CHAPTER 60
Emma
The dinner party is a spectacular success, everything from the signature cocktail and canapes to the apple tart a la mode. Finn’s family stays late, all of us gathered under the pergola lit up with fairy lights, eating, laughing, and enjoying one another’s company.
Everyone raves about the food. Phyllis prefers words like “professional” and “chef.” Each bite makes Jamie close his eyes and hum.
Declan, Summer, and Jasmine end up in the pool. Phyllis has one too many signature cocktails. And through it all, Finn’s face is a thing to behold.
He’s so proud of me. Of his home. The food, the ambience, my ability to keep seventeen balls in the air and not drop one.
It’s a shock to me too. For the first time in my life, I can see that something good’s come out of all those years of waitressing.
Learning how to juggle several things at once is a skill I can use for pretty much anything in life.
And it doesn’t hurt that I love what I’m doing. That I love this family.
Several times during the party, I feel Finn’s eyes on me. I look over to see him staring at me with, I hardly dare to think it, but I see love there.
I think he loves me, too.
After everyone helps clean the kitchen and we get Jasmine to bed, Declan and Summer sit under the pergola with us for one last cocktail.
Yet again, I’m fascinated by the way they interact with one another.
One minute they’re bickering like siblings, the next they’re doubled over laughing at each other like rowdy best friends, and then there’s the other part.
I don’t even want to name it, and I have a feeling they don’t, either.
Once they leave, Finn and I head up the steps arm in arm, and we check on Jasmine. The girl is conked out.
We stand in the hallway.
“I can never thank you enough for this, Emma. I don’t remember what life was like before you arrived, how I did this without you.”
I kiss him goodnight. I’d love nothing more in the whole world than to curl up next to Finn and sleep the night through in the same room, the same bed, in his arms. Together.
We can’t. Jasmine’s here.
And Finn doesn’t seem ready to change the rules.
The next morning, I’m half awake and getting the coffee started when there’s a soft knock at the front door. The sun’s barely up. I open the door to find a sheepish Special K on the porch.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi. Did you leave something here last night?”
He shakes his head. I can already tell that if information is to be exchanged, I’ll have to drag it out of him. “Want to come in?”
“I wondered if you could make me breakfast.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Of course! What would you like?”
Turns out he would like a four-egg Denver omelet, six sausage patties, a side of pancakes, and a half gallon of orange juice.
By the time Jasmine comes down, Declan and Summer have joined Special K at the island. Declan wants waffles. Summer wants toast, sausage, and a side of pancakes.
Evander shows up next, and I watch his face drop when he enters the kitchen. He’s sorely disappointed to discover that half the ranch had this idea before him.
“Do you have any steak?” he asks. “I’d love two eggs, yolks broken.”
I burst out laughing. “Might I interest you in crepes, Evander? French toast? Donuts?”
“No thanks,” he says, not getting that I was being sarcastic.
Declan points his fork to Evander. “Dude doesn’t do carbs, since it just turns to blubber on him. I got the good genes in this family. I can eat anything and everything and stay at six percent body fat while my muscles just get bigger and bigger.” He flexes his arm to show everyone his bicep.
“Wow!” Jasmine says, impressed, her mouth stuffed with pancakes.
“He’s annoying, but it’s true.” Summer sighs. “Declan could eat a car battery and not have indigestion.”
“Might account for some of his other problems, though,” Evander says.
While Evander’s steak sears, I turn to the breakfast crowd. “Hey, listen up, everyone. I love cooking. I love cooking for the family. But you need to understand, this isn’t a diner. I’m not a short-order cook. I can’t do this all the time.”
I get a round of silent nods in response.
“You’re a rock star, Emma. Thank you.” Special K has a shy smile on his face.
As I’m handing Evander his plate of steak and eggs, Finn arrives in the kitchen. Oh, he’s pissed off.
“Out!” he bellows.
Everyone scatters. Evander takes his plate with him.
Breakfast is over, and the house is quiet and I’m alone. I know why I’m so happy. It’s not only the pleasure of being appreciated and being able to cook in a dream kitchen. It’s not only my relationship with Finn, the nonstop sex. It’s not only Jasmine, who I’ve grown to love with all my heart.
