The Chesapeake Diaries Series (146 page)

“That looks tasty,” Curtis remarked as he eyed the two cupcakes that were set before Jesse.

“Oh, these are wonderful,” the waiter confided. “Made right here in St. Dennis.”

“Brooke made them, Pop,” Jesse said, his smile still in place. “Brooke Bowers.” When his grandfather appeared a little confused, he added, “Brooke Madison?”

“Ah, yes. Little Brooke. She’s a baker now?” Curtis chuckled. “She must take after her aunt Francie. Now,
there was a woman who could bake. Took the blue at the county fair for both her lemon pound cake and her rhubarb cake every year for … I don’t even remember how many years.”

Jesse took a bite. The flavor was rich and sweet, the chocolate dense and delicious. Remarkable, but he could almost taste her in her creation.

“That must be one pretty darn good cupcake,” Curtis mused. “You’ve been grinning from ear to ear since the waiter brought it out.”

“You tell me.” Jesse cut off a wedge and passed it to his grandfather, who used his fork to take a bite.

“Yes.” Curtis nodded. “It is quite good. You be sure to ask her if she got this recipe from Francie when you see her again, hear?”

“I’ll do that.”

Curtis snapped his fingers. “Of course, of course. Brooke was the Halloween queen. There was a picture of her on the front page of the
Gazette
the other day. Dancing with a tall, dark-haired fellow who looked an awful lot like you.”

“Pop, it
was
me.”

“Thought he looked familiar.” Curtis went back to his pumpkin pie. “Lovely girl, Brooke.”

The waiter returned to refill their coffee cups, and they made small talk. When Curtis appeared to be tiring, Jesse signaled the waiter for the check.

“How ’bout if I get that?”

Curtis reached for it, but Jesse reminded him, “I invited you, remember?”

“Yes, you did, and I appreciate the invitation.” Curtis acquiesced, and sat back while Jesse paid the bill. “I can’t remember the last time one of my grandchildren
took me to dinner. Actually, I can’t remember the last time one of them accepted a dinner invitation from me.”

“We’ll have to do it more often.” Jesse slid his wallet back into his pants pocket.

“Thank you for not reminding me that most of my grandchildren have good reason
not
to want to have dinner with me.”

“You can change that anytime you want, Pop. It’s all in your hands. It always has been. Maybe you’ll get the chance to do that soon.”

They got up from the table and said their good-nights to the hostess on their way to the door.

“Where’s Lola tonight?” Curtis asked the young woman.

“I’m Lola,” she replied.

“If you’re Lola, I’ll have whatever it is you’re having,” Curtis quipped. “I know for a fact that Lola is ninety-six years old, and if you’ll pardon me for saying so, you don’t look a day over twenty.” He leaned a little closer. “And Lola was never as lovely as you.”

The woman flashed the smile pretty young girls reserve for old men who mean well.

“You mean my great-aunt Lola,” the woman said. “She’s off tonight.”

“Well, you tell her Curtis Enright was asking for her, if you think of it.”

“I’ll do that.” She held the door for them and flashed a bright smile at Jesse as she did so.

When they got outside, Curtis said, “She’s a pretty thing, don’t you think?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t really notice, did you.” Curtis stopped
next to the passenger-side door of Jesse’s car and waited while it was unlocked.

“Sure, I noticed.”

“You’re not a good liar.” Curtis ducked his head and slid into the little sports car. After Jesse got in behind the wheel, Curtis said, “She may not be royalty, but she’s still a pretty girl and she was looking to flirt with you.”

“That part I did
not
notice. And what royalty?”

“Halloween queen. Cupcake princess.” Curtis chuckled. “She comes from a long line of beauty queens, you know.”

“You mean Lola?”

“You know damned well who I mean. A man could do a lot worse than to fall in love with a beauty queen.”

Jesse didn’t reply, but when he pulled up in front of Curtis’s house and turned off the car, he said, “Earlier you told me I was nothing like my father.”

“I did.” Curtis nodded. “You’re not.”

“What if I am, Pop?” Jesse asked softly. “What if deep inside, I am?”

“I think you would have known by now, son.” He reached over and patted Jesse’s hand where it rested on the gearshift. “We all would have known.”

Jesse wasn’t so sure.

“You and Gramma Rose had a good life together, didn’t you?”

