Chapter 13
Emma
Looking around inside the kitchen at the Elmwood Falls Diner, I nod slightly. It’s not fully equipped the way Elmwood Falls Heritage Bakery is, but it’ll do. It lacks the full array of equipment I’m accustomed to, but it’s manageable, and better than nothing. Word has gotten around that I’m no longer working for Mrs. Marlow. After several nights of depression for not having a job to fall back on, and several more days of shopping trips per Rhonda’s insistence, I’m starting to feel like my old self. I can’t change the fact that Mrs. Marlow fired me. I always knew it was a risk, and sometimes, risks were worth taking. Baking my grandmother’s recipes the last few months has given me a lot of courage to compete in the bake-off. I may not have gone through with it, otherwise.
But Rhonda’s right when she constantly tells me now I have enough time to work on perfecting the croissants and keeping the timing good. And I don’t have to worry about getting the ingredients for my practice—that’s the good thing about having a friend with money.
I’m lucky that the owners of the Elmwood Falls Diner are letting me utilize their kitchen during off hours. In exchange, I’m helping them out during business hours. I figured it was the very least I could do. I can’t afford extra expenses to pay for my time at night, so I can offer my time during the day.
Thinking about the bake-off now is making my heart beat a little more than normal. It’s almost like it knows how important it is for me to win. The building I want is still for sale, and a part of me is so anxious about grabbing it before it goes off the market, I can almost taste it.
“What are you thinking?”
Rhonda’s voice startles me, and I jump before turning around. “You scared me.”
She smiles at me as she leans against the door jamb. Her arms are folded over her chest and she’s mindlessly tapping her long, slender fingers, no doubt with the intention of showing off her fresh manicure.
“Nothing much,” I tell her. “I’m just letting my mind wander.”
“You don’t need to be nervous,” Rhonda says. “You’re going to do great. I know it.”
“I’m not nervous,” I say.
Rhonda raises a brow, but makes no response.
I laugh. “All right, maybe I’m a little nervous. But can you blame me?”
“Nope. I just needed you to admit it.” Rhonda walks the rest of the way into the kitchen and pulls two aprons out of a skinny closet that houses utility items. She tosses one to me and I slip it on. “I never thought I’d have so much fun baking.”
“How would you know?” I ask. “You’re usually wearing the flour and butter.” I tilt my head back as I laugh at her trying-to-be-angry expression.
“I think I’ve gotten pretty good, thank you very much,” she says.
I put an arm around her shoulder. “Of course you have. Baking’s like pretty much anything. The more you practice, the better you become. Ready to get started?”
Rhonda nods, and we leave the kitchen to get the supplies from her car. As usual, I see she went all out with the list I gave her. I’m starting to realize something about her. It doesn’t matter if it’s clothes, jewelry, or flour, she simply loves to shop. I laugh at myself. I don’t know what I would do if I had her kind of money.
A sudden shriek came from Rhonda and my head snaps up. I see her flat against her Mercedes, like a cartoon character, arms stretched out wide as if trying to merge with the car. Someone wearing a monkey mask is standing in front of her, keeling over with laughter. When the person removes the mask, I see a red-faced, highly amused Philip.
“You buffoon!” Rhonda swats her boyfriend with both of her hands.
I start laughing at the scene.
“You shoulda seen your face,” Philip says. “Priceless. Man, I should have gotten my camera.”
Rhonda turns to look at me, her eyes wide with panic. “What are you laughing at? That’s not funny. He scared the daylight out of me.”
“Sorry,” I manage through my giggles. “But that was good.”
Rhonda narrows her eyes, looks back at Philip and sticks her tongue out at him before thrusting the armloads of bags she’s carrying to his chest. “You’re carrying these.” Then she stalks back into the diner.
Philip shrugs at me. “Guess I’ll be buying her flowers later on.”
“Eh, she’ll get over it soon enough,” I say, then I wink. “But flowers are never a bad thing.”
I lead the way back into the diner, and tell Philip where to put the bags, Rhonda’s leaning against the oven, her foot tapping rhythmically on the tiled floor.
I start digging through the bags and tell Rhonda to get out the mixing bowls. I instruct Philip to be the acting judge.
“Ready?” Philip says after a few minutes when Rhonda and I finish setting up.
I pull in a deep breath before I nod. “Let’s do this.”
The three of us spent nearly five hours at the diner. I had told Rhonda and Philip they could leave whenever they wanted, but both insisted on staying until I called it a night. And when midnight came around, I decided I was too sore to keep on going. We did pretty good, and for the first time, I’m actually hopeful I might win the bake-off competition.
Rhonda drove me home, and after I gathered Frankie on his leash, despite my aching feet, I take him for a walk. It’s a nice night. Not too hot, not too cold. I see thousands of stars twinkling in the sky. It never ceases to amaze me how beautiful the sky is at night. It’s one reason why I love living in Elmwood Falls. There aren’t too many street lamps around to obscure the view. That’s the problem with city life. Thank goodness I’m a small-town girl.
Frankie leads me to the park, and I plop down onto the welcoming grass, embracing the earth beneath me. Frankie ventures off, his little legs carrying him to a place to do his business. I know he won’t go too far, so I’m not concerned.
Lying back, I gaze up at the sky, letting the darkness envelop me. As a little girl, I’d often fantasized about dancing among the stars, twirling in the cosmos. It’s a thought that still brings a smile to my face.
Then, Frankie’s enthusiastic yips yank me back to reality, and I crane my neck to see him in the distance. My heart lurches into my throat as I spot Alex, kneeling, giving Frankie the royal belly rub treatment. It’s a scene that manages to be both heartwarming and utterly panic-inducing.
