Rita didn抰 notice his attentions, however, because she was transfixed by the petite ball of energy on the house porch. Rosemary, in her puff-painted sweatshirt梬hich appeared to depict a pug, but she couldn抰 be sure梬as jogging in place, jazz hands aloft. His grandmother had a habit of listing everything in her sight lines. 揃ike is parked. There抯 a girl. Black jeans. Okay, okay. Whose grandson is that, you ask? Well, it抯 mine. Okay, then.?
揝he calms down after a few minutes,?Jasper murmured for Rita抯 ears alone. Then louder, 揘ow, don抰 go breaking out the childhood picture albums, Rosemary.?He gave Rita抯 hip a squeeze to propel her toward the stairs. 揢nless they抮e the ones where I抦 naked. Even as a kid, I had a great ass.?
Rosemary hooted, even though her cheeks went bright pink. 揋et that manner of talk out of your system now. It won抰 be welcome at my lunch table.?She zigzagged toward Rita, patting her on the shoulders like she was trying to subdue flames. 揌elmet hair.?
Oh, boy. 揜osemary, this is Rita. Rita, Rosemary.?
His grandmother shook Rita抯 offered hand so rapidly it was a wonder it didn抰 tear clean off. 揘ice to meet you. Good. Come on in.?
Jasper gestured for the two women to precede him into the house, and Rosemary acknowledged the move with a gasp, a hand fluttering in the general area of her throat. 揝uch a gentleman,?she cooed.
Now, he loved his grandmother. Far as he was concerned, the town抯 motto should be, 揌urley: Birthplace of Rosemary Ellis.?But as a man, Jasper could look back and see梬hile he抎 been growing up梥he抎 overcompensated for his parents?general lack of interest by going in the extreme opposite direction, praising his most minimal of efforts. He loved the hell out of her for it, too. Now, though, he often wondered if Rosemary抯 encouraging words had been authentic, or if his parents had had the right idea about him.
Not enough to stick around for.
Schooling his features into a casual expression, Jasper nodded toward the entrance. 揋randdad joining us today??
It was one of the rare times Rosemary stopped moving梬henever Jasper asked about his grandfather, who never bothered to leave the living room when Jasper paid a visit, while they kept to the kitchen and dining area. Occasionally on his birthday or Christmas, the old man gave him a scowl, but even that was a feat in itself. Weekday lunch would be pushing it.
Jasper didn抰 blame his grandfather for having a difficult time looking at his only grandson, a man who抎 sunk hard-earned money into a shit heap. No, he didn抰 blame his grandfather for the hostility, but he wanted like hell to change it. Maybe not to approval梩hat would be a lot to ask for after twelve years梑ut something akin to forgiveness would be worth the time he抎 put into the eatery.
As soon as they were inside the house Rosemary was off like a shot, parading back and forth between the kitchen and dining room with covered plates and condiments. Rita made the mistake of stepping into her path and the older woman nearly bulldozed her. 揢m,?Rita started, her back pressed against the wall. 揑s there something I can help you with??
揂s it turns out, yes. There is a turkey warming in the oven, needs carving.?
His grandmother paused long enough to address Rita. 揑 find these days that women don抰 know a teacup from a turnip. You know what you抮e doing in the kitchen??
揑-I hope so,?Rita seemed to force out. 揙therwise culinary school was a big waste of money.?
Jasper stopped short of heading into the kitchen himself. 揅ulinary school.?He pictured Rita in an apron and a hat, but couldn抰 make it fit. Not at first. Not until he thought of her hand holding a spoon, lifting the spoon to her mouth. Smiling to herself over what she tasted. Okay, yeah. He could see that. Liked it, too. 揥hen you said you worked at a restaurant厰
揧ou thought I meant as a waitress??She was pressed so far back against the wall that Jasper wondered if she were trying to fit through the wood grains. 揧ou抳e known me one day and you can barely say that with a straight face.?
揑抦 smiling because I抦 thinking of you tasting soup.?
Her lips flinched. 揥hy would you smile about that??
揥hy wouldn抰 I??
揥ell, now.?Rosemary抯 interested gaze darted between them, as if they were engaging in table tennis. 揑s that a yes to the turkey carving??
揧es,?Rita blurted, as if she抎 also kind of forgotten they weren抰 alone. 揙f course.?
She bypassed Jasper on her way into the kitchen, and he followed. If a movie director had shouted, 揂ct smitten! Go completely over the top!?that was probably how he looked trailing after Rita, noting how at home she looked entering a kitchen. He stood by the door and watched as she took stock of the place in one booted-heel turn. Opening a drawer, she even found the carving knife on the first try. Was it crazy that he had the urge to see her move around his kitchen like that?
Deciding he抎 better make himself useful, Jasper grabbed a pot holder and removed the turkey from the oven, nudging the door shut with his foot and setting the bird down on the counter. 揇on抰 forget to take out the wishbone.?
揑抦 not a monster.?Rita plugged the electric carving knife into the nearest outlet. 揇oes your grandmother usually cook Thanksgiving dinner for a casual lunch??
揝he抯 the reason for my gym membership.?
Rita抯 answering chuckle was sliced in half by the whirring blade. Jasper watched in fascination as she held it over the turkey, the way a television surgeon holds a scalpel. Focused. Confident.
And then it all went away. The easy flow of a woman doing what she loved just dropped like a water balloon on the floor. With the juggering knife buzzing in her hand, she stared down at the turkey, but Jasper could tell she wasn抰 really seeing it. 揜ita??
Her answer was a great, gulping sob, and he felt it, dead center in his chest. Jasper reached out and grabbed the knife a split second before she dropped it.
Chapter Thirteen
Her hand was vibrating with the familiar buzz of the carving knife. And then it wasn抰。 But the gentle prying of the instrument from Rita抯 hand did nothing to cease the tectonic plates shifting underneath her skin. Half of her consciousness was still in the kitchen with Jasper梬ho was speaking too softly to be heard over her internal earthquake梑ut the other half was back at Wayfare. Not the night of the fire. Way before that. To a night when Miriam had stayed late in the hopes of perfecting Rita抯 souffl?technique.
*
揥ait for the ingredients to blend卨et the eggs marry with the milk.?Miriam winked at Rita. 揟hey just met. You can抰 expect them to hop right into the sack without a little coaxing.?
Rita rubbed bleary eyes, seeing double when she opened them again. 揑s it okay to just admit you抣l maybe never be good at one thing??Her tone was as flat and characterless as her last five attempts at a souffl? 揑 hear it all the time. Out卼here. Outside the kitchen. People say, I can抰 walk in heels. Or, I can抰 draw for shit. But they抮e fine with it. Maybe I can just be fine with sucking at this one thing.?
揜ita.?Miriam said her name the way a hearth lights. Welcoming, glowing. 揧our one sucky thing is already charades. You have no choice but to keep trying.?
揑f I was less exhausted, I would have seen the flaw in my analogy.?
Miriam handed her a big silver ladle. 揟ake six.?
*
揗y souffl?still blows,?Rita said, curling her fingers into the counter.
揥hat抯 that, beautiful??
Rita almost hit the ceiling when Jasper抯 gruff voice broke into her reverie, coming very close to knocking the turkey to the floor. How long had she been standing there without saying a word? And why was Jasper holding the carving knife? More importantly, why would she rather go streaking through the fish market on a Monday then take the knife back from him? A weight was pushing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. Her hands shook梠r they did until Jasper set down the electric blade and grabbed them.