I laughed and wrapped my arms around her, lifting her several inches off the floor until she squealed. Then, I put her back down and kissed her cheek. “I’m sure you will. Mom, there’s someone I want you to meet.”
I moved to the side to reveal Eva, who had been hovering back in the shadows. “Mom, this is Eva D’Agolino. Eva, my mother, Eileen Logan.”
Eva extended her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Logan.”
My mom ignored her hand and drew her into an embrace. “Call me Mom or Eileen, please. And any woman who brings my Jace home to me deserves nothing less than a hug.”
Eva returned the embrace, shooting me a surprised look over my mom’s shoulder.
“I’d just go with it if I were you,” I suggested.
Thankfully, she did.
My mom stepped back to look at her but spoke to me, “Ah, Jace, she is beautiful. But then I knew she would be.”
Eva blushed, but I couldn’t grin any wider if I tried.
“Of course she is. Now, what is that delicious smell? I’m starving.”
My mom’s eyes twinkled as she picked up a dish towel and swatted playfully at me. “Some things never change. Come. Sit. I’ll get you each a plate, and you can tell me all about how you two met.”
~ * ~
Eva
“Would you like some help with that?” I asked after I noticed Jace’s mom rubbing her hands again.
It was just the two of us in the kitchen, and surprisingly, it wasn’t as uncomfortable as I’d envisioned. I’d liked his parents immediately. They were warm and friendly and welcoming. It was easy to see where Jace had gotten his smile and charm.
Eileen gave me a grateful look. “Could you, dear? My arthritis is acting up today. Usually, the kneading helps, keeps my joints flexible, but I think I overdid it with the wedding coming up and everyone coming in.”
I was already washing my hands at the sink and tying an apron around my waist before she finished. Working with my hands would give me something productive to do, and helping Jace’s mom was an added bonus.
“Looks like you might have done that a time or two before,” Eileen said, eyeing me with approval as I sprinkled a little oil on my hands and got to work.
The rote movements were soothing and familiar.
“I used to work in a bakery,” I said without thinking.
“Did you now?”
“Yes. Before I ...” I caught myself before I revealed too much. Eileen was so easy to talk to; I’d almost inadvertently let my guard down. “Before I moved to LA and started working for Backstage Pass,” I finished. “I think this dough needs a little more flour. Do you mind?”
“Not at all,” Eileen said, waving her hand. “Never did quite get the hang of pastry dough.”
“It’s all in the feel. Temperature is key. This room is perfect.”
I kneaded the dough for a few minutes under Eileen’s watchful eye. Then, I formed it into a ball, coated it with oil, and placed it under a glass bowl off to the side before starting the next one.
“Sorry we’re late,” Jackie said, breezing in and giving her mother a kiss, Eric right behind her. Waving to me, she winked and said, “Wow. Mom must really like you if she’s letting you touch her dough.”
“Eva worked in a bakery,” Eileen said proudly. “She knows what she’s doing.”
“You’ve done it now,” Jackie teased me. “Telling Mom you worked in a bakery is like telling Dad you worked at Bass Pro Shops. Hey, speaking of, where are Dad and Jace?”
“Your father wanted to show Jace some of the designs he’s doing for that new subdivision over in Hartford.” Eileen nodded to Eric. “They’re waiting for you, said to send you over when you got here.”
Eric thanked her, and with a quick kiss to Jackie, he left the room.
“It smells sooooo good in here,” Jackie said, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “I swear, Mom, I’m going to have to double up on the workouts this week if I want to fit into my wedding dress. How do you do it, Eva?”
I looked up from another batch of dough, surprised. “Oh, like I was telling your mom, it’s all in the consistency.”
“No, not that. How do you stay in such good shape? And I’m warning you right now, if you tell me you’re one of those women who’s just naturally toned and gorgeous, I’m going to hate you a little.”
I laughed. “No, definitely not natural. I have to watch everything I eat and work out like a fiend.”
Jackie was nodding emphatically. “Finally! Someone who gets it. Hey, want to be my workout buddy this week?”
“Oh, I don’t know ...”
“Ah, come on, Eva. It’ll be fun. Girl time! God knows I need some of that. Surely, Jace can spare you for an hour or two each day.”
“What can I do?” Jace said, entering the kitchen.
His eyes widened for a brief moment when he saw me working on the pastries. He looked to his mother, who winked and nodded approvingly.
“Let Eva come work out with me this week.”
“She works out all the time,” Jace said, sounding aggrieved. “Zumba, kickboxing, Tae Bo, Piloxing. It’s exhausting, just watching her.”
I rolled my eyes, but Jackie’s eyes lit up like Christmas trees.
“Perfect! We can do a different class each day.”
“Eva doesn’t like doing group classes,” Jace said, dipping his finger into the bowl of fruit filling, only to have his hand promptly slapped away by his mother.
“Why?” Jackie asked.
Jace pointedly ignored my pleading glances meant to shut him up. “She’s too self-conscious.”
Thankfully, Jackie had my back. “Hey, I get it. But if that’s what you’re worried about, don’t be. I go during the day when there are more people around like me. No way I’d go to one of the night classes with all those young hardbodies. Too depressing.”
It was my turn to shoot Jace a look.
Between Jackie’s soulful, pleading eyes and Jace’s encouragement, I agreed to go with her to the gym the next day for a morning Zumba class.
It turned out to be so much fun that we made plans to do cardio kickbox the next day. Of course, the fact that Jace “rewarded” me for being such a good sport and doing something nice for his sister was an added bonus as well.
Chapter 16
Dear Ida,
Have you ever experienced a point in your life where everything is going great but you can’t enjoy it because you know it can’t possibly last? – Worried in NY
* * *
Dear Worried,
It’s true—nothing good lasts forever, but on the flip side, nothing bad does either. Take a deep breath and appreciate the good times while you can.
~ * ~
Eva
With each passing day, I grew increasingly concerned. Not because things were going poorly. On the contrary, things were going too well, and if life had taught me anything, it was that nothing that good could last.
Pessimistic? Maybe. I preferred realistic. When you let yourself soar blindly, it hurt that much more when you crashed and burned. If I kept my optimism carefully guarded and constantly reminded myself it was only temporary, perhaps I wouldn’t be too badly crushed when it was time to land.