Chapter Six #3
“Sure.” She pulled out her phone. “What’s your number? Then I’ll text you so you’ll have mine.”
He rattled off the number, and Jovi added his contact information to her phone then sent him a brief text. “Talk to you soon.”
“Thanks again.” Burke gently closed the door behind her.
Jovi stashed her phone in her pocket and returned to her vehicle.
Snow fell harder now from a granite-gray sky, obscuring the view of his neighbors’ property through the trees.
She slid behind the wheel of the crossover SUV her mom had loaned her, started the engine, then backed down his driveway and made her way toward her grandparents’ log cabin.
Poor Burke. He’d battled one setback after another. She’d rest easier knowing she’d helped by delivering food. Or maybe she’d used him as an excuse to procrastinate. Because as much as she loved her grandparents, she did not want to return to their house for the first time without them.
But she had to find that recipe. Her memory of those salted caramel chews couldn’t be wrong. Quite possibly the most delicious candy Grammie had ever made. And yet the company had never produced them.
After she parked in the freshly plowed driveway, she pulled out her phone and texted Mason a quick thank-you for making sure that she’d be able to get to the property. Then she pocketed her phone and turned off the ignition, but stayed in the car, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.
Memories of her last visit home before Grandpa passed away spooled through her head.
It had been early fall. She’d tried persuading Grammie to sell the caramels at the candy company, but she had stubbornly refused.
Still determined to get her way, Jovi had asked Grandpa to intervene.
The irritation that had flashed in his eyes had been surprising.
He’d tersely insisted Jovi stop asking. Not that his decision was unusual.
He’d always sided with Grammie. They’d been an incredible team.
But his impatience had stung. Left her feeling unsettled.
Maybe that was why she couldn’t shake the notion of adding the salted caramel chews to the current product rotation.
In her heart of hearts, she was convinced they’d be a huge hit.
After lunch, she had plans to meet with the person who managed the online candy orders, and she’d get her first training session on how to pack and prep orders for shipping. That left her with a couple of hours to search for the recipe. She didn’t start work at the hospital for two more days.
Jovi climbed out of the car. Hunching her shoulders against the blowing snow, she jogged across the driveway and up the steps.
Then she pushed her key into a lock, turned it and slowly eased the door of her grandparents’ house open.
Her chest tightened, bracing for the onslaught of memories.
She stepped inside, drawing in a tentative breath.
A familiar scent of mothballs greeted her.
Thankfully, her family had kept the house in good condition and the utilities connected.
Grammie had only been in the memory care facility for a few weeks now, but already a fine layer of dust coated flat surfaces.
She swallowed against the tightness in her throat, then shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the old-fashioned coatrack that Grandpa had made.
A forgotten scarf still hung there, one Jovi was sure Grammie had knitted. The turquoise yarn was a shade that Grammie had adored. Jovi reached out and touched the twists of thread. I miss you, Grammie.
She’d have to get Isabel to take her to visit soon.
Even though Mom and Dad had explained to her that Grammie was supposed to get situated in a new routine and adjust to her new living arrangements before anyone came to visit, the guidelines just about broke Jovi’s heart.
If their sweet Grammie’s condition had deteriorated and her memory was failing, what difference did it make if her family visited her?
But she hadn’t argued. After all, she wasn’t the one doing the heavy lifting here day in and day out, making the tough decisions.
She hadn’t come home for the holidays or helped move Grammie.
Still, she was eager to visit, and not just because she wanted to know more about the recipe.
She crossed the living room to the thermostat on the wall.
Mason had told her just to give it a nudge and the heat would kick on.
Thankfully, her grandparents weren’t like other folks who lived near the lake who only heated with the woodstove.
Sure, she could still start a fire with the best of them, but there wasn’t any wood in the wood crib, and she hadn’t brought matches or a lighter.
Her family had given her the blessing to move in and get situated, and she was more than ready. Her parents had grown accustomed to being empty nesters, and although they’d graciously let her stay with them in her old bedroom for the past four days, she felt like she’d stayed a little too long.
