Chapter 3 #2
“Me too. I lived in the mystery section.” Sophie sipped her mocha with a glance at her watch. “You must come and hang out. If I could afford to hire you, I would.”
Chloe laughed. “I’d accept. As a matter of fact, I’m interviewing at Haven’s today.”
“Girl, you’d be perfect. Though it’s sad to lose Bob and Donna. I have so many memories of them from Saturday morning donuts at Haven’s.”
“Doesn’t all of Hearts Bend?” Chloe smiled and the icy shell that had formed around her heart when she’d gotten the call from Vivienne melted a bit more. “I think everyone in town spent Saturday mornings at Haven’s.”
“Chloe, we lost him. Jean-Marc…he—he’s gone.”
When Sophie glanced at her watch again, Chloe reached for her hand. “What’s this?” A ginormous diamond sparkled from her ring finger.
“This little ole thing?” She beamed. “I’m engaged. His name’s Eric, and he’s amazing.”
“Of course he is.” Chloe smiled. She may have lost the love of her life, but she still loved hearing others had found their one and only. “Love is—well, love is worth it.” Chloe nodded as if to assure Sophie, and herself, she meant it. Love was worth it. Even if it could also be painful.
“Thank you,” Sophie said. “That means a lot coming from you.”
They chatted a few more minutes until Sophie declared it was toddler story time at the Nook. “Which waits for no one.”
Chloe promised to stop in soon then finished her latte alone at the table, thinking of her day and the job interview that awaited her.
All she knew was baking, but could she still do it?
Did she want to do it? Chloe closed her eyes and inhaled, almost smelling the butter, vanilla, and sugar blending together.
After tossing her cup in the trash, Chloe slipped on her gloves and stepped outside into the cold.
Where to next? She glanced toward the Book Nook…
yeah, she’d definitely pop in there later.
She could go to Gardenia Park and across to the Kids Theater.
She’d spent a few happy summers there, working backstage.
Work… She’d been working twelve-hour days, six—okay, seven—days a week for the last few months, burying herself in work, without sleep.
Yet, she found that the harder she worked, the less relief she felt—and the more elusive the joy that baking had always brought her.
The weight of Jean-Marc’s death was so sudden, so unexpected, she lacked the ability to properly process it.
If she got the Haven’s job, would it only bring it all up? Would baking keep her chained to the past instead of inching her toward her future?
Sophie’s encouragement—“Girl, you’d be perfect”— soothed her a bit.
She would be. The Bistro Gaspard was small, family run, but with a one-star Michelin rating.
A well-earned accolade. Surely she could manage a small-town bakery like Haven’s.
Hearts Bend was home, and home was where she’d learned to love baking.
Chloe rubbed her thumb over the indentation on her left ring finger.
She was going to be fine, wouldn’t she? Were there any other options?
She walked to the market to pick up a few groceries for Mom then took them home and put them away. She answered a few emails, talked to Honey, and ate a light lunch. At one-thirty, she once again started for downtown Hearts Bend.
Maybe this would be the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Sam parked in front of Haven’s, the weak Thursday afternoon sun sparkling on the snowflakes falling on the town.
The last few winters had been pretty mild, so he took a moment to enjoy the drifting and floating bits of frozen crystals.
He stood on the curb, looked up and down First Avenue.
Though he couldn’t quite see Frank’s office from here, Sam knew it was up the block all right, exactly forty-five squares of sidewalk concrete away.
He’d walked the route often enough as a kid, careful to avoid the cracks and not break his mother’s back.
Sticking his hands into his jacket pockets, he sighed as he looked up the street again. Yeah, no, he couldn’t do this. Couldn’t own a Hearts Bend business that was literally a hop, skip, and a jump from the old man’s office. Better get in there and tell Rick.
Sam climbed the four steps to the front door. The brace that kept his knee straight made him look like an awkward penguin, but he made it to the top and held the door open for a mom exiting with a squirming toddler. “Thanks,” she said, barely looking up at him.
His meeting with Dr. Morgan had gone well. She’d examined him, giving him much of the same report the team doctor and trainer had. He’d have to be careful, do everything she told him, and be faithful to his therapy sessions, at-home exercises, and to rest.
“Rest is the most important thing, Sam. You want to be on the field in July? Rest.”
