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Praise for New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author

SUSAN MALLERY

“Mallery’s prose is luscious and provocative.”

—Publishers Weekly

“Susan Mallery’s gift for writing humor and tenderness make all her books true gems.”

—RT Book Reviews

“Romance novels don’t get much better than Mallery’s expert blend of emotional nuance, humor and superb storytelling.”

—Booklist

“Mallery sets up some very tough choices for her heroine, making this book compelling and intense.”

—RT Book Reviews on Finding Perfect

“[A]n emotional story with a beautiful happy ending! Another must-read by Susan Mallery.”

—Good Choice Reading on Almost Perfect

“Warm, funny, and sexy, this lighthearted yet touching page-turner is a satisfying, rewarding read and the ‘perfect’ beginning for Mallery’s Fool’s Gold series.”

—Library Journal on Chasing Perfect

“As demonstrated in this compelling story, family doesn’t have to share blood, just emotions. Filled with emotional drama, devastating treachery and the power of love, this finale will delight fans.”

—RT Book Reviews on Hot on Her Heels

“One of the Top 10 Romance Novels of 2009!”

—Booklist on Straight from the Hip

Already Home

SUSAN MALLERY

www.mirabooks.co.uk

Also available from Susan Mallery

Finding Perfect Almost Perfect Chasing Perfect Hot on Her Heels Straight from the Hip Lip Service Sweet Trouble Sweet Spot Sweet Talk Accidentally Yours Tempting Sizzling Irresistible Delicious Someone Like You Falling for Gracie

Coming in August 2011:

ONLY MINE,

the next story in the Fool’s Gold miniseries

To Mike. You are always where I find home. I love you.

One

“What do you think?” Jenna Stevens asked, doing her best to sound confident. When faced with something scary, like a big dog or a really bad decision, it was important not to show fear.

“I love it,” her mother said. “Truly, it’s amazing.” Beth squeezed her daughter’s shoulders. “I’m so proud of you, honey.”

Proud? Proud was good. Proud implied an accomplishment. The only problem was Jenna couldn’t claim one. She’d acted on impulse.

As a rule, she could respect a good impulse purchase. There were times when life sucked and a woman needed to buy a pair of shoes or a skirt or even a lipstick she didn’t need just to prove she could. To show the world she wasn’t defeated.

Only Jenna hadn’t bought any of those things, mostly because she wasn’t much of a shopper. But she’d sure stepped out of her comfort zone recently. Had she done it with a too-expensive handbag? If only. Instead she’d impulsively signed a three-year lease on retail space in a town where she hadn’t lived in nearly ten years. As if she knew anything about retail. Oh, sure, she shopped on occasion, but that wasn’t exactly the same as running a business. Just like being a chef didn’t mean she knew squat about running a kitchen store.

“Breathe,” her mother told her. “You have to breathe.”

Apparently she’d shattered the illusion of courage by hyperventilating.

“Maybe not,” Jenna murmured. “If I stop breathing and go into intensive care, the management company might let me out of my lease. There has to be a clause about a near death experience, don’t you think?”

“Is there?”

Jenna turned from staring at the front of her new business and pressed her head into her mother’s shoulder. Something of a trick considering Beth was a good six inches shorter and Jenna was wearing heels.

“I didn’t read the lease,” she admitted, her voice slightly muffled.

She braced herself for the chiding. She’d been raised to read everything before signing it. Even a greeting card. She deserved to be yelled at.

Her mother sighed and patted her back. “We won’t tell your father.”

“Thank you.”

Jenna straightened. They stood in the parking lot in front of the space she’d rented. Right now it was just an empty storefront, but in a few short weeks, it would be her new business.

“Fifty percent of all new businesses fail,” Jenna whispered.

Her mother laughed. “That’s my little ray of sunshine. Come on. I’ll buy you a latte. We’ll sit, we’ll talk, we’ll plan ways to have your soon-to-be ex-husband tortured. I’m sure your father knows a guy.”

Despite the fear and the panic swirling in her stomach, the sense of impending doom and a life that bordered on pathetic, Jenna smiled. “Mom, Dad’s a banker. Men who run banks don’t know guys.”

“Your father is very resourceful.”

He was also a physically fit, active man who enjoyed plenty of outdoor activities. If Marshall Stevens wanted something physical to happen to Jenna’s ex, he would do it himself.

“I’m just so angry at Aaron,” Beth said, leading the way to her SUV. “That cheating, lying you-know-what.”

The “you-know-what” was, of course, a stand-in for bastard. Or possibly sonofabitch. Either way, Beth didn’t believe in swearing.

She was a traditional kind of woman. She put on makeup before leaving the house, always brought a casserole in a covered dish when there was a death in someone’s family and never, ever had a cocktail before five. All things Jenna loved about her.

She knew people who thought traditions were stupid and a waste of time, but for Jenna, they were the warm, comforting glue that held her family together. She could count on her parents to be what they’d always been. Today, that was more important than ever.

They got into her mother’s SUV, a late-model gas guzzler, and drove toward the closest Starbucks.

“I’ll never forgive him,” Beth announced. “I suppose I could accept it if he decided that your relationship wasn’t working. Not every marriage lasts. It’s the cheating that makes him a weasel. I swear, if my daddy was still alive, he would go after Aaron with a shotgun and I wouldn’t stop him.”

Some days Jenna wouldn’t have stopped him, either. But her anger at her ex wasn’t about the other women, although the thought of them didn’t make her happy. What made her lie awake at night, questioning herself and every decision she’d ever made, was the other ways Aaron had hurt her.

The cheating simply gave her an easy excuse to say why the marriage had failed.

They pulled into the Starbucks parking lot. Her mother turned to her. “You get anything you want. Venti, syrup, whipped cream.” Beth wrinkled her nose. “I won’t even mention how resentful I am that you’re as skinny as a string bean and I’m stuck with thighs that hate me. That’s how much I love you.”

