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The first course, bacon-wrapped scallops, came out first. I scrutinized the presentation and could find nothing wrong. They were placed on small plates, with skewers instead of toothpicks to keep the bacon in place but also serving as a convenient handle, allowing the guests to eat them in one bite. A quick glance around the table told me everyone found them pleasing, popping them into their mouths, followed by a sip of Chablis. The perfect appetizer, in my humble opinion.
I devoured mine, suddenly ravenous now that my part of the wedding had been completed.
On the other side of the table, Elliot filled Thad’s wineglass, then dipped her head, possibly to hear him better over the chatter in the room. She laughed, that throaty, delicious sound that had warmed my kitchen all these months. A twinge of jealousy made my stomach temporarily queasy. My youngest brother was too handsome and charming for his own good. Or my own good, as the current case might be.
What was going on with me? I’d almost kissed the woman twice in one day. There was no denying it, not even to myself. I had a major thing for my pastry chef. The question was what to do about it. Wisest choice? Stay far away. Distance myself, even from a friendship. I was not a man meant for a traditional life. No wife or kids for this chef. Art trumped domesticity. Always had. I’d known that from the time I was in high school. Love was for other people. Normal people.
However, Elliot shared the same lifestyle with me. We both worked odd hours, including weekends. She understood life in a commercial kitchen. Did that mean she could understand me?
Unlikely. No one really did. Not even my brothers, whom I considered my best friends. There was something different about me. Something untouchable. Did I have a closed heart?
Had my real father made sure of that?
The second appetizer, a simple caprese salad, came out next. The fresh mozzarella had been sourced from a local cheese maker and melted against my tongue. Basil grown in my own small greenhouse tasted sweet and peppery. Juicy tomatoes, also nurtured in my private greenhouse year-round, held up well against the other two ingredients. A balsamic reduction added the perfect tang. I made a mental note to compliment my sous-chef.
Next to me, Arabella hadn’t said much. She’d been hailed a hero after rescuing the rings, but I sensed a sadness in her. Did weddings make her feel bad? I should think of something to talk to her about. Knowing Rafferty, he wouldn’t be able to come up with anything nice to say to her, so he wouldn’t say anything at all.
“Thanks for coming,” I said to Arabella.
“Thank you for including me. I was surprised to get an invitation, if you want to know the truth.” She met my gaze briefly before taking a drink of her wine.
I’d been surprised as well, but Mama had insisted she be included. I wasn’t entirely sure of her reasoning, other than she liked Arabella immensely. Mama was loyal to any of the kids we’d grown up with. There weren’t that many still here. However, like Rafferty, Arabella had decided to come back to Bluefern after she graduated from veterinarian school. Both instances struck me as odd. I’d have bet the two of them would have remained in the city to set up practices, not come back to live here in such a small, rural community.
“How are you finding small-town life?” I asked her. “Has it been a full year now?”
“Almost. I got here at the end of June. I’m enjoying the peace and quiet. Plus, I always wanted to work with ranchers and their animals.”
“How’s your dad?” I asked. An image of him from when we were kids came to mind. He’d been a crusty old grouch back then, almost always clothed in ratty overalls and a baseball cap. A fourth-generation rancher, stoic and uncommunicative, he’d not often appeared at school events. I didn’t know what had happened to her mother.
Had old age softened him? I hadn’t seen him in years.
Her expression sobered, and her blue eyes lost their shine. “He’s not well.” She slid her glance sideways toward Rafferty,who at the moment was deep in conversation with Celeste and Thad about movies. “Your brother diagnosed him with Alzheimer’s.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“It’s been hard for him. And me. He’s a proud man.”
“I remember,” I said. “Even though I can’t recall the last time I saw him.”
“That’s another reason I came home. He was living out there alone, not remembering to eat or where he left his keys. I couldn’t have him driving any longer, but it was a fight to take away the truck. And his tractor. Mostly the tractor.” She sighed, and I sensed a great fatigue.
“And you’re dealing with all of this on your own?”
“There’s no one else. It’s always been the two of us.” Arabella drank from her wine. Her plate appeared untouched. “Your brother said his lack of social interaction helped speed up the disease. I should have come home sooner, but I was still in school.”
“You’re here now,” I said.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
I studied her pretty oval face. She had flawless skin, high cheekbones, and an elegant jawline. When we were kids, she’d been chubby. However, she was now slender and self-confident.
“What happened to your mother?” I asked. “Was she around at all?”
“She died when I was a baby. I never knew her.”
“I don’t know why, but I didn’t know that,” I said. “Which is hard to do in a small town.”
“My dad didn’t like to talk about her. He pretended like she’d never existed. Whenever I asked about her, he said she wasn’t from around here. I have no idea what that meant, and now I’ll probably never know. I wish I’d pushed him for more information, but he was not exactly the type of father willing toget into anything emotional. He was no Jasper Moon, that’s for sure.”