Rest was such a weird word. He’d been working so hard to achieve his dream, rest felt like failure. He worked hard, played hard. Even his vacations were action oriented. Surfing at Malibu. Hiking the Grand Canyon. White water rafting in Colorado. Rest. Hmm. What would that be like?
Never mind that for now—he was inside the bakery with its amazing aromas. Ole Haven’s was a time capsule, filled with the same chairs and tables, booths, decorations, and pictures as twenty years ago. For the first time in a long time, Sam felt a bit at home in Hearts Bend.
Standing in the doorway, he inhaled the aroma of baking bread and rich roasted coffee.
Suddenly, he was a kid again sitting in the corner booth between his folks, scarfing down crullers and chocolate milk.
Mom sipped coffee and read a paperback while Frank rattled newspaper pages.
The same red vinyl bench seats in the booths.
The same square, chipped Formica tables around the room. The same employees.
Wow, he really had stepped back in time.
“Oh, good gravy. Sam Hardy.” Ruby’s expression filled with surprise as she came around the counter to give him a big hug. “We ain’t seen you in a month of Sundays.”
Same ole Ruby. “I’m looking for Rick Moses. Is he here?”
“In the office with Bob and Donna.” Ruby nodded toward the kitchen doors then stuck her hands on her hips. “So, we got us a quarterback for an owner.” Ruby’s voice rose above the voices and clattering dishes in the bakery’s dining room. “Our own Sam Hardy.”
“Shh, Ruby, no one needs to know.” He pressed his finger to his lips.
“Don’t shush me.” She patted his back. “Get on in there. And Sam, don’t know how you plan on keeping it quiet that the Titans’ quarterback now owns Haven’s.”
She had a point. But he was going to try. He just didn’t want his dad to know…and act all smug.
“Told you business was second nature to you.”
Through the doors and into an industrial kitchen, which was much like the ones in the other restaurants HARDRICK LLC owned, Sam looked into the office, spotting Rick and the barrel-chested Bob Morton at a metal desk strewn with papers next to a computer monitor that had been considered high tech the decade Sam was born.
Bob’s wife, Donna, sat in a chair next to him, scrolling through pictures on her phone.
“Sam.” Rick greeted him. “Glad you made it in time for the manager interview. Daughter of a friend of the Morton’s but experienced. She should be here shortly.”
Sam shook Bob’s hand and gave Donna a hug. “Haven’s won’t be the same without you two, but we’ll do our best.” He took a seat on the small sofa.
“How was therapy?” Rick said.
“Dr. Morgan was more cautious than optimistic about getting me on the field this season.” She’d had a lot to say about his personal life too.
Had slipped back into her role as his surrogate mom like he’d been fifteen again and hanging out with her son and crushing on her daughter.
Lecturing him to forgive Frank and Janice for the affair that basically ruined his high school life.
To let go of the grudge he’d been holding on to for over a decade.
Forgiving his father and his second wife for their affair, for destroying Sam’s family, was something he still struggled with from time to time, and he was fully aware that bitterness and resentment would eat him alive. He didn’t need “Mom” Morgan to tell him how emotions affected his body.
“That’s good news, right?” Rick said. “That she’s willing to work with you, at least.”
Sam shrugged. “I have to come for therapy three days a week and do exercises at home, but yeah, my goal is to play.” Dr. Morgan had sent him on his way with a month of appointments and an admonishment to at least try to like and trust his dad again.
“I’ll see you at his sixtieth birthday party next month. Doctor’s orders.”
He’d agreed, because really, what choice did he have? He truly believed she’d drop him as a patient. So, he smiled and nodded and kept his mouth shut.
But when it came to owning HARDRICK businesses—Sam had a whole lot to say about that.
“Rick, I need to talk to you,” he said.
When Chloe reached Haven’s, she paused by the front door.
So this was it. The beginning of her new future.
Back home in Hearts Bend, the quintessential opposite of her old Bastille neighborhood.
Her pride battled the grief she’d carried for the last ten months.
Look, this wasn’t the last stop in her life.
She wouldn’t work here forever. This was just to stay out of Mom’s hair and keep busy until Mom was cancer free.
Besides, she could use the money since Jean-Marc had emptied their bank account.
Go in.
The bell swinging from the door rang as she entered the bakery.
