Hotter than Texas (Pecan Creek) - By Tina Leonard Page 0,11
fascinating and exhilarating.” Lucy picked up a pecan, chomping it irreverently. “We decided to move here and start a business without any idea of what we’re doing. No recipe, no backup plan. But most importantly, no recipe.”
“We have a recipe.” Sugar’s tone was reproving. “When Maggie remembers it, we will have a recipe.”
Maggie lit a cigarette, then opened up the back door. “I will remember it,” she said, going outside, “when things calm down around here a little. I don’t remember stuff well when I’m stressed. They say moving is almost as stressful as divorce, and I believe the genius who figured that out.”
Paris followed Maggie outside. Lucy sighed. “Do you really believe she’ll remember her grandmother’s recipes?”
“Does it matter?” Sugar sank onto a barstool. “Or does making her happy, getting her mind off the breast cancer, matter more than anything?” Maggie had been anxious in Pensacola. It was the cancer; it was staring down the number of days of one’s life. Sugar wanted her mom to think about anything but her cancer, which was in remission and, God willing, would stay in remission.
If there’s a God, and I know there is.
“So how long do we have, financially, if Maggie doesn’t remember?” Lucy’s blue eyes were opaque pools in her face.
Sugar sighed. “I’ve got enough money saved for a year. By Christmas, we’ll know if we can make a go of this, I think.”
“What if,” Lucy said, “we’d played our cards a little differently? What if you’d stayed married to Ramon, and I’d found a husband, and we’d been able to take care of Maggie? Instead of relying on her to dream up a recipe of her grandmother’s that she used to love?”
Impatience smote Sugar. “There’d been too many women for me to forgive Ramon, as much as I might have once believed that the two of us were soul mates. I learned over five years that a man may have a soul mate, but he also wants lots of bed mates, and it’s different. As for you finding a husband”—Sugar shrugged—“I wouldn’t want you to marry someone you didn’t love. Trust me, as bad as marriage was to Ramon once I caught him cheating, marriage would be worse if you weren’t in love.”
“I don’t know,” Lucy said. “I’d do it for Mom.”
“Maggie wouldn’t want you to. She’s been married twice. It’s not a path she plans to go down again.” Sugar looked at Lucy. “Besides, you haven’t figured out what you want to do with your life yet. Do that first.”
“And when do you figure it out?”
Sugar looked out the window, watching Maggie walk through the pecan grove with Paris at her side, happily content to keep Maggie company while she smoked her cigarette. “I like it here. If I can make a go of Hotter than Hell Nuts, I’ll stay here forever.”
“We’ll see.” Lucy’s tone was dark. She flipped her chin-length, wavy hair and got up. “These are good. Not perfect, but good. I’m going to go bum a cig off Maggie.”
“Don’t start smoking,” Sugar said automatically, but Lucy had already departed. She crunched on a pecan, cataloguing the flavors. Vanilla, a hint of cinnamon, a layer of caramel—
They were getting closer. The journey was the point, wasn’t it? The closeness they were supposed to gain as a family? Lucy didn’t really understand the journey. She was young; she wanted fast answers.
There was no such thing, at least not always. Not for the scars in the Cassavechia family. She went to the sink to wash out the skillet, watching her sister and mother walking under the canopy of full, leafy pecan trees, and thought that here in Pecan Creek, they were at least safe.
Idly, she wondered if Jake had been staring at her as Lucy claimed. Maybe—but probably not. He reminded her of Ramon, who had loved her in his own way but not the way she’d needed to be loved.
J.T. Bentley seemed remarkably similar. Dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-humored, somewhat secretive. Lucy was right—he was working an angle—and Sugar had an idea that he was a man who liked his wall of reserve.
It was fine with her. The last thing she wanted was a man hitting on her. She planned to enjoy this time with her sister and her mother, for as long as it could possibly last.
Nothing for the Cassavechias ever seemed to last long.
At six forty-five, just like a date, Jake showed up for Maggie. Sugar appreciated him treating her mother so courteously. “She’s getting her purse,”