Page 49 of The Way to a Cowboy's Heart

“Whoever was responsible for you two standing in my kitchen this morning, I am grateful,” Sarah told them, reaching out to take Emily’s hand.

“It was an incredible day,” Emily said, “meeting Deke and his birds, flying around the mountains in Jake’s helicopter…”

“That is on my bucket list. A helicopter ride with Jake. He was a helicopter pilot in Afghanistan, you know, and probably one of the best pilots out there,” Sarah mused aloud.

“He did take a couple of years off my life zooming down those canyons,” Emily admitted.

“You’re serious, Mom? I’ll arrange it. Whenever you want,” Liam said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

“Really? You are my favorite child,” she teased.

“Yeah, yeah.” Unconvinced, Liam laughed. “Now, you all have fun doing your chocolate cake thing. I’ve got to do some work out at the small cabin this morning, then we’re heading up to the round barn to finish the decorations for the Kowalskis’ vow renewal on Saturday.” He gave Emily a secret touch on her backside. “See you later?”

She nodded. “You will.”

“One cannot think well, love well, sleep well if one has not dined well.”

–Virginia Woolf–

Chapter Nine

Emily, Sarah, andTara made side-by-side versions of her flourless chocolate cake, because it had always been her theory that simply talking one through about a recipe was nothing like making it yourself. Both enthusiastically dove into the experiment, and they decided, if the cakes turned out, they would divvy up the slices between family members to save them all the temptation of wolfing down a million calories alone.

While they worked, Emily talked them through the steps of melting the chocolate, adding the eggs and vanilla and the rest. While Sarah was an old hand at making cakes, it was Tara who Emily kept her eye on. She measured each and every ingredient precisely then took notes in a little notebook she carried with her. She was also a natural, folding the whipped cream gently into the chocolate mixture with impressive technique that turned this cake into a cross between a brownie, a torte, and chocolate mousse.

They carefully cut out circles of parchment paper to lay in the pan bottom before scooping their cake mixture on top.

As they worked, they talked about Emily’s supper club back in the city and how she and Liam had met. Tara listened quietly, but rarely offered a comment of her own.

Emily remembered years of silence as a teenager herself, always feeling outside of everything, with her brother and father constantly giving the good-old-boy pat on the back to one another and leaving her out. She supposed this habit of silent observation had served her well as she got older, working in the industry she did, but it made things considerably harder socially.

She’d heard Tara’s story from Liam at the fishing hole as they were casting for fish—about how she’d nearly been forced to give up her baby because she was alone in the world without support.

Knowing Tara had been through a difficult life of foster care—only to end up being taken in by the Hardestys, alongside her baby, made Emily want to hug her. Tell her everything would be better when she got older. But, of course, that washerlife, not Tara’s. And now that her own life had just literally exploded, perhaps she wasn’t the one to be doling out rainbow and unicorn advice to anyone.

As they popped the cakes in the oven, Sarah poured coffee for Emily and tea for Tara, and they sat at the kitchen table to wait for the timer to go off. Lolly woke then and Tara was about to excuse herself to go breast feed.

“Don’t go on my account,” she told her. “You certainly won’t offend me if you stay.”

Tara looked at Sarah for permission, then sat down at the table to feed Lolly.

“I think Tara is a natural cook,” Emily told Sarah. “She’s got that folding technique without any coaching from me.”

“Tara is a natural at many things, not least of all, being a wonderful mom to Lolly.”

Tara’s cheeks colored. “I’m grateful to have this place and these people. It could have worked out much differently. For both of us.”

Emily sipped her coffee. “I know how that feels. When I left England for America, I really had no idea if it would work out. I was alone in a strange place with only my wits and a few US dollars. But I managed to find a place to settle, make friends, and find a job. But it was really the friends who sustained me. The job made me money. But my friends, and the supper club… that was my refuge when things were hard. You’ll find your way.”

“I do like to cook, when I get the chance. Like now,” she said quietly. “I’ve been kind of watching Mr. Nevers, the new ranch chef, secretly—but he doesn’t like me to be in there while he’s cooking. All the same, I think he might need a sous chef. He’s kind of a nervous cook. Not like you, Emily.”

“Nervous, how?” Sarah asked.

“Just a feeling. He kind of… talks to himself. And not in a nice way.” She bent her head down to the baby and kissed her head. “I could give him a hand if you want me to. You know, chopping things up for him? Maybe take some of the pressure off him?”

“I think that’s a great idea. But I’d have to pass it by Mr. Nevers. And Emily, what about you? Will you keep cooking for your friends in New York City?”

She explained her visa situation and how soon she’d have to leave the US.

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