The Winter Lodge (18 page)

Laura Tuttle studied the photo with an enthusiasm that was, she admitted to herself, forced. While Laura worked the early shift at the bakery all summer, her best friend, Mariska, had been having a storybook romance, complete with Prince Charming. Laura had fallen into a secondary role, and now at summer’s end, she was weary of it. But she put on her game face and admired the picture, which showed a laughing Mariska and a tanned and gorgeous Philip Bellamy holding a tennis trophy cup. The green hills and placid lake of Camp Kioga rolled out in the background.

“I like this shot, too.” Still hiding her discontent, Laura handed back the photo. A pleasant breeze rippled through the alleyway behind the bakery, where she and Mariska were supposed to be rolling empty racks out of the truck after a delivery. They had paused to take a break before heading back to the yeasty-scented heat of the bakery.

“Tell you what,” Mariska said, shaking out her attractive, layer-cut hair. “I had double prints made. I’m going to find a frame for this. Philip’s heading back to Yale in a few days and this is the only picture of us together.”

“That’s because you’re not supposed to be together,” Laura pointed out.

“Don’t start.” A warning flashed in Mariska’s eyes.

Laura could handle her friend’s temper. “He’s engaged to someone else,” she reminded her.

“Yeah, to Pamela Lightsey, who ditched him for an entire summer so she could go to Italy.

She deserves to lose him.”

“You don’t even know her, so how do you know what she deserves?”

“I know what she’s like,” Mariska insisted. “A spoiled rich girl. When Philip breaks up with her, she’ll probably buy a new BMW to console herself.”

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t bleed, same as you and me,” Laura said. She didn’t know why she was defending Pamela Lightsey, a stranger.

“Aw, Laura.” Mariska rolled the last rack out of the truck. “Be happy for me and Philip.

He’s so, so…everything.”

“Listen to yourself.” Laura felt like the adult in this friendship. She always had. Mariska was the free spirit, the adventurous one, who worked hard and played harder. Laura was the practical one, who worked hard and then worked harder. So
everything.
“Is it Philip you love, or the Bellamy money?”

“Don’t be silly. You can’t separate the two. Philip is Philip because he’s a Bellamy.”

“So if the family went bankrupt tomorrow and you’d have to live like a pauper, that wouldn’t matter?” Laura couldn’t help asking the question because, deep down, she knew the answer. And if Philip knew, maybe he wouldn’t be so gaga over Mariska.

Mariska laughed, that shimmering, sexy laugh that had made her the most popular girl at Avalon High. At graduation last June, she’d been voted the girl most likely to get by on her looks. She’d taken it all in stride, because she knew darn well there was a lot more to her than looks. She had an incredible work ethic, for example. She worked two jobs—one here at her parents’ bakery and another as a part-time salesclerk at the jewelry shop next door.

“What are you going to do with yourself after you get rich?” Laura asked. “Seriously, you’

re going to be so bored.”

“Nonsense. I’m going to see the world and shop my whole life away.”

“And what about Philip?” Did Mariska even know him? Laura wondered. Did she know he saved the middle of his pain au chocolat for last, that he’d seen the Allman Brothers at the Fillmore East before Duane Allman got killed, that his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed?

“What about Philip?” She sighed. “He’s—Laura, you have to promise not to say anything…”

“About what?” Laura frowned. “Where does he fit in with all the traveling and shopping?”

“That’s just it. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll get bored with him.”

Laura wanted to shake her. “If you’re afraid of that, then why are you planning a future with this man?”

“God, I swear, you’re like an old, wet blanket,” Mariska said with a frown. She bent to check her reflection in the side-view mirror of the truck, feathering her hair out at the temples. “I never should have told you about us.” She fixed her lipstick and leaned back against the white panel truck. “That’s not so. I had to tell somebody. This secret is just too good to keep to myself all summer long, and you’re the only one I can trust.”

Despite her yearning for Philip, Laura felt privileged that Mariska had entrusted her with the details of her clandestine love affair, because that was probably as close as Laura would ever get to a love affair of her own. She had the dullest life on the planet. Her best source for drama and romance was Mariska, who lived her life as though she was a character in a soap opera.

