over the years, more than a handful of customers had pulled Lilly in close and whispered, “Don’t tell your mother I said this, but your talents are being wasted here!”
Lilly always sighed when she heard those words.
“The Plan” when she’d graduated college had been to use her Hospitality Degree to take over the family bed-and-breakfast, just as her mother had always wanted, but did anyone really, truly know what they wanted out of life when they were only twenty-one? For several years now, she’d dreamed of traveling the world before settling in a thriving city to open her own bakery. But then her father had fallen ill; since his death, her mother had become more and more dependent on Lilly. It had become far too easy for Lilly to set aside her dreams, telling herself that she wasn’t even thirty yet and there’d be plenty of time to do what she truly wanted.
Due to recent events, however, the time had come for Lilly to reach for her brass ring. She finally had the chance to see the world outside her small hometown. At the same time, she’d work side-by-side with one of the best pastry chefs in the business. It was the chance of a lifetime and she couldn’t turn it down. Lilly just had to gather her courage, break the news to her mother, and hope she’d understand.
Today, the Russian River House guests had ventured out early, possibly because of afternoon showers predicted for later on. Only an elderly couple, the Delfinos, still sat in the corner of the dining room, trading bites of pumpkin spice and lemon-blueberry muffins. While re-stacking coffee cups in the adjacent butler’s pantry, which was between the dining room and the kitchen, Lilly watched their eyeballs roll into the back of their heads and listened to their moans of delight, a sound she never got tired of hearing. Then she glanced in the direction of the nearby foyer, where her mother sat behind the reception desk. Maybe once the Delfinos left, she and her mom could have a private moment to talk.
“Lillian, dear.”
Returning her attention to the dining room, Lilly saw Mrs. Delfino, wearing a pink cardigan with jeans high on the waist, motioning her over with a wrinkled hand. “Lillian, do you know what’s in these muffins?” she asked, pointing at the pumpkin spice, painted eyebrows drawn into a tight knot in the center of her forehead.
“Uh, yes,” Lilly said, clearing her throat. “Canned pumpkin, fresh farm eggs…”
“No,” Mrs. Delfino interrupted with a smile she couldn’t contain. “Heaven. Heaven is baked into these muffins.” She chuckled and passed the buttered bite to her husband. “Am I right, Jer?”
“Heaven.” Mr. Delfino nodded, pushing up his glasses, before taking a bite.
Lilly let out a sigh of relief. For a second there, she thought they hadn’t been pleased. “That’s very kind of you to say. Thank you.” She smiled at the couple who must have been in their late seventies to eighties.
“Canned pumpkin? Is that right?” Mr. Delfino’s voice was scratchy with a twinge of New Jersey. Lilly had become quite good at picking up different accents from guests over the years, and there was definitely some Italian New Jersey in there.
“Oh, yes—always canned.” She crouched next to their table. “Never fresh. Canned pumpkin has more moisture and flavor than fresh. But that’s the only muffin with a canned ingredient.”
“Amazing. You must spend your whole day baking, studying about baking, or thinking about baking.” Mrs. Delfino glanced at Lilly’s hands and dirty apron.
“Well, no, I also grow flowers and an herb garden upstairs. In fact, have you tried the strawberry basil muffins? You might not think basil goes well in a dessert, but I’m telling you, they’re divine.”
“I’ll be sure to grab that one next,” Mrs. Delfino said. “Sit down in a chair, hon. You young people, always squatting. Servers in restaurants these days…squatting, squatting,” she told her husband.
“Squatting,” Mr. Delfino agreed. “Hard on the lower back.”
“Not a bad idea.” Lilly wiped her hands on her apron and pulled up a chair. Her mother wouldn’t mind if she chatted a bit with the guests. In fact, that was part of the charm and ambience of a good bed-and-breakfast, interacting with the clients and making them feel welcome. “So, where are you two from?”
“Long Island,” Mrs. Delfino said. “That’s in New York.”
Lilly smiled. She knew where Long Island was, for crying out loud. She may not have gotten out much, but she did own several maps, a globe, and Google Earth. “Nice.”
“It’s right next to the edge of sanity,” Mr. Delfino added, slathering strawberry preserves on his pumpkin muffin. He winked at Lilly.
Lilly shuddered. Whether it was because Mr. Delfino was giving her a flirty wink right in front of his wife, or because he was tainting her pumpkin muffin with strawberry preserves, or maybe both, she wasn’t sure. “Edge of sanity, huh? Wow, you’ve come a long way. From the frying oil into the fire pit.” She chuckled. Forestville wasn’t too far from that description.
“It’s frying pan into the fire, dear,” Mrs. Delfino corrected, breaking apart the last piece of lemon-blueberry and giving half to her husband. “Why do you say it, though? Does it drive you insane to be out here in the middle of nowhere? Don’t get me wrong…it is absolutely gorgeous!”
