Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

From the Kitchen of Verbena Fullbright

Stop mixing as soon as your ingredients come together, nice and smooth. If you whip the living tar out of your batter, that pesky gluten will toughen right up, making the cake dense and chewy. A little restraint early on goes a long way toward a sweet reward.

Tessa Jane

"What's cookin', peanut?" Aunt Bean asked early the next morning as she wandered into the kitchen. She leaned her walking stick against the counter, then headed straight for the coffee pot.

"Cookies for Miss Ernie. I'm hoping to bring them round to her tomorrow to brighten her day a bit."

The snow had melted overnight, leaving behind mud, stories that would be shared from front porch rocking chairs for years to come, and for me, a costly car repair. Late yesterday, Holden's Garage had towed my car to the shop, along with a dozen others that had wrecked in the storm. When I would get it back was anyone's guess.

The cloudy morning sky filled the kitchen windows with muted light, hinting that we might see sunshine today. I hoped so. I was eager to catch a glimpse of the starlight aurora at full strength.

It was a little past eight and Addie was still sleeping. Hambone and Pepper were outside. Last I looked, the ducks appeared to be chasing the dogs, rather than the other way around. Clearly, Lucy and Ethel weren't afraid to assert their dominance to keep order.

Yesterday in the hotel parking lot, Dare had been grim faced while we explained how Pepper came to be in the cab of Sawyer's truck. According to him, he'd last seen the dog the day before, leaving her in Petal's care while she waited on the dog sitter she'd hired. He couldn't explain how Pepper could've gotten loose or why she wasn't wearing her collar and tags. He'd been angry. And sad, too, I'd noted. Almost… disappointed.

Addie was quick to reassure him that she didn't mind keeping Pepper while he and Petal honeymooned. And I'd piped in that we were already watching Hambone, who'd be overjoyed to have Pepper around. Eventually, if not reluctantly, Dare agreed to leave the dog in our care.

When we brought Pepper home, Bean had welcomed the dog with open arms and plenty of Milk-Bones. Hambone had been ecstatic. The ducks hadn't been quite so friendly, honking and flapping their wings angrily at the sight of her. The cats, so far, had been indifferent. Typical Miney and Moe.

Aunt Bean filled a coffee cup—the grasshopper mug from Ty—and hitched herself onto a stool on the other side of the prep table. She was still in her dressing gown, her hair hidden by a polka dotted silk hair wrap that had a perky, playful bow sitting pretty atop her head. Barefaced, exhaustion showed in the deep circles and dark smudges under her eyes. I suspected she'd had a sleepless night.

She took a sip of coffee, sighed. "She'll be right pleased. Your cookies are something special."

"Thanks, Aunt Bean."

One batch of cookies was already cooling, another was in the oven, and I was currently rolling out the last of the chilled dough. With each push of the rolling pin, I felt a little less tense. And a bit more me .

I first attempted decorated cookies the summer I stayed with Aunt Bean when I was sixteen. I wished I could say the first batch I made had been successful, but the cookies had spread into each other, the edges had burned, and the taste wasn't buttery enough for my liking. To add to the disappointment, my icing had been lumpy and dry.

Determined to get it right, I set to work, trying to master the basics like how thick to roll the dough and exactly how long to bake the cookies so they'd be soft yet firm enough to hold their shape. I made minor adjustments to the ingredients. A little more butter. A touch more vanilla. A dash of almond extract for depth of flavor.

When it came to the icing, I scoured websites written by dedicated cookiers —bakers who specialized in cookies—looking for inspiration. I'd found a concept I'd never heard of before: one that mixed royal icing and vanilla glaze together. Once I gave it a try and fiddled with measurements to better fit my tastes, I knew I'd never need another recipe.

For hours upon hours, days upon days, I practiced piping—outlining, flooding, lettering—until my hands hurt. Aunt Bean bought me dozens of cutters, edible watercolors, and dusting powders. I'd been in creative heaven. At every opportunity, I'd made cookies. For years. Right up until I started work at the country club.

"Will you paint them?" Bean asked.

I nodded. Once the baked cookies were cool, I'd flood them, then create a puffy raised dog design. I'd hand paint the finer details. "I'm going to try to do justice to Hambone's image. My skills are rusty, so he might come out looking like an orange blob by the time I'm done."

"Ernie will get a kick out of that. But why're your skills rusty?" she asked, absently rubbing her watch face. "You love making cookies."

I transferred the cookies to a parchment-lined baking sheet. "Not much call for decorated cookies at Southern Oaks. The menu there leans more toward crème br?lée and soufflés."

"Do crème br?lée and soufflés make you happy like cookies do?"

I was unsure how this conversation had jumped into the deep end of emotional waters. I treaded carefully. "It pays the bills."

