Chapter 27
Isabel
By four in the afternoon, the counter was wiped down, the display case of baked goods gleamed, and their last customers had trickled out.
Izzy had kept herself moving all afternoon.
She’d piped swirls onto pumpkin cupcakes with a shaky hand and lined up bags of coffee beans like soldiers.
Activity was her aspirin. A restless ache under her ribs told her that today might tilt her whole world.
The bakery usually filled her with contentment.
But not today. Today she was standing on the threshold of something she wanted too much.
After Debbie left for the day, Skipper had driven off to pick up Holly from daycare.
He kissed Izzy’s cheek before he left. “Everything will be fine. Try to forget that dream. You’ve been in a slump all day.
” Smoothing back her wilted bangs, her husband looked deep into her eyes, the kind of look that told her he was there for her.
“I know, sorry.” She wasn’t about to give him any details about that crazy, awful dream from the night before. In her nightmare she was wandering through stores and down dark roads that led nowhere. She was looking for a baby, a baby who was not Holly.
“Say hi to your sisters.” Skipper grabbed his keys and was gone. “Tell them to go easy on you. Maybe they’ll have great news.”
“Yeah, right. We can hope.” Izzy sensed that the ground under her was about to shift. What direction would it take? Oh how she wished her prayers would be answered.
If neither one of them could be her surrogate, she’d have to get to work with an agency.
The thought made her nervous because the process would require a lot of money and time but she’d do it.
Holly needed a sibling—someone to giggle with in the back seat, to share forts and secrets and long summer nights with.
Izzy could already imagine the soft weight of another baby against her shoulder, the powdery smell of a tiny neck.
The longing rose so sharp it felt like hunger.
Now that she’d married Skipper and he was her forever man, she would dearly love to have a little girl or boy with Skipper’s blonde hair and his killer blue eyes.
But she hated to plan on that. Right now things were uncertain.
Her sisters had been quiet about the tests they were having.
“Don’t want to get your hopes up,” Marlowe said.
She knew that Sam was out of the running.
Would Marlowe pass the tests? Izzy had never been a realist. She was the girl who always crossed her fingers, hoping for an A on her spelling test, when she hadn’t bothered to study.
The bell over the front door jingled and she figured it was one of her sisters.
She’d left the front door unlocked. When she reached the front, Sam was peeling off her coat and looping her crossbody bag onto a chair at one of the tables.
Marlowe followed right behind her, calm as always in her running shoes, loose pants and a jacket, water bottle in hand.
Her hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail.
“How about an apple tart?” Izzy glanced over to the case. Yes, thank goodness there were three of her sister’s favorites left.
“You bet.” Sam raised a hand while Marlowe shook her head. “None for me.”
Her heart kicking up, Izzy snapped off one of the bakery tissues and grabbed a tart for Sam.
Pulling out a drawer, she fished out a plastic fork.
She slid both in front of Sam, who inhaled a deep breath.
“This place always smells so good. These are evil, Izzy,” Sam said around a mouthful of pastry.
“I can almost feel my thighs expanding.”
“You could’ve waited until I sat down.” Laughing, Izzy pulled out a chair.
In the mornings, this room was usually filled with customers enjoying their coffee and pastries.
Coffee and Cupcakes had become a town gathering place, and Izzy felt proud about that.
But now everything was cleaned up and put away.
Well, except for the bakery. She usually covered them in plastic wrap.
“Skipper bakes those apples tarts for me.” Sam nodded and grinned, a bit of sugar tucked in a corner of her grin.
Marlowe rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage her, Izzy. Sam’s impossible when there’s sugar involved.”
Izzy forced a smile. They’d had so many conversations around one of these tables.
They’d talked about Josh McCall when he showed up asking about Sam.
They’d discussed Izzy’s wedding plans here last summer.
But their conversations about the surrogacy had been held at home.
The topic felt heavier, deserving privacy.
“Maybe we need some coffee.” Sam nodded to the sideboard.
“None for me, thanks.” Marlowe opened her water thermos.
Jumping up, Izzy sprinted to the sideboard and filled two mugs. When she stepped back to the table, her hands shook just enough to slosh a bit over the rim.
Of course Sam noticed. “Hey. You okay?”
Izzy gave a quick nod and sat down. “Just didn’t sleep much.”
“Because of Holly?”
“No.” Izzy wrapped both hands around the mug. “Because of a dream, actually. One of those awful ones that stays with you all day.”
Marlowe leaned forward, curious. “What happened?”
Should she tell them? They were her sisters and they’d moved to Charlevoix so that they could remain close.
Sharing a dream might be sister material.
Izzy plunged in. “I was looking for a baby. My baby. I guess the baby was crying. I started searching through stores and dark roads I didn’t recognize.