Unfortunately, characters in soap operas usually ended up heartbroken and alone, or at least with a bad case of amnesia.

“Listen,” she said to Mariska. “I really hope everything works out.”

“But what?”

“I didn’t say but.”

“You didn’t have to. I heard it, anyway. But what?”

Laura took a deep breath. “I’m just worried about what’s going to happen with you now that summer is over and Philip’s going back to Yale. He might…well, you know what can happen. It’s where the term
summer romance
comes from. When summer ends, so does the romance.”

“Not for Philip and me,” Mariska insisted.

Laura bit her tongue. Mariska and Philip were from two completely different worlds, and they were fooling themselves if they thought it would be easy to fit their lives together. Laura had seen this kind of thing before. People with such different backgrounds simply didn’t have enough in common to stay together. Cinderella and Prince Charming was a fairy tale. In real life, princes married their own kind, not household servants.

“Besides,” Mariska added, “I have an insurance policy.”

“I don’t get it.”

Mariska smiled mysteriously. Her hand strayed down to her stomach and rested there. “I haven’t told him, so don’t say anything.”

Laura felt as though someone had punched her.

Mariska’s smile blossomed into laughter. “You should see your face. You’re more surprised than I was, that’s for sure.”

Because you planned this, thought Laura with a sudden clarity of understanding. Although Mariska claimed love was all she and Philip needed, she’d hedged her bets by getting pregnant.

And while Laura didn’t know much about Philip, she did know that not only was he the handsomest guy on the planet, he was also extremely decent. He brought Fresh Air kids from the city, and he was getting a special leadership award from President Carter for working with New Haven’s poor. And now that Mariska was pregnant, he would never leave her.

“I, um, don’t know what to say. I mean, I’m happy for you.” Her heart sank, because she couldn’t fathom a way to see this working out. Mariska hadn’t even finished growing up. Having a kid this young was a mistake.

Laura felt a little sorry for the Majeskys. They had wanted a big family, but according to Laura’s mom, Helen had so much trouble having Mariska that she almost died, and she was unable to bear any more children. Maybe that was why Mariska was so spoiled. They lavished all they had on her. And here was the trouble with spoiled people. No matter what you gave them, they were never content. They always wanted more.

“So when are you going to tell Philip?” she asked.

“I haven’t thought about that yet.”

“Mariska, you have to—”

“I will, I swear, I will. I just found out myself. You’re the first person I’ve told…well, almost.”

“Almost?” Laura did not like the sound of that.

“I was kind of in shock when the clinic called with the results. I sort of blurted it out to some of the customers in the bakery.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh is right.” Then Mariska laughed again. “You won’t believe who they were—Mr.

and Mrs. Lightsey.”

Laura could only shake her head. Clearly, blurting out the news had been no accident.

“Pamela’s parents.”

“Philip says they’re best friends with his parents. They came up for the closing ceremonies of the camp. He told me they do every year.”

“And they know you’re pregnant.” Laura felt a chill despite the summer heat. This was the way Mariska operated. She was going to manipulate the situation, Laura just knew it. Making sure Pamela’s parents learned the score was all part of some plan Mariska had up her sleeve.

“Do they know it’s Philip’s?”

“It doesn’t matter. As soon as he sees Pamela, which will be next week at Yale, he’s going to tell her the engagement is off. He’ll marry me before the baby comes, and everything will be just fine.”

“Except for Pamela Lightsey.”

“She’ll be all right after the BMW,” Mariska said airily.

Two days later, Laura was trimming the asters in the planter boxes in front of the bakery when she heard the train whistle, and remembered that Mariska had gone to the station to say goodbye to Philip. Minutes later, Mariska returned to the bakery, looking pale and defeated, a stranger Laura had never seen before.

Sweat beaded Mariska’s upper lip. She swayed a little and clutched her stomach as if she was about to throw up.

“What happened?” Laura demanded, setting aside her gardening shears. “You look awful.”

Mariska lowered herself to a chair at one of the bistro tables on the sidewalk in front of the bakery. “I broke up with him.”

“I don’t understand.” Laura’s mind swirled with confusion. “Did he take it badly? Did he not want anything to do with the baby?”