She took a slow sip of her coffee and spoke over the rim of her mug. "Cookies like yours could pay the bills just as well. Maybe better. With cottage food laws, you could work right out of your own kitchen. And it'd make you happy at the same time. Because, peanut, I hate to point out the obvious, but you're clearly not happy these days."

My throat ached and I felt myself starting to sink into murky depths. "It's been a rough few months."

She sipped and nodded. "The roughest."

I wanted to tell her about the darkness, the loss of the bright sides. I longed to ask her advice about what to do about my granddaddy—because I could not let him dig up that crater. But if she found out his plans for the land she'd probably have the mother of all conniption fits. With her bad heart, I couldn't risk telling her. I'd just have to figure it out on my own.

As I thought about Grandaddy's threat to cut off Mama and me—to disown us, really—my hands fisted, and I forced myself to flex them. He'd broken something the other night that I didn't think could ever be repaired.

"You can't tell me the cookies aren't helping your mood," Bean added, reaching for one on the cooling rack. "They're sure helping mine."

Full of butter and sugar, they weren't the least bit heart healthy, but every once in a while what filled up a heart took priority over nutrition labels.

I managed a smile. "Cookies always help."

Her phone dinged, and a second later, she made a sympathetic tsk ing noise. "Pinky done fell on a patch of ice last night while out with her dog."

"Is she okay?"

"She said it's mostly her pride that's hurting but she banged up her wrist, too. She's icing it."

"I'll make a few cookies to take to her as well."

Aunt Bean texted back, using only the tip of her index finger to punch in the letters. "You're a good egg, Tessa Jane."

The dogs started barking at the back door. "I'll get them," I said, as Aunt Bean made to stand up.

I let them in one at a time so I could dry off their paws with an old towel. Pepper was first, and she immediately dropped to the ground and rolled belly-up for scratches. She was good-natured, playful, and well taken care of. Aunt Bean said Dare had gotten her after his adoptive parents passed away, raising her from just a pup.

I thought about what I knew of the Buckley family, which truthfully wasn't much other than Bryce Buckley's long-ago evil act toward my family.

But Pepper seemed like a happy dog. It was a simple fact that happy dogs were raised by good people. If Dare had raised this sweet girl, then he had to have a good heart. Had to . Unfortunately, my ability to see an inner light was still glitchy and I hadn't been able see it for myself yesterday.

I let in Hambone and had to pretty much wrestle him to the ground to wipe his paws. Asking Aunt Bean about Dare's inner light would definitely tip her off about my troubles, so I took the long way around to uncover the answer. "How long did Petal and Dare date? Did they live together before the wedding?"

She let out a hollow laugh. "Where in the tarnation did those questions come from?"

After setting Hambone loose, I washed my hands and went back to rolling dough. "I was wondering if Petal helped Dare raise Pepper."

Bean sipped her coffee. "No, not at all. They only started dating a year ago. And I don't think she's nearly as enamored with Pepper as Dare is. When Petal came in to order her wedding cake, she was complaining that Dare wanted to have Pepper in the ceremony, carrying the rings or some such. She said, and I quote, ‘If God had given him a lick of sense, he'd know a wedding wasn't a place for a dog.' Then she went and asked for fondant. Talk about no licks of sense."

I smiled. "You mean fondon't ?"

I wasn't at all sure why Bean felt the way she did about fondant. Sure, it wasn't the tastiest, but I knew quite a few bakers who worked with fondant to create masterpieces. Absolute works of art. But Bean had made up her mind never to use it and that was that. To each their own, she'd always say.

"Damn straight." She laughed for real this time and the sound of it plunged deep down and wrapped around my heart.

The rolling pin squeaked as I thought about what she'd revealed about Dare and pressed my luck, purposefully keeping my tone light so as not to arouse her suspicions. "So Dare's not like the rest of the Buckleys then?"

"Good heavens no. He's got a good heart, that one. And on top of that the Fifes made sure he had counseling after he moved in with them to help him heal his inner hurts." She sighed, then said, "Now, tell me, will you be working on those cookies all day?"

There was a playful tone to her question, something mischievous, that made me stop what I was doing and look at her. "No. Why?"

She grinned and rubbed her hands together. "How do you feel about helping me sort some closets?"

Yesterday, Pepper's arrival, on top of the car accident, had thrown us all for a loop and the snow-day sorting Bean had planned was put on hold.

I'd been hoping it stayed there.

I didn't want to sort anything. Or do any inventory. Or itemization. Or anything that alluded to the fact that Aunt Bean was trying to do what Swedish people called d?st?dning , or death cleaning. Basically, decluttering and organizing your life before it ended.

In theory, I liked the idea.

But in practice, I couldn't bear the thought of it.

