Chapter Eleven
Annabelle had been awake since four-thirty.
This wasn't unusual for bake sale mornings, she liked to give herself plenty of time to prepare, to make sure everything was perfect.
What was slightly unusual was the fact that she'd woken at four and spent half an hour staring at her ceiling, wondering what her next door neighbor was doing.
Sleeping, was the obvious answer, but she did wonder whether Raven was going to show up.
By five-thirty, she’d started baking.
Now, at half past eight, her kitchen looked like a bakery had exploded.
Three cooling racks of lemon biscuits sat on the counter, golden and perfect.
A Victoria sponge, her grandmother's recipe, rested under a glass dome, dusted with icing sugar.
Two dozen chocolate brownies were cooling in their tin, filling the cottage with the scent of cocoa and vanilla.
"Right," she said to her empty kitchen, surveying the chaos with satisfaction. "That should do it."
She'd just started packing everything into Tupperware containers when her phone buzzed.
Lily: You better not have been up since dawn baking.
Annabelle smiled and typed back: I have no idea what you're talking about.
Lily: Annabelle.
Just since six! That's basically a lie-in.
Lily: You're impossible. Need help setting up?
Already sorted, but thank you! See you at ten x
The bake sale was being held in the school playground, which meant Annabelle had to haul everything across the village. She loaded her car boot with careful precision, biscuits on top, brownies in the middle, sponge cake secured in its special carrier.
"Morning, Ms. Swift!"
Annabelle nearly dropped a tray of lemon biscuits. Jamie Long was cycling past on his bike, looking more cheerful than she'd seen him in weeks.
"Good morning, Jamie. You're up early."
"Mum says I have to come help with the bake sale." He was grinning in a way that told Annabelle that possibly someone had told him that a rockstar was going to be in his school playground. "She's bringing her carrot cake."
"How lovely!" Annabelle beamed. Kayley Long's carrot cake was, admittedly, excellent. Even if Kayley herself was… well. Challenging. "I'll see you there in a bit, shall I?"
By quarter to ten, Annabelle had transformed three folding tables into an appealing display. Bunting fluttered overhead, donated by Gloria from the am-dram society's storage. Hand-painted signs advertised prices. Everything looked cheerful and inviting and exactly right.
People were already gathering. Daisy bounced over with a tray of millionaire's shortbread. Gloria arrived with something that appeared to involve meringue and edible flowers. Even Arty had contributed, gingerbread, of all things, which he claimed was a recipe he’d gotten from a star he’d once interviewed and then refused to discuss the issue any further.
"This is brilliant," Lily said, appearing at Annabelle's elbow with a cardboard box. "You've done an amazing job."
"We've barely started yet," Annabelle protested, though she couldn't help grinning.
"You've got half the village here already. That's success in my book."
And it was true, parents were arriving with their children, villagers were browsing the tables, and the donation jar was already starting to fill with coins.
Then Kayley Long arrived.
She swept in wearing what Annabelle privately thought of as her "intimidation outfit," designer jeans, cashmere jumper, sunglasses that probably cost more than Annabelle's monthly grocery budget. She set down a professional-looking cake carrier with the air of someone presenting the crown jewels.
"Good morning, Kayley," Annabelle said brightly. "Thank you so much for coming!"
"Well, someone has to make sure standards are maintained." Kayley's gaze swept the tables with the practiced efficiency of a health inspector. "Though I must say, it all looks rather… homemade."
"That's rather the point," Lily said dryly.
Kayley ignored her, adjusting the position of her cake carrier. "I do hope we raise something respectable. I'd hate for people to think Bankton Primary can't organize a proper fundraiser."
Before Annabelle could respond, something diplomatic and cheerful that wouldn't acknowledge the barb, there was a small commotion near the school gates.
"Oh my God," someone whispered.
"Is that…?"
"No. Surely not."
Annabelle turned.
Raven was walking across the playground, carrying a large white bakery box.
