Dragonfly Creek (6 page)

Chapter Nine

Summer, five years earlier

A
insley wasn’t happy to be driving to the nearby small town of Whitesburg on Tuesday afternoon to pick up her cousin after his car broke down, but it wasn’t as if she had anything else to do. She had accompanied her mother to the chamber of commerce luncheon earlier that day and, in all honesty, probably would have spent the rest of the day lounging beside the pool if Elliot hadn’t called.

It wasn’t so much that she didn’t want to get out of the house. She was always eager to do that, and she was so restless, so bored, she was starting to lose her mind. But Ainsley was still stinging from the remarks Elliot had made during their spat a few days earlier. Though he was a year younger than Ainsley’s nineteen years, he had the finely developed rapier tongue of a much older and more sarcastic man. He’d used it on her viciously the previous week.

When he’d called, begging for a ride, he told her he would be ready to leave the media workshop he was attending by three. She left home at two, wanting to have a little extra time to just enjoy the drive. Following the directions Elliot had given her, she easily found the non-profit organization where he was taking the classes. The parking lot was nearly full, and she had to go all the way to the back row to find a spot, next to a small two-door green car. To her surprise, the car’s occupant looked over at her and smiled widely.

“Are you Ainsley?” he asked through his open window, marking his place in the paperback he had been reading.

“I am.”
What in the world is Elliot up to now?
she thought as the stranger got out of his car. He looked to be about her age, with slightly curly brown hair and shoulders that looked impossibly broad in the dark-blue polo shirt that stretched across them.

“I’m Ben. Ben Campbell.” He held out his hand, and Ainsley took it cautiously. “Your cousin, is it? Elliot? He came out a little while ago. They had an unexpected visitor show up to the workshop, and they’re holding everyone over for a couple more hours.”

She didn’t know whether to believe him or not, but he didn’t look like he was lying. His gaze was direct and warm.

“Are you in the program?”

“No. My sister is. Emma. I’m playing taxi for her today. Had my own workshop over in Wise this morning, so we drove up together.” He glanced toward the building, bringing his hand up to run it over his hair, disheveling it more than it already was. “They’re going to be a while. I passed a little diner about a block away. I’ve heard Emma say they have good food. You want to get something to eat or drink while we wait?”

Still not sure this wasn’t a trick Elliot had put him up to, Ainsley hesitated. It wouldn’t be the first time her cousin had gotten one of his friends to be nice to her as a joke.

He shrugged self-consciously and ran his fingertips along the edge of the window trim on the passenger side of her car. “Or not. I just thought I’d offer. No worries if you don’t.”

Something about the way he tried to sound nonchalant intrigued her, making her think for just an instant that maybe Elliot hadn’t put him up to it, after all.

“What kind of workshop were you at in Wise?”

“Local flora,” he answered instantly, his eyes lighting up. “Indigenous to central Appalachia. It was fascinating.”

Ainsley laughed. “That sounds very exciting,” she said somewhat teasingly.

He flushed, but he grinned. “Yeah, that’s exactly what Emma said. Same tone, too. So how about it? We can walk, leave the cars here.”

Taking a chance, she nodded. “Sure. Why not?” She put up the top on the convertible and grabbed her clutch. He was a lot bigger up close than he’d seemed while standing beside the car—at least six feet tall, she thought as they started walking. Even though she judged him to be about the same height as Elliot, he filled up the space beside her in a much different way than her cousin did. Ainsley was tall, to her mother’s disgust, but he made her almost feel petite.

“So what does ‘Ainsley’ go with?”

“Brewer.”

“Hmmm. And where are you from?”

“Hazard. You?”

“Firefly Hollow. Up near Viper.” He watched her casually as they walked. “Did you go to high school at Hazard?”

“Yes. You?”

“C.D. Napier. So we’re kind of sworn enemies right out of the gate.”

Ainsley grinned. “That we are. Better be nice to me, or I’ll make you walk back over to the car by yourself.”

He turned to look over his shoulder. The building was still visible in the distance, and was less than half a mile away. “Yeah, I don’t know if I could make it or not. All the dangerous characters I could encounter from here to there. What if I was eaten by wolves? I’d hate to be the one to tell my sister that. She’s mean.” He delivered the lines with such a straight face, Ainsley couldn’t help but laugh.

