Hotter than Texas (Pecan Creek) - By Tina Leonard Page 0,59
said. “No one in Pecan Creek is pure as the driven snow. Vivian’s excitable at times. Ignore it, if you can, dear.”
Lucy smiled, looking at her friends gratefully. “I can’t wait to wear that dress and ride in the parade.”
They clapped their hands.
Then they got to work on the Christmas parade float, chattering with excitement. Lucy picked up some chicken wire and hoped she hadn’t stuck a fork in Sugar’s business. Sugar wanted the billboard, but Jake said no. Jake wanted Sugar, but he wasn’t going to go against the grain in Pecan Creek. Sugar was never going to get the billboard for her business.
Instead, Lucy would be on it in a hot white minidress, luring men to Pecan Creek, according to the good pillars of the community.
She hoped she wasn’t making everything worse.
“Sugar!”
Maggie burst in the door, wearing a huge grin.
Sugar nearly dropped the bowl she’d been stirring eggs and sugar in. “What?”
Maggie grinned, her red hair wild. She slid onto a stool, looking happier than Sugar had seen her in a long time. A bra strap peeked out of her sleeveless purple blouse, and she looked more tanned than usual. “I remembered. Everything.”
Sugar stared at her. “What everything?”
“All the recipes.” Maggie’s smile beamed to every corner of the room. “Every single one.”
Sugar gasped. “Are you serious?”
“Yes, I am.” She plunked a sheaf of notes down on the kitchen block table. “There are twenty of them. Enough to get your business off the ground, I should think.”
“This is awesome! How did you remember?”
“I think I finally relaxed.” Maggie looked with pride on her handiwork. “It was like I was young again. Ingredients and measurements flashed through my brain, settling in their proper compartments. And I sat and wrote them all down like a mad scientist. I learned my lesson about keeping everything in my head,” Maggie said. “I had a helluva case of recipe block, and I don’t ever want to suffer that again! I nearly forgot all my grandmother’s fine recipes, and that would’ve been a shame.”
Sugar sifted through the recipes. “We could start a cookbook with this much good stuff.”
Maggie looked pleased. “I’m so happy to have all my recipes again.”
“This is amazing. I’m so happy for you, Mom.”
“It just started coming back to me. So I sat and wrote and wrote for three days.” Maggie laughed with delight.
“I thought you were with Lassiter.”
“Well, I was,” Maggie said. “I think that was how I finally relaxed. We spent so much time in his hammock that I must have just unblocked.” She looked at her daughter. “You think I didn’t come home for three days because I was having mad sex?”
“I hope so,” Sugar said, “though I don’t need the details. I’m thrilled you’re so happy.”
“I didn’t come home,” Maggie said, “because I was writing. You needed the recipes for the business, and I was on a roll.”
“It’s okay, Mom. This is wonderful. I can’t wait to cook some of these up.” Sugar could tell her mother was annoyed with her.
“Sugar,” Maggie said, “I wouldn’t desert my daughters because I was having a romance. I just lost track of time. You try to stop in the middle when measurements are flowing in your brain and ingredients are calling for their turn. I didn’t dare stop writing. Lassiter left snacks and water at my elbow. I swear we didn’t say a word to each other for the past seventy-two hours.”
“We weren’t deserted, Mom. We’re all adults.” Sugar kissed her mother on the cheek. “Lassiter’s a good guy. We knew you were safe.”
Maggie blinked. “He is a good guy. Maybe too good.”
Sugar looked at her mother. “You deserve good, Mom.”
“Yeah.” Maggie pulled out her cigarettes. “Anyway, now you’ve got the family jewels. That’s all I’ve got. Come on, Paris. Let’s go take a walk in the grove.”
Maggie went out, and Sugar glanced down at the recipes. Then she watched her mother and Paris slowly making their way through the grove.
Maggie did deserve a great guy—but she hadn’t sounded convinced of that. And then Sugar remembered that she hadn’t told Maggie about Vivian and the PI.
Maybe there was no reason to. Maggie was happy. She’d remembered her treasured recipes.
There had to be a way to shut Vivian up.
Jake spent several hours sitting alone in his creek hangout. He drank all the beer, ate all the cookies and generally pondered his navel, as Vivian would say. When the clouds finally parted for him, he walked to the main road, pulled out his