92 Pacific Boulevard - Debbie Macomber [59]
Charlotte returned to the kitchen and got out the flour and lard. None of those store-bought piecrusts for her! She had the time and a recipe she’d inherited from her mother, one that couldn’t be matched.
“Come and chat with me,” she called out to Ben as she kneaded the flour and lard. The dough was soft and supple; her mother had always warned her not to knead it too long, but the timing had become a matter of instinct. Charlotte sighed. Her mother, God rest her soul, had been a wonderful cook.
Some of the recipes she’d been collecting for Justine and her new restaurant were from Charlotte’s mother. Admittedly, there were a few that were a bit challenging to translate for a modern kitchen—and a cook who couldn’t spend all day preparing them!
“What’s so amusing?” Ben asked as he slid into a kitchen chair.
“Oh, I was just thinking about my mother and her recipe for dumplings.”
“Oh?”
“For years she told me it was a secret family recipe. Some secret. Flour and water were the two main ingredients.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, there are a couple of other things, but no big deal. The real secret was in cooking them for a good long while. That’s what she used to say—a good long while. I decided that was too vague and imprecise for Justine, so I left the recipe out.”
“Have you given them to her yet?”
“No, but the collection’s nearly ready.” Many of the original recipes had been lost over the years—or never written down—and Charlotte had to reconstruct them from memory. The project had helped fill the dreary winter days. With Ben so depressed lately, she’d stayed close to home.
“I feel guilty using grilled chicken from the deli in this potpie,” Charlotte confessed. She’d picked up two of them the day before, since they came in handy and never went to waste.
Ben dismissed her concern. “No one will know.”
“I will, but it’s nearly as tasty and it does save me time.”
Ben got up and poured himself a second cup of coffee. “I heard from David yesterday afternoon.”
Charlotte’s hands momentarily stilled. The call must have come while she was out getting groceries. She waited for him to elaborate, and when he didn’t she felt compelled to remain silent. Ben would tell her as soon as he was ready.
“He wanted another loan.”
That was hardly a shock. The only time his youngest son called was when he needed financial assistance. David was a user and had no skills when it came to money management. No ethics, either—he’d lie about anything to anyone, including that young girl who’d just had his baby. And his father.
“What did you say to him?” Charlotte asked.
“I told him no.”
“And he got angry with you.” This was a pattern. Ben had held firm to his stipulation. He refused to lend his son any more money until David paid back the loans he’d already made. Over the course of their marriage, Ben had received a few checks from David, but they’d all bounced due to insufficient funds.
Nothing had upset her husband more, however, than discovering that his son had fathered a child and then abandoned the mother—and this was after his divorce. Naturally David denied that he was responsible for Mary Jo’s pregnancy, but given his history and given the girl’s sincerity, that denial was just another lie.
“We had an argument,” Ben murmured, obviously distraught.
Charlotte dumped the pie dough on a floured board. “I have a son who’s disappointed me, too,” she said, wanting to reassure him that many parents faced such trials. She rarely referred to Will as a disappointment, but the fact that he’d been repeatedly unfaithful to his wife had distressed Charlotte deeply. Like any mother, she wanted to believe the best of her child. Sadly, she recognized that was no longer possible with the man Will had become.
Ben shook his head. “Will’s transgressions are bad enough, but they don’t come close to David’s.”
“I suppose so…” At least Will hadn’t tried to steal from her or, she was positive, anyone else. And he’d been a good brother to Olivia during her illness.
“I keep wondering what I could’ve done to set David straight when he was young,” Ben