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Jenna added spices, one after the other. She quickly stirred the strips of flank steak, searing them with the spices, over the high heat. The late news played in the background and she was already on her second glass of wine.

Telling herself it didn't matter, that no one would know, she picked up the bowl containing the sauce she'd created on a whim and dumped it in the pan.

The liquid snapped and boiled, reducing to almost nothing immediately. She rotated the pan, then used a spatula to
flip the strips over one last time before dumping the contents onto the warm flour tortilla.

After setting the hot pan on another burner, she turned off the heat and took a fortifying sip of wine.

There it was. A taco of sorts. She'd been mentally playing with the idea of combining Mexican and Indian cuisine. Many of the spices were rooted in the same plants.

Jenna grinned. Rooted in the same plants. That was funny. Then her smile faded as she turned her attention back to the food she'd made.

She was nervous about tasting it. Experimenting used to be so easy, so joyful. Now it terrified her. Worse, it made her feel sick inside, as if something that had once been a part of her was now lost. She ached to be who she'd been before and didn't want to admit that woman was probably gone forever.

After squaring her shoulders, she picked up the taco and took a bite. The unusual blending of spices didn't sit well on her tongue. She found herself unable to chew, let alone swallow. She spit the meat into the sink and flushed it down with water. After running the garbage disposal, she threw out the rest of the taco.

When the tears came, she ignored them.

 

“I'm worried,” Beth said as she stacked rinsed dishes on the counter. “Jenna doesn't know anything about making a store work. She doesn't even like shopping, unless it's for knives. Then she could spend hours. But this is different. This is working with the public.”

“She's a smart girl,” Marshall said as he loaded the dishwasher. “Give her a chance. She'll figure it out.”

“She doesn't have much time to make it work. All her money is tied up in that place. Her savings and her half of
what she and Aaron got for that sad little house they owned. If the city hadn't wanted to buy it and tear it down for that road, she would have had even less. You should have seen the inventory in her store. Thousands of dollars' worth of kitchen equipment.”

Her husband glanced at her. “Did you want her to start a business without something to sell?”

“Don't be logical. You know how I hate that.” Beth sighed, wishing she could learn how to let go. But when it came to anyone she cared about, she couldn't help worrying. Obsessing, Marshall would say.

“She knows what she's doing,” Marshall told her.

“I'm not so sure. She's a chef. She should be cooking. She understands that world. I wish I knew what really happened with Aaron.”

“Do you think there's more than she's telling us? Isn't Aaron cheating on her enough?”

“It is,” she admitted, although her mother's instinct told her there was more to the story than Jenna had admitted. Something was different with her daughter. Not just the expected sadness and hurt from the breakup of a marriage. It was bigger than that.

“Jenna will figure out her store. Didn't she hire someone?”

“Violet. She's wonderful. Pretty. Black hair and dark eye-liner. I'm sure she has tattoos.” Beth thought of the other woman's stacked bracelets and her three silver hoops in each ear and wished she had the courage to be unconventional.

“Does Violet have retail experience?”

“Yes. Several years of it.”

“Then she'll help Jenna.”

The statement drew Beth back to the subject at hand. Her chest tightened a little. “What if it's not enough? I understand
that Jenna needs to regroup. She has to think and come up with a plan for the rest of her life, but opening a store? I don't think that was smart.”

She finished rinsing the last two pots. Marshall fitted them into the dishwasher. She handed over the soap. He filled the cup, then closed the dishwasher and started it.

The end-of-dinner ritual had been the same for years. When Jenna had still been in the house, the three of them had cleaned the kitchen together. It had been a time of conversation and laughter.

“If she fails at this, too, she'll be crushed,” Beth whispered, aching for her only child.

“You need to let it go, Beth. You can't protect her from everything. Jenna's a smart girl.”

“Worry's my thing.”

