Chapter 30
Heaven. Kissing Adam had seemed so right. She traced her fingers across her lips and relived the sweet memory of standing in her driveway, getting lost in his kiss.
The ringing phone cut short her daydream. “Hello?”
“Hi, sweetie. It’s Mom.”
Melinda smiled into the phone. Her mom always announced herself when she called. “I’m all packed and ready to see you and Dad tomorrow, just in time to go to the market and get all the fixings for Turkey Day.”
“That’s why I’m calling.” Mom coughed. “Dad and I have both come down with a nasty flu bug and we don’t want you to come out and get exposed to it too.”
“But Mom, I could help out.” Mel sank down on a stool. She had always had Thanksgiving with her parents.
“We’ll have some of our special dishes at Christmas instead.” Mom coughed again. “Of course, we’ll cover your plane ticket.”
“That’s not necessary, Mom. Are you sure you don’t want me to come out?”
“We’ve made up our mind. And once we get over this bug, we’ll make new plans. Okay?”
She knew she wasn’t going to change her mom’s mind. Reluctantly she agreed and promised to call the next day to check in on them.
Melinda hung up the phone, dejected. She wasn’t going to see her family for Thanksgiving. Feeling sorry for herself, she grabbed a pint of chocolate ice cream and a spoon; this was dinner.
After inhaling the first half, she sighed. Why can’t I make a special meal for myself? Maybe I can invite Adam over, unless he’s going to see his family. Why don’t I ask him? She heaved herself off the couch and put the pint back in the freezer. Checking the time, she realized the grocery store didn’t close for a few more hours. Making a snap decision, she grabbed her car keys and coat. She was off.
After walking into the brightly lit store, Christmas music playing in the background, she pushed a small cart. Menu planning on the spur of the moment was sure to mean she’d forget a critical ingredient.
She rounded a corner and Stacey was in the baking aisle. Embarrassed, with her cart overfull of all the traditional holiday meal ingredients, she tried to spin her cart around before she was seen, but it was too late.
“Melinda.” Stacey smiled. “I thought you were catching a flight to California to see your mom and dad.”
With a shrug she said, “That was the plan. Mom called a little while ago and said not to come. She and Dad have a bad case of the flu and don’t want me to get it.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Stacey brightened. “Does that mean you can join us? It’s going to be an eclectic group. Will’s parents, Molly and Tim, along with her parents, and Adam. This year my mom and dad are going to my uncle’s in Vermont.”
Melinda gripped the cart handle. This was exactly what she had been afraid of, being an extra wheel. “I don’t want to intrude on your family celebration.”
Stacey protested, “You are family, Melinda.” She grinned. “Say you’ll come.”
“Well…” She hesitated. It wasn’t that she wouldn’t enjoy herself, but she didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her.
Stacey continued, “I won’t take no for an answer.”
She relented. “Only if I can bring something.”
“Dessert. What’s your specialty?” Stacey pointed to the shelves. “I’m a hopeless baker. I was going to resort to the bakery.”
“Heavens,” Melinda joked. “I can make a pumpkin cheesecake and maybe an apple pie?”
“Oh, both of those sound delicious.” A gleam came into Stacey’s eye. “Are you going to use that cookie crust for the apple pie like you served at your party?”
With a chuckle Melinda said, “If that’s what you’d like, of course I can.”
Stacey rubbed her hands together with anticipation. “My mouth is watering already.”
“Based on how you cook I don’t think anyone will have room for dessert.”
Stacey’s cheeks went light pink. “This is my first time hosting Thanksgiving. I’m a little nervous.”
“If you need anything, you just let me know.”
“Thanks, Mel. Dinner’s at two. See you Thursday.”
Stacey hurried off straining to steer her overfull shopping cart.
Melinda smiled to herself, “Now, she’s calling me Mel. Adam must be rubbing off on people.”
She picked up the ingredients she needed for baking the cake and pie and glanced at her cart. Then she headed back toward the meat counter. No reason to buy the turkey now.
Rock music drifted down Melinda’s driveway. Adam smiled the minute he started up the walkway amidst a few flakes of snow. He gave a loud knock on the door and waited. No response. He peeked in through the side windowpane and saw lights on, but he didn’t hear or see Mel coming to the door. He held up his hand to knock again and changed his mind. She had her music up loud and probably couldn’t hear him. Stepping carefully off the slick steps, he wondered if she had ice melt. If not, he’d pick some up for her. He wandered around the garage and to the back door. He knocked again, and this time he saw Mel pop her face around the wall and wave.
“Come in!” she yelled.
The knob turned and Adam frowned. She shouldn’t have her door unlocked.
“Hey.” He raised his voice above the strains of Aerosmith. “I can hear your music from the street.”
She had flour everywhere, including on her face and in her hair.
“What are you making, besides a mess?” He couldn’t help but tease her.
With a quick retort she said, “Apple pie. And if you’re not nicer to me, you won’t be getting any tomorrow.” Putting her hands on her hips, she asked, “And just how may I help you today?”
“Stacey mentioned you were coming to dinner, and since you weren’t packing for your trip I thought I’d drop by and hang out. If that’s okay? Or should I have called first?” He dropped a kiss on her cheek and withdrew a single daisy from inside his jacket. “For you.”