Jenna laughed, then leaned across the console and hugged her mother. “I love you, too, Mom. Thank you.”

“I haven’t bought the coffee yet.”

The thank-you wasn’t about the drink, but then her mother already knew that.

“I’m glad you’re home,” Beth told her as she climbed out of the SUV. “This is where you belong. Real people live in Texas, not in Los Angeles. All those Hollywood types.” She sniffed. “Is there anyone normal in the city?”

“A few, but they never go out at night.” Jenna linked arms with her. “I’m glad I’m home, too.”

Jenna couldn’t quite escape the feeling that going back to look at her store was like returning to the scene of the crime. But it had to be done, and someone, probably her, needed to get her business started.

Despite having spent the past couple of weeks getting things ready for the grand opening, every time she pulled into the parking lot and stared at the space she’d rented, she couldn’t bring herself to believe it.

Three months ago she’d been in Los Angeles. Her husband had walked into their tiny bathroom while she’d been brushing her teeth and had announced he was leaving her for another woman. He was in love and he was leaving.

What Jenna remembered most was standing in that cramped space wondering when she was supposed to spit. At what point in that kind of confession was it polite or expected for her to lean over the sink, spit and rinse?

She’d been unable to speak with all that toothpaste in her mouth, so she’d stood there like an idiot. Eventually Aaron had walked out, leaving her stunned, emotionally shattered and with toothpaste dribbling down her chin.

Later they’d talked. Or he’d talked, explaining all the reasons the breakup was her fault. She realized now that that was Aaron’s thing. Taking whatever was good and strong in a person and systematically destroying it. On the outside, he was pure charm, all dark good looks and an easy smile. On the inside, he was the devil. Or at the very least, an evil minion.

She supposed she could have fought for her marriage, but a part of her had been relieved to have a reason to leave. So she’d packed up everything she owned and had returned to Georgetown, Texas.

She’d been lost, so going home had made sense. As much as anything could, under the circumstances.

She was grateful her parents had never asked why she didn’t try to get a job in a restaurant. She’d been a professional chef for nearly a decade. It was what she knew. Or it had been. Today, cooking anything seemed impossible.

Oh, sure, she could throw together something easy. A bisque, a dozen or so pasta dishes, a savory tart, prime rib. The basics. But to creatively cook? To take new flavors and blend them into something so good it was almost magic? That had been lost.

It was as if her culinary soul had been stolen. As much as she wanted to blame Aaron—and a case could be made that he was guilty of theft—she’d been the one not standing guard, not protecting what mattered most of all. She’d been the one to let him berate her, mock her and claim her best ideas as his own. She’d let herself begin to doubt her abilities, her imaginative self, and now she was just someone who had once known how to cook.

The killer was, no one knew. Not that she wanted to talk about it or have people feel sorry for her—she didn’t. On the outside, she was as good as she’d ever been. It wasn’t as if she’d lost her actual skills. But the thing she’d loved best—the spark of creating—was gone. And she didn’t know how to get it back, much less articulate the problem to anyone else.

She tried to tell herself that opening a cooking store was a grand adventure. It was her new destiny. She would pass on her skills to others, share the wealth, so to speak. And if she didn’t want to use that as inspiration, she had three years of lease payments to worry about. If she couldn’t perk her mood with self-help, then she would get real with fear. Whatever worked.

At least the location was great, she thought, staring at the big windows and glass front door. Old Town was a thriving part of Georgetown, and her store was in the middle of it. To the right of her space was a yarn store called Only Ewe. To the left was an insurance agency and beyond that, a beauty salon.

Old Town itself—a series of square blocks—was a combination of business and retail with some residential areas. There were restaurants, boutiques and a couple of banks. Foot traffic was high, and Jenna was hoping that impulse buying was also a part of everyday life.

As she got out of her car and studied her store, she told herself she could do this. She could be successful with her new business. She’d never been a big believer in “fake it until you make it,” but maybe now was the time to explore a new philosophy. After all, like it or not, the store was opening. The sign would be delivered early next week. The final deliveries of her inventory would arrive two days after that. Then it was just a matter of getting everything in place and opening the doors.

She was waiting to see how well she did before spending money on advertising. Grate Expectations would sell high-quality kitchen supplies with expert instruction. She would demonstrate, offer cooking classes and give the people in town the chance to learn the secrets of professional chefs. There didn’t seem to be any competition for this kind of business in the nearby communities.

As she pulled out her key to the store, she heard a car door slam. She turned and saw a dark-haired woman walking toward her.

“Hi,” the woman called. “Jenna?”

“Yes. You must be Violet.”

They’d spoken on the phone. Violet had been one of nearly a dozen calls she’d had about the job she’d posted in the paper. Of the potential applicants, Violet had had the most experience, not to mention the most normal personality.

Now Jenna took in the short, spiky hair, the dark eyeliner and thick lashes. Violet’s beige lace T-shirt covered a deep purple tank top. Her skirt was layered and also purple. Dozens of necklaces hung down in various lengths, while an equal number of bracelets clinked on her left arm. High-heeled ankle boots completed the outfit.

She looked to be in her mid-to-late twenties. Humor and curiosity sparkled in her brown eyes and her smile was friendly.

“Great location,” Violet said as Jenna wrestled with the door. “Very upscale. You’ll get a lot of walk-in traffic. Especially if you’re cooking. People will follow the smell.”

They went inside. Jenna turned on the lights, then glanced around at the chaos.

She saw shelves against the walls and freestanding racks in the middle of the main room. A newly installed kitchen setup gleamed from one side. The desk for the cash register was in place. Boxes were stacked nearly five feet high. Unpacking was going to take days.

Daunting didn’t begin to describe it, but Jenna didn’t care. Hard work was exactly what she was looking for. If she was exhausted, she wouldn’t have as much time to think. Besides, this was America. According to legend, all that stood between her and success was a little hard work. Fortunately, the ability to do what needed doing had always been one of her strongest attributes.

