Cooking Up Romance. Lynne Marshall
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to talk to her. Unfortunately, twenty-one years later, her memories of her mom were dim except for one thing. She knew she’d been loved and even cherished. She’d felt it in her soul. Just like she knew without a doubt her father had loved her, too. She’d been wanted and loved by her parents and that should be enough for any person. Why wasn’t it?
And then, when Greg had been killed during deployment five years ago, she didn’t think she’d ever get over losing the love of her life. He’d been everything she’d longed for—compassionate, caring, tender and easy to love. He’d also been fearless and willing to sacrifice, and the adventurous part of him had sent him away…to never return. Lacy’s hand rubbed circles around her chest remembering how her heart had been ripped in half the day she’d gotten the news.
Last year, her father had suffered a major heart attack while exerting himself loading a stack of twenty-gallon containers of homemade potato salad and coleslaw onto his food truck, and had died suddenly. A neighbor had found him in the garage, and Lacy had been grateful it hadn’t been her. She’d fallen apart completely when the police officer had showed up at the restaurant’s kitchen and notified her. The three most important people in her life had all been taken from her without warning. Now she was thirty-one and single, without parents, husband or siblings. A total orphan.
Her life experience so far had pounded home one major point—she lost the people she loved.
Sadness and longing wrapped around her until it was hard to breathe. She’d always thought of herself as a family person. She’d chosen not to move out of Little River Valley like most of her high school friends had done. Instead, she’d wanted to live close to her father and saw him several times a week. He was all she had, and she treated that bond with great care.
Since he’d died, she’d moved back into her childhood home because she’d inherited it. It felt so empty without him, which forced her to accept that she wasn’t meant to be alone. Yet she’d made no effort to reach out to new people and instead had drawn inward even though she’d always hated being an only child. Truth was, she felt stuck, like running in a dream getting nowhere, longing for something out of her reach.
As far back as she could remember, she’d thought something had been missing. As though they’d been meant to be a bigger family. When she would ask her parents why she didn’t have a sister or brother, they’d get all tongue-tied. Enough so that she’d learned to quit asking and, instead, worked on accepting that they’d simply run out of time. Yet there’d been a big hole in her heart, and she couldn’t deny it, long before Mom had died. As if something else had been ripped away, leaving a huge gap in her life.
What was with the gloomy black cloud hovering low tonight?
Slipping into the dumps certainly wasn’t how she wanted to end her day. Not on the eve of a new start! But her memories had been stirred at the wedding, and something deeper had gotten released. That person had called her Eva and told her she looked exactly like her. So strange. Truth was, when most kids created pretend pals, she’d had an imaginary sister named Jilly—even when Mom was alive, so Lacy couldn’t rationalize that it was because of losing a parent. For as long as she could remember, she’d wished for a sister, as if without one she could never be whole. Jilly helped fill that void until Lacy knew the time had come to grow up and leave her secret sister behind.
Then years later, on a group date, she’d met Greg and soon after had never felt more complete in her life.
Spurred on by the day’s events, old thoughts and new questions, she strode to the guest bedroom in the 1960s California ranch house, the room with the attic opening. Once there, after pulling down the door with a broomstick-length hook and unfolding the spring-operated ladder, she climbed up and switched on the dangling single lightbulb inside. Boxes and boxes of her parents’ papers were stored up there. Hopefully, someone had taken the time to label some of them.
Unable to see well in the dim light, she chose willy-nilly two boxes filled with papers and manila folders, and dropped first one and then the other through the attic opening. They landed with loud, reverberating thuds on the floor, leaving a small dust cloud in their wake. The first box brought her small calico Daisy Mae out of hiding from another room, and the second box sent the cat lunging back for cover.
“Sorry, sweetie!”
A muted meow assured Lacy her little girl cat was okay. Probably ticked off, but okay.
After lifting the first box onto one of the twin beds, she rifled through it, finding ten years of federal and state tax forms. If she had the time one night, she’d shred them all. Lifting the second box, she remembered she needed to defrost the assortment of homemade hand pies she’d premade and kept stored in her deep freezer in the garage…the same one her father had used for food truck supplies for over twenty years.
She really didn’t have time for this wild-goose chase. With all those pies to thaw tonight and bake in the morning, she’d have to get up early. She also needed to take inventory of her paper goods and plastic utensils tonight or she wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink. Everything had to be perfect tomorrow, because a potential long-term job offer depended on it.
Remembering the smiles on the faces of the construction crew on Friday when she’d handed out the pies and cups of coffee helped push that dark, dreary cloud away. Why drag up those old memories when all they did was bring her down? From now on she’d concentrate on the bright side of things. The future. Maybe that would bring her luck. She could use it.
She’d look through the second box another night. Besides, she had some making up to do with Daisy Mae, not to mention getting her beauty sleep. She wanted to look good when she officially started the construction job, which, in a perfect world, would lead to more interaction with the handsome Zackery Gardner.
One last check of her social media, where there were over a hundred likes. There were also a few comments in reply to her question about believing in everyone having a double. Most said yes. One person said something that made a lot of sense: We might think someone looks exactly like someone else until they stand side by side, then we’d see the difference.
Yes! Exactly. So logical. The woman at the wedding just thought Lacy looked like someone, but all she needed to do was have them stand side by side to realize how different they were. One last person Lacy didn’t know well said: I don’t think anyone could look exactly like me unless they were my twin.
The candid comment made Lacy scoff. Right. Then the hair stood on her arms again.
The sun was shining and the temperature a pleasant seventy-five degrees when Lacy pulled onto the Gardner construction site Monday at 11:15 a.m. Zack had asked her to be there by noon, and she wanted plenty of time to set up and heat the grill. Following his instructions from Friday, she drove toward a small group of sycamore trees set away from his modular office and parked in the shade beneath them. The sound of a thousand woodpeckers wreaking havoc jumbled her thoughts. The crew was obviously hard at work framing the next batch of houses. She hoped that meant they’d be hungry.
Before she set the brake on her truck, a young girl shot out of the office missile-straight through the dirt toward her. Lacy climbed from the cab just in time to meet the little brown-haired cutie as she hit the truck steps.
“Are you the food lady?” Breathless, the child inhaled before she blurted the next phrase. “I love pink!”
Grinning, because what else was Lacy supposed to do under the adorable circumstances, she nodded. “I am, and I love pink, too.”
“Pretty apron.” Could those dark eyes look any brighter?
“Why thanks. I like your sparkly pink T-shirt, too.”
“Thanks!”
“Emma, honey, leave Ms. Winters alone so she can get set up.” Zack wasn’t far behind, looking not only apologetic but impressive in a tan work shirt, the familiar snug jeans and work boots. He hadn’t worn his hard hat, and she got