Read Online The Marriage Recipe by Michele Dunaway - Free Book Online Page A

gotten used to “springing forward.” Her mother hadn’t quite adjusted; the state of Indiana had only started setting clocks forward one hour in the spring a few years ago.
    â€œSo where are we going?” Rachel asked, lowering the visor. With the days growing longer, the sun was still above the horizon and wouldn’t dip below for about another hour, give or take a minute or two.
    â€œTo the River Club,” Colin said. He turned down a narrow two-lane road and headed toward the outskirts of town.
    â€œNever heard of it,” Rachel said. Morrisville wasn’t known for its culinary delights. In fact, since Kim’s closed at three, many people ate dinner at the public golf-course restaurant or at the hospital cafeteria in Batesville. Both were considered fine dining. Rachel gave an involuntary shudder. She’d once agreed, until she’d moved to Manhattan and learned how provincial her life had been.
    â€œCold?” Colin asked, seeing her second shiver.
    â€œNo, I’m fine.” Her outfit wasn’t the problem. She’d worn black slacks, boots and a red V-neck sweater. The day had been warm, but the air would cool down around seven so she’d brought a field coat. She’d just have to trust Colin’s judgment in choosing dining establishments.
    They were about ten miles outside of town now, and Rachel frowned. “Why are we at the airport? Did they reopen the café?”
    The airport had had a small diner, but the owners had sold everything, retired and moved to Florida a few years back.
    â€œNo,” Colin said.
    He was being deliberately evasive. “We’re eating here?” she prodded.
    â€œNope.” He parked his car outside a single-story brick building. A sign, like the cheap kind you find at any hardware store, proudly proclaimed Office. Another sign, on a door about ten feet to the left, proclaimed Lounge. The café building had been demolished, replaced with an airplane hangar.
    â€œUh, I don’t get it,” Rachel said, glancing around. The place was pretty quiet, save from the whirring of a power tool in an airport hangar about a hundred feet to her left.
    Colin opened his trunk and withdrew a black duffel.
    â€œWe’re picnicking?” He’d really lost her, and she wasn’t one who usually found herself in the dark.
    He shook his head. “No. I told you we’re eating at the River Club. Our reservation is for seven. Come on. Our transportation is right over there.”
    He pointed to where a blue-and-white plane sat parked near a few others.
    â€œWe’re flying? In that?” The smallest aircraft she’d ever flown in was one of those regional jets that sat fifty. She’d clutched her seat the entire uncomfortable and bumpy flight.
    Colin grinned. “Yeah, that’s our plane. Isn’t it great? It’s a Cessna 182. Three hundred horsepower. You’ll love it. These seats are more comfortable than those in commercial first class. Besides, how else did you think we’d get to Chicago?”
    â€œChicago?”
    â€œThat’s where the River Club is,” Colin said.
    She looked around, searching for someone—anyone—who could tell her she’d entered the twilight zone. But Colin was already striding over to the plane as if he knew what he was doing. He opened the left-side door, set the duffel on the seat and removed some headphones and his cell, before following with various charts and spiral-bound books. Then he zipped the bag, opened a door in the tail and put the bag inside. “If you want, you can put your purse back here. Or you can stow it at your feet. Your choice. Climb in. You’re in the front right seat. I had them gas up the plane already, but I’ve still got to run the standard takeoff checks.”
    â€œOkay,” Rachel said. She glanced up and down the airport runway, preferring to stay outside. She set her purse next to his bag