“Nice,” Violet said, walking around. “The high ceilings are great. Some of the places around here have a second floor, so the ceilings are lower.” She headed for the kitchen area, set down her purse and tugged on her sleeves. As she pulled up the lace, Jenna caught sight of a tattoo of flowers on the inside of her wrist.

Violet wasn’t anything like Jenna had imagined. She’d pictured someone older. Someone more … conservative. But Violet had energy and an engaging smile. The pixie cut gelled to a fashion-forward mess suited her, as did the Goth-inspired makeup. Violet looked both fun and approachable.

Ten years of working in restaurant kitchens had taught Jenna to trust her gut when it came to hiring. For all his telling her that she didn’t know what she was talking about, Aaron had listened to her gut, too.

“You enjoy working with the public?” Jenna asked.

She knew that was going to be the most difficult area for her. She was used to being behind the scenes, not dealing with the front of the house. Ordering, organizing, working under pressure—those were easy. But smiling in the face of harried customers? Not so much.

“Most days,” Violet said with a laugh. “I think the difference between a place like this and, say, a big-box store is branding. You go to a retail chain with certain expectations. Sometimes it’s price or convenience. But making a special trip to your store requires a little more thought. Customers have to want to come here.”

She ran her hands across the stainless steel counters by the stove.

“I think the key to success is to give customers an experience they can’t get anywhere else. Not only different products, but personalized service. You have to make them want to come back.” Violet smiled again, her eyes dancing with excitement. “I do love a good challenge.”

“Good thing—because we’re going to have that here.”

Violet faced her. “Maybe not. What’s the competition? I don’t think there are any other places like this in the area, but I didn’t do the research.”

Jenna stared at her. Research? She did her best not to wince. Right. Because most people had a plan when they opened a store. They checked out the area, ran the numbers, worked on a profit and loss statement. Things Jenna would have done had she been opening a restaurant.

“We’re going to offer something unique here,” Jenna said. “Neighborhoods like that.”

“You’ve owned retail stores before?” Violet asked.

“Not exactly. I’m a sous chef.”

“Oh, wow. That’s great.” Violet moved to the open area in front of the sink and held her arms open wide. “We could set up cooking stations here. People love to get their hands dirty. With that big oven and the six burners, they can all be cooking and baking together. People would kill to get real tips from someone like you.”

Jenna shook her head. “I wasn’t going to have the customers cook. I’ll be doing demonstrations. Showing techniques for different dishes.”

Violet’s arms dropped to her side. “That would be good, too,” she said with measurably less enthusiasm. “Will you have prepared the dishes in advance so they get to sample what you’re doing?”

“Of course.”

“That’s nice.” She walked toward the boxes and read the labels. “So you’ve never exactly run a store before?”

“No.”

Violet bit down on her lower lip. “Are you hiring a manager?”

“I’ll be the manager. At least for now.” Jenna squared her shoulders. It was time to get to the interview. “I’m looking for someone to work full-time with me. We’ll be open six days a week. I’d prefer you take your second day off on Monday through Thursday. I’m guessing Friday and Saturday will be busiest. I’m going to offer different kinds of cooking classes. Classic recipes, easy to make, foods that can be frozen and served days or weeks later.”

Stuff she could do in her sleep.

A part of her whispered it might be fun to experiment a little. To have customers surprise her with ingredients and then come up with something on the fly. She could—

Without wanting to, she remembered experimenting with bread pudding as an appetizer rather than a dessert. Using savory flavors, chilies and spices rather than sugar. Aaron had grabbed one of her samples before she could taste it herself. He’d taken one bite and quickly spit it back into his hand.

Then he’d patted her on the back and said, “It’s good that you try.”

As if she were some kid who’d made a mud pie. Some kid who had trouble learning and needed a lot of praise.

She didn’t know which had been worse—the rest of the kitchen staff watching, or the fact that when she’d tasted her creation later, it had been delicious. But she hadn’t trusted herself enough to give it to anyone else to try.

No. She wouldn’t be experimenting anytime soon. The reality of that thought made her sad. No, sad wasn’t the right word. It broke her heart.

“I want someone who can grow into the manager position quickly,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I would be interested in that,” Violet told her, looking pleased with the information.

Jenna pressed her lips together. If she wasn’t managing the store, she would have plenty of time on her hands. Time to figure out how to find that lost part of herself.

Violet glanced around. “Are you going to sell the foods themselves? The various ingredients?”

“No, why?”

“You need something for the people to buy. Either a gadget or a pan. Cookware doesn’t exactly break or go out of style. If you don’t offer the customers a reason to buy, they won’t. They’ll come in, get the recipes and tips, then leave. That means no money for you.”

“I see.” Jenna hadn’t thought that part through. “I’ll work something out. Maybe charge a fee for the classes. Why don’t you tell me about your current job?”

Fifteen minutes later Violet had run through her work experience. She had two letters of recommendation and an easy way about her. Jenna knew her own personality tended toward the control freak end of the spectrum. Violet seemed like a nice balance.

“Why are you looking to make a change?” Jenna asked.

“I like what I do,” Violet told her. “But corporate America isn’t my thing. I want to be part of a community. I’ve been in Austin a couple of years but I still feel like I’m settling in.” She waved her hand at the shelves. “This is going to be a challenge and that’s what I’m looking for. If you’re sure there’s a chance that I’ll be considered for the manager position, then I’m interested.”

Jenna was relieved. She’d already checked Violet’s references and had been impressed with what she’d been told. At this point someone who knew what retail was all about would be a big help. “When could you start?”

“Next week. Tuesday.”

“Perfect.”

The front door opened and a blonde woman in her late twenties walked in.

