Page 72 of Recipe for Rivals
“You can bring those into the kitchen,” June said.
I lifted the gift bag in my other hand. “This is from Gigi. She had to work, but she sends her love.”
June smiled. “That was kind of her.” She showed me to the table for refreshments and the tiered tray she’d set aside for cookies. I opened the lid on the large Tupperware and started placing them on her tray. June stood beside me and clapped her hands together. “I love them so much! The flowers areperfect. You did all this detail yourself?”
“I’ve always liked drawing, so it wasn’t hard,” I said, brushing the praise away. Inside I was glowing. Carter’s voice in the back of my head was loud, calling my cookies quaint, with that edge of superiority proving how little he thought of my efforts. It was hard not to notice that they were finally being appreciated by someone in a tiny town in a flipping farmhouse. Didn’t that scream quaint? Was Carter right all along?
An older woman—old enough to be June’s mom—bustled into the kitchen. Her short blonde hair was styled perfectly and sprayed into submission, and her smile was kind.
“This is Jan, my soon-to-be mother-in-law,” June said, then gestured to me. “Nova Walker, Gigi’s niece. I told you about the cookies.”
Jan smiled widely, the lines on the sides of her mouth well-creased from being so happy, or so she appeared. “Welcome, Nova. We’re so glad—oh my lanta, you made these?” She leaned over my arm to inspect the cookies—sunflowers and badges that saidbridein cursive with two rings linked together. She squeezed my arm, sucking in a gasp. “These are incredible.”
“Thank you.” My cheeks warmed from the praise. I shouldn’t love it, but it felt nice to be appreciated.
The back door swung shut and Tucker appeared, carrying a small table. “Howdy, Nova,” he said, dipping his head to me. He looked at his mom. “Where do you want this?”
“Next to the fireplace. We’re putting gifts on it.”
He left to deliver the table.
The front door shut loudly and a woman walked in the kitchen a moment later with a computer under one arm. She wore a collared shirt beneath her blue sweater and wide-legged chinos, her mid-length brown hair brushing her shoulders.
June rushed over to give her a hug. “Lauren! Have you met Nova? She just moved here with her two kids from New York.”
“Another transplant,” Lauren said, offering me a hand to shake. Her smile was wide. “You’re Gigi’s niece, right? We love her.”
“She’s pretty great,” I agreed.
“Lauren is married to Jack,” June explained.
The pieces were fitting together now. “Oh, he’s helped move furniture for me.”
“He’s pretty great, too,” Lauren said. “How are you settling in? I grew up in Dallas, but even that’s a world apart from small town Texas. This is a very unique place.”
“By unique, she’s calling us quaint,” Jan said from the stove, where she leaned down to peer into the oven.
“Which isn’t a bad word,” Lauren said defensively. “I don’t know why everyone thinks it’s bad.”
I certainly did, but I could tell by the affectionate banterbetween Lauren and Jan that it was a well-meant tease and not a slight. Carter used to brandish the word like a sword meant to put me in my place. Here, it was an appreciation of the vibe.
I missed my apartment in New York and the little things I had done to make it feel homey. But this house? It was homey without even trying. It was comfortable and organized. Everything had character. I could see myself loving a place like this, lining up the kids’ lunchboxes on the counter with muddy rain boots waiting by the back door and a smattering of homework papers on the table. I could see a Christmas tree looking content next to the fireplace or watching the sunset from the porch swing.
It was a strange moment to grow a dream, but I felt one plant a seed and sprout as I looked around the house.
Of course, on my salary, even with Carter’s measly assistance, I could never afford a house like this. That didn’t mean I had to settle, either. It was good having something to dream about.
My phone rang, and I pulled it out to see Carter calling again. A wave of weariness blew through me, and I wanted more than anything for him to stop. Which meant I needed to see what was so urgent that he couldn’t just text me. “I’m sorry. I need to take this.”
June brushed away my apology, and I let myself out the back door in the kitchen before I accepted the call.
“Hello?”
“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.” The expectation in his tone set me on edge, but I put aside my frustrations and breathed, waiting for him to continue. “I need to speak to the kids.”
“They aren’t with me right now.”
“Why not?”