"Good morning," Addie said, coming down the stairs in flannel pajama bottoms and an old oversize Bama sweatshirt that had frayed edges. Her hair was pulled up in a loose topknot and her face had the reddish-pink look of having recently been scrubbed clean. The dogs rushed to greet her as she stopped on the bottom step and looked out the living room windows. "A car just turned up the driveway. Anyone expecting a visitor?"

Both she and Aunt Bean looked pointedly at me.

I wiped my hands on a dish towel. "Don't tell me it's Jenna again. Surely he wouldn't make her work on a Sunday morning."

But even as I said it, I knew it being Sunday wouldn't stop my granddaddy from ordering people to do his bidding. He was ruthless. Even, it seemed, with his own flesh and blood.

Do you see any good in him, sweetheart?

I pushed Gigi's voice firmly out of my head before I started crying.

"We'll see soon enough who it is." Aunt Bean took another bite of cookie and ahh ed. "You done good with these, Tessa Jane. Real good. Ernie's going to be mighty grateful."

Addie threw me a look that clearly questioned why I was serving Bean cookies for breakfast but I only shrugged. "Want one?"

"Of course."

I met her halfway and passed it over. She took a bite and did a little shuffle that I took for a happy dance. " So good. I hope you made plenty."

"If not, I know where we can get more."

As she walked toward the coffee pot, I headed for the front door, stopping to scratch the top of Miney's head as I peeked out the window. I fully expected to see Jenna, but when the car rolled to a stop in front of the house, I recognized it immediately. "It's my mama."

I spun around, wondering what I could clean in fifteen seconds, and wishing I'd put on lipstick. I scratched at a hive on my neck.

Aunt Bean laughed as I fluffed a pillow. "Well, let her on in, peanut."

What was she doing here? And so early, too? "Do I have any flour on my face?"

"Your face is perfect," Addie said as she sat on a stool next to Aunt Bean.

Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door, pasted on a smile. "Mama! This is a surprise. Come on in."

She stepped inside, took off a pair of dark sunglasses. "I'm terribly sorry for barging in so early but hand to God if I had to stay in that house one more minute, I was going to lose my mind. I had to escape. I wasn't sure where else to go. In the wake of the bad weather, everything's closed up tight, even the churches. Plus, there's something I want to talk to y'all about. Oh! And I brought your necklace, Tessa Jane." She finally took a breath, then kissed my cheeks and studied my face. She gave me a gentle smile and a squeeze. "What smells so delightful?"

I whispered, "Have you been drinking?"

She laughed. "What? No!"

I stared at her. My mother wasn't so chatty. And she hadn't said a word about my nude lips or the fact that I was still in my pajamas. This was strange. Bizarre, even.

"You're always welcome here, Henrietta," Aunt Bean said graciously. "Make yourself at home."

"Can I get you a cup of coffee?" Addie asked.

Another crack deep in my heart healed at her kind tone.

"That would be lovely," Mama said, tipping her head as if also surprised.

As she crossed the room to greet Aunt Bean with a hug and to peck her cheek, Pepper started barking, short happy yips as a truck pulled up in front of the house. Which set off Hambone, who started baying at the top of his lungs.

"Is that Jenna?" Aunt Bean asked loudly.

My jaw all but dropped as Dare came around the front of the truck carrying a fabric-wrapped bundle and opened the passenger door for Petal. He offered her a hand to help her down but she didn't take it. The whole time she wore a face like she smelled something foul and didn't say a word to him.

"No, it's Petal and Dare," I said, walking back to the front door, a pit in my stomach.

They hadn't been married but a minute and were already fighting.

"Dare Buckley ?" my mama asked, her tone apprehensive.

"Dare Fife now, remember?" I nudged Hambone away from the door with my leg. "He and Petal got married yesterday."

"Did they come by for Pepper?" Aunt Bean reached for her walking stick as she stood up.

"Pepper?" Mama sounded all kinds of confused—and also on guard.

"The black lab." Addie nodded toward Pepper, who had started scratching at the door.

I whispered, "I don't know, and I don't want to talk out of turn, but Petal's giving Dare the stink eye. I think they might be fighting."

My mama sighed. " Buckleys ."

A second later a tentative knock sounded. I pasted on a smile and swung the door open. "Petal, Dare! This is a surprise."

"Sorry to drop by unannounced," Dare said.

Petal stuck out her lower lip, then scooted around him into the house, air kissing my cheeks as she passed me by. "I told him this was a bad idea, but he wouldn't listen to me. Aren't all y'all's pajamas darling ?"

At the sight of Petal, Pepper tucked her tail between her legs, ran behind me, and whimpered. Hambone bared his teeth in solidarity.

My heart sank straight to my toes.

"Dogs," she muttered.