“Hi. I’m Robyn. I own the yarn store next door. Thought I’d come say hi and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Violet moved toward her, smiling and holding out her hand. “I’m Violet Green,” she said. “I know. Crazy name. I think my mother was deep into medication when she gave birth. Anyway, this is Jenna Stevens. She owns the store.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jenna said, thinking Robyn looked familiar. Georgetown was small enough that they’d probably gone to the same school, although in different grades. Robyn looked a few years younger.

Robyn looked around. “Great space. It’s so light and bright. You’re going to love it here. I’m hoping we’ll be able to share customers.” She wrinkled her nose. “I was terrified an auto parts store would move in next door. Not that I don’t love my car, but not a lot of guys are interested in knitting.”

Violet laughed. “I’ve been in your place before. It’s beautiful. I love all the yarn.”

“Do you knit?” Robyn asked.

“No, but I’d like to learn.”

“We’ll be starting a beginner class in a few weeks. If you’re interested.”

“Thanks.”

Jenna found herself feeling shy and awkward. She reminded herself it was simple conversation. She could handle that. But the truth was, she hadn’t been out in the “girl world” for years. Most of the people in the kitchens where she’d worked had been guys. While Aaron had always had a pack of friends hanging around, she’d had more trouble finding women to relate to. When she’d lived here before, she’d had a lot of friends. She promised herself she would call them soon.

“I’m going to be doing a lot of cooking here,” she forced herself to say. “I can bring by samples.”

Robyn smiled. “This is why you’re going to be my favorite neighbor. I can already tell. When do you open?”

Jenna gave her the date.

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” Robyn told them both. “Even if you just want to pop over and have some coffee to get away from the craziness.”

“Thanks,” Violet said. “We will.”

Robyn ducked out. Violet closed the door behind her and laughed.

“What an adventure. I can’t wait.”

Jenna thought about how she’d spent the past couple of months feeling like a total failure. This was a new beginning for her. A chance to prove herself.

“I can’t wait, either,” she murmured. This time, everything was going to be different.

Jenna arrived at her new rented townhouse a little after six. After pulling into the garage, she climbed the stairs to the main floor, only to find her father squinting at a power drill. He checked the mark on the wall, then carefully drove in three screws.

She waited until the drill was silent.

“Hi, Dad.”

He turned and grinned at her. “Hey, kid. Your shelves are just about done. Give me a sec and you can help me put the brackets in place.”

The shelves were decorative metal with hooks for all her pots and lids. While the townhouse had plenty of room for the average cook, Jenna traveled with a lot of cookbooks, notes and equipment. Extra storage space was required.

Her dad winked at her. “I checked with your landlord, to make sure adding the shelving was okay.”

“I’ll bet that was a tough conversation.”

“He saw my side of things.”

As the man who owned the entire complex was a close friend of her dad’s, she wasn’t surprised.

Marshall put down his drill and held out his arms. “You okay, Jenna?”

She stepped into his embrace and allowed herself to get lost in her father’s familiar strength. “I will be.”

“I’m sorry Aaron turned out to be such a jerk.”

“Me, too. I wanted what you and Mom have.” Growing up, she hadn’t thought it was too much to ask. Now, looking back at her failed years with her ex-husband, she knew finding the right man wasn’t as easy as it looked.

“You’ll get there,” her dad told her. “But do me a favor, kid. This time fall for a Texas boy.”

She grinned. “You think they’re that much better?”

“I know they are.”

“What if he’s an Aggie?” she asked in a mock whisper. Her father had gone to the University of Texas. Aggies—those who graduated from Texas A&M—were the enemy.

“Better an Aggie than someone from California.”

She laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed the top of her head and released her.

She stepped back and watched him finish putting up her shelves.

Maybe this wasn’t exactly where she’d thought she would be at nearly thirty-two, but she could still make it okay. She’d failed at her marriage. People did that and recovered. Many of them thrived. She could thrive, as well. She could figure out how to make starting over the best thing that ever happened to her.

Two

Violet parked in front of Jenna’s store and turned off her car engine. She still had a couple of sips left of her coffee. Based on the stacks of boxes she’d seen during her interview, she would need all the caffeine she could get to keep her energy going during the unpacking phase. Getting a store up and running was a lot of work.

She could see someone moving around inside and guessed Jenna had arrived before her. Enthusiasm was important, she thought, wondering if she’d made a huge mistake, quitting a job she’d had for nearly two years to work for someone with no retail experience.

The potential upside was that if the store was successful, and Violet made manager, she would enjoy being responsible for things running smoothly. The downside was Jenna didn’t have any experience and some of her ideas were a little strange.

Still, Violet’s gut had told her this was a good move, and she’d learned to listen to her gut. Except when it came to men, it had never let her down. On the guy front, her gut was a total failure, but she was okay with that. It wasn’t as if she was looking for a relationship. Career now, she told herself. Men, whenever.

She swallowed the last of her coffee, then got out of her car and headed for the front door. Jenna straightened at her knock and hurried to let her in.

“You’re here. Thank God. I’m drowning in boxes. I made a diagram so we’d know where to put everything. What I didn’t count on was the packing material. How is it possible that after I empty a box, there’s more material to stuff in it than will fit? Is that a retail thing?” Jenna paused and laughed.

“Sorry,” she said and shook her head. “I’m a little wired. I’ve been here since four this morning and I’ve had the coffee to prove it. Let me start over. Hi. Welcome. How are things?”

“Good. For what it’s worth, you’re right about the packing material. Somehow while it’s on the floor it multiplies or something.”

“That explains the mess.”

Jenna gestured to what had been an open space the last time Violet had seen it. Now it was a maze of boxes and shelves. Whatever free floor space had been there before was now filled with open containers overflowing with paper and cardboard.

By contrast, Jenna looked cool and unruffled. She wore a white chef’s coat over black pants. Black clogs covered her feet. She’d pulled her dark red hair back into a ponytail. Her green eyes were bright, her full mouth smiling, her skin perfect, despite the lack of makeup and probable lack of sleep. She looked like a model dressing like a chef for a photo shoot, but more Town and Country than Cosmo.

