The Secret Ingredient Read online

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Honey Almond Cake with Berries and Mascarpone Crème Fraiche

  Sneak Peek of Country Hearts

  About the Author

  The Secret Ingredient

  Copyright @ 2018 Nancy Naigle

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-947892-37-8

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-947892-46-0

  www.hallmarkpublishing.com

  Chapter One

  Kelly McIntyre didn’t care if the town of Bailey’s Fork, North Carolina was too small in some folks’ eyes. It was big enough to have kept the Main Street Cafe open through four generations of McIntyres. It also had bragging rights for the winningest high school football team in the region for ten years running and held the honor of the largest loblolly pine in both Carolinas, and that suited her fine.

  The fact that she and Andrew York had professed their love by carving their initials in the bark of that tree had made Kelly McIntyre almost famous…for a little while.

  Kelly straightened her short black-and-white apron and retied its red sash over her blue jeans. She lifted the tall glass dome from the cake people came from miles around to get and sliced a wedge, letting it fall over right into the center of the shiny red plate. Today’s flavor—Southern Seven-layer Caramel. Her specialty. For that, she could still feel a little famous.

  “Here you go.” Kelly placed the plate in front of Fuzzy Johnston. “Mrs. Johnston out of town again?”

  His eyes twinkled. “She’d never let me have this.” He sank his fork into the frosting, then lifted it to his mouth. “Only live once, don’t you know?”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” she teased. “You are going to eat some real food too though, aren’t you?”

  He nodded while swallowing the rich cake, then chased it with a sip of coffee. “I’ll have the chicken-fried steak, please.”

  She jotted the order on her pad. “Do I need to even ask if you want mashed potatoes and gravy?”

  “Nope.” He grinned, looking quite pleased with himself. Fuzzy owned the biggest chicken farm around, and rumor had it his wife cooked chicken six ways to Sunday, which was why when she was out of town, Fuzzy always ended up here in the cafe for something a little different. “And fried okra.”

  “I’ll put this right in.” She tucked her pad into her apron pocket and headed to the kitchen. “Fuzzy’s usual.” Kelly pushed the ticket onto the clip and spun it.

  Andrew snapped the order up and then stage whispered from the pass-through, “For someone who complains that his wife won’t fix him anything but chicken, you’d think he might switch it up when he got the chance.”

  She loved that twinkle in Andrew’s green eyes. His light brown hair was damp, which made that one piece of hair fall forward, giving him a tough-guy look. But she knew the ooey-gooey sweet side of him. “He did switch it up. He had cake as an appetizer.” She spun away with only a quick glance back, knowing Andrew would pick up on the playful jab.

  Andrew leaned forward at the pass-through. “He loves my chicken-fried steak and gravy.”

  “He ate a big slice of my cake, first,” she challenged.

  “Saving the best for last,” he said with a playful smirk.

  She turned and propped a hand on her hip. “I seem to remember helping you get that chicken-fried steak recipe just right.” Kelly had helped him with as many recipes as he’d helped her. It seemed like there was nothing they couldn’t perfect together.

  Andrew straightened, his white apron splattered with grease and barbecue sauce. “Did I tell you that you look real pretty today?”

  She swept a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “Now you have.” She never tired of hearing him say that. With a smile on her face, she turned, and then looked over her shoulder. “Thank you.” He still made her heart race. She swept her thumb against the band of the diamond engagement ring on her left hand.

  “Hey,” he called after her. “Mom texted me. She and Dad are coming in for dinner tonight.”

  Kelly walked back over to him. “Great.” They’d hardly ever come in since Andrew had started work at the cafe. “What’s up?”

  “They want to celebrate. Mom said it’s a surprise. Something about my great aunt.”

  “That’s the one who lives in France, right?”

  “We haven’t seen her in a couple of years. Not since the last time Dawn and I went for the summer. Maybe she’s coming for a visit,” he said. “Mom would love that. Will you save some cake for them? They love your chocolate cake.”

  “Of course. I’ll put two slices aside right now. I can’t let my future in-laws down. How would that look?”

  “Very bad.”

  “My thoughts exactly.” She placed two slices in the cooler to hold for the Yorks.

  “Thanks, beautiful.” He blew her a kiss, then got to work on the order.

  I’m the luckiest girl in the world. She and Andrew had known each other since grade school, but it wasn’t until high school when he’d landed a job bussing tables here at the cafe that the two of them had started dating. He loved to cook, and she loved to bake, so they spent nearly all of their extra time in the kitchen of the Main Street Cafe making up recipes and testing out ideas. They never tired of it, or each other.

