Chapter 35
Mia was on an emotional high. Last night’s podcast had reached more people than she dared to hope, and by midmorning she’d already fielded several calls about menus and availability. Her phone buzzed again on the counter, and she let it go this time, smiling anyway.
Momentum. Finally.
And to top it all off, later she was seeing Caleb, who had been away for a couple of days. He asked if she’d stay over. He also mentioned Will was having a small gathering with friends.
“Can you bring something savory?” he asked. “We’re all bringing something.”
Of course she could.
Mia smiled as she tied on her apron. Savory was her specialty. Comfort food at its best. She didn’t need to think about it. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for ingredients she used so many times she could have measured them in her sleep. The simple rhythm steadied her.
Flour. Cold butter. Fresh rosemary.
Rosemary Parmesan Shortbread Crackers. One of her favorites.
The dough came together perfectly smoothly beneath her fingers. Rosemary scented the air, familiar and grounding. Her shoulders eased as she worked.
She rolled the dough thin, cut it into neat squares, pricked each one with a fork in tidy rows. The repetitive motions quieted her mind. She worked efficiently, sliding the pan into the oven without a second thought.
When the crackers came out, they were golden and fragrant, the kitchen filled with the warm savory smell of butter and cheese.
She let them cool on a rack before transferring them carefully into a shallow serving tin lined with parchment, then tucked a sprig of rosemary along the side. Presentation mattered even when it was just friends. Especially then.
She snapped the lid closed and glanced at her watch.
Caleb would be here any minute to drive them over. Her overnight bag sat by the door, already packed. Her father was settled for the evening. Roy would be around to keep an eye out for him.
Everything was handled. Life finally felt manageable. For once, she wasn’t bracing for the next thing to go wrong.
She let herself believe it.
They turned down the dirt road and rolled to a stop in front of Will’s place. Mia had spent a lot of time in Will’s barn, gardens and greenhouse but had never been inside.
The white farmhouse was already glowing when they arrived.
Strings of lights stretched across the wide porch dotted with rocking chairs.
Cars were parked side by side. Laughter and voices came from the house.
Music drifted faintly in the air, something easy and familiar.
The sound wrapped around her, warm and welcoming.
Mia followed Caleb up the steps and into the house.
Inside, the house felt as unpretentious as Will and Isabelle.
The living room held the basics: a black leather sofa, a big TV and a couple of striped armchairs angled toward the fireplace.
Pictures of the couple alone and with friends, the farm and greenhouse and Two Fishes Soap Works lined the walls. It looked lived in. Comfortable.
After hugs all around, Mia headed to the small dining room and placed her crackers on a solid wooden table already laden with food.
Bowls of chips and dips, a half-carved ham, casseroles, rolls, platters slowly emptied as people grazed.
The hum of conversation rose and fell around her, familiar faces, easy smiles.
Someone laughed loudly near the kitchen. A glass clinked against another.
She uncovered the tin, and the scent of rosemary and butter drifted into the room. People moved in and out, topping off plates, setting drinks down wherever there was space.
The kitchen was bright and busy, the windows open to the evening air. The appliances were older, and Formica covered the countertops, but the space felt warm and inviting, filled with voices and the clink of glasses.
Caleb leaned in and kissed her. “You good?”
She nodded just as he was pulled into a small cluster of the Brotherhood men near the doorway. The loss of his immediate presence left her feeling oddly exposed, though she couldn’t say why.
“Ooh,” Isabelle said, peeking into the tin. “What are they?”
“Rosemary and Parmesan Shortbread Crackers,” Mia replied.
Several guests nearby reached for crackers at the same time Isabelle did. Mia got caught up in conversation with Dani and Joy, laughter bubbling easily.
“Let’s grab food before the guys gobble it all up,” Dani said after a bit.
They moved back toward the table. The spread had thinned to half-full dishes of dip, a few slices of ham, crumbs scattered where people had gone back for seconds.
She looked over at her crackers.
She frowned.