Dare waited on the doorstep, until I invited him inside. Once he was through the door, he immediately crouched down, set down the cloth bundle, and opened his arms. Pepper whined with pure happiness as she barreled into him, licking his face. He cracked a smile as he gave her a good belly rub. It was impossible not to notice that he had a small cut on his forehead, the skin around it lightly bruised.

"What happened to your head?" I closed the door behind him, not caring at all that it was rude to ask, which I blamed on my shadow.

It was Petal who answered. "Oh that! So silly. When I was kicking off my heels last night, one of them went sideways, catching him unawares. He shoulda been paying better attention is what I say. Good thing it was after our pictures! Miss Verbena, could I possibly use your little ladies' room to freshen up? We've got a long drive ahead of us."

"Sure thing," Aunt Bean said, her usually airy tone thick. "It's on the other side of the stairs."

As Petal walked off, the room grew heavy with silence. With concern. Puzzles pieces were sliding together, and none of us seemed to like the image that was forming.

Dare kept loving on his dog. The gold on his new wedding band glinted like a big ol' mistake.

Addie finally cleared her throat and said, "Dare, would you like a cup of coffee? A cookie?"

"No thank you, ma'am. We really are sorry to bother you so early." He stood up, lifting the cloth bundle he'd brought inside. He passed it to me. "I wanted to bring by some of Pepper's things. Her leash, collar, a few of her favorite toys. And that there is one of my sweatshirts. She likes to sleep with it."

For some reason, my eyes stung with tears. I blinked them away. "That's real sweet."

"So you found her collar?" Addie asked, and I could tell by her tone that she was fishing.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he glanced toward the powder room. He crouched back down, and put his arms around Pepper, almost protectively. "Yes ma'am. I found it at Petal's place."

He didn't explain further. By the look on everyone's faces in the room, save my mama, I figured he didn't have to. I had the feeling we were all suspecting that Petal had let that dog loose on purpose. In a snowstorm.

Petal came back out, took one look at Dare and Pepper, and let out a mirthless laugh. "I swear he loves that dog more than me! We need to get on our way, honey. Don't want to miss our flight."

Dare stood up, and I noticed he had put himself between Pepper and Petal, keeping them as far apart as he could manage.

As he and his wife stood together, there was no question they were a beautiful couple, and I had to remind myself that for some, beauty only ran skin deep. I hugged the cloth bundle to my chest. "We'll take real good care of Pepper while you're away."

He said, "I appreciate it more than you'll ever know."

Petal rolled her eyes and hooked her arm through his as she pulled open the door. "We'll send a postcard. Bye now!"

Dare gave Pepper one last ear rub, told us thank you again, and followed his wife out the door.

I gave a wave as they drove off, then closed the door and leaned against it.

We all stared at each other, a bit rattled. No one said a word. No one wanted to say what we were thinking out loud.

Pepper had hopped up on the couch to watch the truck drive away and it near to broke my heart. I put the bundle down on the cushion next to her, unwrapped it, and pulled out a well-loved stuffed alligator and a squeaky ball. Her collar and leash were pink.

Bean tapped her walking stick twice on the floor. "Weddings are stressful business. Might could be she's having an off week."

"Maybe so," Addie said, walking over to pat Pepper.

But she sounded like she didn't believe it.

I could practically see my mama's mind racing as she gripped her coffee mug, a frown on her face. Because of her role in the Starling Society, she'd seen this kind of scenario before. Though women by far were often the victims in abusive relationships, sometimes it was the men who suffered. One in nine men, according to the latest statistics. Primarily it was emotional abuse but occasionally it dipped into the physical. Pushing and slapping and throwing things. Like shoes . Most men were unwilling to seek help for themselves, gender stereotypes playing a big role in keeping quiet. Ordinarily, this was where Mama would discretely step in, offer guidance. Suggest a counselor, offer to pay for the sessions. But she was only here temporarily and he'd be gone for a while on his honeymoon.

Aunt Bean let out a hearty sigh, and said, "Henrietta? Did you mention there was something you wanted to talk to us about?"

Mama snapped to, pulling her attention away from the window and the retreating truck. She sat on one of the prep counter stools. "Indeed. I went to the starlight field last night, after the weather cleared."

Intrigued, I walked back to the prep island. Addie followed. I had the feeling I knew why Mama was at a crossroads, in need of clarity, direction. But I wasn't at all sure why she was here , talking about it.

"Something's been weighing on my mind these last couple of days. My heart," she said. "I was looking for some help with sorting it all out."

Aunt Bean tipped her head and sat down. "Did you find it?"

Mama nodded. "I did. By the time I finished walking the boardwalk, it was clear what I needed to do."

"What's that?" Addie asked, curiosity filling her eyes.

Mama glanced from face to face. "First is that I need to apologize to Tessa Jane. And second, it's time I told y'all the truth. About everything."