Page 32 of The Uncomplicated Café
“It stands for strength and resilience,” her mother continued, repeating a fact CeCe knew well. Mama stared intently into the heart of the flower, as if it held a hidden wisdom. “As a mother, you want to do everything in your power to protect your children, even from themselves. But sometimes, you have to let them learn from their mistakes, knowing God can use those moments to rebuild someone stronger than they were before.” She let her fingers slip from the petal, meeting CeCe’s gaze. “Hungry? I was about to start dinner.”
CeCe blinked, startled by the abrupt shift in conversation. “Uh, sure.”
Mama stooped to gather the herbs off the floor.
CeCe knelt to help, but couldn’t shake her mother’s words. Part of her wanted to be thankful Mama wouldn’t blow their cover.
But another more cautious part couldn’t help wondering if she should heed her mother’s warning. How far was too far to go for a friend?
Chapter Nineteen
JAYCE
Jayce stood on the curb,staring at a tall lemon tree separating two distinct houses. The tree’s trunk rooted firmly in the front yard of the home on the right, his mother’s home, a pretty French provincial style with a flower-lined walkway. But the bulk of the branches arched into his father’s yard on the left, a sturdy craftsman with a stone facade.
The lemon tree served as the focal point of their feud as well as their neighboring yards. His mom constantly accused his dad of covertly pruning the tree to his advantage, an absurd claim his father adamantly denied. More than once, Jayce offered to cut it down, curtailing the exhausting argument once and for all. But whenever he introduced the topic, his mother got all teary-eyed at the suggestion and changed the subject.
Ugh. Why had he agreed to come tonight? He usually avoided their petty conflicts at all costs. Regret mounted with each step he took up his mother’s slate pathway, culminating in an intense urge to flee the moment his father leaned out his open window.
“Jayce!” His dad waved. “Stop by after dinner for some coffee and coconut cake I picked up from CeCe’s place.”
“Uh, sure, Dad.” He gritted his teeth. And thus began the battle for his attention. Too bad CeCe couldn’t join him as a buffer. He thought of the flowers he’d left for her, using his key, and hoped her night turned out better than his.
He reached for the doorknob, but his hand met dead air as the door swung open.
“Go back inside, Raymond,” his mother barked. “Jayce is having dinner with me tonight.”
“I know that, Karen. I invited him over for dessert.”
“And what makes you think I didn’t make a dessert to go with dinner? As a matter of fact, I made a lovely German chocolate cake.”
Oof.Jayce winced. German chocolate cake. His father’s favorite. Had she forgotten? Or was the dessert menu supposed to be another dig at his dad?
“Nothing wrong with having two desserts,” his father countered. “He can come over afterward. Unless you plan on holding our son hostage.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Rolling her eyes, she grabbed Jayce’s arm. “Let’s go, honey. Dinner is getting cold.” Without another word, she yanked him inside and slammed the door.
Jayce spent the next ten minutes perched at the kitchen counter while she assembled a salad, shredding the lettuce with all the ferocity of a lion dismantling its prey. The roast, which wasn’t in any danger of growing cold, crisped in the oven, filling the once-cheerful kitchen with the savory aroma of caramelized brown sugar, rosemary, and sage.
The ample space, with its tall cream cabinets, large maple island, and French cottage decor, used to be their happy place. Family dinners around the rustic farmhouse table. Enormous Saturday breakfasts when they’d all cook together, flipping flapjacks, baking homemade buttermilk biscuits, and slicing fresh fruit. They’d listen to classics from the sixties, and hisparents would sing along or dance together, becoming especially mushy whenever “their song” came on. “Stand By Me” by Ben E. King. Talk about irony.
Now, the once bright and sunny room looked sad, somehow. Too large. Too empty. He couldn’t wait to leave.
Seemingly oblivious to his somber mood, his mother slid the roast from the oven. “How’s your grand plan working out?”
“So far so good.” He stole a cherry tomato from the cutting board and popped it in his mouth. “I talked to Stacey this afternoon. She’s attending the award ceremony on Friday, then she and Rob are eloping in Italy.” Jayce smiled, recalling how excited she sounded. They wouldn’t be able to avoid the paparazzi forever, but Stacey thought Rob would handle Hollywood life better once they were married. Jayce hoped she was right.
“No, not that. How’s yourrealplan going?” His mother met his gaze, her eyes twinkling as she tugged off her oven mitts.
“What d’you mean?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Jayce Harrison,” she teased, evoking his middle name for emphasis. “I’m your mother. I know exactly what you’re doing.”
“And what am I doing?” he asked cautiously, stealing another tomato.
“You’re hoping that by faking an engagement, CeCe will realize she’s madly in love with you.”
Jayce coughed as the cherry tomato caught in his throat.What did she say?He slammed a fist against his chest to dislodge the choking hazard, then reconsidered. Maybe losing his air supply would be preferable to wherever this conversation was headed.
