then, Jade had grown accustomed to giving speeches. She found she did better with little or no preparation. Winging it seemed well received.
But first, everyone had to eat. A line had already started forming at one end of the table, where someone had placed two stacks of sturdy paper plates. She watched, amazed even though it was always the same, as relatives took their places at certain dishes, filling their plates as high as they could, before carrying the mound of food over to their respective seats at the table.
Jade waited until just about everyone had gotten what they wanted before going over to check out what remained. Waving at a couple of her cousins on the other side of the room, she stepped in line. As she eyed the half-empty pans of pasta salad and fried chicken, her stomach growled. She made herself a small plate, wondering which dish her mother and grandmother had made. Amber and Opal had been holed up in the kitchen for hours, shooing away anyone who attempted to enter. They’d refused to say what they were making, only claiming it would be the best surprise ever.
Jade only hoped it would be edible. Separately, her grandmother was a good cook, but Amber wasn’t. And together... They ended up competing, each adding just another pinch of something, and the end result always, without exception, turned out terrible.
What astounded Jade was that no one could tell from looking at it. No, it wasn’t until you took the first bite and gagged that you realized what had happened.
Ladling a little bit of everything on her plate, she tried to spot Amber and Opal’s latest concoction. Since she couldn’t, she knew she’d find out once she started to eat.
The desserts had been placed on a side table. There were the usual cakes and pies, and a beautiful peach cobbler. Jade knew which one she’d be having. That is, as long as her mother and grandmother hadn’t made it. Unfortunately, without tasting it, there was no way to tell.
Taking a seat next to her aunt Agate since it was the only one available, Jade hoped the overwhelming scent wouldn’t ruin her taste buds, and dug in. Every single morsel she put in her mouth tasted delicious. Which meant, she realized after she’d cleaned her plate, that one of the desserts would be awful. But which one?
She caught Aunt Agate’s eye, aware she—and just about everyone else in the room—was thinking the exact same thing.
A few people had already gingerly approached the dessert table, selecting two or three things to be on the safe side. Jade did the same, helping herself to a slice of chocolate cake and the peach cobbler. Praying neither of her choices would be the one, she took her seat and dug in. The chocolate cake tasted moist, with just the right amount of airy sweetness.
She polished that off and turned her attention to the cobbler. Just looking at the peach slices swimming in a syrupy glaze and the perfectly browned mixture of crumble made her mouth water. Someone should have taken a photograph of the entire thing when it had been undisturbed. Surely, this couldn’t be the dessert item Amber and Opal had managed to ruin, could it?
Jade glanced up to find Aunt Agate watching her, spoon poised over her own mound of cobbler.
“You first,” her aunt said, grinning.
Taking a deep breath, Jade plunged her spoon down, scooping up a good-size bite. It appeared juicy and moist, and the fragrant steam whet Jade’s appetite. She swallowed, then shoved her entire spoonful into her mouth.
Her taste buds exploded with flavor. Slowly chewing, she let out her breath and swallowed. “It’s good,” she began, letting her relief show in her voice. “I’m not sure who made it, but neither Mom nor Grandma was the cook.”
As she reached for another bite, her tongue began to burn. Eyeing her aunt, who was happily tucking in to her own helping of cobbler, Jade tried to blurt out a warning. Instead, she only managed a croak.
Tears filling her eyes, Jade grabbed her water glass and began chugging, too late to help Aunt Agate, who had just begun to feel the burn. What the heck had they put into that thing—peppers?
One glass of water wasn’t even close to enough. Jade jumped up, sprinting for the table where plastic cups had been stacked near water pitchers and ice. She filled two glasses, drinking one down and refilling it, before carrying them back to the table. Handing one to her aunt, she watched while the older woman drained hers before giving her the second.
“Oh, my,” Aunt Agate finally gasped. “Guess we know who made that, after all.”
All around the room, people were digging into the gorgeous cobbler. “It seems we never learn,” Jade commented, her voice as dry as her still-burning throat. All around her, people gasped, reaching for their water glasses and shooting murderous looks at the oblivious pair of cooks, who continued to eat and chat happily.
Finally, Jade figured everyone had eaten—and suffered—enough. Taking a deep breath, she tapped her fork on her water glass for attention. “As I’m sure most of you know,” she began, well aware how fast gossip traveled in this town, “a photojournalist is here asking questions about Libby.”
Her mother and her aunt exchanged knowing looks. “The handsome stranger,” Amber put in. “And I could tell by the way he looked at you that he found you attractive, as well.”
Both Pearl and Sapphire glowered at her. Several of the other relatives whispered behind their hands to one another, which reminded Jade her lack of a man in her life had been a topic of conversation for quite some time.
She used to find the pointed comments hurtful. These days, she simply ignored them.
Jade managed to shrug. “I don’t know about that, but we’re not here to discuss my love life.” Or lack of, she amended silently. “I need direction as to what to do about Libby. If he finds out about her and does a story, we can say goodbye to our privacy and hello to a wave of tourists.”
Another standing argument in both town and her family. People were equally divided. Some wanted to capitalize on the monster in their midst, while others insisted on leaving things the way they’d been for centuries.
“That old debate again?” Jade’s uncle Jack, Auntie Em’s husband, huffed. “Why do you want to go and ruin a perfectly good family get-together with that nonsense?”
“Yeah,” her cousin Coral, who hated her name, seconded. “Can you just finish up whatever you have to say so we can go?”
“This is important, everyone. A photojournalist is asking about Libby. I need to know what, if anything, to tell him.”
This time, her grandmother spoke. When Opal addressed the family in her matriarchal voice, everyone paid attention. “In all my years of taking care of Libby, not once did word about her existence leak beyond this town.”
The accusation seemed clear, at least to Jade. In fact, everyone in the room swung their heads around to stare right back at her, accusation in their expressions.
As if she’d already failed.
And it didn’t matter that she’d never asked for this job. It had been expected of her from the moment she’d been born.
The last thing Jade had ever wanted was to be put in charge of taking care of Forestwood’s