Violet had dressed for comfort and physical labor. She’d pulled a long-sleeved T-shirt over jeans and had worn scuffed ankle boots. Despite the fact that she wore the more practical clothes, she felt as if she’d misread the invitation and had shown up in shorts for a fancy dress ball.

“Here’s my diagram,” Jenna said, pointing at several sheets of paper tacked to the wall. “Obviously the kitchen is in back. I ordered a few new things for that and they’ll go in the cupboards under the counters. I’m organizing everything else by function. Pots and pans together, bakeware. You get the idea.”

She quickly went through the layout.

“A woman with a plan,” Violet said. “Why don’t I take some of this trash out to the Dumpster? Most of it can go in the recycling bins.”

“Great. I’ve been avoiding the boxes of ceramic bowls. I can’t begin to imagine how many layers of packing material are in those. With you here, I think I can be brave.”

They worked for the next couple of hours. Together they wrestled the impressively large mixers into place. Jenna did her share of ripping up cardboard and stacking supplies, which surprised Violet. A lot of bosses were more into gesturing about how the work should be done than actually participating.

Despite the physical labor, Jenna didn’t break a sweat. Violet felt distinctively damp, but rather than be annoyed, she told herself she would have to accept the fact that her new boss was one of those perfect people. Perfectly organized, perfectly disciplined, perfectly elegant in every situation. Violet had always meant to be perfect … one day. But somewhere during her life journey, she’d made an imperfect turn and never recovered.

Around ten-thirty, they took a break. Jenna had already stocked the small refrigerator under the counter with diet Snapple and handed out a bottle of unsweetened tea. They sank onto the floor.

Jenna stared around at the piles of merchandise. “It’s going to get better, right? If it’s not, it’s okay to lie to me and say it is.”

Violet uncapped her bottle and took a drink. “It’s going to be great. You’ll see. In the future, the boxes will only arrive a few at a time. That makes it easier.”

“I hope so. The worst I’ve had to deal with in a restaurant is finding out the beef I ordered hadn’t been butchered.”

Violet stared at her. “As in it was still a cow?”

“Practically. I had to prepare all the steaks myself. Let me just say, making tomahawks all afternoon strains the wrist.”

Violet must have looked blank because Jenna added, “It’s rib eye steak with a frenched rib bone.”

“Right.” As if that made anything more clear, Violet thought. “Does being able to cut your own steaks make you more or less popular with the guys?”

Jenna grinned. “It was important to prove myself in the kitchen. A little butchering can go a long way.” Her smile faded. “I was always better at that than Aaron. Probably another reason why things didn’t work out.” She stared at her Snapple for a second, before raising her head. “I’m in the middle of a divorce. Paperwork is signed. We’re waiting out the time.”

A divorce. Violet hadn’t seen that one coming. “I’m sorry,” she said automatically. “Do you miss him?”

Jenna shrugged. “You’d think I would.” She paused, as if thinking. “I miss what used to be good. When we worked together. In the past year or so, I couldn’t do anything right. Or so he said.”

Jenna stopped talking abruptly, as if she hadn’t meant to say that much.

“I know what you mean,” Violet said quickly. “I’m a total disaster when it comes to men. I’m always picking the wrong one. If I’m attracted to a guy, run far and fast. He’s a loser. Probably an unemployed loser who will charm you out of every penny you have.” Or worse. But she had no reason to admit that. At least not on her first day.

“My new plan is to not date,” she finished with a shrug.

“Ever?”

“I wish, but I’ll give in. This time I’m determined to get it right,” Violet said. “I’m going to keep saying no until I’m sure. Except all the ones I say no to turn out to be great. My radar sucks. I guess next time I need to say yes when I want to say no. Reverse psychology and all that.”

Jenna raised her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “You get asked out a lot?”

“Sure. Hourly. Don’t you?”

“Not exactly.”

Violet didn’t believe that. Jenna was that irresistible combination of fire and class. “Maybe because you were married.”

“I don’t think so. Guys are rarely interested in me.”

Violet nearly choked on her drink. “Then you’re not paying attention. Trust me, men are interested.”

“I’m sort of avoiding men right now,” Jenna admitted. “Aaron cheated, so I’m being cautious.”

Her ex had cheated? Violet had to consciously keep her mouth from dropping open. If a guy would cheat on someone like Jenna, what chance did the rest of them have?

Someone tapped on the front door, then pushed it open. “Hi. I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Jenna stood gracefully and crossed to the other woman. “Perfect timing. We were just taking a break.”

As Violet watched, the two women embraced.

They couldn’t have been more different. Jenna was tall and thin, with fiery auburn hair. The other woman, older, was a petite, curvy blonde with big blue eyes and a ready smile. Violet had seen enough fake relationships to recognize real affection, maybe even love, when she saw it.

She’d already guessed their connection when Jenna turned and said, “Violet, this is my mom, Beth Stevens. Mom, this is Violet.”

Violet scrambled to her feet and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stevens.”

“Beth, please.” The other woman shook her hand, then touched the half dozen or so silver bracelets on Violet’s wrist. “I love these.” She fingered the black leather woven through a thick chain. “Do you change the cord?”

“I could but I usually don’t.”

“I should wear something like that.”

Violet did her best not to look surprised. Beth was elegantly dressed in tailored pants and a fitted long-sleeved shirt that had more than a passing resemblance to silk. Her jewelry was delicate and understated, except for a honking big diamond next to an eternity wedding band. Violet would guess the watch alone would cover her rent for close to a year.

So this was how the other half lived, she thought, curious rather than envious.

Beth studied Violet’s face. “You’ve conquered the smoky eye,” she said with a sigh. “I’ve tried and tried. I end up looking tired or as if I have makeup smudged over half my face.” She wrinkled her pert nose. “I suppose I should let it go. I suspect the smoky eye look is like a miniskirt. Ridiculous after a certain age.”