“Gorgeous.”
“Insanely spectacular!”
“Insanely.” Mr. Delfino pressed a cloth napkin to his mouth.
“But if I were you, I would go a little nutso here all the time. The vineyards are really pretty, but Jerry and I need to be close to the city. We need arts and restaurants. We need culture, museums…”
“We need the train. Nearby. All the time. Though this is pretty. Very, very pretty.”
“I get what you mean. Trust me, I do,” Lilly said, fascinated by the timber of their voices and the lovely way they finished each other’s thoughts. She checked to see what her mom was doing and found her in quiet discussion with Mellie in the corner, the surefire sign that something juicy was going on in town. Juicy for Mom anyway. To Lilly, it was all old hat. Someone was getting married, someone got fired, someone new was hired at one of the local wineries, on and on. Honestly, it got ridiculously boring after a while. She leaned into the Delfinos. “Can you keep a secret?”
“Can we keep a secret?” Mrs. Delfino’s shoulders shook. “Honey, do you even know who you’re talking to?”
“Queen of Secrets,” Mr. Delfino said.
“Like a tomb.” Mrs. Delfino zipped her lip and threw away the key.
“Okay…” Lilly rested on her elbows. “Last month, I entered a baking contest sponsored by Food Network.”
“And you got pregnant?”
“What? No.” Lilly recoiled. What the hell?
“Sorry, go on…”
“So, I just got the call this morning…”
“That call?” Mrs. Delfino narrowed her eyes.
“Yes. I won!” Lilly beamed. “Out of five hundred some contestants, they narrowed it down to twenty. I went last month for an interview at my old college, where they did a baking test, and I just got word today that I won an internship with Guy Santoli, the head pastry chef of L’Appetite Boulange! I leave in three weeks!”
“That’s wonderful! Where will you be going?” Mrs. Delfino asked.
“Miami. I’ve never even been outside of California!” Lilly tried to keep her voice hushed.
Mrs. Delfino’s eyeballs ogled her. “What? Such a pretty girl, with that body and that face, and you’ve never been outside of California? Unbelievable. Look at that body! Jerry, would you look at that body.”
“I’m lookin’, I’m lookin’…”
What having a nice body and face had anything to do with leaving your home state was anyone’s guess, but Lilly just shrugged and reveled in having finally just told her first people the great news! Yes, a bit of guilt jabbed at her that she hadn’t told Mom first, but Mom wasn’t exactly the most supportive about her leaving town.
“I think that’s great what you young women are doing, being on your own for some time, advancing your careers. I do, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a lot of stress. What you really need is a man…” Mrs. Delfino sipped from her teacup. “A rich man to support you while you open your own business. You have lots of freedom, you have lots of babies—BINGO!”
“Bingo,” her husband agreed.
“That’s what you do.” Mrs. Delfino reached out and squeezed Lilly’s forearm. As misguided as her advice was, there was a sincere sweetness in her hazel eyes. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just saying.”
“I know what you mean,” Lilly said, leaving it at that. What she needed was to get out of Green Valley, see the world…Hell, just seeing her own country would be great, and she could do that with or without a man. “I’m dying to go places.”
“Like where? Tell me.”
Lilly turned her attention out the window. “Rome would be nice.”
“Ooo, my grandparents came from Rome. Beautiful city, but old. Very old. Where else?”
“Australia. London—I’m dying to go to London. And Hawaii. So close, yet so far. We work all the time, so it’s not easy to just up and go. But I will soon. In three weeks!” Lilly said, folding and unfolding a napkin over and over. For the first time in forever, she had something to feel excited about, and Miami was the perfect place to get her fresh start.
She just had to tell Mom.
“Those are all wonderful places. Jerry and I have been. But don’t worry, you have your whole life ahead of you. Like I said, rich man. Sweep you away. If he has a white horse, even better.” Mrs. Delfino went back to sipping her black coffee from her porcelain cup.
“Well, I better get the last of breakfast cleaned up. I just wanted to get that out.” Lilly stood and brushed off her apron, reaching out to shake both their hands. “It was a pleasure talking to you both. We’re so happy you’re staying with us. If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more welcome, just let me know.”
“You already did. Such great news.” Mrs. Delfino bit into her pumpkin spice muffin and mm-mmmed. “Again, this thing is delectable, and I hate pumpkin!”
Lilly smiled and picked up a cloth napkin that had been discarded on another table. At that moment, Mom brushed by in a rush, headed back to the front desk. She used to be a big woman, but since Lilly’s father died last year, she’d worn down and was easily half the woman she used to be, and not in a good way either. “What were you talking about with the Delfinos?” she asked. “You all seemed excited.”