“You don’t ever need to call first.” Melinda wiped her hand on her apron and gave him a warm smile as she accepted the flower. “This is very sweet.”
With a shrug, he dropped his butt on the only empty barstool at the high-top counter. “I swung by the store for my contribution, rolls, and saw some flowers. This one had your name on it.” He looked around. With a grin he teased, “Your kitchen isn’t its normal tidy.”
She laughed. “When I cook, I tend to spread out. I like everything within easy reach.”
She pointed to the stool next to him. He pulled back to discover a bowl of apples. “Apples on a barstool? That’s an interesting place to store them.”
Melinda was patting a circular piece of dough on the flour-covered counter. After dusting her rolling pin, she said, “Maybe instead of sitting there poking fun at the genius of my baking strategy, you could wash your hands and peel them.”
“What if I don’t know how?” he said with a grin.
Exasperated she said, “Adam, you took men into battle. Surely you can use a knife to peel off the skin, cut it into thin slices and then take out a few seeds.”
“Is that all there is to it?” He smirked and tossed his coat over the table. Crossing to the sink, he washed his hands. “For the record, I’ve peeled an apple or two before.”
“Good.” She laughed. She pointed to a drawer. “You’ll find a knife in there.”
He pulled open the drawer. “You sure do love kitchen gadgets.”
She shrugged and smiled. “It’s a weakness.” Before Adam could sit down again, Melinda pointed to the drainer. “You can use that metal bowl for the peels.”
He gave her a mock salute and with a chuckle said, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
She shot him a look that he thought held just the right amount of sass. Which of course made him want to take her in his arms and kiss her. But he vowed to take this budding relationship at a pace he felt she was comfortable with.
“Speaking of calling me Mel, do you know you have Stacey saying it too?”
He pretended to look horrified and clutched his chest. “No, you can’t be serious.”
She flicked a handful of flour in his direction. “Now you’re just being a jerk. I wanted to maintain a more professional image by using my full name.”
His tone softened. “But Mel, well, it suits you. It’s sweet, fun and easygoing. Melinda is so formal.”
She raised an eyebrow and gave him an injured look. “Are you saying I’m uptight and rigid?”
“No, not at all. I can see Dr. Melinda Grayson or Melinda Phillips on your business cards, but when you’re with friends, you should loosen up. They’re both sides of the real you.”
Melinda fell silent. Under her breath she said, “I don’t want anyone to think I take my matchmaker responsibility frivolously.”
“All anyone has to do is meet you and they’ll know right away you are one of the most caring and kind individuals they’ll ever meet.” He picked up an apple and cut it in half. “At least that is how I felt when I met you at Will’s wedding.”
“We barely talked. How could you have made a snap judgment?”
“I’ve learned over the years to trust my instincts. Seldom am I wrong.”
She gave him a look. Whatever retort she had was left unsaid. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”
Adam peeled apples and Melinda finished rolling out the crust. When she looked over the bowl was full of thin, neatly sliced apples. “Ready to help with the next step?” she asked.
“Are you sure you trust me?” he teased, and silently hoped she knew he’d protect her from anything.
“I’m impressed with your slicing skill.” Focusing on the task at hand she said, “Toss in half a stick of butter in the pan. Mix in the apples and spices and simmer over medium heat. We just want the flavors to combine and the apples to begin to soften.”
“Ya know, if this pie is good, I’m taking the credit.”
Snorting Melinda said, “Will anyone believe you?”
With a playful snap of the towel in her direction, he said, “No. But I can try.”
She pointed back to the pan. “All right, chef, keep the apples moving. You don’t want them to burn.”
He started to salute her again and she laughed. “Oh, stop. You’re going to injure your arm if you keep that up.”
From the corner of her eye, she kept close watch on what Adam was doing. She marveled at his attentiveness. This was nice. Spending time together, even just making a couple of desserts. Mel was starting to realize she had been wrong, thinking she could live the rest of her life alone. He made her contemplate a different kind of future.
With a shake of her head, she stopped letting her brain go down that path. “Since you’ve got the handle on the pie, I’m going to start the cheesecake.”
His head swiveled almost off his neck. “Did you really say cheesecake?”
“I did.”
“A plain one with fruit toppings?”
“No. Pumpkin.” She gave him a sidelong glance. Her heart skipped a beat. “Since I don’t have those ingredients, I’ll make you a deal.”
“I’m listening,” he drawled and leaned in attentively.
“I’ll make the pumpkin for Thanksgiving, and for Christmas I’ll make a plain cheesecake with fruit toppings. It will be your gift.”
“On one condition.” He leaned against the counter and his smile looked slightly wicked in a playful sort of way. Her insides melted. This playful banter was… nice.
She asked. “I’m afraid to hear, but what’s your condition?”
“That you spend part of the holiday with me and we have dinner together.” He held up his hand. “I know family stuff has to come first but”—he had a serious undertone to his voice—“this would mean a lot to me, Melinda.”
Taken aback by hearing him say her given name, she answered, “Of course I want to have dinner with you.”