But I didn’t even know the baby’s name.” Her throat tightened as more details came back to her.
“Every time I saw a stroller, my heart lifted…but it wasn’t the baby I was looking for. I woke up before I found him.”
“Him?” Marlowe echoed. “Really?”
Sam reached across the table to hold Izzy’s hand tight. “It was just a dream.”
“Yes, I know.” Izzy blinked hard. “I shouldn’t let it get to me. But it felt so real. I woke up reaching for that baby. My arms were empty, and it felt wrong. And the ache didn’t fade when I opened my eyes.”
A heavy silence followed. The only sound was from the occasional car outside on the road. Sam’s tart sat half eaten.
Marlowe cleared her throat softly. “Maybe it’s just your mind processing everything, you know?
You’ve been under a lot of stress lately.
The bakery, the whole surrogate thing.” Izzy had told her sisters about Irene’s drawer full of baby clothes.
Her mother-in-law was going nuts buying baby onesies that they might never use.
Izzy nodded, grateful for her sister’s matter-of-fact approach. “Maybe. But I can’t shake the feeling that the dream was some kind of omen. A warning.”
“Maybe it’s news. Good news.” Sam looked over at Marlowe, who was beaming about something.
“I passed,” Marlowe said simply. “All the screenings, the psych eval, the blood work. Everything looks good. They said I’m a good candidate. Well, except for the age and not having had a baby before.”
“See, you were not really an ideal candidate,” Sam pointed out. Was there still friction between them? Maybe not. Sam was smiling.
“No, I’m not ideal.” Marlowe shook off Sam’s issue, the way she did when they were competing in anything, whether it was a spelling bee or a race. “But I’m more than willing and our doctor is onboard with this.”
Could this be real? Mouth falling open, Izzy stared at her. “Do you mean we’re going ahead? Even with Brad in the picture, you still want to do it?”
Marlowe grinned, the confidant smile they’d all seen before. “Of course. I told you I would, and I meant it.”
“Oh my word,” Izzy breathed, the room tilting for a moment. A hot rush of relief surged up her throat, so sudden it burned. “Marlowe, this is a miracle.” Her hands flew to her face as tears spilled over, not the polite kind but the raw, overwhelming kind that came from a place buried deep inside.
Sam clapped her hands together. “I told you she’s the family overachiever.”
Marlowe gave her a side glance. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It’s wonderful.” Izzy reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “You’re sure? This isn’t just because Sam can’t? You’re absolutely sure you want to do this?”
“Completely sure.” Were Marlowe’s eyes sparkling with excitement? “I’ve thought about it a lot. I want to do this for you. And also for Skipper and Holly. For our family.”
“You guys are amazing.” A tear or two rolled down Izzy’s cheeks and she brushed them away. “You’re the best sisters anyone could ever have.”
“Obviously,” Sam said, spearing another bite of tart. “But tell me, what did Skipper say when you told him you were meeting us today?”
“Just that he trusted you both to handle me gently,” Izzy said, laughing through a sniffle.
“Smart man,” Marlowe said with a pleased smile.
They all laughed, and the tension finally changed into something warm and wonderful. The light outside shifted, and there they sat, enjoying the moment. Izzy poured refills and the coffee scent wrapped around them.
As the caffeine kicked in, Marlowe started talking logistics. “The next step will be another appointment with the doctor in Traverse City. They’ll sync my cycle with the embryo transfer schedule. It’ll take a couple months, probably.”
Izzy nodded, half-dazed by how real this was suddenly becoming. “I can’t believe it’s actually happening.”
Seemingly busy with her tart, Sam pointed her fork at Izzy. “You better start stocking up on baby onesies. You’ll be too busy later.”
“Don’t jinx it,” Izzy said automatically, knocking on the wooden table. “But my mother-in-law and Aunt Cate will probably have that covered.’
Marlowe gave me a look. “Hey. Positive thoughts only, remember?”
“I know,” Izzy said softly. “It’s just that I’m scared to hope too much.”
Sam leaned over. “Hope is kind of your thing, Izzy. You built this business out of it.”
“You’re right.” Izzy smiled. “Coffee and Cupcakes. Maybe this place should be named Caffeine and Optimism.”
They laughed together and then fell quiet. For a long moment, they sat in that shared silence, the kind that only sisters understand. Then Marlowe raised her mug. “To the next chapter. Whatever it looks like.”
Sam lifted hers too. “To babies and baked goods.”
Izzy lifted her mug, hands shaking a little, maybe from the caffeine or maybe from the relief. “To family.”
After her sisters left, she turned off everything and grabbed her purse. Streetlights flickered on, one by one as Izzy locked the bakery door behind her and stepped into the cool evening. The scent of apples and coffee trailed out behind. She couldn’t wait to tell Skipper.