A small, sharp prickle settled between her shoulders. Usually, there would be nothing left but crumbs. Tonight, the tin looked barely touched. A faint unease came over her.
Joy reached for one anyway. “I’ve heard wonderful things about these. Can’t wait to try.”
She took a bite. Her smile faltered just a bit. She swallowed, reached for her water, and took a long sip.
“Interesting,” she said gently.
Before Mia could respond, Finn and Titus joined them, each grabbing a cracker. Finn took a bite and paused, his expression tightening as he chewed. “Whoa,” he spat out.
Titus barely got it in his mouth before shaking his head. “That’s not right.”
Heat crept up Mia’s neck. “Let me taste.”
Her pulse thudded in her ears. Her fingers felt clumsy as she picked one up.
She took a small bite.
The salt hit first. Her mouth went dry instantly.
Ruined.
Her hands shook as she set the piece down. The noise in the room seemed to dull, like cotton stuffed in her ears. The room seemed to tilt, just slightly.
“That’s not …” she started, then stopped. “That’s not how they’re supposed to taste.”
No one argued.
Dani touched her arm. “Hey. It happens.”
Mia barely heard her. She’d made these a hundred times, maybe more. She didn’t need to taste them because she knew them.
Except now she didn’t.
Caleb appeared at her side, concern etched across his face. “Mia?”
“They’re wrong,” she said quietly.
Caleb’s gaze followed hers to the tin, then returned to her face. He didn’t argue. “Do you want to head out?”
Relief rushed through her. She nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”
As they said their goodbyes, no one made a joke or pushed food at her. The party rolled on.
Later, curled against Caleb in the quiet of his bedroom, the taste still lingered on her tongue. No matter how much water she drank, it wouldn’t fade.
Salt. Too much. Something had gone wrong, something she couldn’t explain.
And no explanation she could live with.
Caleb didn’t miss the way Mia went quiet once they were back in the truck. His grip tightened on the wheel. Silence like that always meant something was wrong.
She stared out the windshield, arms folded, jaw tight, clenching the tin of crackers against her thigh like it was evidence she didn’t know what to do with yet.
“Hey,” he said softly, keeping his eyes on the road. “One batch doesn’t mean anything.”
She huffed. “I know. It doesn’t make sense, though. That’s never happened to me before. I don’t know how I could have made that mistake.”
He drove the rest of the way without pushing. There was nothing else to say at this point.
Back at his place, Ranger greeted them like they’d been gone a week instead of a few hours. Mia knelt and rubbed the dog’s ears, her shoulders loosening just a notch.
She set her bag down by the door and walked into the kitchen, tossing the tin into the waste basket.
Caleb followed her, as did Ranger, probably hoping for whatever treat was in the tin.
“I’m sorry I cut things short,” she said.
“You don’t need to apologize.”
She nodded. Caleb leaned against the counter.
“Those crackers,” he said carefully. “You sure something didn’t get swapped? Different salt? Different cheese?”
She shook her head. “Same everything. Same recipe. I’ve made these hundreds of times; I don’t even think about it anymore.”
That part stuck with him.
People didn’t mess up things they knew by heart. Not without a reason. Perhaps Mia had too many projects stacked on her plate right now.
Later, when they were in bed, he just held her. She needed quiet, not distraction. He felt her shift restlessly beside him.
“Still thinking about it?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “It’s just too weird.”
He rolled onto his side, propping himself on his elbow. “Then we’ll figure it out.”
She gave a small laugh. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Most things are,” he said. “People just complicate them.”
She didn’t respond, but he felt her relax against him, just a little. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, her forehead tucked beneath his chin like it belonged there.
Caleb stared into the night long after Mia’s breathing evened out.
It wasn’t the crackers that bothered him as much as the way the night had shifted. One minute she’d been happy and confident. The next, shaken, embarrassed and questioning herself.
Stress, he told himself. Too much on her shoulders.
Still, he couldn’t quite convince himself it was nothing at all.