As soon as she bought groceries, she could settle in here nicely.
She rubbed her hands together to warm them up, then turned and faced the kitchen.
This time, she couldn’t stop the tears from falling as she surveyed the worn oak cabinets, the faded floral curtains framing the window above the sink, and the ceramic ring holder sitting on the counter.
A gift Jovi had made in a high school art class out of pottery.
It was crooked and ugly, but Grammie had still used it.
In the corner, a vintage milkshake mixer sat tucked under the cabinets. Grammie had always kept plenty of supplies on hand to crank up a milkshake whenever Grandpa had wanted one. Jovi sniffled as the sweet memory provoked more tears.
The heat kicked on, pumping warm, dry air through the vents.
Mental images of two people who’d loved one another deeply and adored their family swirled around her, nearly bringing her to her knees. Coming here was even harder than she’d anticipated.
She swiped at her tears with the cuff of her sweater, then dragged the step stool out of the pantry and over to the cabinets above the refrigerator, where Grammie had always kept her recipes.
The ones she shared, anyway. Jovi had long suspected that Grammie had a few recipes that she’d never let anyone know about.
What if the salted caramel chews had been kept top secret? She opened the cabinet.
Her breath hitched. The metal tin. The one she’d spent countless hours sorting through as a kid. A snowy, downtown bustling Christmas scene was painted on the outside. Black paint had been rubbed off the handle, probably from overuse.
She pulled it from its place, stepped down from the stool and carried the treasured container to the counter. She popped off the lid.
Several recipes were still inside, written on index cards and pieces of yellowed notepad paper with frayed edges.
Her grandmother’s familiar scrawl documented portions of ingredients for various cookies, cakes and a few main dishes.
A couple of pages of magazines had been torn out and folded to fit in the box.
When Jovi was little, she and Isabel used to sit on this counter and help make cookies and candy.
She flipped the stack over and started thumbing through the recipes and magazine clippings again. She set aside one for a white chocolate and pretzel bark that might be fun to try.
No evidence of any recipes with caramel could be found.
She sighed and tucked everything back in the box.
Maybe she could broach the subject with Grammie on her first visit to the memory care facility, although that was probably something she should clear with her family first. The last thing she wanted to do was upset her grandmother.
She’d always said they were special candy for family and friends.
Jovi closed the box, then turned in a slow circle, examining the kitchen for more places to search.
Grammie, where did you hide your secrets?
* * *
He might have mocked the name silently when Jovi had extended the invitation, but if he could, he’d thank every single person responsible for making Frosty Frolic happen.
Because Darby Jane had been whiny and irritable since he’d picked her up from school.
But now that they were making their way along Main Street in Evergreen, bundled up in every piece of winter clothing they’d packed, she’d morphed into the most delightful five-year-old on the planet.
He cast a sideways glance at Jovi walking beside him.
Was this the Jovi effect? Did having an adult female around make that much of a difference to his daughter?
Burke gritted his teeth, bracing against the onslaught of guilt that often accosted him like a cunning villain, lurking in the shadows.
Always ready and leering, eager to remind him of his failures.
He’d moved across the country. It had been two years since the accident.
Would he ever forgive himself for not being the one who picked up Darby Jane from preschool that day?
No, he wasn’t responsible for the other driver’s erratic behavior, but he had been the selfish dad who’d insisted he couldn’t be bothered to stop writing his novel to look after his children.
“Happy Frosty…” Darby Jane looked up at her father. Her curious gaze met his. “What’s that word?”
Burke cleared the unexpected tightness from his throat. “Frolic.”
“It’s a fancy word for fun .” Jovi did a silly little skip move in the middle of the sidewalk that drew a laugh from Darby Jane. “Here, watch me. This is how we frolic.”
“Maybe we could frolic inside?” He tipped his head toward the gift shop. “It’s freezing out here.”