“Gross,” Micki grumbled.
“Just away from the crowd. I’m sure you need more room to cook,” he said.
“Dinner is in ten minutes,” she warned. “We’re just waiting for one more guest.” She shooed everyone except his mother out of the kitchen. “Go, chat. I’ve got dinner handled.”
“So much for quiet,” he whispered in Drinda’s ear as they sat side by side on Grammie’s tiny floral sofa. He always felt like it would snap under his weight, though it never so much as creaked when he sat on it.
Chapter Eight
Drinda tried to relax. She really did. Tension was probably rolling off her in visible waves. Six deep breaths didn’t help. She just wasn’t good at crowds, unless she knew everyone in advance. Ford’s family was so outgoing and chatty that her nerves were jumpy. She hadn’t expected such a crowd. Eleven people was a lot for a simple dinner. It was more like a full-on dinner party.
Micki was telling a crazy story about a tobogganing near-miss accident with her friends. While she related details, Drinda looked around the enormous living room.
It was decorated in bright florals and a matching deep purple. The walls were a very pale yellow. The tables and knick-knack cabinet were solid wood and obviously well-loved antiques. Adorable little Valentine decorations were scattered about. It was clearly the home of an older, singlewoman. All that was missing was the old lady smell those homes sometimes had. Her maternal grandmother’s house always smelled like lavender and dust. Franny’s place was lemony, delightfully infused with roasting chicken, and fresh yeasty rolls.
“Drinda, tell us about yourself,” Ford’s mother, Kate said.
“Oh.” She paused, grasping for something interesting to say. “I own The Coffee Loft. I came to Cherry Lake because my Oma, my dad’s mom lives here. I used to spend summers here. Of course, back then she lived on the farm. Now she lives in one of those senior’s condos near the main square.”
“Those are nice places. Very upscale,” Kate said. “We tried to get my mother to move there, but she claims they’re for old people, and that she’s much too young.” She chuckled. “Of course, all her friends live there.”
“I wonder if Grammie knows your grandmother,” Ford said. “We should ask her.”
“What made you open a coffee shop?” Ernest, Ford’s father asked, sounding genuinely curious. Heleaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, and steepled his hands.
“I wanted something different. I’ve been a baker for years. My friend told me about the franchise and suggested I investigate buying a branch. She thinks my baking skills mesh well with the coffee. It was the perfect way to change careers and escape the city.”
“What were you escaping?” Kate asked.
The bold question was startling.
“Mom. Leave Drinda alone. She didn’t come to dinner to get the fifth degree,” Ford complained. Drinda’s heart glowed at his staunch defense of her privacy.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” In for a penny and all that. “I was engaged, and my fiancé hated that I worked long hours and strange shifts. He couldn’t handle it. I wouldn’t give up my job for him. In the end, I realized that it was easier to walk away than to continue to fight. Especially since his schedule was even more erratic than mine. I guess I didn’t really love him.” She shrugged. “Moving away was … a freshstart, I guess.”
The breakup hurt, but she was over it. She wanted what her parents had. Her mother had kept working as an archeologist and was blissfully happy until she passed. Drinda didn’t want to live with the regret of giving up something she loved. Compromise she could live with. Regret was a different story.
“I’m sorry you had a bad breakup,” Ford said, squeezing her hand where it rested on the couch between them.
Warmth rushed through her, and she smiled.
If she were looking, Ford would be exactly her type. It was too bad he oversaw her inspections and was her landlord. Of course, he was looking for a stay-at-home wife, according to Annabelle. The very idea was antiquated.
The doorbell chimed, effectively ending the interrogation. She breathed a sigh of relief while Ford’s father went to answer the door. He greeted the newcomer and a familiar voice flowed melodically into the room.
“Oma?” Drinda leaped up and raced to the entry. “Oh my gosh! What are you doing here?” She launched herself into her grandmother’s arms.
“I came for dinner. Franny and I have been friends for years.”
They embraced long and hard. Tears leaked out of Drinda’s eyes. “I can’t believe that you’re here.” She leaned back and studied her grandmother. She had a fabulous tan, she looked fit and trim. Her silver hair was cut into a stylish bob. As always, she was bedecked in colorful jewelry and brightly colored clothing. Tonight, she wore a teal sweater dress with navy tights. She was perfect. Warmth flooded over Drinda as her Oma smiled up at her.
“You know me, I love to travel. Paris was amazing, as always. Bora Bora was incredible. It is good to be home and to see you again.” She slipped out of her jacket and handed it to Ford’s father. “Just look at this tan.”
“I love it. You look great. I’m so jealous.”
“Maybe next time you’ll come with me.” Oma grinned.
“Oma, do you know everyone?” she asked.
