Ain't She Sweet (Seven Brides for Seven Mothers #2) - Whitney Dineen Page 0,3
it all. There was trouble in paradise. Every tabloid worth its salt picked up the story and ran with it, embellishing as they went.
It got to the point where I couldn’t walk out my front door without being greeted by a horde of dirtbags hoping to get a picture. Once I realized how much Romaine was thriving on this attention, I recognized how hopeless our union was. I made quick work of packing up my belongings and getting out of Dodge.
Using my middle name of Delaney instead of Heinz, I answered an ad for a pastry chef position at a lodge in Oregon. Leaving my past behind, I finally started the new life I’d hoped to have when I went to culinary school. I was ready to unhinge my jaw and live a plumper and happier life in complete anonymity.
Chapter Two
Ruby
After arranging an assortment of gourds on her newspaper-covered dining room table, Ruby picks up her telephone to call her oldest son, Brogan. “How are you and Addie doing?” she wants to know. As the first recipients of her matchmaking endeavor, the success of their union is integral to her confidence in setting up her younger son, James, with her new pastry chef.
“She’s great. We’re great. New York is beautiful in the fall.”
Whoever said glitter was the herpes of the crafting world never fully appreciated its hypnotic effects, Ruby thinks while spraying gold glitter paint. “I knew you two were meant to be.”
“I don’t know how you decided that, but I’m glad you did. For a while there I thought you were trying to set Addison up with James. Speaking of which, how are things going between him and Tara?”
“What do you mean?” Ruby asks, trying—and failing—to sound innocent.
“Don’t try to tell me you haven’t set your sights on her for my little brother.”
After several moments, Ruby dejectedly confesses, “It’s been hard finding ways to throw them together now that James’s farmstand is mostly closed for the season. I’ve had to resort to hiring your brother to put in a garden here at the lodge.”
“Interesting. I’m not sure I should offer, but let me know if I can do anything to help.”
“You and Addie are still coming home for Christmas, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. We arrive the second week of December and are planning on staying until the first week of March. I’ll be working on my new novel and Addie is going to commute to a hotel she’s redesigning in Portland.”
Ruby walks around the table, eyeing her decorative fall creation before firing off a final burst of sparkle. “I might need your help then. In the meantime, don’t bring up Tara’s name when you talk to James. I don’t want him to guess what I’m up to until it’s too late.”
“You make me nervous, Mom, but you did such a great job for me that I promise not to interfere in your latest project.”
“Good. Now, I’ve got to go. Your brother will be here any minute to meet with Tara about the dessert portion of the garden.”
“Does he know he’s meeting with her?” Brogan asks.
“Of course not. What fun would that be? Bye!” Ruby hangs up on her son before he has a chance to reply. After refreshing her lipstick and picking invisible lint from her sweater, she’s off to make another love connection.
James
While picking out the best flowers to take to my mom, I stop and appreciate the beauty of the day. I love every season in the Willamette Valley, but I’m partial to the fall. Not only does my workload drop by more than half at my farm, but the cooler temperatures and brightly colored leaves transport me right back to childhood, a time when my responsibilities were comparatively and blissfully lighter.
Like most kids, Brogan and I raked leaves for hours for the sole purpose of jumping into giant piles of them. We ate caramel apples by the dozen and built fires almost nightly to toast marshmallows while we tried to scare the crap out of each other by telling ghost stories. Even though I was usually the one left shaking in my boots, I still laugh at the memories.
In adulthood, autumn signals the end of fifteen-hour workdays and starts the clock on recharging my battery for the spring.
After finishing loading my pickup truck bed with the potted mums my mom wants for the lodge, I decide to drive to town. My sights are set on picking up a cider donut or two at the market.