11. Mallory
MALLORY
Mallory sat in the passenger side of Harrison’s truck the next day, watching Trinity Falls go by out the window.
“Thank you so much for doing this,” she said again, turning to him.
He was so handsome. The sun lit his profile and she couldn’t help thinking that he looked like he could be the star of one of the Westerns her dad and Dean used to watch on Saturday afternoons.
“It’s no problem,” he said, his voice deep and dark.
It was hard to believe this was the same man who had almost kissed her last night.
And what happened to the man I got to know online? She wondered. The man who was so in touch with his emotions?
But she understood it. She was probably different online too. It was easier to be open when the conversation felt anonymous.
“What a gorgeous day,” she said, turning her attention back to the scenery out the window, which was much more predictable than her handsome companion.
“It’s supposed to snow later,” he said. “But we’ll be fine in the truck.”
There was a moment of silence, and she wondered whether he might bring up last night.
“How’s the farm?” she asked him after a moment.
“Things are going well,” he told her, brightening a little. “I want more cows, but the ones I’ve got are good producers. And the spring is a lifesaver.”
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this,” Mal said with a smile. “But we used to sneak onto your property when I was a kid, just to get a bottle of that water.”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, a pleasant expression on his face.
“My friend Ana and I liked to hike in the woods that back up to the Jones place,” she said, thinking back to the two of them wandering among the trees, singing silly pop songs and dreaming about the future. “That spring water is irresistible when you’re hot and sweaty.”
“I’ll bet,” Harrison said with a smile. “You can feel free to stop by and fill your water bottle anytime you want.”
“I just might take you up on that,” Mal said, laughing.
“Valerie didn’t hike with you, huh?” Harrison asked.
“No,” Mal said. “It wasn’t her thing, and by the time we were teens she was working at Gabriel’s anyway. She always wanted spending money for her jewelry-making.”
“Even back then, huh?” Harrison asked.
“Valerie’s always known what she wanted,” Mal said proudly. “She apprenticed to the man who used to own Promises, Promises. Though of course it wasn’t called that back then.”
“What was it called?” Harrison asked.
“Trinity Falls Jewelry,” Mal said with a smile.
“The new name is better,” Harrison said firmly.
“Yes,” Mal said. “Valerie has always had a creative flair.”
“Have you ever thought about renaming the bakery?” Harrison asked.
“Like something more creative than The Bakery on Park?” Mal asked with a smile. “Yes, but I haven’t been able to settle on anything better.”
“It’s probably hard to top,” Harrison said. “What and where it is are right in the name.”
“That’s true,” Mal said with a smile. “The idea would have to be pretty special for me to make a change.”
“As special as your signature dessert,” Harrison said, nodding, his eyes on the road.
“Ugh,” Mal sighed, remembering the results of last night’s taste test at Cassidy Farm. She’d had dozens of testers and still wound up without a standout.
“Hey, a tie isn’t such a bad thing,” Harrison said with a smile. “It means both scones were excellent.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It means neither was good enough to be a signature treat.”
“What even is a signature treat?” Harrison asked, shrugging. “Isn’t it enough that everything in the bakery is delicious?”
“Most bakeries have tons of delicious offerings,” Mal said.
“But think about the Starbucks pumpkin spice latte. That’s the kind of thing that gets people in the doors on September first. A bunch of the teens from Trinity Falls even took the train into the city for them last year. Everyone was talking about it.”
“Okay,” Harrison allowed. “But that’s a huge franchise. You can’t compare your small business to that.”
“Think about Pete’s place,” Mal said. “Jolly Beans has a signature Christmas treat.”
“Cranberry loaf,” Harrison said softly. “How do I even remember that?”
“Because it’s that good,” Mal said miserably. “And because no one else does it like Pete. It puts you in the mood for the holidays just knowing he has it.”
“Okay,” Harrison said, nodding.
“And when people come in for the cranberry loaf, they get coffee to go with it,” Mal said. “And it reminds them to pick up a gift card or come back with the girls from the office, or order stuff for a party, or whatever.”
“So the signature item gets people in the door?” Harrison offered.
“Exactly,” Mal said. “And if I have one, then once they’re inside maybe they’ll realize I’ve got a lot to offer, not just a loaf of bread or a cookie, but gift cards, cakes made to order, even catering.”
“I get it now,” Harrison said, nodding. “You’re right to be brainstorming this.”
“I can’t just pick something from the regular menu, though,” she said, nodding. “It needs to be a little unusual.”
