Restoring Romance (Welcome to Romance 1)

His voice was as tight as the band around his chest. “She was amazing—the most unselfish person I’ve ever met. Her favorite thing to do was bake. So she baked cookies and cakes and pies and gave them away. She gave them to strangers on the street and people who were sick and workers on the side of the road. She fed after-school snacks to every kid who stopped by on the way home from the elementary school close to her house. Some of the kids walked three blocks the wrong direction so they could get a hot, fresh-baked cookie.”

Adam heard a sniff and saw Ash wiping her eyes on her sleeve. “Please don’t cry. I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty about living in her house.”

“I wish...” Ash’s voice cracked. “I wish I could’ve met her.”

Her tears washed away the last of his resistance. He pulled the truck to a stop on the street in front of his grandmother’s house, but he wasn’t thinking about Grammy. All he wanted was to hold Ash in his arms until she stopped crying. And then he wanted to bring that pert smile back to her lips. And then he wanted to kiss those lush lips until she admitted she was attracted to him.

He turned toward her. “I wish she could’ve met you, too. I think she would’ve loved you.”

A choking noise escaped her throat as she jerked the truck door open. “I have to go, Adam.”

“Wait—”

“Thanks again for a wonderful day. See you tomorrow at dinner.” She dashed away like she was running for her life.

I’m getting slow in my old age.

Chapter Eight

“ASH, I’M SO GLAD WE’RE going to have time to visit before the rest of the family gets here.” Donna met Ash at the door, beckoning her inside with a welcoming hug.

Ash wasn’t a hugger, yet she cherished the affection from her aunt, wondering if it would still be offered after she confessed her parentage. No matter what happened, Ash was determined to tell her aunt the whole truth. That perfect day with Adam had left her wishing for things that could never be.

“Can I help with dinner, Donna?”

“Absolutely! You can chop veggies for the salad, if you don’t mind.”

She followed Donna into the kitchen and was soon peeling and chopping at lightning speed as her aunt put the finishing touches on a chicken and rice casserole.

“Where do you get your recipes?” Ash asked, eyeing the hand-written note card on the counter.

“I mostly collect favorites from friends, but quite a few came from my mother, including this one.” Donna slid the huge casserole dish into the oven and set the timer.

“Was that your mother’s Derby Pie recipe last Sunday?”

“Yes, that was one of her favorites.” Do

nna lowered her voice, almost whispering. “I wish you could have met her—I know she would have loved you.”

Ash was so startled, she almost dropped her knife. She gaze lifted to find her aunt studying her with an unreadable expression. Ash struggled to speak with her desert-dry tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth.

“You know who I am?”

“Yes, Mark and I know, but not the rest of the family.”

Ash nodded, trying to digest this revelation. “Why didn’t you contact me? Was it because of my mother?”

Donna’s hand flew to her mouth and she exclaimed, “Oh Ash! I promise that’s not how it happened.” Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Can we sit down while I tell you the story?”

“Okay.” Like heavy sticks of wood, her legs moved her to the window seat, where she sank onto the cushion.

Donna sat on the opposite end of the seat. Ash kept her eyes peeled on her fingers as they fidgeted in her lap, but she could tell her aunt twisted to face her.

“Your mother was the baby of the family. I was eight years older than Mandy and four years older than our brother, Carl. Dad died from a heart attack while I was in elementary school, so it was just Mom and us three kids for most of our lives. Mandy was only fourteen when I moved overseas to teach English. And then I met Mark, and we decided to stay in Romania even after we got married.” Donna’s voice cracked. “I just wanted you to know why I wasn’t around when the accident happened. And you need to know that no one blamed her.”

“What accident?” Ash hated to admit how little her mother had shared about her family.

“She didn’t tell you about it? She never told you why she left home?” Her voice was incredulous.