He moved toward her and slid his arms around her waist. “I'll admit you've turned it into an art form. Now you need to practice letting go.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders and stared into his dark eyes. Even after all these years, being close to him made her breath catch.

“I can't help it. I love her.”

“If you love something, set it free,” he began.

She laughed. “Don't you start with me.”

“Why not? I plan to finish with you.”

He bent his head and kissed her.

 

Jenna stood in the center of her store and listened to the sound of silence.

Upbeat background music—something perky and Italian—played through speakers, but there wasn't any conversation.
No talking at all. Probably because to have the spoken word required people. AKA customers. And there weren't any.

It was eleven-fifteen on her first morning. She'd been open for seventy-five minutes and not a single person had walked through her sparkling clean glass doors.

Less than two weeks ago she'd stood in her parking lot and had watched as her sign had been lowered into place. She'd filled every shelf, figured out how to work the cash register, had talked to an accountant about keeping track of the sales. A problem she didn't currently have.

Happy Birthday to me, she thought sadly as she adjusted her white chef's coat. And hey, now she was thirty-two. This wasn't exactly how she wanted to spend her birthday. Talk about a disaster.

She'd been so sure that people would come. That they would be enticed by the pretty store window displays and the promise of great kitchen supplies. Over the past week Violet had casually mentioned taking out an ad in the local paper or getting a flyer into some kind of mailer. But Jenna had blithely refused. Because she'd been so damn sure.

She had the sudden need to bake. To sink her fingers into warm dough, to smell yeast and create crusty rolls slathered with sweet butter. Or maybe a tart. Quiche with a flaky crust and filling of eggs, cheese and garlic and nuts.

Or a brisket. She was back in Texas now. Something falling-apart tender with tang and spice. Grilled potatoes that tasted like heaven. She had an idea for using…

She shook her head, dislodging the wishful thinking. She didn't do that anymore. She cooked, she didn't create. Hadn't she already proved that to herself?

Behind her she heard Violet carefully rearranging shelves in an effort to keep busy. Jenna had to give the other woman points—so far she hadn't even hinted she wanted to shout, “I
told you so.” This despite the fact that Violet had been pushing for some serious advertising.

Fear tasted metallic on her tongue. Every single penny she had was tied up in this store. She had a three-year lease and her landlord expected monthly payments, regardless of her failure as a businesswoman.

She spun toward Violet. “I don't know what to do,” she blurted.

Violet straightened from behind the shelf she'd been dusting. “Start cooking,” she said quickly. “Something snacky and delicious that I can put on a tray and carry around.”

“What good will that do? There's no one to eat it.”

Her assistant smiled at her. “If they won't come here, I'm going to take the food to them. While you're doing that, I'll print out coupons to hand out to everyone I see. Ten percent off. Part of our grand opening. That will get people in.”

Jenna nodded and did her best not to calculate how much that ten percent would eat into her profits. Better to lose a part of something than keep all of nothing, she told herself as she moved to the back of the store and started pulling out ingredients for a very familiar and easy appetizer.

A half hour later, she had a spicy goat cheese filling sitting on small crackers. She already had mushroom tarts in the oven, but they would take about fifteen minutes to bake.

“The trick is the spices,” she told Violet. “Fresh is best and they have to be chopped really fine.”

“Save the explanation for the customers,” Violet told her, grabbing one of the trays. “I put the coupons on every car windshield in a five block radius. Hopefully that will bring people in. Now we're going to seduce them with food.” She paused. “Are you going to be okay in here by yourself?”

“Of course,” Jenna lied. The thought of being alone with
customers terrified her. Something she should have thought through
before
opening a store.

“Just offer them food and be prepared to talk recipes,” Violet said with a smile. “I'll be back as soon as I've handed all these out.”

Jenna nodded and offered a confident smile while Violet walked out.

While Jenna had put on black pants and her familiar chef's coat, Violet had dressed in a straight skirt in dark purple and a multicolored long-sleeved blouse. Three or four neck laces filled the open collar. The familiar half dozen bracelets clinked by her wrist. Her black hair was spiky, her bangs stick straight, and the smoky-eye look Beth had so admired was firmly in place.