“You’ll think of something,” Harrison said gruffly.
His confidence in her was like lightning in her veins. It felt earned in a way it never did when her dad or her besties pumped her up. If she could convince this grumpy cowboy that a special dessert could change her business, and he thought she was up for the challenge, it meant something.
“If I do figure this out, maybe the bakery can finally do well enough to make Simon Webb an offer on the building,” she let herself dream out loud. “And once I own the building, it will feel like I’m finally getting somewhere.”
“What do you mean?” Harrison asked.
“Well, I told you how Valerie has always known what she wanted,” Mal said, shrugging.
“She learned her trade, and she runs a shop that’s special enough for people to travel to.
And Ana makes gorgeous clothing with her mom, which is what the two of them always dreamed of, having a dress shop together. ”
“And you run an amazing bakery,” Harrison said, nodding. “Would owning the building really change anything?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, glancing over at him. “Do you feel different owning your own farm?”
“Fair point,” he said, the corner of his mouth tugging up slightly, like he wanted to smile. “And yeah, it does make a difference.”
“Anyway,” Mal said. “I guess I just need inspiration.”
“Well, a little trip out of town to break up the routine can’t hurt,” Harrison said.
Mal smiled and gazed out the window again. As they drove, miles of farmland gave way to woods and hillsides and then melted back into snowy fields.
While her friends loved taking a day off to go into the city and explore the parks and museums, Mal absolutely loved the countryside. Maybe one day she could convince her besties to do a camping trip. Although it was tough to picture Valerie sleeping in a tent.
They drove on in friendly silence, the late morning sun warming up and shimmering on the snow outside.
At last, Harrison turned onto a gravel driveway with a handprinted sign that said Chessie’s Candies.
“We made good time,” Harrison said. “Hopefully they’re ready for us.”
“Thank you again for the ride,” Mal said. “I’m so glad I’ll have crushed candy canes for the drinks this year.”
As they pulled up at a little house with green shingles and smoke swirling out the chimney, the front door opened and an older couple stepped outside. Each was wearing a gorgeous hand-knit sweater and a big smile.
“Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Rodgers,” Mal said as she got out of the truck.
“It’s just Chessie and Harold, honey,” the woman said, coming forward to give Mal a hug as soon as she reached the porch. “You know that.”
For a small lady, Chessie gave a nice strong hug. And Harold followed it up with a handshake, and another for Harrison, who had joined them.
“Nice to meet you, young man,” he said.
“Harrison,” he replied. “And it’s nice to meet you too, sir.”
“I’m so glad you let us stop by,” Mal said. “My winter drinks wouldn’t be half as special without your candy canes.”
“Well, we’ve got a proposition for you,” Chessie said, her eyes dancing. “Instead of one sack of broken canes, we’ve got five.”
“Five?” Mal echoed, instantly trying to figure out what she could do with five bags. “Same price for each?”
“It’s a five-for-one deal,” Harold said, winking. “No one else wanted to come out and pick them up.”
That was an amazing deal, but Mal didn’t feel right not paying more. The price per sack was already so low that it had been well worth the drive.
“Why don’t I pay half-price for the other four sacks?” she offered. “Five-for-one is very generous, but it feels like too much.”
“Tell you what,” Harold said. “Let’s do five-for-two. And if you don’t mind picking them up next year, we’ll hold them all for you and give you the same deal.”
“We’re not so sure we want to fix the truck,” Chessie confided. “Turns out that most of the shops that buy our candy canes can easily send their own trucks.”
Mal had no idea what she would use all those broken candy canes for, but she was pretty sure she could come up with something.
“I can commit to a pick-up every year,” Harrison said. “What do you think, Mallory?”
“Are you sure?” she asked him.
He nodded once, his serious expression telling her all she needed to know.
“It’s a deal,” she told Harold and Chessie excitedly.
“Wonderful,” Chessie said. “If we wind up out your way, we’ll come by for a peppermint mocha.”
“Please do,” Mal said. “It’ll be on the house, of course.”
The two men headed out to the shop to start carrying bags, while Chessie showed Mal her latest creation, a satiny ribbon of red, green, and white candy in a pretty green gift box.
Too soon, Mal and Harrison were heading out again. Mal waved goodbye to Harold and Chessie through the window.
“They have such a good thing going,” she heard herself say out loud. “You can just tell they’re still madly in love.”
Harrison cleared his throat.
