He said fine like it was code for something else.
“Your parents are just over here.”
Of course, they were. Mr. Hayes steered Jan farther into the room. People looked away as she passed, but she could feel their eyes on her back. Her ears didn’t have to strain hard to hear the whispers.
That’s her.
Poor girl.
So desperate.
Jan was desperate. She was desperate to get out of here, to return to her shop where she was the mistress of her domain. Where she could pair things that at first glance shouldn’t belong together, but under her expert hand, they blended into the perfect flavors.
“Jan? Bill, what is she doing here?” her mother asked her father.
“I don’t know, Carol,” said her father. “Let me ask the girl. Jan, is something wrong?”
Her left eye joined the twitch fest as she stood before her parents. “No, Mom, Dad. I’m fine.”
Mr. Hayes deposited Jan in front of her parents and turned back to his other guests. Jan stood before her parents. Each wore twin expressions of worry as they looked down at her. The Peppers were not huggers.
“How’s business?” her dad asked.
“It’s going well.” Jan placed her muddied knee behind her clean one and rubbed, hoping to get the spot out. Belatedly, she was sure she now had a smudge on the back of her left knee.
“Chris showed me the books,” said her dad. “You two have a good steady income. That’s the way to do it. Slow and steady. You’ll have a nice little nest egg when you’re ready to start a family.”
“I’m so glad she and Chris decided to work things out,” said her mother. “He’s such a good boy.”
Both her parents looked over Jan’s shoulder at Chris who was in a corner with his wife gazing into each other’s eyes. Jan’s parents had adored Chris, thought he literally hung the moon. They were devastated when Chris walked away with another woman. But somehow managed to keep their seats when Chris returned to the church, just an hour after ditching their daughter, to marry his current wife.
On their dime.
“I gotta get back to work,” Jan said, turning to head toward the back door of the Hayes’s house.
She walked past downcast eyes, curious gazes, and a bit of finger pointing. She didn’t bother to hold her head high. At her rate, she was likely to bump her crown on the chandelier.
She was nearly home free, being free of this particular home when someone else grabbed at her elbow.
“Jan,” said Chris. “Let me walk you out. I wanted to talk to you about the business.”
Jan held her sigh in as they walked to the back door. She and Chris had purchased the pie shop together. After his wedding, he’d agreed to be a silent partner. Yet here he was yapping away.
“I’ve been looking at the books,” said Chris. “We’re doing really well with shepherd’s pie and apple pies and the mainstays. But you’re spending too much on exotic spices. It’s eating into our profits. Do you really need saffron?”
Yes, she needed saffron. She needed it for her lemon buttermilk pies. It was an essential ingredient. “Chris, I thought we agreed that I’ll handle the menus, and you’ll handle the books.”
“True, but the books are telling me that we’re wasting money on some things that are on the menu. You’re a great chef, but sometimes you go a little out there with some of your pies. Like for United Nations Day. Who even celebrates that?”
For United Nations Day last month, Jan had made an assortment of national pies from around the world. There were one hundred and ninety-three countries in the UN, and many observed UN Day. Just not many Americans. So many of the pies hadn’t made it out the fridge.
“We lost a lot of money that week because of those exotic pies,” Chris continued. “I want us to succeed. The more profit you make, the sooner you’ll be able to buy me out. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
It absolutely was. Then she could buy whatever kind of spices she wanted. Then she could make more fusion dishes and answer to no one about the cost of saffron or what she decided to put on her menu.
“I just want you to be happy, Jan.”
Sure he did. Jan turned from her ex and headed back to her car. Once inside, she got a look at herself