Of the two of them, Violet was the one who should have looked out of place, yet Jenna felt as if everyone looking at her would know she was a fraud.

Before she could beat herself up even more, the front door opened with a tinkle of the bell Violet had hung there. But instead of her assistant returning, two women walked in. Each carried a coupon in her hand.

“Ooh, look at that,” the shorter one said to her friend. “I love the colors on that trivet. It would look great in your kitchen.”

“It's nice,” the friend said, then spotted Jenna. “Hi. We just tasted that cracker. It was fabulous. Do you have the recipe?”

“Ah, yes. It's an easy spread or it can be a tart filling. You can use what you have on hand to fudge the ingredients.”

The short woman laughed. “What I have on hand is a bottle of white wine and a few Lean Cuisines.”

The oven timer beeped. Jenna pulled out the mushroom
tarts. The women rushed over and took napkins, then juggled the hot appetizers until they could take a bite.

“Delish,” the taller one said with a sigh. “I don't suppose you have this recipe, too?”

Jenna had the recipes in her head. “I could write it down, if you'd like.”

The women exchanged glances and started to leave. Just then Violet burst through the door, her tray empty, and about a half dozen people behind her.

“I know,” she was saying. “If you think those are great, wait until you try the mushrooms. You'll die. I'm serious. They're fabulous. We don't have the recipes printed up yet. New store glitch. But by the end of the week, we'll have the recipe cards ready. And Jenna, the brilliant chef and owner, is doing a whole class on appetizers. So come back and get the recipe cards, then sign up for the classes.”

Jenna felt anything but brilliant. Regardless of what she'd been in the rest of her life, she'd always felt good in the kitchen. Now she didn't know what to do there.

She watched as potential customers swarmed around the tarts. Soon the tray was empty. She'd already put another batch in the oven. At least they liked the food. That was something.

While she answered questions about getting the crust right, Violet rang up several purchases. The idea about the recipe cards was a good one. Maybe they could offer different recipes every week. Although Violet had made an excellent point when she'd said that people needed something to buy on a regular basis. Maybe she could come up with recipes that used different gadgets or something.

“Jenna? Is that you?”

She turned toward the speaker and saw two women her own age had entered the shop. They were both tall, exqui
sitely dressed, with perfect hair and makeup. Kimberly was as dark as Caitlin was fair. They were beautiful and familiar.

Jenna smiled. “What are you two doing here?”

“Beth called our moms,” Kimberly said with a smile, as she hurried toward Jenna and hugged her. “Why didn't you tell us you were back? You're opening a store! It's darling.” She stepped back. “Look at you, all cheflike.”

Caitlin gave her a hug, too, along with a double air-kiss. Her white-blond hair swung in around her face before falling back into place.

“I was so worried about you,” Caitlin said, resting her long, pink-tipped nails on Jenna's arm. “We heard about Aaron,” she added in a low, sympathetic voice. “So sad, but you're obviously just peachy. The store is to die for. Really. I love it.”

“We should get together,” Kimberly said. “Call Jolene and go out. The four of us. It'll be like it was in high school.”

Affection surged through Jenna. “I'd like that,” she admitted. Hanging out with friends would be good, she thought. A reminder that life could be normal.

“Me, too,” Caitlin said. “Soon.”

“How about dinner?” Jenna asked. “Sometime this week.”

The two other women exchanged glances, then turned back to Jenna.

“God, no,” Caitlin said with a laugh. “If you could see my schedule.”

“Mine, too,” Kimberly told her. “I thought once the twins were in school, my life would finally slow down. But not at all. And keeping a decent housekeeper is practically a full-time job. But maybe we could get together for coffee. You know, some morning.”

Caitlin nodded. “I can do coffee. I'll call Jolene and see if she has an hour free.”