Second Chance Holiday (Spruce Crossing Christmas Book 2)

7. Ava

Frustration mounts in me as I dump another ruined cake in the garbage. The bag is almost full again. Carlie left two hours ago, and I locked the front doors of Sweet Treats, determined to get the recipe just perfect before I go home, but the hour is getting too late, and Rupert is waiting on me. It’s been five hours since he’s been walked. I don’t have time to do this all night.

I know how to make this! What is wrong with me?!

In my mind’s ear, I can hear my mother whispering that I added too much butter or salt, not enough flour… It’s always something, and I’m consistently doing it wrong.

Carlie asked me earlier why I don’t do another cake, something I know with more confidence.

“Because this is the recipe my mom always wins with,” I explain. “I have to use the same one, to show everyone I can live up to her standards.”

My helper looked at me like I was nuts, and maybe I am. Maybe she’s right, and I should just try something else, something simpler. But simpler won’t win or prove to the people of Spruce Crossing that I’m just as good as Amanda Norwood. That I’m just as worthy of running her business. With this gold ribbon, the orders will all flock in, and I’ll never find myself in this position again. Or at least, that’s what I hope.

Am I as good as my mother, though? Haven’t the last seventeen tries shown me I’m probably not?

I shove the empty cake pan aside and wipe my hands on my over-floured apron, wandering out toward the front of the shop to watch the remaining sun melt beyond the mountains. A gusting wind blew all day, sending snow squalls throughout the charming town, painting the roads in streaks of ivory as the salt trucks slipped by once every few hours.

Inadvertently, my head turns to the right, my mind suddenly conjuring an image of Christian Hargrove. I wonder what he’s doing right now. A twinge of guilt shoots through me as I think about him stopping by earlier and inviting me to lunch. It took every fiber of my being to refuse him, but until this baking contest is out of the way, and he makes up his mind about his job offer, it’s just better if we keep to our respective businesses.

Still, I can’t help but think about him, just like I often have over the years. I play that stupid game of what if, the losing game that never ends.

What if I’d stayed in Spruce Crossing all along? What if I’d had a mother that I got along with? What if I’d gone to college in Montana like she wanted? Would the outcome between Christian and me have been different?

Sighing, I spin around, glimpsing the bare Christmas tree in the corner, and I groan aloud.

“Okay, okay!” I grouch at the empty bakery. “I’m getting the decorations out. Tonight. I promise.”

I swear, I hear my mother laughing in my head.

It’s toocold even for Rupert, who whines and whimpers to go back inside almost as soon as we head for our evening walk, but I insist he stay outdoors until he does his business.

“Come on, Ru. You’re just going to wake me up in the middle of the night,” I beg him. “Please?”

He sniffs through the snow, and I stomp my boots on the sidewalk as a front door opens to one house on the street. I suddenly realize where I’ve walked, and I find my friend blinking at me from the stoop of her mother’s house.

“Ava!” Violet Whitaker gasps, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Is that really you?”

I grin back at her as Rupert barks once, Violet approaching cautiously.

“Don’t worry, he’s friendly,” I promise. On cue to my words, Rupert jumps for her, and I pull him back before he can land on her.

Violet laughs and pets his fluffy head, shaking her own. “I’ve been wanting to come and see you at the bakery, but I didn’t know if you wanted to see me. You didn’t really respond to my texts when you got back into town.”

Shame overtakes me, and I hang my head. “I know. I’m sorry. There’s a lot going on, but I wish you had come by. It’s mostly under control now… I think.” I shrug sheepishly. “Although I don’t think the town thinks I can follow in my mom’s footsteps.”

Violet makes a commiserating sound. “Amanda left some pretty big footsteps,” she agrees. “But you’ve always made your own footsteps.”

My chest tightens with appreciation. “I’m entering the baking competition on Friday,” I tell her.

“The Holiday Baking Competition? For Pine Tree County?” Violet gasps excitedly. “Your mom won that every year.”

“I know,” I reply, twisting the leash around my gloved hand. “I hope if I can claim the title for Sweet Treats this year, maybe I can reclaim some of the business I lost.”

“I’ll put out the word for you,” Violet tells me loyally, and I want to give her a hug.

“Never mind me,” I add quickly. “What’s happening with you? You need to fill me in on the past ten years.”

“I can’t say I have much to report,” she responds.

“Husband? Kids?” I ask. “What about Ethan? Did you two ever date?”

She gapes at me, stunned. “Ethan is my best friend!” she sputters, appalled by the suggestion. Again, my mind flitters back to Christian.

He called us friends, too, just before he kissed me.

“Sorry!” I backpedal, seeing how much the question shocks her.

Violet shakes her chestnut waves. “But to answer your questions, no husband, and no kids. Are you staying at your mom’s?”

I nod.

“We’ll catch up soon, but I have to go right now. Christian Hargrove just informed me he’s putting his house on the market, and he hired me to be his real estate agent.”

She turns away as I gawk at her. “Wait, what?” I gasp. “What did you just say?”

Violet turns back to me. “About what?”

“Christian Hargrove is selling his house?”

She smiles. “Yeah, it’s gorgeous, too. Are you interested? I can arrange a viewing for you.”

“Why is he selling?” I rasp, my pulse racing.

My high school friend’s expression turns stoic. “I don’t know if I should say anything…”

“Please, Violet,” I beg her. “I won’t say a word to anyone. I swear!”

She makes a moue with her lips as she considers my request and blurts out the truth. “He just accepted a job offer in San Francisco. He’s leaving the first week of January.”

The wind is knocked out of me at the revelation, and I can’t find my voice. My knees weaken.

“Oh…” I whisper.

“You want to come with me?” Violet suggests.

I shake my head, unable to form words.

“I really have to go, Ava. I’m already late,” she informs me. “But we’ll get together soon, okay?”

She waves as she climbs into her car, and I can only stare after her, dumbfounded and hurt.

I have no reason to feel this way, I think, spinning around as Rupert tugs on his leash, forcing me down the street. I knew this was a possibility, and he took it.

But I’m still upset, and I feel so alone in Spruce Crossing as I begin to wander again, this time oblivious to the chill in the air.

My mother is gone. The customers don’t want me. And now Christian is leaving, too.

Maybe these things are signs for me to go, to return to Boise and reclaim my life as a pastry chef and live my life in my tiny apartment.

“Come on, Ru,” I tell my only companion. “Let’s get home and find those decorations.”

Rupert barks once, and we head toward my house, walking briskly as if to out-trot the sadness I so hoped to leave behind.