Our Now and Forever(45)

“Hey there,” Caleb said, turning from the stove and dropping a kiss on Snow’s cheek. He was wearing the frilly yellow apron that had been hanging on the pantry door when Snow moved in. The man was wearing a freaking apron. “I doubt it’s as good as the real thing,” he said, “but I followed the recipe exactly. So you think it smells like your granny’s version?”

Smelled like it. Looked like it. If it tasted like it, Snow would happily renew their vows tomorrow.

“But how . . .”

Caleb placed a juicy-looking drumstick on a plate next to a mound of green beans and a large helping of mashed potatoes. “I called your mom.”

“Mama gave you Granny’s recipe? That recipe has never been shared outside the family.”

Her aproned spouse looked her way. “I am family, remember?”

Snow cringed at having to be reminded. “Right. But still . . . You know how to cook?”

“I cooked for you when we were dating,” he replied, sliding a sizzling thigh next to the leg. “We need to work on that selective memory of yours.”

When they were dating, Caleb often made breakfast, but making scrambled eggs and toast was much different from making one of Granny’s recipes. It had taken Snow years to get her fried chicken even close to Granny’s, and hers never smelled this good.

“There’s cooking, and then there’s cooking,” Snow said, leaning over the plate Caleb slid down the counter to make room for the next one. She closed her eyes and was sucked back in time, standing on a chair in Granny’s kitchen, begging for an early taste. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

Handing her a fork and napkin, Caleb said, “In my quest to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up, I did a semester at culinary school. I guess I retained more than I realized.”

This man was full of surprises. “You never told me that.”

“I would have,” he said, lifting both plates and motioning for Snow to sit down in the living room, “if we’d kept dating. So, now that we’re back to dating, I’m telling you.”

As she mindlessly followed Caleb’s direction, her brain struggling to process this new tidbit about her significant other, Snow spotted a beautiful arrangement of flowers on the coffee table, flanked by tall taper candles. She recognized the candleholders from Miss Hattie’s dining room.

“I’d prefer an actual table, but since there’s no room for one of those in this little space, the coffee table is the best I can do.”

Flowers. Candles. Her favorite meal.

Caleb knew she knew.

Instead of sitting down, Snow faced her doting husband with hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking a job at the paper? You didn’t even tell me you were applying.”

“Please,” Caleb said, “sit down and let me explain.” His calm tone put a damper on Snow’s anger. When she did as asked, he said, “Thank you,” and handed her the full plate of food. “Yesterday, Hattie asked if I knew anything about the newspaper business, and when I said I knew a bit, she told me to report to an address at nine this morning.”

“So this is Miss Hattie’s fault?” Snow asked, amazed that he would shift the blame to an innocent old woman.

“Not fault, but her doing, yes. She gave me the address but never said why I needed to be there. I figured it had to do with newspapers, but not actually working for one. I could have been hauling stacks of papers off a truck for all I knew.”

Snow felt her shoulders relax. The explanation made sense. And Miss Hattie did have a way of parsing out information. “You had no idea? None at all?”

“None.” Caleb loaded green beans and potatoes onto his fork. “I didn’t even know who to ask for. Turns out, the local paper, which Hattie owns . . . Did you know she owned the paper?”

“No,” Snow said. How had she missed that in all the town gossip?

“Well, I didn’t either,” Caleb said after he’d chewed his food. “Turns out, the chain-smoking sales manager, who as far as I can tell has been around since possibly the Civil War, is retiring at the end of the year.”

“And you’re going to take his place?”

“Not as a manager. At least not to start.” Caleb kept his eyes on his plate as he said, “It’s a trial period right now. They get to see if they like me, and I get to see if I like them.”

Snow pushed off thinking about his new roots in her town long enough to take her first bite of chicken. By all that was good and holy in this world, Caleb’s chicken was as delicious as Granny’s. Maybe even better. She’d have felt guilty for entertaining such a disloyal thought, but her taste buds were running the show, and they felt no remorse whatsoever.