Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Anderson
“I’m down to my last fifteen jars.” Clay grinned. His eyes sparkled with pleasure, and his reddish-auburn hair shone in the light.
“I told him he didn’t make enough.” That husbandly pride couldn’t be overstated. Ashton’s grin outshone Clay’s.
“Well, the Autumn Market is usually where I do the most business. I almost didn’t take a table here—”
“Would’ve been a huge mistake.” Ashton grinned.
“Not going to argue with that.”
I laughed. “No, arguing with one’s husband is never a good idea.” I eyed the jars. “I’ll take two. I don’t want to empty your table.”
“It’s so good.” Ashton pressed his hand against his belly. “You have no idea.”
Clay nudged him. “Why don’t you give him a taste? I saved a couple of cookies for special customers.”
“Oh, I can’t.” I was a guaranteed sale. Better to keep them for people who were hedging.
Ashton waved me off as he grabbed a container from under the desk. “You can have mine. I can always bake more.” He held out the tin which had a few remaining.
Not wanting to be rude, I snagged one. “Thank you.” Then I bit into the pumpkin-spice cookie. My eyes widened. After chewing, I swallowed. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”
Clay laughed as he handed me a brochure. “Several recipes as well as my website where you can find more. I’m always looking for new ones.”
“I’ll buy two more jars.” I eyed the cookies.
“I can wrap another cookie for you. If there’s someone special you want to share it with.” Even as Ashton said the words, a little blush stole across his cheeks.
“That would be awesome. He…won’t be expecting this.
” Should I give Jarrod a jar as well? What if he doesn’t bake?
Well, there must be someone in this life.
That thought gave me pause. No way, after seventeen years, was sweet and loveable Jarrod still single.
That just didn’t happen. Guys like him were snapped up.
Unlike guys you might resemble? You’re single. Or did you forget that little fact?
“Are you okay?” Ashton handed me a cookie in a paper sleeve with Clay’s logo emblazoned on it.
“Good marketing.” I gestured.
“Well, I do have a business degree with a specialization in marketing. I still work for Noel Barker, but only part-time.” Clay gestured to his last few jars of spice. “This keeps me busy.”
“Not enough for full-time?” I was curious.
“With Ashton helping? Not quite. I don’t like to be idle, and Noel was great, giving me a job right out of university.
Maybe one day this will be all I do, but I like to keep my fingers in several pies.
Oh, speaking of pies—have you tried Wyatt’s mom’s pumpkin pie?
She uses my spices for some of her recipes, and I have to say they’re divine. ”
“I’ll head over that way.”
“Better hustle—they’re as popular as my stuff.” Clay waved. “Nice to see you again.”
I had more than a decade on the two men, but their friendliness always made me smile. Well, Ashton was a touch shyer, but he’d been coming into his own after meeting, and now marrying, Clay. “Yeah, thanks.”
Finding Wyatt’s table was easy. He and Tate were swamped.
I stood in line, waiting my turn, when Wyatt’s mother appeared with a baby stroller. Unless she’d made an interesting life choice, the baby must belong to the couple.
A couple who’d had their own struggles. High school sweethearts, separated when Tate went to school in Toronto, moved to London, England, and then wound up back in Mission City.
He and Wyatt reconnected, and they now lived at Wyatt’s family’s pumpkin farm.
“Hey Mrs. Phelps—I see you’ve got some precious cargo. ”
She grinned the grin of a satisfied grandmother. “Born six weeks ago. Tate’s sister Tamlyn offered to be a surrogate for the boys.”
“Oh, wow. That’s a huge commitment.”
“I know, right? But she saw how happy they were together and knew they really wanted a family of their own. I keep offering to move out—”
“Thank God she hasn’t.” Tate appeared, kissed his mother-in-law on the cheek, and gazed down at his daughter. “How’s she been?”
“Coralie’s been an angel. I’ve fed, changed, and cuddled her. She’s passed out.”
“Undoubtedly from all that love.” I smiled. “I remember when Adele was that age.” I met Tate’s gaze. “They grow up so freaking fast. Watch out.”
“We’re going to treasure every minute, I promise.” He turned to his mother-in-law. “Do you want me to watch her?”
“Would you? I found something I want to buy. Then I’ll come back and help you clean up. I’m so pleased to see you sold all the pies.”
Dismayed, I turned to find that, indeed, all the pies were sold and Wyatt was starting to fold the tablecloth.
No doubt Tate caught my dismayed expression. He leaned over. “For you, Anderson? When the disappointed crowd is gone, we’ll give you one of the couple we save for special friends.”
I blinked. I knew Wyatt and Tate. Had gone to school with Tate’s brother, William. But to receive such a generous offer? “Oh, I couldn’t—”
Mrs. Phelps put her hand on my arm. “I’d be ever so pleased if you did. Truly.”
“Well, who am I to turn down such a generous offer? I need to find—”
Even as I said the words, Damien sauntered over. “Those glass fairies are stunning. Several are LGBTQ. I bought one for Paget that I know she’s going to love. She might not be into girly things, but this…?”