It’s the family.
I’ve never been part of a family. Not a real family. A safe family.
But now I truly feel like I’m part of something good.
I may be happy, but I’m also a little overwhelmed. I take stock of the mess. Making one breakfast is messy enough, but I’ve made four different kinds of breakfasts this morning to satisfy the different tastes of the demanding crowd.
“The special orders have got to stop, Emma,” I say out loud. “You can make one breakfast. They’ll eat it or they’ll leave and cook for themselves.”
“I agree totally.”
I jump two inches off the floor and clutch my chest. My heart’s going a mile a minute.
“Oh, honey. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I turn to see Aunt Phyllis coming toward me with her arms outstretched. I take two steps into her embrace, and she hugs me. She’s a good hugger. Firm, but not too tight. Warm. Loving.
“Sorry for the drama,” I say. She smells good. I think she’s wearing Shalimar, an old-fashioned scent that makes me feel safe and comfortable.
She pats my back and drops her hands. “Don’t bother with this mess. It’ll wait for you. I’ve got coffee set up with you at home. You, my dear, need a break. Come with me.”
It’s an invitation I can’t refuse. I don’t want to, either. I’d love an excuse to let the dishes sit for an hour. I wouldn’t mind getting off my feet, too.
“You’ll be the first to try my homemade strawberry jam,” she tells me as we leave the house. “There was a stand on the side of the road with the last strawberries of the season, and I couldn’t resist. I bought fifty pounds.”
“Fifty pounds!” I cry.
It’s a beautiful, sunny day. A hot breeze blows in, and dust devils form and dance across the lane. Two ranch hands exercise a horse in one training ring, and Finn’s filly is prancing around another.
“Not bad, our little ranch, right?” Phyllis says, eyeing me with an appreciative smile.
“I’ve never been on a ranch before except for here and the Travis Ranch for the fair. Are all of them like Yosemite Ranch?”
She laughs. “No. With one thousand square miles, there isn’t enough room in the country for many like this ranch.”
“Do most have such beautiful houses on them? It’s like a fancy neighborhood inside a ranch. I’ve never seen that on TV.”
“That was the boys’ idea. They wanted to come back and live together, but not in the same house. They paid for it with their gizmo and whatsit business. You know about that business, right?”
“Sort of.”
Come to think of it, Finn has never told me much about his business or his past military career. Our conversations are usually about the house and Jasmine, and even the ranch. And his wife. He did confide the most important part of his past to me.
There’s obviously so much more to learn about Finn. So much more to discover.
Will I have that time with him? Will he want to share himself with me?
“Here we are,” Phyllis sings out and opens the front door.
Inside, the smell of fresh bread hits my nostrils. I inhale greedily, and my stomach growls in protest. In spite of all the cooking I did this morning, I’ve completely forgotten to eat, myself.
Phyllis laughs. “That’s what I figured. You took care of everyone except for yourself.”
She gestures to a chair at the kitchen table, and I sit down.
A soft moan of pleasure escapes my lips as I finally take the weight off my feet.
The kitchen counter is covered with jars of strawberry jam, and Phyllis chooses one of them and puts it on the table in front of me.
Then she pours two cups of strong coffee and places a loaf of freshly baked bread on the table.
“This looks wonderful,” I say.
Phyllis sits down across from me. “You’re right. It’s wonderful. And there’s plenty more where that came from, so don’t be shy.”
“I’ll cut thick slices,” I say and pick up the bread knife. While Phyllis pours milk into her coffee, I cut into the bread through the crunchy crust to the soft dough inside. I love bread. Cookies and cakes are fine, but nothing beats bread.
I slather a piece with jam and take a bite. “Holy moly, that’s good, Phyllis.”
“You bet your ass it is.”
I wash it down with a hefty swig of the coffee and follow up with another bite of the bread. “I had no idea how hungry I was,” I say. “Thank you so much for this.”
“No problem, honey. Actually, I asked you over here for a little more than bread and coffee. I wanted you to spill the T.”
I look down at my coffee cup. “Tea?”
“T. Information. I asked you to talk.”