The Chesapeake Diaries Series (103 page)

It had taken him a long time to feel that he belonged in St. Dennis. He’d made friends with some of the local kids, but it was understood that he was a temporary resident, not quite a townie, not quite one of the summer people. He long understood that the fact that he was a really good athlete as well as the grandnephew of the town’s only celebrity gave him a status he otherwise would not have enjoyed. The year Wade started high school in St. Dennis was the year that Dallas moved to Hollywood. By his junior year, she’d made several films, and was on her way to becoming an icon in St. Dennis, much like Berry had been years before. Wade’s identity was now Dallas MacGregor’s little brother, Berry Townsend’s nephew. There didn’t seem to be a place in town for him without them. With high school graduation came freedom, and he headed for the farthest college that accepted him, which was, as fate had it, in Texas.

He thought about those first few days after he arrived on campus, meeting Robin, becoming such fast
friends. Without her friendship, he wouldn’t have felt like he belonged there, either, for all his sports and his involvement in campus life. After college, he built a career for himself in Texas, but deep down, he’d not been at home.

Now a person like Steffie, he told himself, has always known where she belonged. She had deep roots here and had no intention of pulling them up. Clay was right about that.

Wade had tried to be objective about Steffie, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult.

There was no denying that what he’d felt earlier in the evening watching Stef with Jesse was jealousy, pure and simple. Jesse could fit seamlessly into her life in the way that mattered most to her—her business and her family—and knowing that made Wade just a little bit crazy. Jesse was likely to stick around. His law office was in town and he had relatives there. Roots, however shallow, were still roots.

On the other hand, every time Wade and Steffie almost got together, Wade left town.

He looked back on all the holiday parties they’d both been at over the years, where one or both of them had dates with someone else. One Christmas a few years ago stuck in his mind. Steffie had arrived late wearing a memorably short, silky red dress that looked more like a slip than evening wear. She’d worn her hair down, much as she’d done tonight, and silver shoes with very high heels. Wade hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her, and neither, apparently, could her date, since they left the party after a mere hour. Wade had felt an unexplainable urge to pick a fight with that guy, which was laughable because Wade
had never picked a fight with a stranger in his entire life.

Jealousy, he admitted.

He’d vowed right then and there that the following Christmas, he’d skip the date, and hoped she would as well, but that was the year everything had begun to fall apart in Texas and leaving Robin to deal with it alone was out of the question. Last year, it had become clear that the holiday season would be Robin’s last, and Wade was determined that she and Austin have that one great Christmas together.

Walking away from Steffie tonight had been tough, but it was probably the best thing he could have done for her sake. He was pretty sure that whatever it was he felt for her, she felt the same, but Clay was right about Steffie not going anywhere. St. Dennis was her home, always had been, always would be. What would be the point in complicating things for either of them?

“Too strong,” Stef muttered, and screwed the lid back onto the jar of honey she’d tasted, then crossed it off the list in front of her. Reminding herself that the darker the honey, the stronger the flavor, she looked through her samples for something lighter. She tried the lightest in color that she had.

“Still not right. Back to square one.”

She turned on her laptop and searched the web for a source of honey that might be lighter. She knew she was just about out of time. Dallas’s party was on Saturday. That gave her five days, not counting Saturday, though conceivably she could be making ice cream right up until the party, which was to begin at six.

“This place looks promising.” She reached for the phone, but a glance at the clock reminded her that it was only four in the morning on the West Coast, so she sent an e-mail instead to the website that was advertising the finest lavender honey money could buy. Okay, Stef thought as she typed, let’s put our money where our mouth is …

She’d made test batches of formulas that she’d thought were pretty darned good, but after she’d tried
them a few days later, she found the honey flavor stronger than she remembered and the texture of the ice cream was too crumbly. Panicking as Saturday drew closer, she’d gone back to her recipe file to start again.

She’d abandoned her idea to add edible lavender flower buds to the mix. She’d tried that, and while the batch right out of the ice-cream maker tasted pretty good, once the flowers froze solid, they were like tiny flavored balls of ice in her mouth and the flavor of lavender was, well, odd.

“Pity.” She sighed. “The ice cream looked so pretty with all those purply specks in it.”

She put Dallas’s birthday ice cream aside and made what she’d need for Scoop that day plus two batches of her homemade cones. She was halfway through the cones when the owner of Lavender Hill Farm in Shelter Bay, Oregon, called and assured her that their lavender honey was indeed light in color and delicately flavored. Once Steffie told her what she needed it for, the owner, Sofia, offered to overnight a sample.

“That would be perfect, thank you so much. I’ve really gotten myself into a jam here.”

She hung up the phone after three more “thank-yous” and returned to the task at hand: deciding which flavors to feature that week. The chocolate monster mash was still popular, so she chopped some solid chocolate and put it in the double boiler to melt over a low heat. She checked the fridge and found she had enough eggs for only a few batches, so she sent Tina to the farm where they usually purchased their eggs to pick up the week’s supply plus extra for the weekend.

All of the ice creams with maple flavor were also a hit this time of the year, so she checked her supplies
before adding maple walnut to the menu board. Because of its high water content, pure maple syrup had a tendency to dilute the butterfat, so she needed to make sure she had enough of the cream with the highest butterfat content for more than one batch. She had just enough for three or four batches, so she made a note to call her supplier—an organic dairy farm three miles outside of town—and request an early delivery this week. She felt like an idiot calling him again—she’d already called once this week to triple her order in anticipation of the ice cream she’d be making for Dallas’s party, and that was before Grant had called to let her know the guest list had grown.