In a moment of ungraceful haste, I scramble to my feet, only to lose my battle with balance. My arms flail in a desperate attempt to keep me standing, a silent plea for something, anything, to save me from the impending kiss with the ground. But then, in a twist fit for a romantic comedy, Alex is there—his hands a sudden, firm presence around my arms.
I gasp, and I know my cheeks are as red as a ripe tomato. Slowly, I dare to meet his gaze. Frankie’s hopping on the ground, his barking echoing in the quiet night.
“Are you okay?” Alex asks, his voice laced with concern and a hint of amusement.
I can tell he’s trying not to laugh. I push away from him, feebly running my fingers through my hair as if the act will make the incident go away.
“I’m fine,” I mumble. I shuffle my feet, trying to not seem too conspicuous.
“No, you’re not.” Alex moves in closer, putting an arm around me.
I’m finding the desire to lean into him, but I need to fight it. Why does he have to affect me this way?
“Come on,” Alex says as he guides me to a nearby bench. “Here. Sit down.”
He helps me sit and I bite back a groan. My feet hurt terribly, and now, I feel like I’ve pulled a muscle in my neck. It hurts to move it. I put my hand up and start to massage it.
“You’re hurt,” Alex says.
His deep blue eyes are gazing intensely at me, and I see nothing but concern in them. It’s nice, but also confusing. I don’t want to like him. I certainly don’t want to fall for him. But I have a feeling it’s too late for both.
“It’s nothing that a hot bath won’t cure,” I say, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”
“Why don’t I help you home?” he says.
“No, you don’t have to do that.”
“It’s the least I can do,” he tells me softly. “Can you stand?”
“Yes, I think so.” Man, my neck is really in pain. It’s a struggle not to start bursting into tears. I don’t know how he’d react to a woman bawling in front of him.
Alex helps me stand, and together, as he holds onto Frankie’s leash, we walk to my apartment. When we make it upstairs, I unlock the door, and Frankie busts in first, plopping down next to the pantry, where his treats are. His tongue is rolled out of his mouth.
Alex helps me to the couch. “Can I get you anything?”
“Uh, do you mind getting Frankie a treat?” I ask. “It’s in the jar in the pantry.”
“Sure.”
As Alex does, he’s speaking softly to Frankie. I can only catch every other word, but I can’t help but smile. I wish I could turn my neck and see them, but it’s probably not worth the extra discomfort. I don’t think so, anyway.
“Help yourself to a drink,” I tell him. “I’d get it for you, but I’m not sure my feet will cooperate.”
“It’s okay,” Alex says. “You have a pretty nice place here.”
I hear cabinets opening and closing, then liquid pouring. When Alex comes to the couch, he’s holding two glasses. He hands one to me.
“Thank you. I’m so embarrassed.”
Alex chuckles as he sits next to me. Frankie hops and misses the couch twice before Alex leans down to pick up the dog, setting him in his lap. Frankie lays down. “Don’t be,” Alex says. “I’m sorry for laughing. I hope you’re not in too much pain.”
“I should be fine in a day or two. I strained my neck a little, and my feet are sore only because the park was pretty much the first time I got off them.”
Alex raised a brow. “Really? What have you been doing all day?”
“Well, first, Rhonda and I went on a shopping spree. Then tonight, we spent nearly five hours at the Elmwood Falls Diner.” He’s looking at me, as if waiting for me to explain, so I do. “Now that I don’t have the bakery at my disposal, I’m practicing for the bake-off at the diner. In return, starting tomorrow, I’m taking shifts there. That’s only in exchange for using their kitchen. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”
Alex hangs his head with a sigh. After several long minutes, he’s quiet, then finally, he looks at me.
“Emma, I’ve wanted to say this for a few days now, but I haven’t seen you around much. I’m sorry if I caused you to lose your job. I write the editorials, but I don’t take into account what happens to the people I critique. Most of the time, my critiques can be somewhat…harsh. I’m hard to impress.”
I gasp, my eyes wide. Leaning forward, I say, “No! You?” Then I chuckle. At first, Alex is surprised by my reaction, but then he joins in on the laughter. With a sigh, I say, “Well, the truth is, Mrs. Marlow did read the article, and she wasn’t happy. But I always knew it was a risk. While she was away, I used the recipes I wanted to use.”
“Your brownies are noticeably different from hers,” Alex says.
“Yeah, she tends to overindulge on flour.” I roll my eyes. I remember the first time I caught Mrs. Marlow measuring without a cup. I knew that she was putting in too much flour, and even then, she refused to listen to me.
“That explains it,” Alex says.
“I’ve decided to look at it like a blessing in disguise,” I tell him. “It gives me more opportunity to prepare for the bake-off. I’m determined to win.”
“Well, I hope you do,” Alex says. “I mean that.”
“Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”
We sit in silence, and when he notices my yawn, he moves Frankie onto the couch and stands. “I’d better get going. Let you get some sleep. I hope you feel better soon.”
I stand with a soft grunt, holding onto my neck. “I’ll walk you out.”
“That’s okay,” Alex says. “I’m pretty sure I’ll manage to find my way.”
“Okay, then.” I watch as he walks away, opens the door, then he turns back to me.
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
He pauses, and I can feel my heart beating hard against my ribcage.
“I was wondering if…” He trails off, shaking his head with his eyes closed. “Have a good night, Emma.”
Alex walks out of my apartment, shutting the door behind him. I’m left now, desperately wanting to know what he wanted to ask me. But only Frankie’s soft whines fill the room.