Before Violet could figure out what to say, Beth had linked arms with her. “So what are you two girls up to? Unpacking, obviously. Is it coming together?”

Jenna explained about the chart on the wall and how the store would be set up. Violet was caught up in the maternal hold of a woman she’d barely met. Normally she didn’t like to be touched by strangers. An unexpected backlash, given her previous profession. But there was something warm and welcoming about Beth. As if she were the kind of woman who took in strays of all kinds.

“I love the kitchen,” Beth said, leading Violet toward the rear of the store. “People are going to be so excited to learn new cooking techniques. With you right there, they can practice until they get it right.”

“Jenna’s going to be doing the cooking,” Violet said, not surprised that Beth had assumed the customers would get to do it. That was the plan that made the most sense. It was easy for people to drift away from a cooking demonstration.

“Oh.” Beth glanced at her daughter. “That will work, too, I’m sure.”

Jenna shifted uncomfortably. For a second, Violet almost felt sorry for her. Retail was its own world and not an easy place for the inexperienced. Wouldn’t Jenna have done better to open a restaurant? That was her area of expertise.

“Look at the beautiful ceramic bowls Jenna picked out,” Violet said, leading Beth toward a row of shelves. “Don’t you love how the colors pop?”

“They’re perfect. Very cheerful.” Beth smiled at her daughter. “You’re going to do very well here. I can feel it.”

“I hope so.” Jenna drew her brows together, looking more determined than optimistic.

Beth squeezed Violet’s arm, then released her. “I have a few errands to run, then I thought I’d get you girls some sandwiches.” She picked up her purse and pulled out a pad of paper. “Order away.”

After writing down what they would like, Beth hugged Jenna, then surprised Violet by giving her a quick squeeze, as well.

“I’m off.” She grinned at Violet. “You’ve inspired me to buy black leather.”

Jenna laughed. “Mom, that may not be a good thing.”

“I think I’ll let your father decide that. Back in a flash.”

Beth left in a swirl of perfume with the door clicking shut behind her.

“We need a bell for the door,” Violet said absently, thinking that Beth was unlike any mother she’d ever met or even heard of. “So we can hear customers come in if we’re in the back.”

“Good idea.”

Jenna jotted a note down on the pad she’d placed on the counter by the cooktop.

When she’d finished, she looked at Violet. “She didn’t mean anything by mentioning black leather.”

“I know. It’s fine.” Violet knew she was different from Jenna. From all of them. It wasn’t good or bad—it just was. She turned to her boss. “You must really take after your dad. You don’t look anything like your mom.”

Jenna smiled. “Not surprising. I’m adopted. Mom says I come from a tribe of redheaded Amazon women and she’s jealous.”

Adopted. Violet turned the idea over in her mind. There would be advantages of not knowing where you came from, she thought. “You two are really close.”

“We always have been. My mom’s my best friend.” Jenna wrinkled her nose. “That sounds so fake, but it’s true. She’s always been there for me.”

“Nice,” Violet said. “What about your biological parents? What are they like?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met them.”

“Did you ever think about finding them?”

Jenna shrugged. “I never saw the point. I have a family. I’m not looking for another one.”

Because the one she had was so good, Violet thought, more bemused than jealous. It was like watching a zoo animal. They were cute and all, but nothing she could relate to.

She couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be close to her mother. Hers had beaten her, same as look at her, and Violet had taken off when she’d been fifteen.

She’d lived on the streets for five long years before realizing that if she stayed there, she would end up dead before she was twenty-five. Change hadn’t come easy, but she’d managed.

And now she was here, she thought, looking around at the store, seeing it as it would be, rather than as it was.

Maybe Jenna didn’t know what she was doing, but she had Violet. Together they would make Grate Expectations a success. Jenna had class and money and something to prove, while Violet knew how to make it, no matter the odds. An unlikely match, she thought, but a good one.

Jenna added spices, one after the other. She quickly stirred the strips of flank steak, searing them with the spices, over the high heat. The late news played in the background and she was already on her second glass of wine.

Telling herself it didn’t matter, that no one would know, she picked up the bowl containing the sauce she’d created on a whim and dumped it in the pan.

The liquid snapped and boiled, reducing to almost nothing immediately. She rotated the pan, then used a spatula to flip the strips over one last time before dumping the contents onto the warm flour tortilla.

After setting the hot pan on another burner, she turned off the heat and took a fortifying sip of wine.

There it was. A taco of sorts. She’d been mentally playing with the idea of combining Mexican and Indian cuisine. Many of the spices were rooted in the same plants.

Jenna grinned. Rooted in the same plants. That was funny. Then her smile faded as she turned her attention back to the food she’d made.

She was nervous about tasting it. Experimenting used to be so easy, so joyful. Now it terrified her. Worse, it made her feel sick inside, as if something that had once been a part of her was now lost. She ached to be who she’d been before and didn’t want to admit that woman was probably gone forever.

After squaring her shoulders, she picked up the taco and took a bite. The unusual blending of spices didn’t sit well on her tongue. She found herself unable to chew, let alone swallow. She spit the meat into the sink and flushed it down with water. After running the garbage disposal, she threw out the rest of the taco.

When the tears came, she ignored them.

“I’m worried,” Beth said as she stacked rinsed dishes on the counter. “Jenna doesn’t know anything about making a store work. She doesn’t even like shopping, unless it’s for knives. Then she could spend hours. But this is different. This is working with the public.”

“She’s a smart girl,” Marshall said as he loaded the dishwasher. “Give her a chance. She’ll figure it out.”

“She doesn’t have much time to make it work. All her money is tied up in that place. Her savings and her half of what she and Aaron got for that sad little house they owned. If the city hadn’t wanted to buy it and tear it down for that road, she would have had even less. You should have seen the inventory in her store. Thousands of dollars’ worth of kitchen equipment.”

