Honeysuckle Summer (The Sweet Magnolias #7)(30)

He glanced over the ingredients she’d assembled. “I don’t see any dressing.”

“Because you’re going to make it.”

“You’re kidding me! Companies spend millions making all sorts of perfectly good bottled dressing, and you want me to start from scratch?”

She patted his shoulder. “If succeeding with the lettuce gave you a thrill, just wait till you’ve made your own dressing. You’ll feel like an accomplished cook.”

“I think we should save one triumph for Carrie and Mandy,” he argued.

“Okay, we’ll see.”

“What’s for dinner, anyway?”

“Beef Stroganoff.”

His eyes widened with surprise and unmistakable pleasure. “You actually made beef Stroganoff? On a regular weeknight, not even for a special occasion?”

“It’s an easy recipe, and there are always leftovers for another night.”

“Easy?” he repeated skeptically.

“You just dump a few things into a slow cooker and let it simmer for most of the day, then add a few more things, boil the noddles and it’s done.”

“Do chefs know about this? They always make it sound very complicated. I watch the Food Channel sometimes, hoping something will sink in and I’ll wake up knowing how to cook.”

She raised a brow at that revelation. “And yet you still don’t cook.”

“Because it all sounds too complicated.”

“You can read, right?”

“Of course.”

“And follow directions?”

He gave her an impish look. “That’s a little trickier. I am a guy, after all.”

She shook her head. “These are directions, not orders. They’re a way to get from point A to point B,” she said, then slapped her forehead. “Of course, guys never ask for directions, do they?”

“We are adapting to the idea of a GPS system,” he told her. “That’s technology, so it’s acceptable.”

“Good grief!”

Carter laughed at her reaction. “I’m really not quite as inept as you’re probably thinking about now.” He gestured to the cutting board. “See, all chopped and diced.”

“Very good,” she praised. “Now toss them with the lettuce.” When he looked as if he might take the bowl and toss the ingredients into the air, she held the bowl in place and handed him the salad tongs. “Gently.”

Just then Carrie and Mandy walked into the kitchen and stared.

“Carter’s fixing the salad?” Carrie said, looking stunned. “Are you sure you want to do that? We’ll probably die.”

He scowled at her. “And you’re going to make the dressing from scratch.”

“Now I know we’re going to die,” Mandy said.

Carter frowned, then turned to Raylene. “Make her do something, too.”

Raylene grinned. “You can make the noodles for the Stroganoff.” When Mandy looked uncertain, she said, “Boil water, dump in the noodles and stir them. You can handle it.”

A half hour later, dinner was on the table, Sarah and the kids were back, Travis had arrived and they were all seated at the larger table in the dining room, which the girls had helpfully set.

Raylene looked around and nearly had to blink back tears. This was what she’d imagined her life being—a family and friends gathered around for a meal she’d prepared. After all this time, after she’d pretty much given up on the dream, here it was.

And yet it wasn’t quite real, because the family, at least, wasn’t hers.



Carter stashed the girls’ bikes in the back of his truck for the drive home. In the car the girls were bubbling with excitement. Some of their enthusiasm was over the prospect of Carter’s new job, but mostly it was about the fabulous meal and their part in getting it ready.

“We actually cooked tonight,” Mandy said triumphantly.

“You boiled water,” Carrie scoffed. “I actually made a salad dressing from scratch.”

“Let’s not forget my contribution,” Carter said. “The salad was awesome, if I do say so myself. Carrie, what did you think of the Stroganoff?”

“It was good,” she said, avoiding his gaze in the rearview mirror.

“How would she know? She ate one bite,” Mandy reported. “I thought it was amazing, and Raylene says it’s really easy to make. She said she’d teach me if I want to come by after school one day or maybe when school lets out next week. Is that okay, Carter?”

“If she invited you, I’m sure she meant it. Just call her to make sure when it’s convenient.”

“How come she can’t leave the house?” Carrie asked quietly. “That’s so sad.”

“I don’t know the whole story,” Carter admitted. “I do know she’s trying to get over her phobia, though.”

“Is that what it is, a phobia?” Carrie persisted. “Like a fear of spiders or of flying?”

“That’s the way I understand it,” he told her. “She has panic attacks if she tries to go outside.”

“Even in the yard?” Mandy asked.

Carter nodded.

“That’s why you planted the garden,” Carrie guessed, her expression lighting up with sudden understanding. “So she’d be able to see something beautiful from the kitchen. You’re pretty awesome, big brother.”