“I didn’t tell him about the baby.” Desperation shadowed Mariska’s eyes. “He can’t ever know, do you understand? Ever.”

“Don’t be crazy. He has a right to know.”

“Stop it, Laura. I swear, if you say a word…” She rubbed her temples. “I need to think.”

“Listen, a couple of days ago, you were planning a future with him. Did he change his mind?”

“No. He begged me not to break up with him.”

“Then why did you?” Laura demanded, trying to figure out what had really happened.

Mariska took a deep breath. She looked at her reflection in the big window of the bakery.

“I got a better offer.”

“What do you mean, a better offer? From whom?”

Mariska didn’t answer. She gave a bitter laugh, got up from the table and strode away.

Although Laura called after her, she didn’t respond as she walked along the sidewalk with her head held high. She took something out of her purse, ripped it down the middle, threw it in the green enamel trash bin and kept walking.

Laura couldn’t resist. She pulled out the paper her friend had ripped. It was an enlargement of the beautiful shot of Mariska and Philip, torn neatly down the middle. Without hesitation, Laura rescued it from the trash. Mariska was surely being too hasty.

Food for Thought

by Jenny Majesky

Friendship Bread

At the Sky River Bakery, a lot of our breads begin with a sourdough starter, and Friendship Bread is one of the favorites. It’s called that because the starter can easily be shared among friends, who are invited to create breads of their own. It seems a little counterintuitive to let a vat of ingredients ferment for days on end, but ultimately, it gives the bread a special depth of flavor.

This makes enough starter to share with your friends, along with a copy of the recipe.

This particular recipe is very flexible. You can add dried fruit, nuts, almond extract or sweet spices.

FRIENDSHIP BREAD STARTER

3 cups sugar

3 cups flour

3 cups milk

Day 1: In a nonmetal bowl, combine 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour and 1 cup milk. Stir with wooden or plastic spoon (don’t use metal spoon or electric mixer). Cover bowl loosely with a tea towel. Keep at room temperature, not in fridge.

Stir mixture once each day on days 2, 3 and 4.

Day 5: Add 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour and 1 cup milk, and stir.

Stir mixture once each day on days 6, 7 and 8.

Day 10: Add 1 cup sugar, 1 cup flour and 1 cup milk. Remove 3 cups of mixture and give 1 cup each to three friends, with instructions. Save remaining starter for yourself.

FRIENDSHIP BREAD

1 cup starter

1 cup oil

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup milk

2 teaspoons cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

2 cups flour

1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

3 eggs

1 large box instant vanilla pudding mix

Combine starter with all the other ingredients, mixing thoroughly. Grease 2 large loaf pans and dust with mixture of cinnamon and sugar. Spoon batter into pans. Coat top of batter with butter and sprinkle with remaining cinnamon/sugar mixture. Bake at 325°F for 50-75 minutes, or until done.

Twelve

T
here was something melancholy about Greg Bellamy’s new home. Jenny sensed a curious press of sadness immediately as she stepped inside the boxy Victorian house on Spring Street.

From the outside, it was fairly typical of the homes in Avalon, a tall, gabled house surrounded by white snow and bare trees, like a blank canvas waiting to be painted.

Inside was a different story. Items were placed haphazardly here and there—moving boxes, the odd article of furniture, a stack of mail on a windowsill. It reminded her of a hotel.

Except she knew it was not. Greg and his two children, Max and Daisy, were here to stay.

“Let me take your coat,” Greg offered, greeting her in the vestibule.

Philip was already there, seated on a stool at the counter, nursing a glass of wine. Rourke had been invited tonight but he’d declined, saying he was working late. And he probably was, but she had the impression that family gatherings weren’t his thing. Offering Philip a tentative smile, she wasn’t sure they were her thing, either, but at least she wasn’t afraid to give it a shot.

The whole idea of having relatives blew Jenny’s mind. She’d grown up believing herself to be the only child of an only child. Now there was this whole undiscovered family of strangers.

“This is for you.” She handed Greg the parcel she’d brought. “Friendship bread. It’s said to bring good luck to a new home.”