Her husband glanced at her. “Did you want her to start a business without something to sell?”

“Don’t be logical. You know how I hate that.” Beth sighed, wishing she could learn how to let go. But when it came to anyone she cared about, she couldn’t help worrying. Obsessing, Marshall would say.

“She knows what she’s doing,” Marshall told her.

“I’m not so sure. She’s a chef. She should be cooking. She understands that world. I wish I knew what really happened with Aaron.”

“Do you think there’s more than she’s telling us? Isn’t Aaron cheating on her enough?”

“It is,” she admitted, although her mother’s instinct told her there was more to the story than Jenna had admitted. Something was different with her daughter. Not just the expected sadness and hurt from the breakup of a marriage. It was bigger than that.

“Jenna will figure out her store. Didn’t she hire someone?”

“Violet. She’s wonderful. Pretty. Black hair and dark eyeliner. I’m sure she has tattoos.” Beth thought of the other woman’s stacked bracelets and her three silver hoops in each ear and wished she had the courage to be unconventional.

“Does Violet have retail experience?”

“Yes. Several years of it.”

“Then she’ll help Jenna.”

The statement drew Beth back to the subject at hand. Her chest tightened a little. “What if it’s not enough? I understand that Jenna needs to regroup. She has to think and come up with a plan for the rest of her life, but opening a store? I don’t think that was smart.”

She finished rinsing the last two pots. Marshall fitted them into the dishwasher. She handed over the soap. He filled the cup, then closed the dishwasher and started it.

The end-of-dinner ritual had been the same for years. When Jenna had still been in the house, the three of them had cleaned the kitchen together. It had been a time of conversation and laughter.

“If she fails at this, too, she’ll be crushed,” Beth whispered, aching for her only child.

“You need to let it go, Beth. You can’t protect her from everything. Jenna’s a smart girl.”

“Worry’s my thing.”

He moved toward her and slid his arms around her waist. “I’ll admit you’ve turned it into an art form. Now you need to practice letting go.”

She rested her hands on his shoulders and stared into his dark eyes. Even after all these years, being close to him made her breath catch.

“I can’t help it. I love her.”

“If you love something, set it free,” he began.

She laughed. “Don’t you start with me.”

“Why not? I plan to finish with you.”

He bent his head and kissed her.

Jenna stood in the center of her store and listened to the sound of silence.

Upbeat background music—something perky and Italian—played through speakers, but there wasn’t any conversation. No talking at all. Probably because to have the spoken word required people. AKA customers. And there weren’t any.

It was eleven-fifteen on her first morning. She’d been open for seventy-five minutes and not a single person had walked through her sparkling clean glass doors.

Less than two weeks ago she’d stood in her parking lot and had watched as her sign had been lowered into place. She’d filled every shelf, figured out how to work the cash register, had talked to an accountant about keeping track of the sales. A problem she didn’t currently have.

Happy Birthday to me, she thought sadly as she adjusted her white chef’s coat. And hey, now she was thirty-two. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to spend her birthday. Talk about a disaster.

She’d been so sure that people would come. That they would be enticed by the pretty store window displays and the promise of great kitchen supplies. Over the past week Violet had casually mentioned taking out an ad in the local paper or getting a flyer into some kind of mailer. But Jenna had blithely refused. Because she’d been so damn sure.

She had the sudden need to bake. To sink her fingers into warm dough, to smell yeast and create crusty rolls slathered with sweet butter. Or maybe a tart. Quiche with a flaky crust and filling of eggs, cheese and garlic and nuts.

Or a brisket. She was back in Texas now. Something falling-apart tender with tang and spice. Grilled potatoes that tasted like heaven. She had an idea for using …

She shook her head, dislodging the wishful thinking. She didn’t do that anymore. She cooked, she didn’t create. Hadn’t she already proved that to herself?

Behind her she heard Violet carefully rearranging shelves in an effort to keep busy. Jenna had to give the other woman points—so far she hadn’t even hinted she wanted to shout, “I told you so.” This despite the fact that Violet had been pushing for some serious advertising.

Fear tasted metallic on her tongue. Every single penny she had was tied up in this store. She had a three-year lease and her landlord expected monthly payments, regardless of her failure as a businesswoman.

She spun toward Violet. “I don’t know what to do,” she blurted.

Violet straightened from behind the shelf she’d been dusting. “Start cooking,” she said quickly. “Something snacky and delicious that I can put on a tray and carry around.”

“What good will that do? There’s no one to eat it.”

Her assistant smiled at her. “If they won’t come here, I’m going to take the food to them. While you’re doing that, I’ll print out coupons to hand out to everyone I see. Ten percent off. Part of our grand opening. That will get people in.”

Jenna nodded and did her best not to calculate how much that ten percent would eat into her profits. Better to lose a part of something than keep all of nothing, she told herself as she moved to the back of the store and started pulling out ingredients for a very familiar and easy appetizer.

A half hour later, she had a spicy goat cheese filling sitting on small crackers. She already had mushroom tarts in the oven, but they would take about fifteen minutes to bake.

“The trick is the spices,” she told Violet. “Fresh is best and they have to be chopped really fine.”

“Save the explanation for the customers,” Violet told her, grabbing one of the trays. “I put the coupons on every car windshield in a five block radius. Hopefully that will bring people in. Now we’re going to seduce them with food.” She paused. “Are you going to be okay in here by yourself?”

“Of course,” Jenna lied. The thought of being alone with customers terrified her. Something she should have thought through before opening a store.

“Just offer them food and be prepared to talk recipes,” Violet said with a smile. “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve handed all these out.”

Jenna nodded and offered a confident smile while Violet walked out.