She was wearing dark jeans, a black leather jacket, and sunglasses despite the overcast morning. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She looked uncomfortable and vaguely annoyed, which Annabelle was starting to recognize as Raven's default expression when around other humans.
The murmuring intensified as people recognized her.
"Morning," Raven said shortly, depositing the box on the nearest table. "Brought biscuits."
"You…" Annabelle's brain had temporarily stopped working. "You baked?"
"Don't sound so shocked. I'm capable of using an oven."
Annabelle opened the box.
The biscuits inside were… extraordinary. Intricate. Beautifully decorated with royal icing in delicate patterns, flowers, music notes, tiny books. Each one was a small work of art.
"Raven," she breathed. "These are incredible."
"They're just biscuits." But there was a faint flush creeping up Raven's neck that suggested she was pleased despite herself.
"These are not just biscuits. These are, oh my goodness, is this one shaped like a guitar? And this one's got little musical notes! They're absolutely gorgeous!"
"You made these yourself?" Kayley had materialized beside them, eyeing the biscuits with an expression that might have been grudging respect. "From scratch?"
"Yes," Raven said flatly.
"Impressive." Kayley paused. "For a rockstar, I mean. I wouldn't have thought you'd have the patience for decorative work."
Annabelle watched Raven's jaw tighten and jumped in quickly. "They're wonderful. Truly. Everyone's going to love them. Aren't they beautiful, Lily?"
Lily had appeared at her other elbow, regarding Raven with interest. "Very impressive indeed. I don't think we've been properly introduced. Lily Fairchild, I'm the head teacher."
She extended her hand with easy confidence. No fangirling, no star-struck stammering. Just calm professionalism.
Raven shook it, looking slightly wrong-footed. "Raven."
"I know who you are," Lily said pleasantly. "My partner was quite a fan of your band. Though personally, I always preferred your solo work. That acoustic EP you did a few years back was brilliant."
"You…" Raven blinked. "You know my solo stuff?"
"Of course. The songwriting was much more interesting once you stepped away from the commercial sound." Lily smiled. "Anyway, thank you for contributing to the bake sale. It's very generous of you."
And then she walked away to greet some arriving parents, leaving Raven standing there looking utterly confused.
Annabelle bit back a grin. Lily had a gift for wrong-footing people.
"Your friend is strange," Raven said.
"She's lovely," Annabelle corrected. "And she meant what she said. She really does know your music."
"Right." Raven shoved her hands in her pockets. "Well. I should, um…"
"You're staying, aren't you?" Annabelle caught her arm without thinking. "Please? We could use the help, and people will be so excited to see you here supporting the school."
Raven looked down at Annabelle's hand on her sleeve. Annabelle quickly let go, feeling her cheeks heat.
"Fine," Raven said eventually. "But I'm not signing autographs."
"Of course not. You're just here as a concerned community member who happens to make gorgeous biscuits."
"They're really not…"
"They're stunning and you know it."
The morning passed in a blur of activity.
The bake sale was, by any measure, a success.
Raven's biscuits sold out in the first twenty minutes. Annabelle had to physically stop people from buying the box they’d been in.
Her own lemon biscuits did well. Even Kayley's carrot cake disappeared, though Annabelle suspected Gloria had bought three slices out of competitive spirit.
Raven spent most of the morning lurking near the back table, looking uncomfortable whenever anyone approached her. But Annabelle noticed she helped Jamie carry a heavy box of donated books. And when old Mrs. Moore struggled to count change, Raven quietly sorted it for her.
Around noon, as the crowd was thinning, Annabelle started gathering empty platters.
"Here, I'll help," Raven said, reaching for the same stack of plates.
Their hands brushed.
It was nothing. The briefest contact. Fingers against fingers for maybe half a second.
But Annabelle felt it like an electric shock.
She jerked back instinctively, and the plates, already precariously balanced, went tumbling. One caught the edge of the table and flipped, sending a cascade of leftover whipped cream directly onto Raven's leather jacket.