“I should run and get one for Adele so she doesn’t feel left out.”
“Already taken care of. But she’s getting it from her Uncle Damien and Uncle Shaw. We’re totally taking credit for this one.”
“That’s fair.” I smiled as Wyatt surreptitiously handed me a pie.
He grinned. “My mom’s amazing. Baking all these pies and helping to take care of Coralie.
” His blue eyes sparkled. “Helps that Tate’s on parental leave from his job at the bank, but it’s still a lot.
Who knew bok choy would be so popular?” The pumpkin farm also contained numerous greenhouses where they grew the popular vegetable.
“People who are healthy?” Damien grinned.
“Oh, are you ready to go? I want to go back to the soap booth.” I aimed for casual.
He eyed me speculatively.
“Jarrod?” Mrs. Phelps grinned. “I stock up every time I see him—quality product at a reasonable price. Young man’s always so busy.”
I had to remind myself that Wyatt and Tate were just a couple of years younger than myself and Mrs. Phelps likely saw them as her boys as well. Sometimes we always remained young in the eyes of our parents.
Adele’s never growing old. She’ll always be my baby girl.
“Yes, Jarrod. I bought a few soaps as gifts.” I pivoted to Damien. “Ten minutes?”
“Sure.” His gaze narrowed.
I shrugged and headed back to my old friend.
To find him packing up his booth. He had several wood crates, and he was putting up the stands he’d used to display his wares.
“How’d you do?”
He glanced up, his startled gaze meeting my hopeful one. He cleared his throat. “Sold out. That’s never happened. Thank you.”
“I doubt my sales made the difference.”
“You’re wrong. I sold my last bar five minutes ago. If you hadn’t bought yours, then I would’ve had a few left over. That’s not a big deal, but it’s exciting to sell out.”
“I’ll bet. Do you need a hand?” I moved to put my bags on the cleared part of his table, but he held up his hand. “I’ve got this part down to an art. Or a science. Or…whatever.” He swallowed.
Okay…so not indifferent. “Do you think—” This time, I swallowed.
“Yeah?” His eyes brightened.
“Do you need to get back to the farm? Are the goats okay?”
“It’s sweet you’re thinking of them. They’ll be okay for a while. I have a young woman from a neighboring farm who helps out. She checked on them an hour ago and texted they were fine.”
I nodded. “Well then…Fifties?”
He grinned. “Greasy diner?”
“My treat.”
His grin faltered a little. “I can pay my own way.”
“No one said you couldn’t—but I’m asking and you’re accepting. You can pick up the tab the next time.” Next time? Isn’t that a little overoptimistic? You haven’t even had one—
“Is this a date?”
I startled at his use of the word I had in my mind. “Do you want it to be?” I peered at him—willing him to accept.
His smile was wide and toothy. “Yeah, I think it might just be.”
I was about to respond when Damien sidled up to me. “You ready to go?”
“Uh—”
“You two came together?” Jarrod waved his hand between the two of us.
“I drove him, yeah.” Damien cocked his head. “Our daughters went to the movies together in his car. I didn’t feel like making him walk.”
Jarrod smiled. “So you’re a good friend?”
I gazed into Damien’s eyes, willing him to understand.
“Best of friends. I met him through his boss—my husband—but Anderson’s incredibly special to me and my daughters. We had it rough for a bit, but he helped smooth things out.” He offered me a wistful smile, then pivoted his attention back to Jarrod. “So yes, we’re friends.”
“Well, that’s great. He asked me to go to Fifties with him for dinner. Are you coming?”
For one panicked moment, I thought Damien might agree. Then I walked back the panic. He was a friend. He could be my wingman. Still, I waited to hear his answer.
He shook his head. “Lovely offer. My husband’s been minding my crockpot today. Anderson’s daughter Adele and my twins are all going to be home soon. We’re planning a big meal and then a sleepover.”
First, I’d heard of the sleepover. They weren’t uncommon—what with Adele being as much older sister as friend to Damien’s two.
He gave me that look.
I nearly rolled my eyes.
He was clearing the decks for me, so to speak. Ensuring I had the house to myself should I wish a…gentleman caller.
My house was inherited from my mother. In all the years I’d lived there, I’d never once—not a single solitary time—brought a guy home.
Yet, in a heartbeat, I knew I could bring Jarrod home. “That’s kind of you.”
“There’s some new streaming thingy that dropped on Monday and the girls have been dying to see it. I figure a little more screen time—and maybe some extra popcorn—will be okay. We’re so close to the Christmas break anyway.” He gestured to my bag of gifts. “Want me to hide those?”
He had keys to my house and would be there to greet the girls anyway, so him taking them made sense. “Yeah, that would be great.” I arched an eyebrow. “Do not sample the pie.”
“You got pie?”
I laughed. “Mrs. Phelps has a soft spot for me. I got one from her special stash.”
“You’ll have to share your secret later.” He carefully took my bags. “Behave.” Before I could respond, he turned to Jarrod. “Take care of him, eh? He’s one of the good ones.”
Jarrod met my gaze, then turned to Damien. “I intend to. I know how special Anderson is.”