  The dinner crowd started to roll in, and the noise level grew exponentially. She pulled another order from the call window. With three plates balanced up each arm, she made it across the diner and dropped them off at table fourteen. “Can I get you anything else?” Everyone was already digging in, so she whisked back into the kitchen to pick up the next order.

  Andrew tapped the bell at the window and shoved two more plates of the daily special under the heat lamp, giving her a wink before turning back to the cooktop. Kelly’s dad barked an order, and Andrew hopped to it withou
t a single grumble. Andrew loved being in the kitchen as much as he loved her, and she loved watching him cook.

  Kelly spotted the Yorks as they walked in. There was no mistaking Andrew’s father. Except for slight graying at the temples, father and son looked just alike. Tall, athletic, with wide lean-on-me shoulders, light brown hair and green eyes. His mom wore her signature cowboy boots, jeans and pearls with that ever-present smile and an air of kindness you could sense a mile away.

  “Good evening. How are y’all doing tonight?” They weren’t big talkers most of the time.

  Mr. York gave her a nod.

  Mrs. York said, “It’s so good to see you. We’re doing great.”

  “Follow me. I’ll get you seated.” She grabbed two menus as she passed the register.

  “Thank you, Kelly,” Mrs. York said with a smile.

  “I might recommend the savory fried pork tenderloin,” she said as she seated them in a booth. The pork tenderloin wasn’t only the special on tonight’s menu, but it was one of her favorites of Andrew’s recipes. When Andrew’s dad tasted that, he’d have to finally admit his boy really did have a future as a chef, something he hadn’t been supportive of.

  “Works for me,” Mr. York said.

  Andrew’s mom scoured the menu, which was funny because she always ordered whatever her husband was having. “Let’s keep it simple. I’ll have the same.”

  “Great. I’ll be right back with your sweet teas.” She walked over to the kitchen window and waved toward Andrew. “This is your parents’ order.”

  Andrew gave her a half smile.

  “Wait right there.” He handed a dish through the window. “Appetizer. Not on the menu. For my folks.”

  “This looks delicious.” She took the platter. “You’re so thoughtful. I love you for that, you know.”

  “I do what I can.” He swept at his brow.

  Were the beads of sweat on his forehead from the heat of the kitchen or his parents’ arrival? She couldn’t blame him for being nervous; she was too.

  The trio platter had Andrew’s homemade pimento cheese, a heaping serving of made-from-scratch hushpuppies, and a spicy bean salsa that he’d been tweaking for over two weeks. “We might have to add this to our future menus.” Whenever they perfected a recipe, she’d laminate it and put it in their binder full of recipes they’d use in the restaurant they’d someday own together. This looked worthy of the appetizer section.

  He nodded toward the dining room. “If Dad likes it, it’ll please anyone.”

  “They’ll love it. Don’t you worry.” She zipped by her other tables to deliver the appetizer.

  His dad raised his head. “We didn’t order that.”

  “On the house,” she said as cheerfully as possible. “I think you’ll like it.”

  He scowled and muttered something about not ruining his dinner with filler that she pretended to ignore. Mrs. York dove right into the platter.

  Thankfully, when she brought out his dinner, he seemed much more ready to indulge. “How did you enjoy the appetizers?” she asked.

  “Fabulous!” Mrs. York said.

  Mr. York glanced at the near-empty dish. “Never was one much for hushpuppies, but everything on that plate was good. Probably won’t be able to finish my dinner now.”

  “No worries. We can box your leftovers if needed.”

  The cafe was busy, but she kept an extra-close eye on their table to be sure to get their dessert to them before they asked for it. When she did, Mr. York didn’t even complain.

  “Can I get anything else for you two tonight?” she asked.

  “No,” Mr. York said quickly, then rubbed his stomach.

  Mrs. York placed her hand atop her husband’s across the table and softly said, “Not a thing, darling. Thank you so much. That was the best cake. So moist. And all those layers? It had to take hours to prepare. You’re an amazing baker.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Kelly heard Andrew say behind her.

  She turned and reached for his hand. “Hey.”

  His blue button-down shirt was wrinkled from where the apron had been tied against it for hours in the steamy kitchen. “My special girl.” He pulled her in close.

  She resisted the urge to kiss him right there in front of his parents. “Thank you.” As she held his gaze, she knew he was thinking the same thing at that moment.

  Kelly turned back to his parents. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it.” A customer across the way was waving her down. “I need to get their check to them. Excuse me.” She left, but she had one ear cast toward their table. Call it female intuition, but every nerve in her body was on alert. Something was up.

  She heard his mother’s giggle, followed by, “Tell him, honey.”

