“I suppose it does, Mr. West. My folks live near Whistler now, retired ski bums. I’ll tell them I met you. They’ll be pleased to know,” she said, and stuck out her hand.
Jake took it and shook, the new information rolling around inside of him. “Call me Jake, please. Mr. West—”
“Was my father. You aren’t him,” Tanner growled, and turned on his heel and left abruptly, shocking both Jake and Rosy.
Rosy let go of his hand, the moment gone, and moved to collect her box again, the folded check stuffed into her pocket. Jake picked up the box for her and walked her to the door, then down the steps to her small car.
“Thank you, Jake. I am sorry we met under such circumstances. If I’d known—”
“Rosy!”
Jake turned to see Peony coming down the steps. Jake recognized the small copper saucepot set that normally hung above the island, a vibrant red bow around them.
“Don’t you dare leave without saying goodbye, my dear,” Peony added, and when she made it over to the car, she and Rosy hugged. Rosy’s eyes were misty as Peony handed her what was obviously a parting gift.
“Mrs. West, please. You shouldn’t have.”
“You made the best sauces in these pots. I know how much you loved them. So I should, and I did. You’ve been our cook for fifteen years and we love you. Won’t be the same without you,” Peony replied firmly.
“I think you have it well in hand with Jake,” Rosy said just as firmly, and both women broke into smiles.”But he’ll need a new saucepot set.”
Energy vibrated through Jake as it dawned on him. He could take over the duties Rosy had, and earn his keep while he was here. At the very least, help them interview a new cook once his departure was secured. He was familiar with the kitchen, and now, thanks to Gordon, his entire kitchen was here, including a set of small pots like the one Peony had just given away.
Jake set Rosy’s box into her back seat carefully, closing the door as Peony embraced Rosy one more time.
“I’ll get your phone number from your file and come visit sometime soon. It would be nice to meet more of my family,” Jake said, and Rosy brightened.
“Oh, please! My father would be so happy to meet you. I think her brother is still alive, we lost touch with him when Uncle Bob passed. I can’t wait to tell them about you!”
A lump formed in Jake’s throat at that. All this time, there was an entire family here that his mother had just given up on, thrown away. He wondered what would make her do that, when there were obviously good people who cared for her, including her parents.
“Please tell Liz I’ll miss her. Brady already said goodbye when I went over to the office this morning.” Rosy was edging toward her car.
“I will,” Peony assured her.
With another wave, Rosy got into her car and backed out, driving down the lane. Jake ran a hand down his face and groaned. The day was barely started and already full of drama. At this rate, who knew what would happen? Maybe he should ask Tanner to go to Calgary with him and make it an epic day of emotional volcanoes.
“I swear. This place has more twists and turns than—”
Peony gave him a funny look, and he put an arm around her as they walked back to the veranda, happy to have her there with him to keep him from losing his cool.
“Rosy is a Morrison. My second cousin.”
“Perhaps that was why Brett hired her,” Peony mused. “She’s a cousin of your mother’s, then.”
“Something like that. Hopefully I can meet some of them.”
They walked back into the house, and both headed to the kitchen. Jake turned on his coffee machine, and as he was packing a shot of espresso, looked at Peony. She was bringing two mugs down from the cupboard, and shehmmed at him as she set them down.
“So. I think you and I need to go over what Rosy did here, and how I can pick up the slack,” was all he said as she leveled her gaze at him. He wanted to be useful, and right now, this was the best way he knew how.
That earned him a laugh, and Peony clasped her hands together.
“Well, yes. Let’s get to it, then, shall we?”
Chapter Fifteen
Liz was filling out her training journal for the day when Tanner strode into her office, madder than a wet hen. He stood at the arena window, paced to the door, then back to the window, frowning, his jaw muscles working too hard, like he was chewing rocks.