“The best.”

“It’s safe to say you were a happy and loving family?”

“Always.” Curtis hesitated. “Well, until your father got into his teens and turned into someone we didn’t
know and brought chaos into our home. What are you thinking, Jess?”

“I’m just wondering why, if my father had such good role models in his parents, I should have any reason to think I’d be better at being married and raising kids than he was, since I had no role model at all. I wouldn’t want to have a family and end up doing to them what he did to us.”

“You’re not him, that’s why. Whatever is in him that makes him seemingly unable to stay in one place, to understand what love and commitment are all about, I don’t see any of that in you. If you want to know the truth, I see more of me in you than I do of him.” There was silence for a moment, until Curtis said, “I don’t think that Craig ever really felt love for anyone, son. Not his parents, not his siblings. Maybe not for any of his wives or his children. There are people like that, you know. They think they love—they try to love and maybe convince themselves that that’s what they feel. But inside, there’s nothing. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that you’ve never felt love for anyone?”

Jesse thought of his mother, his sister, and what he was beginning to feel for Brooke. Even his grandfather, whom he was just getting to know, and knew the answer. “No, Pop. That’s not me.”

“I didn’t believe for a second that it was. And I don’t believe that you haven’t fallen in love because you can’t. I think it’s because you haven’t met the right girl yet. When you do, when you feel that zing to your heart, you’ll know it, and you’ll do the right thing.” Curtis released his seat belt and opened the car door. He swung his legs out and looked back over
his shoulder. “But I suggest you move that all along. You aren’t getting any younger, you know …”

Curtis stood in the doorway and watched his grandson drive away, his heart beating with thanks for the gift he’d been given in Jesse. He closed the door and locked it, took off his overcoat and hung it in the closet, tucked his gloves inside his hat, and left them on the console in the hall. He went into the living room and turned on a lamp, sat in his favorite chair, and picked up the book he’d been reading that afternoon. The crime novel by his favorite author had been delivered from the online bookstore he’d ordered it from—God, but he loved technology!—and he was almost to the end. It bothered him that so far, he’d been unable to identify the killer. In the old days, he’d always known before he got to the middle of the book who the bad guy was. These days, not so much.

He tried to read but his thoughts kept wandering back to dinner and all he and Jesse had talked about. Family relationships. Love. Commitment. Parents and children. Husbands and wives. He’d never been one to talk about such things at such length with anyone but Rose, and it surprised him that he found it so easy to talk to Jesse, whom he’d barely even thought about a year ago. At first he’d thought that it might have been because he spent so much time alone now, that any opportunity to converse had the potential to turn into a discussion, but he knew that wasn’t the case. He used to see his son Mike every day at the office, and they’d rarely had such conversations, had almost never discussed their feelings. Perhaps it was because this younger generation of men was more
open about sharing how they felt about things. Curtis preferred to believe it was because he and this grandson had a connection.

He picked up the current issue of the
St. Dennis Gazette
that he’d been looking at earlier, and gazed at the picture on the front page. The camera had caught the beautiful young woman and the handsome young man in a waltz’s embrace, smiling and gazing into each other’s eyes.

Curtis knew that look. He and his Rose had looked at each other in the same way, their smiles only for the other, their eyes never seeing anyone else.

“What do you think, Rose?” he said aloud.

He waited to hear the rustle of that silken robe she liked so much, to smell the scent of gardenias that always accompanied her. Would she come tonight? He sat quietly, the book unopened on his lap, longing for her presence for just a little while. Sometimes he felt her here, sometimes in the conservatory on the side of the house, where she’d once tended her orchids and her gloxinia and those big leafy things she’d loved, some of which had, over time, grown taller than she, who’d been such a tiny thing.

Perhaps she waited for him there tonight as she had in the past. He started to rise, then tilted his head slightly to one side.

“Rose?”

He felt her glide into the room on the whisper of silk. He could not see her—he’d never seen her after she passed—but he could sense her as surely as he had when she was still alive. Funny, he thought, that he, who had never believed in ghosts or spirits or any of what he’d once considered nonsense, now looked
forward every waking moment to experiencing just such a presence.

“Funny how it all works out, isn’t it, my love?”

He leaned back and closed his eyes, letting the scent of gardenias surround him and fill the room.