But when she turned to him, he only nodded, frowning to himself with his eyes trained on the road in front of him.
Did I dream it yesterday? Mal couldn’t help wondering. Did I dream he was gazing at me like Romeo pining for Juliet?
She kept hitting a wall with Harrison. She couldn’t reconcile the open emotions of the man she’d met online with the grumpy cowboy who’d presented himself in person. And now she couldn’t even reconcile who he’d been last night with the steely-eyed man beside her today.
She reminded herself that he was still hurting from losing someone he loved. Her own feelings changed with the wind these days too, highs and lows tumbling in right on top of each other sometimes, sending her reeling.
She took a deep breath and sat back in her seat, letting her eyes go to the trees and the fields.
“Oh,” she exclaimed a moment later. “Wait, pull over.”
Harrison signaled and pulled to the side of the road, where a woman in a plain dress with a white bonnet and a young boy stood at a wooden table with baskets of soft pretzels.
“Thanks,” Mal said. “These are so good.”
Harrison made it out in time to open her door for her and she felt a funny little tingle as she placed her hand in his.
They approached the table and she exchanged a greeting with the lady. Harrison bought two pretzels from the boy before Mal could even ask and they said their goodbyes.
“Thanks again,” Mal said, as Harrison handed her back into the truck and gave her the paper bag with their pretzels.
He got back in with a little smile on his face.
“What?” she asked.
“It’s just funny that even when you take a few hours off, you’re just buying someone else’s baked goods,” he said.
“You’re right,” she said, smiling. “But wait until you taste these. Then you’ll understand. My mom used to make pretzels just like this.”
She reached into the bag and pulled out one of the soft treats. Amazingly, it was still warm.
“These are fresh,” she told Harrison as she handed it over.
“It’s big,” he said.
He wasn’t wrong, traditional Philadelphia soft pretzels came in cardboard flats and you had to peel them apart. But the Amish made a classic looking, individual rounded pretzel.
“That’s really good,” Harrison said, sounding surprised.
“The Pennsylvania Dutch know their way around a pretzel,” Mal agreed. “And it’s a little less salty than the Philly kind. Though I like the weight of a Philly pretzel.”
She peeled off a piece of her own pretzel and hummed around it.
“Here comes the snow,” Harrison said.
Sure enough, big flakes started drifting down and melting against the windshield.
“This will be so pretty if it sticks,” Mal said, watching the snow begin to slant down a little harder.
They drove on until the forests grew fewer and the fields grew larger. Too soon, Harrison turned onto Ambler Road.
“Today was nice,” he said gruffly.
“It was,” she agreed, keeping her eyes on the window so he wouldn’t notice that her cheeks were heating.
“Look, I know you’re getting over… that guy,” he said, his voice even deeper and growlier than ever. “But I’d like to take you out to dinner sometime. When you’re ready. If you want.”
Mal was so surprised that she was completely speechless for a moment. She looked over to him, but he was obviously serious. His own eyes were on the road, but his jaw was clenched tightly and his knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel, like it had taken some effort for him to ask.
This was what she had been hoping he would say last night. This kind of honesty was what she had come to expect from the man she had gotten to know. She opened her mouth to say yes.
But suddenly she wasn’t so sure. What if they went out once and it didn’t work out? Would she be humiliated all over again?
And what about Katie? The friendship they were developing was something special, something that meant a lot to Mal.
“Can I think about it?” she heard herself ask instead.
He nodded and they said nothing more all the way back to town.
But it wasn’t an unfriendly silence. Whenever Mal glanced over, she couldn’t help noticing the corner of Harrison’s mouth tugging upward, like he considered her maybe a victory.
Harrison was out of the truck in a heartbeat once he parked, almost like he didn’t trust himself to be alone with her too long.
Once again, he opened her door for her, and then went to the back to grab the sacks of broken candy canes.
Mal hurried to push open the door to the bakery, sending the bells ringing.
A few people sat sipping coffee and Annie Williams was at the counter, looking calm and ready for more customers.
“Hey, Mal,” Annie said with a smile.
But her eyes moved from Mal to the doorway immediately as Harrison carried two big sacks of candy through.
Mal tried not to let her eyes linger on his tall form, or his big muscles. But the ladies by the window certainly didn’t hold back their obvious admiration. And she had to admit it was very nice to have someone to carry stuff for her. Last year, she’d barely made it in the door with just one sack.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, she tried to warn her foolish heart.
But it quickened its pace in her chest anyway.