Baby, Come Home. Stephanie BondЧитать онлайн книгу.
The atmosphere was festive and aromas tantalizing as women crowded around pots of pasta and shared thick chunks of warm bread. A couple of children ran through, snagging brownies from a plate. Amy looked after the laughing children with a tug of longing that she squashed as quickly as it rose. The family environment took her by surprise, and she could see why it would appeal to some people. But the trade-off was living in a fishbowl where opportunities were limited. She hadn’t left to educate herself only to come back and settle for something less than she could become.
“I hope Chicken Kiev is okay,” Nikki said, her cheeks pink from the heat. “I don’t have much of a cooking repertoire.”
Amy gave a little laugh. “That sounds pretty impressive to me. I usually eat frozen dinners. What can I do to help?”
“Pick up those wineglasses and follow me,” Nikki said, nodding to the countertop. She picked up a bottle of wine and a corkscrew and turned toward the opposite doorway.
Amy frowned at the number of wineglasses—four—but gathered them in her hands and followed Nikki down a hallway into the rear great room that apparently served as the main gathering place for residents to dine and watch TV. The computers that lined one wall were another surprise. The new Sweetness was wired and perhaps not as isolated as she’d imagined.
Nikki stopped at a square wooden table situated away from other tables and chairs that were largely occupied. From all the couples dining together, Amy surmised the ploy to bring women to Sweetness as companions for the Armstrongs’ workers had succeeded. Noticing the four salads on their own table, Amy balked. “Is someone joining us?”
Nikki cut the foil on a bottle of wine. “I hope you don’t mind if Porter eats with us. We typically have dinner together.”
“No, that’s fine.” Although she was a little disappointed that she and Nikki wouldn’t be able to catch up, she understood that she was the interloper here. Before she could ask about the fourth place setting, Nikki beamed at someone behind Amy.
“Here’s Porter now.”
Amy turned and smiled at Porter, who’d been a fresh-faced sophomore when she’d last seen him. He’d filled out and matured, but his wide grin and cleft chin were still prominent and recognizable, along with those infamous blue Armstrong eyes.
“Amy Bradshaw,” he said, extending both his hands to her and lowering a kiss on her cheek. “You grew up good.”
She blushed. “Still the sweet talker, Porter. The years have been kind to you, you devil.”
“I never thought I’d see you in Sweetness again.”
“That makes two of us,” she quipped. “Marcus can be persuasive.”
He grinned. “That isn’t the word I’d use, but Marcus seems to know how to get things done. And what good luck that you and my Nikki are friends.”
It was so like a Southern man to refer to his girlfriend in a possessive way. Amy expected Nikki to take offense at the “my” part, but instead she seemed inordinately pleased as Porter pulled her to his side for a squeeze.
Amy smiled. “Yes, it’s…fortuitous.”
“Anyway, it’s great to see you again.” He looked down at Nikki. “Who’s our fourth for tonight?”
“That would be me.”
Amy tensed at the sound of Kendall’s voice behind her. She slowly turned to see him, dressed in chino pants and filling out a deep blue collared shirt that reflected his eyes perfectly. He looked so handsome, her throat closed.
“If that’s okay with Amy,” he added, pinning her with his steady gaze.
“I invited Kendall,” Nikki said cheerfully. “To help welcome you home.”
Amy’s cheeks flamed. Nikki was the only one in their foursome who didn’t know she and Kendall had a history and had parted on less-than-friendly terms…unless Porter had filled her in.
“That was kind of you,” Amy managed to say. “Of course it’s fine.” She wasn’t going to be able to avoid Kendall, so she might as well get used to acting as if he didn’t affect her.
As if he didn’t make her heart race and her body warm with unbidden desire, just like old times.
Kendall gave her a little smile, as if he knew how much being nice was costing her. Then he stepped forward and handed Nikki a white bakery box.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Something for dessert.”
“How nice,” Nikki said. “Let me put this in the refrigerator and check on our dinner. Porter, will you pour the wine, please?”
“Sure thing, baby,” he drawled, but watched her until she left the room before turning back to them and the wine. As he uncorked the bottle, he whistled happily under his breath.
Baby. Kendall used to call her baby, Amy recalled. She darted a look at him, but when she saw he was looking at her, she glanced all around, settling on the ceiling. “Nice trusses,” she offered. “Is this a modular building?”
Kendall nodded. “The clinic, too. And the General Store. We used reclaimed materials for siding on all the buildings except the clinic.”
“I could tell,” Amy said. “Are you planning to incorporate any reclaimed materials in the covered bridge?”
“We’ve been putting aside any boards we find that might’ve been used in the original bridge in the Lost and Found warehouse.”
She nodded. “I read on the website about the place where you’re storing things you find so former residents can claim them.”
“You’re welcome to walk through the warehouse,” Kendall said, “or look over the lists to see if you recognize anything that might’ve belonged to your family.”
She shook her head. “Thanks, but there’s nothing from here that I want.” When she realized how brusque she sounded, she conjured up a little smile. “But I’d like to see the materials you have set aside for the bridge.”
“I seem to remember the two of you hanging out at the bridge a lot,” Porter offered.
Amy swung her head to stare at him and felt Kendall’s gaze follow hers. Porter looked back and forth between them, his expression innocent as he handed each of them a glass of red wine. “Oh, so we’re not supposed to talk about the elephant in the room?”
“What elephant in the room?” Nikki asked, returning.
“Amy and Kendall used to be a hot item,” Porter said nonchalantly, then handed her a glass of wine.
Nikki’s mouth rounded and she shot Amy an apologetic glance.
“It was a long time ago,” Amy said quickly.
“To old times,” Kendall said, lifting his glass, “and to building bridges.”
She couldn’t very well decline the toast, Amy thought wryly, lifting her glass to clink with the others. The bandage on Kendall’s thumb reminded her of his “favor” for Rachel Hutchins, and she took a deeper drink than she’d meant to.
Kendall looked at her over the rim of his glass, his expression soft and blurred. Was he thinking of graduation night, when they’d snuck a bottle of cheap zinfandel to the bridge and sat on the edge with legs dangling, drinking it from paper cups? It had made them tipsy and giggly and Kendall had made promises about all the adventures they’d have together. Afterward, they’d made such sweet love… It was the last really good memory she had of them together.
Days later, he’d left to join the Air Force while she’d been tethered to Sweetness to take care of the sickly aunt who’d taken her in. Amy’s loneliness had been exacerbated by her aunt’s bitterness and the nagging sense that she was missing out on the life she was meant to have. But when