Cooking Up Love by Cynthia Hickey Page B

done? His knees threatened to give way.
    “Are you all right, Mr. Foster?” The cook stared with compassionate eyes. “Not taking ill, too, are you?”
    He waved off her concern. “No, just need some fresh air.” He rushed out the back door and leaned against the building. He had done what he said he wouldn’t ever do again. Come to care for a woman.
    Well, he wouldn’t allow it to grow. He could keep an eye on her from a distance. No more talks on the stoop. He plopped on the top step and put his head in his hands. Loneliness could be lived through. Losing another love could not. He pushed to his feet.
    Who was he kidding? He could no more give up his so-called friendship with Tabby than he could rope the moon. He’d pray for her safety, watch her closely, and take her to California with him. She said she wanted adventure and travel instead of marriage, but maybe she would come around in time.
    He hadn’t watched Marilyn closely enough. He wouldn’t make that mistake with Tabby.
    Laughter drifted from the gazebo and Adam headed in that direction. Anything to pull him from his thoughts and solitude.
    One of the waitresses emerged from the bushes and straightened her clothing. She giggled again and turned, fixing her hair as she did. Adam ducked around the corner of the building, wanting to avoid the awkwardness of discovering a forbidden tryst. Was there nowhere besides his room to spend a Sunday afternoon in peace?
    He stared east, envisioning home. The family was most likely relaxing on the porch after stuffing themselves with Ma’s Sunday roast. He remembered all the times with Marilyn by his side that the family had simply sat around and talked.
    Tomorrow, Pa would be harvesting the fields, and Ma would be in the kitchen or doing laundry with his sister’s help. Ma and Pa were getting too old for such hard work. At least when they had their own restaurant, Adam would take over the cooking duties, leaving Ma to do something less physical. Sometimes Adam wondered about the wisdom of leaving them to keep the farm going while he traveled the country earning money. Maybe if he’d stayed at home and helped, the land would be more productive.
    The back door banged closed, and Tabby exited the building, her reticule slung over her arm. Without a glance in his direction, she headed around the corner.
    Adam followed, keeping a distance behind her as she took the walk alongside the railroad tracks and down Main Street. Most of the girls did their shopping on Sundays, since that was their only day off. The mercantile would open for them if the owners were around to hear the bell.
    Tabby stopped in front of the store, pulled the rope that triggered the bell inside, then cupped her hands around her face and peered inside the window. After a few minutes, the door opened, and she disappeared inside.
    Glad to see she apparently felt better, Adam sat on a bench to wait. Maybe she would need help carrying packages. If he were lucky, she would accept a lunch invitation. They could go to Betty’s Boarding House and pretend there weren’t silly rules hanging over their heads.
    He leaped to his feet when Tabby stepped out, a wrapped package in her arms. Sitting on top was a box tied with a red-and-white-checked ribbon. Adam grinned. She liked chocolates.
    “Good afternoon.” He jogged to her side.
    She sighed. “Good afternoon, Adam.”
    “May I escort you to lunch later?” He felt like a young boy with his first crush. Nothing about the look on Tabby’s face said she was happy to see him.
    “I like you, Adam. I really do, but—” She took a deep breath. “I’m rethinking the wisdom of our friendship. I have no intentions of staying here. I told you on the train I want adventure.”
    “Have an ice cream with me.”
    “No.”
    “I’m only asking for friendship, Tabby.”
    Her gaze connected with his. “So you say, yet your actions prove otherwise.”
    “If I were one of the girls asking you for a treat, would you