“I spent the evening with our boy, Rose. He’s a good boy. A good man. You’d like him.” He considered for a moment. “Actually, I believe you’d love him. I see so much of myself in him, and nothing of Craig. Funny how sometimes things seem to skip a generation, isn’t it?”

Behind him, he heard the faint
shush
of her robe.

“I want him to stay, Rose.” He sighed. “I want so very much for him to stay …”

Chapter 17

“I’m assuming that by now, you’ve both seen the photos of the bridesmaid dresses Steffie and I picked out while we were in New York.” Dallas opened her bag and pulled out a photo and held it up. “Just in case you haven’t …”

“Ooooh, nice.” Vanessa nodded enthusiastically.

“I agree,” Brooke said. “I love it.”

“Good, ’cause the bride—or in this case, the
brides
—get to choose and you have to wear it.” Steffie placed a dish of ice cream in front of each of her friends. She’d closed Scoop at eight on Sunday night so the four of them—she, Dallas, Brooke, and Vanessa—could meet to go over the wedding plans and try out her newest flavors at the same time.

“Lucky for us you have good taste. I’ve heard some real horror stories about ugly bridesmaid dresses.” Brooke dug with the plastic spoon Steffie handed her. “This is really delicious, Stef. What are we calling this?”

“This is Honeymoon Heaven.” Steffie grinned. “Just all sweetness and love.”

“And coconut, I see,” Brooked noted. “What’s that other flavor I’m tasting?”

“White chocolate chips and honey.” Steffie joined them at the table. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s heavenly,” Brooke said.

“I agree.” Dallas nodded.

“Ness?” Steffie asked. “Did you taste it? What do you think?”

“Oh. I think it’s lovely, Stef,” Vanessa replied.

“Great. It’s unanimous, then. We’re serving it at the wedding along with a wedding cake that’s yet to be determined and some of Brooke’s fantastic ‘White Wedding’ cupcakes.” Steffie licked her spoon.

“Speaking of ice-cream flavors … Stef, is there any chance you could make up something special for Mr. Enright?” Brooke asked.

“When did you start calling Jesse ‘Mr. Enright’?” Stef asked.

“Not Jesse. Old Mr. Enright. Curtis,” Brooke explained. “He’s going to be eighty-five in two weeks and Jesse wants to surprise him with a party, and we—that is, Jesse—thought it would be fun to have an ice cream made for him. Of course, we’ll—that is, Jesse will understand if you don’t have time, with the wedding coming up so soon and everything.”

“Oh, I love old Mr. Enright! He’s such a sweet old man,” Stef said. “I’d love to do something special for him. Let me think, what would be appropriate …?”

Brooke shook her head. “I don’t know what he likes. I’ll have to ask Jesse.”

“I guess it didn’t occur to you to ask him last night.” Stef smiled and scooped some ice cream onto her spoon. “Or this morning.”

Brooke flushed scarlet.

“What’s that mean?” Vanessa turned to Brooke. “Are you dating the barrister?”

“I’d say dating is the least of what she’s doing.” Stef elbowed Brooke.

“Okay, so how do you know about last night?” Brooke stuck her spoon into the mound of ice cream and left it there.

“Brooke.” Steffie rolled her eyes. “This is St. Dennis. Your car was parked in his driveway last night when Wade and I came back from Berry’s after dinner, and it was there again when we went jogging this morning.”

“Seriously? You and Jesse Enright?” Dallas wiped her mouth with a napkin.

“All right. Seriously. Yes. Me and Jesse Enright.” Still blushing, Brooke dug into her ice cream.

“Wow. Not bad, Brooke.” Vanessa nodded her approval. “Not bad at all.”

“He
is
pretty hunky,” Stef acknowledged.

“And smart,” Dallas added. “We had a long conversation one night about entertainment law. I’m thinking about hiring him to handle some work for me personally and for my studio as I get things finalized.”

“I love a smart hunky guy,” Stef said.

“You’re marrying my little brother,” Dallas reminded her.

“Wade’s smart and hunky,” Stef said defensively. “He’s also hot.”

“If you say so.”

“You’re his sister, Dallas. I would hope you didn’t
find him hot.” Steffie stood up. “Anyone want something to drink? Milk shake? Root-beer float? Iced tea? Water?”