"Oh my God!" Annabelle clapped her hands over her mouth. "Oh no, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…"
Raven stood very still, cream dripping down her front.
"Well," she said with remarkable composure. "At least no one will recognize me covered in dairy products."
"I'm so sorry," Annabelle repeated, grabbing napkins. "Here, let me…"
"It's fine." Raven took the napkins and dabbed ineffectually at the cream. "Could've been worse. Could've been the brownies."
Annabelle laughed despite herself, still flustered. "I really am sorry. I just…I didn't expect…"
She trailed off, very aware that she was staring.
Because somewhere between the cream disaster and Raven's dry commentary, Annabelle had suddenly noticed something rather important.
Raven was attractive.
Not in an abstract, "yes, I suppose objectively she's good-looking" way. But in an immediate, visceral, "oh God why is my heart doing that" way.
It was the leather jacket, probably. Or the way she'd handled the cream catastrophe with deadpan humor instead of anger. Or possibly the fact that she'd spent her morning making beautiful biscuits for a school fundraiser while pretending she didn't care.
Or maybe it was just… her.
"Annabelle?" Lily appeared beside them, eyebrow raised. "Everything alright?"
"Fine!" Annabelle said, too brightly. "Just a small accident. Nothing to worry about. Everything's fine."
Raven was still wiping cream off her jacket, looking faintly amused.
"Right," Lily said slowly. "Well, I've been doing some calculations. We raised just over eight hundred pounds today."
"Eight hundred?" Annabelle seized on the distraction gratefully. "That's brilliant! That's more than I hoped for."
"It's a good start," Lily agreed. "Though we're still quite far from fifteen thousand."
"This is just the beginning," Annabelle said, determinedly optimistic despite the rather large gap between eight hundred and fifteen thousand. "We've got the sponsored read next month, and the talent show, and…"
"And you're an incurable optimist," Lily said fondly.
"Someone has to be."
Raven had finished de-creaming herself and was shrugging out of her jacket, revealing a simple black t-shirt underneath. "I should go. Need to shower this off properly."
"Thank you for coming," Annabelle said. "And for the biscuits. They were absolutely the star of the show."
"They were just biscuits," Raven said again.
But she was almost smiling as she walked away.
Annabelle watched her go, still feeling oddly flustered.
"So," Lily said casually. "Want to talk about whatever just happened?"
"Nothing happened. I dropped some plates."
"Annabelle."
"I noticed she's quite attractive, alright? It's not a big deal. Lots of people are attractive. I notice attractive people all the time."
"Do you usually stare at attractive people like you've been struck by lightning?"
Annabelle busied herself with gathering the remaining dishes. "I wasn't staring."
"You absolutely were."
"Well. She surprised me. With the biscuits. And the helping. I wasn't expecting her to be so… involved."
"Mmm hmm." Lily didn't sound convinced. "And the plates?"
"Were an accident."
"The resulting deer-in-headlights expression?"
"Also an accident." Annabelle sighed. "Can we not do this right now? We've got eight hundred pounds to count and deposit, and I need to update the fundraising spreadsheet, and—"
"And you're changing the subject."
"I'm prioritizing," Annabelle corrected. "The library is what matters. Everything else is just… distraction."
But as she helped Lily pack up the remaining baked goods, Annabelle couldn't quite stop thinking about the brief warmth of Raven's fingers against hers.
Or the way Raven had looked at her when she'd praised the biscuits, uncomfortable and pleased and almost shy.
Or the fact that Raven had spent her Saturday morning baking and helping and being present, despite clearly wanting to be anywhere else.
Eight hundred pounds, she reminded herself firmly. That was the important thing. They'd raised eight hundred pounds, and this was just the start, and everything was going exactly according to plan.
More or less.
Mostly.
Apart from the bit where she'd suddenly realized her grumpy neighbor was devastatingly attractive, but that was fine. Completely fine. Not remotely complicated or concerning.
She'd just… ignore it.
That always worked, didn't it?