a green salad, garlic bread—a perfect dinner for a perfect summer day. With mixed berries and ice cream for dessert. Justine Gunderson enjoyed making her leisurely preparations for tonight’s meal.
She pulled the covered bowl of chicken breasts out of the refrigerator. She flipped them in their soy-and-honey marinade, then set the container back inside. Like many of her favorite recipes, this one had come from her grandmother, Charlotte Jefferson Rhodes.
Leif, her almost-five-year-old son, was playing in the backyard with his dog. Penny, a cocker spaniel-poodle mix, chased after the boy, barking excitedly. The pure joy of the moment made Justine smile as she stepped through the patio doors. Seth would be home soon and he’d barbecue the chicken while she put the finishing touches on the salad. Leif would start setting the outdoor table, since he loved arranging the napkins and colorful place mats.
As this little domestic scene played out in her mind, she felt a sense of tranquility. Even now, all these months after the fire that had destroyed their restaurant, Justine was unaccustomed to the three of them having an uninterrupted evening together.
So much of her life—their lives—had been consumed by The Lighthouse. The restaurant had completely absorbed their time and energy. Until the fire, Justine and Seth rarely saw each other. Everything was always done in a rush as they divided the duties involved in running the restaurant, taking care of the house and, most important of all, raising their son. Thankfully, they’d reached a compromise concerning the new restaurant they planned to open.
“Mommy, look!” Leif shouted, throwing a stick for Penny.
The dog instantly leaped forward, racing after the stick. She picked it up, then crouched a few feet away, tail wagging frantically, and challenged the boy to grab the stick.
“Penny, bring it to Leif,” Justine called out.
“She’s as stubborn as every other female in this house,” Seth said from behind Justine. “Well, the only other female.” He slid his arms around her waist and kissed the side of her neck. Leaning into her husband, Justine tucked her hands around his and closed her eyes, reveling in the moment.
“I didn’t hear you come in,” she said.
“Daddy, Daddy!” Leif shouted, dashing across the freshly cut lawn.
Seth scooped his son into his arms and lifted him high over his head. “I see you’re training Penny to play catch.”
“She won’t give me the stick.”
“She’ll learn,” Seth told him. “Come on, we’ll both work with her.”
While Seth and Leif played with Penny, Justine went into the house to pour her husband a cold drink. The doorbell rang; abandoning the glass of iced tea, Justine hurried to answer it.
Her grandmother stood there, clutching the huge purse Leif called her “granny bag.” Among other things, it contained her current knitting project, a roll of mints, a comb and a notebook—but no cellphone or credit cards. Delighted to see her, Justine threw both arms around Charlotte in a tight hug.
“I hope you don’t mind me coming by like this,” Charlotte said as Justine led her into the house. “I was in the neighborhood—well, relatively speaking. Olivia said you wanted to talk to me.”
“Grandma, you’re welcome anytime, you know that!”
“Well, normally I wouldn’t stop in without warning, but I was chatting with your mother this afternoon and she said you wanted to ask me about recipes.”
“I do.” Justine slipped her hand in Charlotte’s and they moved into the kitchen.
“I was just getting Seth a glass of iced tea,” Justine said. “Can I get one for you, too?”
“Please.” Charlotte set her large bag on an empty chair and sat down. These days, it was unusual to find her without Ben, her husband of three years.
As if reading her thoughts, Charlotte explained. “An old friend of Ben’s is visiting from out of town. I stayed long enough to meet Ralph, then made my excuses. All that talk about navy life is too much for me.” She pulled her knitting out of the bag and resumed the sweater she was working on. Her grandmother didn’t believe in idle hands.
Justine brought two glasses of tea and sat across from her.
“Now, what can I do for you?” Charlotte asked. “You need recipes for the tearoom?”
“Yes.” Justine rested both elbows on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it,” she said. Although the building process hadn’t yet begun, she had a clear vision of the kind of restaurant she wanted. The menu had to be exactly right, and Justine couldn’t think of anyone better to consult than her own grandmother.
“It’s a good idea to plan ahead.” Charlotte paused in her knitting to look at Justine. “Olivia told me you’re going to serve breakfast, lunch and a high tea, then close in the evenings.”
Justine nodded. “Seth and I decided we’d rather have our evenings together. Leif’s flourished in the last few months with both of us home.” The arson that had destroyed The Lighthouse had eventually—and unexpectedly—turned out to be a blessing in a very nasty disguise. She was grateful no one had been hurt or worse. And grateful that this crime had changed their lives in a positive way.
“You’re wise to put your family first.”
Justine suspected her marriage wouldn’t have survived another year at the rate they’d been going. She glanced out at the yard, where Seth frolicked with their son and Penny.
“You said you talked to Mom. Were you at the courthouse today?” Her grandmother liked to watch Justine’s mother at work. Charlotte sat proudly in Olivia’s courtroom and knitted away, although her visits had become less frequent now that she’d married Ben.
“Actually I ran into her this morning while I was in town. She was on her way to a doctor’s appointment.”
Justine tensed. She didn’t remember her mother mentioning that, and they spoke nearly every day. “Oh.”
“It’s nothing serious,” Charlotte said quickly. “Just a routine visit, she told me. For her mammogram.”
“Oh, good.” Justine relaxed in her chair, crossed her legs and picked up her own glass of iced tea. “I’d like some of your recipes, Grandma,” she began.
“Any in particular?” Charlotte’s fingers manipulated the needles and yarn with familiar ease.
“I was hoping to get the recipe you have for scones.” They were a long-time family favorite and Charlotte baked them for nearly every family function.
Charlotte seemed pleased. “The herb-and-cheese scones are the ones I like best.”
“Me, too.”
Her grandmother paused reflectively. “My mother used to make those scones, so that recipe actually came from her. I have a couple of other scone recipes I’ll write out for you, as well,” she added. “Clyde’s favorite was a walnut-and-butter scone. Ben prefers the herb-and-cheese.”
“Thanks,”