“It’s the damnedest thing,” Grant had told Stef. “Everyone who got an invitation must have told other people about it, because Dallas’s agent has been fielding calls from people asking to be invited.”

“I guess the fact that she’s starting her own production company and will be making her own films is incentive enough to make the trip east,” Stef said. “Maybe people think they’ll have a better chance at scoring a role in one of her films if they come to her birthday and bring a big present.”

“Uh-uh. No gifts. Dallas put that on the invitations. She asked for donations to ‘an animal rescue shelter near you’ instead.”

“That’s nice. I like that. But of course, the no-gifts thing doesn’t apply to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she can tell everyone else not to bring her something, but you’re her honey. You have to give her a present.”

“I arranged for her to have an ice-cream flavor created just for her,” Grant reminded Stef.

“Yes, but I’m the one who’s making it. I’m the genius who’s doing the creating, so it could be said that the ice cream really is from me.”

“It was my idea,” he protested. “And I’m paying for it.”

Steffie smiled sweetly. “I’ll be sure to mention that when she’s thanking me.”

“So how’s the ice cream coming along, anyway?”

“It’s coming. And don’t change the subject.”

“I just want to make sure it’ll be ready for Saturday night.”

“It will be. Now, back to her gift …”

“You really think that no-gift thing doesn’t apply to me?” Grant sounded worried.

“Yup. You’re going to have to come up with a gift, and it’s going to have to be good.”

A very long silence followed.

“What should I do?” He sounded pathetically flummoxed.

“Two words, sport. Nana’s ring.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I told you, it’s perfect. Unless, of course, you decided not to ask her to marry you. Which could be a break for her …”

“Very funny.” Grant sighed. “All right. I’ll call Mom and see what she thinks.”

“Go for it.” Steffie hung up and stuck her phone back into her pocket.

She checked the chocolate and found it had melted, so she turned off the stove and set the pot on a trivet
to cool, then checked the freezer to make sure she had enough canisters chilling.

“Hey, we missed you at coffee this morning.” Vanessa came through the back door with a paper bag in her hand. “I brought you lunch since I figured you’d be too busy to stop to get something for yourself, and knowing you, you didn’t bring anything from home.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. Thank you, Ness.”

“Aren’t you going to ask what it is? Maybe it’s something you don’t like.” Vanessa held up the bag and swung it in front of Steffie.

“I’m so hungry, I almost don’t care what it is,” Steffie told her. “And you’re my best friend. You wouldn’t bring me something I don’t like.”

“True.” Vanessa opened the bag. “It’s grilled chicken, Swiss, and tomato from the new place around the corner from Book ’Em.”

“That’s one of my two most favorite sandwiches.”

“I know.” Vanessa handed over the bag and Steffie peered inside.

“And an iced tea. How did you know I was dying for iced tea today?” Steffie hugged her, then turned to wash her hands at the sink.

“Daz told me,” Vanessa deadpanned.

Steffie shot a quick glance over her shoulder and Vanessa laughed. “Kidding. It just seemed to go with the sandwich.”

Stef dried her hands and unwrapped the sandwich, then looked back into the bag.

“There’s only one sandwich in here,” she noted.

“I know. I ate mine on the way down here. I had a really busy morning, so I had to multitask if I wanted to eat.” Vanessa rested her elbows on the worktable.
“I had one delivery after another this morning, which was a good thing because I sold out of so much stuff on Saturday. The charity run was good for business, Stef. Everyone was talking about it this morning.”

“Good. I’m glad. I love a win-win. Money for research, business for the merchants.”

“And we’re all looking forward to another big weekend coming up, with all the Hollywood people coming for Dallas’s party. Grace was saying this morning that her son told her they were totally booked from Thursday right through until Monday,” Vanessa told her. “Barbara heard the other two inns and all the B-and-Bs were booked as well. And Carlo told us that every table at every restaurant in town is reserved for Friday and Sunday nights. Someone booked Let’s Do Brunch for Saturday and Sunday—both days, for the entire time they’re open.” Nessa’s eyes were shining. “Of course, that’s only from ten in the morning until two in the afternoon, but still, that’s a lot of guaranteed business.” She sighed. “I hope there will be lots of those Hollywood types stopping in at Bling.”

“There will be if Dallas tells everyone that she shops there.” Steffie took a bite of her sandwich, thinking that she should make extra ice cream as well. The forecast was for unseasonably warm weather. She knew from experience that the warmer temperatures alone would increase her business. Add an extra hundred people to the mix and she would run out early if she didn’t prepare in advance for the increase in foot traffic. “This is delicious, thanks. I appreciate it.”

“What are friends for?” Vanessa paused before adding, “Besides, I promised everyone I’d pump you for info on Saturday night.”

“I told you, I didn’t have a date with Jesse. Didn’t you tell everyone that?”

“Yes, but apparently half of St. Dennis was in Walt’s on Saturday night. The other half was in the parking lot.”

“Oh. That.” Another exercise in frustration that she didn’t feel like reliving right then.

“So …?”

“So he walked me out to my car and he caught me in a lip-lock.”

“And …” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “Am I going to have drag every little detail from you?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On what you’ve already heard.”

“Brooke stopped in at Bling this morning, and she said that her brother and Wade were eating at the bar and they saw you with Jesse, and Wade looked put out about it.”

“She said that? Wade was put out because I was with Jesse?”

Vanessa nodded.

“So what else did she say?”

“She said that you and Jesse stopped at the bar on the way out, and she got into a conversation with him about something to do with her will, and that when she looked up, you and Wade were gone.”