“Oh, nothing,” Lilly lied, joining her mother in the foyer. “They were just raving about the muffins.”
“Of course they were. That’s my girl.” Mom smiled at her.“The last guests are coming to check in. They called ahead to let us know. Did you check the sheets and bath items in Room 5?”
“Yes, I checked everything. It’s all ready.” Lilly plucked a tiny sunflower from the vase full of autumn orange and yellow sunflowers on the counter and laid it on top of the pumpkin sitting next to it. She would have to put out the Halloween decorations soon; even though she wouldn’t be around to enjoy them, her mom would.
“Did the Delfinos say if they liked the room?” Her mother nervously marked off items from a list with her pencil. “They wanted extra towels. We gave them that. They wanted a wake-up call. We gave them that.”
“Mom, relax. Everything is fine. They love it here!” Of course, Lilly didn’t mention that the Delfinos only complimented her muffins. It wasn’t that the rest of the BB wasn’t wonderful. Everything was superb—well, almost. The furniture could use a little updating in three of the rooms, and the awful heavy drapes always made Lilly want to sew play clothes and hang from trees, singing about her favorite things and do-re-mi.
“I hope so. They seem the type who could easily complain about one little thing then go online and give us one star, just because we ran out of Splenda.”
“They’re not going to do that. They were truly delighted.” Lilly nervously wrung the cloth napkin she was holding. She should mention it. Of course she should. And why not? “They said I should open my own bakery. Ha, ha, imagine that!”
Mom’s neck swiveled toward Lilly. “They said that?”
“Yeah.” Lilly smiled hopefully.
“Did you tell them it was unlikely, since you’d be taking over this place one day?”
Lilly swallowed a lump in her throat. “Right. Yes, I told them.” She sighed and returned to the dining room. So much for that. She should have known better than to bring up the idea of opening a bakery when her mom had planned her entire life out for her.
Sigh. When am I going to grow a set of balls? Lilly entered the butler’s panty and flung the cloth napkin onto the counter.
Once again, she glanced at Mr. and Mrs. Delfino, wondering if she would ever find someone to spend her life with like that. Someone to travel with, see big cities with, then settle down to have a big family. The idea of it sounded so wonderful. But here she was—already twenty-seven with only one boyfriend under her belt. Ben Miller would have asked her to marry him, but his family moved to Chicago, and though he could have stayed in Forestville with Lilly, he didn’t exactly try. He claimed it was just about the most boring place to live for someone their age, but then the last she’d heard, he’d married and moved to Elmhurst, Illinois.
Elmhurst, Ben? Seriously?
Whatever. She couldn’t put any more energy toward it. That ship had sailed, gone, adios, buh-bye. Problem was, hardly any new ships ever came through this port unless they were already on their honeymoon, gay, celebrating an anniversary, or elderly. Princes on white horses just didn’t ride through Forestville, Mrs. Delfino, no matter how fairy tale-ish the name of their town sounded.
No, Lilly knew her best bet in life was to accept the internship in Miami and start anew. Then, when the six-month apprenticeship was over, she could maybe open a shop in San Francisco or Chicago or wherever tickled her fancy. Her bakery could serve muffins and pastries in the morning, cookies, cupcakes and other sweets in the afternoons and evenings. Coffee and milkshakes, too, and make absolutely no apology for it either.
But the burning question was—how would Mom take the news?
Suddenly, her mom appeared. “Lillian, is there something—”
The front door bell chimed, and in blew two men from the early autumn coolness, knocking back their hoods off their heads. Mom immediately headed back to the desk. Curious to get a closer look, Lilly followed her.
The men were young, mid-to-late twenties. One of them had dark brown hair and dark eyes with heavy, charming brows, and the other had slightly lighter hair with bright green eyes. Both were hot, but the brown-eyed man seemed older, was taller, and for some reason, seemed like the one in charge. Hellooo, boys…
Mr. Brown Eyes unwrapped his gray scarf from his neck and walked up to the front desk then caught sight of Lilly and her mom, practically gaping at him. His gaze met Lilly’s and he winked, a lopsided smile spreading across his face. “Hullo. How’s it going there?”
Irish.
Lilly would know that accent anywhere. Forestville had their share of Irish folks in the east part of town. A tiny flutter of excitement flurried in her chest. What was she saying about leaving Green Valley? Was there somewhere she needed to be in three weeks? On second thought, maybe Miami could wait.
Mom hurried behind the counter. “Hi, welcome to Russian River House.”
Behind Lilly, Mr. and Mrs. Delfino exited the dining room. Mrs. Delfino smiled at Lilly with freshly repainted lipstick. She spotted the men at the counter and pointed at them secretively behind her other hand. “White horse…take you away.”
“White horse,” Mr. Delfino echoed, tapping Lilly on the shoulder. “Take you away.”