  “I thought you wanted to tell him. Aunt Claire is your aunt.” His voice was impatient.

  “What’s going on?” Andrew asked.

  “Aunt Claire called tonight,” his mother said. “You know how excited she’s been about your cooking and all. Well, she’s lined up the opportunity for you to go to Paris to study under one of the best pastry chefs in the world.”

  “What?” Andrew’s voice carried across the cafe. Kelly glanced over. He looked flat-out dumbfounded. “But I’m not a baker. Kelly is the baker. I’m a chef. There’s a difference, Mom.”

  “You’re no chef, just a short-order cook. But maybe you’ll be as good as Kelly when you get back,” his dad said. “With any luck.”

  Kelly gulped. What was wrong with that man? Insulting his own son like that? Andrew had a natural talent in the kitchen. It was something to be proud of. Andrew had expressed his disappointment in his father not appreciating his career choice, but it wasn’t until today that she realized how much he disapproved. Her heart ached for Andrew.

  “You’ll be able to stay at Aunt Claire’s while you’re there,” his mother said. “The owner of the school is renting the carriage house for the executive pastry chef teaching this special curriculum. I have no idea what this is costing her, but she’s covering every dime. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

  Andrew pulled up a chair to the end of the booth. “Wow.”

  “Unless you’ve got second thoughts about the whole cooking thing,” his dad said. “You can always come back and work at the shop with me.”

  “I have a job, Dad.” He fiddled with the bottom of his shirt. “And Kelly is here.”

  Kelly tucked herself out of their view. Ever since Andrew had refused to work with his father in the family business, his dad had hated all of Andrew’s ideas. Truth be told, Andrew was an awesome mechanic, but he didn’t enjoy doing that kind of work. After a long day turning wrenches, he’d been filthy and in a foul mood. When he was in the kitchen, his whole demeanor changed.

  Andrew’s mom pressed her hand on his arm. “I need to let Aunt Claire know if you’re coming. The Pastry and Baking Program begins the first week of July.”

  “So soon? Kelly and I had plans this summer.” He tugged at his shirt collar.

  “I’m sure those plans can wait. You two have your whole lives ahead of you. The program runs from July to December. Only twenty students get in. Aunt Claire pulled some serious strings.”

  “It does sound like a great opportunity…” He leaned back in the chair, looking down at his hands. “But I don’t want to be a baker. It would be a big waste of time and money.”

  “We’d never be able to send you to something like this.” His mom sounded almost apologetic. “Aunt Claire says that if you do well, there could be other scholarship opportunities too.”

  Kelly could see how torn he was. He pressed his fingers into the palm of his hand, the way he did when he was deep in thought. Paris was so far, but if she were faced with this decision, she’d jump at it.

  “You’ll be home by Christmas,” his mother added gently, as if she’d read his mind.


  “I need to talk to Kelly,” he said.

  Mr. York peered over the top of his glasses at Andrew. “You can make your own decisions, son.”

  Kelly flinched. Those words were like a stab to the heart. Did his father really think she’d ever stand in the way of such a great opportunity for him?

  “I will make my own decision. I just want to include Kelly in it. She’s my fiancée.”

  Kelly’s heart swelled. At least Andrew knew whose side she was on.

  His dad’s mouth pulled into a tight line, then he pushed his chair from the table and stood.

  Kelly held her breath.

  “You two talk it over tonight,” his mom said. “We’ll see you at the house later. It’s the middle of the night over there right now anyway. We can call her tomorrow afternoon and give her your answer.” She stood and hugged Andrew.

  “Thanks, Mom. This is amazing news. I don’t mean to sound unappreciative, but Kelly and I just set a wedding date last week. I’m not going to make a decision this big without her.” Andrew’s shoulders slumped as if he’d been beaten.

  Kelly pulled her hand to her heart. They don’t understand that baking and culinary arts are two entirely different skills.

  His father turned and walked out the door.

  Is there anything Andrew could do or say that would make that man happy?

  Andrew’s mom raised a dismissive hand toward her husband. “I know. Never mind him.” She stepped back. “I’m really proud of you. I want you to have the chance to do what you want with your life. Don’t let Dad worry you. I’ll deal with him.” She gathered her purse and rushed outside to catch up with his dad.

  His parents’ behavior confused Kelly. Mom and Dad had always supported her no matter what she’d chosen to pursue. Last week Andrew had gotten down on one knee and professed his love, never wanting to be apart. They’d set their wedding date for June fourth of the following summer to give them plenty of time to save for and find a house to start their new life together.

  Never in a million years did she consider they might be separated for half that time. Even thinking about it made loneliness invade her mood.