Inside the diner, they took a seat at one of the tables by the front window. She looked around with frank curiosity. Her mother was very fond of eating only in the best restaurants when they went out. Geneva’s every move was dictated by her need to appear powerful and in control. Ainsley thought her mother wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this. She herself felt out of place, but it wasn’t because of any conscious snobbery. She’d just never been in such an establishment before.

They each ordered Cokes and a slice of coconut cream pie. When the waitress brought their order, Ainsley’s eyes widened. The pie was huge, its meringue piled high in toasted, creamy peaks.

“How did you get that meringue to turn out like that? I’ve been trying to perfect mine for months now, and I just can’t get it to turn out,” she blurted out.

The waitress smiled. “I’ll ask Alva, the owner, if she minds sharing the secret.”

“Thank you. That would be wonderful.” Putting her paper napkin in her lap, she eagerly dug into the pie. It was absolutely stunning, and her eyes closed with ecstasy as she savored the flavors and textures melting on her tongue. “Oh, that’s good.”

“Yeah, I think Alva’s definitely gonna want to talk to you,” the waitress told her when she opened her eyes and went back for a second bite. “You kids need anything else?”

Ben’s voice jerked her back to reality. “No, I think we’re good.”

She’d completely forgotten him. Mortified, Ainsley laid down her fork, afraid to look across the table and see the disgust she just knew would be on his face. She loved food, always had, and that love showed in the extra pounds she carried around. She’d given up calling it baby fat when she turned eighteen. Though she had managed to lose fifteen pounds while she’d been in Europe the past year, she could still stand to lose fifteen more. And she worried she would be putting it right back on now that she was home.

“What’s wrong? Is the pie bad?” Ben asked in a low voice after the waitress had walked away.

“No, I just um… nothing.” She glanced at him and saw only concern on his face. She realized she’d already given the game away, tipped her hand, and revealed that she wasn’t a delicate flower when it came to food. With a quiet sigh, she picked up the fork and started eating again, albeit slower. If she was going to be reviled for being a glutton, at least she’d be reviled with pie.

They didn’t speak much as they ate, and she was gratified to see him clean his plate before she was halfway done with hers. She didn’t know if he was hurrying to get done so he could get away from her, or if he agreed with her assessment of the pie. She got her answer when an older woman with steel-grey hair came out from behind the counter.

“I’m Alva. I heard you like my coconut cream pie,” she said with a smile.

Ben smiled back charmingly, and Ainsley saw that he had faint dimples on either side of his mouth. “So much that I’m thinking about having a second piece.”

Alva shrugged with regret. “Sorry, hon, but that was the last of it.”

With an impressive scowl, Ben looked at Ainsley. When she saw the way he was eyeing her last bit of pie, she hunkered over it protectively, scooting it closer to her body.

“Oh, no. Don’t even think it.”

“Hmmm. But I’m the one who told you about this place.”

Alva laughed. “How do you feel about lemons, young man?”

“Not as fondly as I feel about coconut, but if it’s anywhere near as good as this”—he picked up his empty plate—“I’ll give it a try.”

“I’ll get it for you. Would you like to try the lemon, too?” she asked Ainsley.

“No, but thank you.”

Taking their plates, Alva headed back to the kitchen. “I’ll be right back with the lemon. Then we can talk meringue.”

“So what do you do in Hazard?” Ben asked while they waited.

“Um, not a lot, actually. Help my mother with her social commitments mostly. What about you?”

“Emma and I are here for the summer. She’s in this program, and I’m working at the library in Hazard. We go back to Savannah in August. I’m in school there at the university, and she’s enrolled at the art school.”

“You’re close?”

“Yeah. Twins, actually. She annoys the snot out of me on occasion, but I’m convinced that’s a sister’s role in life. I try to reciprocate as often as I can.”

Ainsley had always been fascinated by siblings since she didn’t have any herself. She told him that. “Is she your only sibling?”

Ben laughed. “No. I have an older brother and two younger sisters.”

