A Recipe For Reunion. Vicki Essex

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СКАЧАТЬ he couldn’t imagine how this construction affected businesses in the area.

      Change is good, he reminded himself. Even if it was a little scary.

      Gran’s house was just off Main Street. He pulled the truck onto the curb as Georgette opened the door to the bungalow. Warm light spilled into the street. He hopped out of the cab.

      “It’s so good to see you...and all in one piece.” She opened her arms.

      “You shouldn’t be out in the cold in your condition,” he said, hugging her.

      “Pshaw. I’m not that frail, Aaron. Come inside. There’s plenty of time to unpack later. I asked some friends to come help.”

      “You didn’t have to do that.” Since Gran was in no shape to carry anything heavier than a plate of biscuits, he was grateful for assistance, even if he wasn’t wild about near-strangers poking into his personal belongings. Pretty soon, everyone would know he was back. It’d been a while since he’d been home. The fishbowl of small-town living was something he’d have to get used to all over again.

      The bungalow Aaron had grown up in hadn’t changed since he’d first moved in when he was barely eight years old. The immaculate carpets were still that odd shade of pink-gray, which went with the floral wallpaper and powder-white floral-themed light fixtures throughout the house. The place had always reminded him of a wedding cake. Gran still had the same furniture, too, meticulously kept despite those years of having a school-age boy living under the same roof. Then again, Aaron had always been a neat freak. He hated messes.

      Georgette slipped off her shawl, and Aaron flinched. Gran had always been dancer thin, but seeing how her clothes hung off her now shocked him. And she moved so much more slowly. He followed her into the kitchen, insisting on getting his own coffee though she fussed over it. Nothing in here had changed, either, from the glass-fronted cabinets to the chintz-pattern china. The aroma of coffee and baking permeated the air.

      Aaron made her sit while he took out the cream and sugar. Everything was exactly where it had been all those years ago. Muscle memory took control as he poured coffee into the mugs he’d always thought of as his and Gran’s. The promised muffins were warming in the oven, and he put two on chipped saucers for each of them.

      “How are you feeling?” he asked as he sat.

      “Tired. I’ve got a headache most days. Nothing serious.”

      “Of course it’s serious.” He took her hands. “You’ve probably already heard this enough from everyone else, but I’m going to say it again. There’s nothing minor about a minor stroke.” She wouldn’t quite meet his eye, which made him worry. “Are you having any loss of sensation still?”

      “In my left hand.” She flexed it, just barely, and he frowned. “The physical therapist will decide whether or not I need to work on it.”

      “Of course you need to work on it. I’ll make sure they give you something.”

      She tucked her hand beneath the table. “Aaron, really, I’m fine. You didn’t have to pick up your life and move back here.”

      “I wanted to. And I couldn’t let you be on your own.”

      She waved a hand, but not as vigorously as her protest might have warranted. “I just don’t want you worrying over me. You have a life in Boston.”

      “It was time for a change.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Besides, it’s worth coming home for your baking.” He grinned as he broke the bran muffin and bit into the warm, moist pastry. People had laughed when at ten years old he’d declared bran muffins were his favorite thing Gran made. He hadn’t been into sugary treats, which apparently was heresy for the grandson of a baker.

      Gran had understood. Aaron was simply more practical when it came to his diet. He was practical when it came to everything, and moving home to take care of Georgette was the best and most practical solution to her long-term care. He would never abandon her to a facility full of strangers. She’d taken him in and raised him after his parents’ deaths. He owed her, and he was happy to do whatever necessary to make her happy and comfortable.

      For however long she had.

      He washed the suddenly dry bite of muffin down with a sip of coffee. “So how’s the bakery doing?” he asked, bracing for a fight. Gran had lived and breathed that bakery for years. She and Grandpa had opened it right after they’d married, and she’d kept it running since his death more than twenty-five years ago.

      “The bakery’s fine,” Georgette replied. “I have help these days, and I’m delegating more responsibility. Otherwise, I’d be there right now.”

      Gran had always been a bit of a control freak and workaholic. For her to give up any part of the business was major. Aaron put down his mug and leaned forward. “Financially speaking, how are you doing?”

      His grandmother’s eyes flicked around the room like a trapped bird searching for an escape. It was a moment before she responded. “We had a good Christmas season. Valentine’s was a little slower this year, but...” She shrugged.

      Aaron sighed. He would have to look at the books himself. Gran rarely shared her problems with him. He hadn’t realized until high school how tight things had been, and then he’d done whatever he’d been able to help get the business out of the red. After he’d finished college he’d learned the reason for all that debt had been that his grandmother had been putting aside everything she could for tuition.

      “Really, I am happy to see you.” Georgette touched his arm. “But I feel terribly guilty for taking you away from your life. What are you going to do for a job in Everville? I’m not sure there’s much call for real-estate lawyers here.”

      “Well, I did say I was ready for a change.” Which wasn’t far from the truth. He was good at what he did, and probably would’ve slaved away at his firm for the rest of his life had that phone call from the hospital not come. But the moment it had, he’d been prepared. Part of him had always been prepared with a plan B, an exit strategy.

      Things happened all the time. You had to be ready for them. That was how he’d known what he would do the moment he had to return to Everville.

      He set his coffee down. “I’m thinking of opening a bookstore.”

      Georgette blinked. “Really? Here?”

      “I’ve always wanted to. A well-stocked bookshop is exactly what the town needs, and attaching it to the bakery will make it a destination. See, I was thinking of renovating the bakeshop’s dining room. It hardly gets used, and it’s such a big space. We could minimize the eating area with just a few café tables, then add a patio for the warmer months. Most of your eat-in business comes in during the summer anyhow.”

      “So...you’re staying in Everville?”

      “Of course I am. How will I take care of you otherwise?” He didn’t see why Gran should be so astonished. “I’ve been thinking about this for years. Did all my research and everything.” He had a binder in the truck with all the information he needed to put his plan into action. He’d started it the day he’d realized Gran was getting older. “I was just waiting for the right opportunity to jump in.”

      Georgette’s eyes grew wet, and her smile crimped in at the edges. She squeezed СКАЧАТЬ