While Jenna had put on black pants and her familiar chef’s coat, Violet had dressed in a straight skirt in dark purple and a multicolored long-sleeved blouse. Three or four necklaces filled the open collar. The familiar half dozen bracelets clinked by her wrist. Her black hair was spiky, her bangs stick straight, and the smoky-eye look Beth had so admired was firmly in place.

Of the two of them, Violet was the one who should have looked out of place, yet Jenna felt as if everyone looking at her would know she was a fraud.

Before she could beat herself up even more, the front door opened with a tinkle of the bell Violet had hung there. But instead of her assistant returning, two women walked in. Each carried a coupon in her hand.

“Ooh, look at that,” the shorter one said to her friend. “I love the colors on that trivet. It would look great in your kitchen.”

“It’s nice,” the friend said, then spotted Jenna. “Hi. We just tasted that cracker. It was fabulous. Do you have the recipe?”

“Ah, yes. It’s an easy spread or it can be a tart filling. You can use what you have on hand to fudge the ingredients.”

The short woman laughed. “What I have on hand is a bottle of white wine and a few Lean Cuisines.”

The oven timer beeped. Jenna pulled out the mushroom tarts. The women rushed over and took napkins, then juggled the hot appetizers until they could take a bite.

“Delish,” the taller one said with a sigh. “I don’t suppose you have this recipe, too?”

Jenna had the recipes in her head. “I could write it down, if you’d like.”

The women exchanged glances and started to leave. Just then Violet burst through the door, her tray empty, and about a half dozen people behind her.

“I know,” she was saying. “If you think those are great, wait until you try the mushrooms. You’ll die. I’m serious. They’re fabulous. We don’t have the recipes printed up yet. New store glitch. But by the end of the week, we’ll have the recipe cards ready. And Jenna, the brilliant chef and owner, is doing a whole class on appetizers. So come back and get the recipe cards, then sign up for the classes.”

Jenna felt anything but brilliant. Regardless of what she’d been in the rest of her life, she’d always felt good in the kitchen. Now she didn’t know what to do there.

She watched as potential customers swarmed around the tarts. Soon the tray was empty. She’d already put another batch in the oven. At least they liked the food. That was something.

While she answered questions about getting the crust right, Violet rang up several purchases. The idea about the recipe cards was a good one. Maybe they could offer different recipes every week. Although Violet had made an excellent point when she’d said that people needed something to buy on a regular basis. Maybe she could come up with recipes that used different gadgets or something.

“Jenna? Is that you?”

She turned toward the speaker and saw two women her own age had entered the shop. They were both tall, exquisitely dressed, with perfect hair and makeup. Kimberly was as dark as Caitlin was fair. They were beautiful and familiar.

Jenna smiled. “What are you two doing here?”

“Beth called our moms,” Kimberly said with a smile, as she hurried toward Jenna and hugged her. “Why didn’t you tell us you were back? You’re opening a store! It’s darling.” She stepped back. “Look at you, all chef like.”

Caitlin gave her a hug, too, along with a double air-kiss. Her white-blond hair swung in around her face before falling back into place.

“I was so worried about you,” Caitlin said, resting her long, pink-tipped nails on Jenna’s arm. “We heard about Aaron,” she added in a low, sympathetic voice. “So sad, but you’re obviously just peachy. The store is to die for. Really. I love it.”

“We should get together,” Kimberly said. “Call Jolene and go out. The four of us. It’ll be like it was in high school.”

Affection surged through Jenna. “I’d like that,” she admitted. Hanging out with friends would be good, she thought. A reminder that life could be normal.

“Me, too,” Caitlin said. “Soon.”

“How about dinner?” Jenna asked. “Sometime this week.”

The two other women exchanged glances, then turned back to Jenna.

“God, no,” Caitlin said with a laugh. “If you could see my schedule.”

“Mine, too,” Kimberly told her. “I thought once the twins were in school, my life would finally slow down. But not at all. And keeping a decent housekeeper is practically a fulltime job. But maybe we could get together for coffee. You know, some morning.”

Caitlin nodded. “I can do coffee. I’ll call Jolene and see if she has an hour free.”

An hour. Jenna forced a smile. “Sure. Let me know.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket and wrote her cell on the back. “Give me a call.”

“Will do,” Caitlin promised as they headed for the door. “We love your little store.”

The afternoon went pretty much like the morning. A few customers drifted in, there were a handful of sales, mostly driven by the coupons Violet had printed. Jenna made more trays of appetizers, which brought in people, but when they found out she didn’t have recipes, they drifted away.

By five, Jenna felt tired and discouraged. She looked around at the full shelves, the carefully planned stock she’d been so proud of, and realized operating a successful business was more complicated than she’d ever thought. She needed a plan and some knowledge about the market and a good dose of common sense. Something she’d apparently missed out on when she’d been busy learning how to debone a chicken.

At exactly six, Violet locked the front door and turned the sign to indicate they were closed.

“It was a pretty good day,” she said cheerfully. “Nearly five hundred dollars in sales.”

Jenna nodded. “Great.”

Considering the cost of the goods they’d sold, her overhead and salaries, not to mention the ten percent off coupons, she was probably in the hole about two hundred dollars. And that was just on the first day. Imagine how much she could fail in a week.

Violet crossed to her. “It’s okay,” she said. “This will get better. People will start to talk about the store, and before you know it, we’ll be bustling with activity.”

“Bustling?” Jenna managed a smile. “There’s a word I haven’t heard in a while.”

“It works in this situation. We’ll be slow for a while, but things will get better. You’ll see.”

“I know you’re right,” Jenna lied.

Violet tilted her head. “Want to get a drink? I know a bartender who makes a mean margarita.”

“Thanks, but my mom’s expecting me for dinner.”

“Okay, sure. Tell her hi from me.”

Violet left and Jenna quickly followed. No matter where she looked, all she had seen was potential. Now she felt as if she’d been playing a game where everyone knew the rules but her. The worst part was, the only person she could blame was herself.