with the parents of a high school junior who had totaled the family car and seriously messed up her face. Also in White River Junction, I was able to connect with a freelance makeup artist who was hawking a line of organic skin cream.
So I didn’t see Edward that day. Like a bug in my computer, though, his presence was felt in the form of updates to the Inn staff on the status of reservations and incentives designed to make up for the dip. He was both perceptive and proactive.
Liam was neither. Despite the tour I’d give him on Sunday, he showed no sign of leaving. I knew that he went out while I worked; his car was parked in a slightly different spot each time I got home. Based on his chatter, which filled my previously quiet cabin in ways that were alternately annoying and sweet, I knew he was meeting with designers and carpenters for the restaurant. But while he seemed to be mapping every market for miles around, he said nothing about finding his own place to live.
And how could I insist, given the cooking he did? Sunday night we had a hearty French onion soup with Gruyère rounds, Monday night beef bourguignon with a bouquet garni of heirloom carrots and herbs, and Tuesday night a Mediterranean fish stew. For Wednesday night, he was planning a skillet chicken cordon bleu with penne. But Town Meeting was that night.
“It’s potluck,” I said. “People bring casseroles and set them out in the social hall, so I’ll have dinner there.”
He made a face. “Mac ’n’ cheese?”
I smiled. “In Devon? Not quite. Potluck here is high-end—like risotto, Mexican chicken salad, and black bean soup. Snowbirds bring recipes back from Boca and Palm Springs. It’s pretty impressive.”
“Can anyone bring food?” he asked, a little too-casually. I could see the wheels in his mind turning.
“Only locals. Guards will be at the door to keep out the press.” Just when it seemed the attention might be waning, another media figure showed up, and the People piece wouldn’t help. Even if it broadened to encompass computer abuse by teenagers in general, Devon remained ground zero.
Liam wasn’t thinking about that particular circus. His sights were focused. “Do I qualify as a local?”
“Only,” I warned with equal focus, “if you say nothing about my past. Do not breathe the name Mackenzie Cooper. Do you hear?”
“Yes, Mom.”
I refused to give him the rise he wanted. Rather, with poise, I said, “Trust me, I am not Mom. Mom would be calling you out for putting heavy-duty tires on your car and adding them to my tab at the service station. Oh yes, brother, they did call me about that. I also got a call from the wife of one of your carpenters, who happens to be in my book group and learned from her husband that my brother is in town, and since she is not known for reticence, it’s a safe bet that most of Devon knows by now.”
Bless him, he was undaunted, and the irony of that? Five years ago, being related to me was poison. That I had become an asset said something about how far I’d come.
So I was feeling content when he asked, “Then my bringing food tonight will be okay?”
“Only if it’s good.”
“Slam dunk there. I’ll double the amount I make.”
“Quadruple it, Liam. Actually, make it for several dozen, and you’re set.”
* * *
It was a stroke of genius. Liam was in his glory preparing dinner for a large number of people, running to local stores for food and serving supplies, getting to know the town in a way that would pay off tenfold. He introduced himself alternately as my brother and as the chef of the new French bistro, which I learned when I was barely through the stone-arched door of the church where Town Meeting was held. The fact that he modified his initial recipe didn’t hurt. His chicken cordon bleu roll-ups, held together with a delicate but sturdy puff pastry and sliced into easy-to-hold portions was the best-tasting, not to mention most beautiful dish there.
Typically, Kevin hovered over me at events like this, but when it came to the meeting itself, I liked sitting with Cornelia. Well ahead of the meeting, she would have pored over the agenda, which this year included not only making renovations to the elementary school, but funding a new fire truck, raising the police department budget, and allowing food trucks to park in the center