Chloe paused just past the threshold. The scent of coffee, baking bread, and cakes made her feel a bit more alive.
This was her sweet place. No pun intended.
A group of silver-haired women huddled around a table under the window overlooking First Avenue, coffee mugs and plates with sweet rolls in front of them, chittering like a flock of sparrows.
They looked up but quickly returned to their conversation.
Chloe did a double take. One of the women looked familiar. Probably a friend of Mom’s.
She took a moment to gaze around. The daily special written on the chalkboard—vanilla cake—looked fresh and appealing, though it couldn’t be as good as MeMaw’s, she thought loyally.
Lots of Hearts Bend’s residents laid claim to the best vanilla cake in Tennessee, but only MeMaw had taken a blue ribbon at the state fair three years running.
Rows of cinnamon buns, muffins, and donuts lined the trays, and stacked pink boxes waited to carry those treats home.
A pair of swinging doors behind the counter led to the kitchen.
The front part of the bakery held scattered tables and was lined with booths.
A low hum of conversation filled the room.
Chloe tilted her head. Whether in French or with a Southern accent, conversations with a sweet pastry and coffee added something special to the day.
The woman behind the counter wore her hair in a tall, gray wispy beehive hairdo underneath her hair net.
She had a pencil tucked into one of the honeycombs of her hair. She wore bright pink lipstick and—
“I declare,” Ruby said, looking over her half-glasses at Chloe. “I thought homecoming was in the fall. Chloe Beason, is that you?”
“Ruby? Hey, yes, it’s me.” Chloe melted into the woman’s soft, bosomy embrace. She smelled like MeMaw. Of vanilla and sugar. “It’s Chloe LaRue now.” She hoped Ruby wouldn’t break in with a plethora of questions such as, “What have you been up to?” or “Tell me all about Paris.”
She’d have to know about Jean-Marc. His death notice ran in the Hearts Bend Tribune.
“I’m looking for Rick Moses,” Chloe said. “We have a meeting.”
“In the office, sugar. Through there.” Ruby pointed to the double doors. “Welcome home, Chloe.” Her voice…so much sympathy. So yes, she knew about Jean-Marc.
“Thanks, Ruby.”
Through the doors, Chloe spotted the office in the back, but what really caught her eye was the young woman icing a cake on the prep table.
Her baker’s coat was covered in as much blue and yellow frosting as the cake, and even more colorful blobs layered the table.
The area looked like a buttercream bomb had exploded.
Yet the cake’s frosting gleamed as smooth as the surface of Lac de Gravelle—Gravelle Lake in Paris.
Flawless. Beautiful. But goodness, did Donna Morton allow such a disastrous workstation?
“Chloe LaRue?” A man stood at the office door. He was nice looking, very well dressed, his blondish hair perfectly styled and his cologne just strong enough to make her think of a walk in a French forest.
“Yes.” She extended a hand. “Rick Moses? It’s nice to meet you.”
“Please have a seat.” He motioned for her to come on in.
“Thank you for interviewing me.” Chloe hugged Bob and Donna. “I can’t believe you’re retiring. And all the way to Florida.”
“We’re tired of the long days,” Bob said. “We almost sold out five years ago to that Donut Heaven chain, after our boy didn’t come home from Afghanistan. But we kept going. Now, though, it feels like the right time.”
Chloe swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. She’d forgotten about Danny Morton.
Rick cleared his throat and indicated Chloe should take a seat in the wooden chair next to the desk.
She sat, vaguely aware of another man leaning against the wall behind her. As she twisted in the chair to acknowledge him, Rick spoke. “Chloe, I’d like you to meet my partner. He’ll be co-owner of Haven’s. Sam Hardy.”
Chloe stood with such quickness, she knocked over her chair. “Sam? The Sam Hardy.”
When her eyes met his, he smiled. “Chloe Beason. It’s been a long time.”
Love @SamHardyQB15’s Nashville condo. Just needs some throw pillows! A woman’s touch. ;-) We’re spending evenings in as his knee is still healing.
– @CurvyCarla on Twitter
Thank you to everyone at the Grand Ole Opry for an excellent evening. We raised a million dollars for my foundation, SportsWorld. Every kid who wants to play, should be able to play.
– @SamHardyQB15 on Twitter