When Alva brought out the pie, she was also carrying a mug of coffee. “If you don’t mind an old woman nosing in here for a minute, I thought I’d sit down and discuss that meringue if you want. You like to cook?”

“I love to cook.” Ainsley’s eyes were drawn to the lemon pie, which was as impressive as the coconut. Without a word, Ben handed her his still-clean spoon and pushed the plate to the middle of the table.

She’d never shared food with anyone before, and feeling slightly naughty, she dipped the spoon into the confection after only a moment’s hesitation. She’d wanted only a taste, and she pushed the plate back to him. “Thanks.”

It was as good as the coconut—tart and sweet without being too sugary. “Alva, you have a gift. I mean that.”

The older woman’s face glowed. “Thanks, sweetie.” She proceeded to explain her meringue process to Ainsley. They had a lively discussion as Ben slowly finished his pie, and when Alva explained one of the first steps she followed in the process, Ainsley felt a light go off in her head.

“That’s what I’ve not been doing. I’ve not been letting the egg whites come to room temperature.”

Alva nodded. “Common mistake. But you sound like you know your way around a kitchen. Who’s been teaching you? Your mother?”

Ainsley couldn’t prevent a quick snort of laughter. “Lord, no. My, um, my friend Byrdie has been teaching me.” She hated it when people asked her about Byrdie, because it just didn’t feel right to Ainsley to refer to the woman who’d practically raised her as a maid or servant. She’d recently started just saying Byrdie was her friend, as it was true.

They chatted for a few more minutes, then Alva left them.

Ben took care of the check, against Ainsley’s protests, and after getting ice water to go, they made their way slowly back toward the cars.

“You seem pretty excited over that meringue thing,” he commented as they stopped on a small bridge overlooking a creek. “You really do like to cook, don’t you?”

She crossed her arms self-consciously and leaned her hips against the concrete guardrail. “I’m not a creative person. Never have been. But there’s something peaceful about cooking, something very… You’ll laugh,” she hedged.

He turned, half-sitting on the concrete, and loosely crossed his own arms over his chest. “Try me.”

With a half-shrug, she tried to find the words. “There’s something very Zen about cooking. The methodology of pulling the tools and ingredients together, the routine of it all. And then when you experiment, try something different, and it works? The flavors come together just the way you wanted them to, both bold and subtle. And when you see someone’s face change with pleasure when they take that first bite? Well, I enjoy it. That’s all.”

“Wow.” His voice was quiet, and instead of teasing her, his gaze was intense as their eyes met. “That isn’t just enjoyment. You love cooking. Have you thought about becoming a chef?”

This time, her laugh was tinged with bitterness. “No. That doesn’t fit my mother’s plans.” It was a shameful admission to make, and one that Ainsley rarely discussed with anyone. That she’d just blurted it out to this practical stranger surprised her. “That makes me sound awful, I know.”

“No, it just sounds like you have a complicated relationship with her. What about your father?”

“We lost Daddy when I was thirteen.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” They resumed walking, turning to lighter subjects. “You were reading when I pulled up. Anything interesting?”

“A book about space. Fiction, but based on fact. It’s pretty good.”

Ainsley named the author, and he confirmed it was the same person she was thinking. “I’ve read that. It
was
good.” They’d reached their cars, and glancing around, she spied a picnic table a little behind the parking lot, under a tree. “Why don’t we sit there? The cars are going to be too hot.”

They talked about anything and everything over the next hour, bouncing from topic to topic and back again. Despite their obvious differences in background, they discovered they had a lot in common—so much that Ainsley wondered again if Elliot was setting her up.

As it got closer to five, Ben kept checking his watch. Ainsley cringed internally, sure she was boring him to distraction. But his words surprised her.

“Listen, Em and your cousin will be out here soon. And, uh, I’d rather not ask you out in front of my sister, if it’s all the same.” He tensed visibly as he waited for her response.

Ainsley stared at him in shock. “You want to go out? With me?”

“Yes.”

She couldn’t believe it. “Why?”

He blinked. “Why? Well, because you’re… Because I’ve enjoyed talking to you this afternoon,” he stammered. “And we seem to like a lot of the same things. And you aren’t afraid to eat real food.” He flushed and shook his paper cup, loosening the ice.