Chapter 7
Violet
My second day at the bakery is just as busy, if not busier, than the first. Without Nora and Nash jumping in to help, things start out bumpy, but Elizabeth and I eventually find our flow.
We’re completely sold out by noon, even earlier than yesterday, so I’ll need to see if there’s wiggle room in prep time to add more product.
There’s a sense of satisfaction that maybe I actually know what I’m doing here.
That I have something in my life under control.
As I lock up the bakery, I send a silent thank you to Mom and Dad for preparing me so well.
The walk home is a chilly one. The sky is gray stacked upon gray, and the wind coming off the water bites through my coat.
Christmas lights twist up the palms that line the sidewalk, their bulbs blinking cheerfully against the gloom.
Somewhere, faintly, a radio plays “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas,” the notes drifting like memories on the salt-tanged breeze.
I burrow deeper into my jacket and laugh softly at the memory of Simon at the tree-lighting ceremony—bare arms, T-shirt, and shorts—while the rest of us huddled in sweaters and scarves.
It’s December, for goodness’ sake. Who wears shorts in December?
By the time I reach my street, the lights seem even brighter, each house dressed in its own version of holiday cheer—icicle lights glimmering from eaves, inflatable snowmen dancing in the wind, reindeer grazing in front yards.
All except mine. My house stands dark and undecorated, an island of shadow amid the glow.
The sight tightens something in my chest. Once upon a time, this place smelled like cinnamon and sugar cookies, felt warm with laughter and music and my parents humming carols as they prepped for the Christmas rush. Now, it’s just… quiet.
I slip my key into the lock, step inside, hang my keys on the hook, and kick off my shoes.
Then I just stand in the foyer, struck by the stillness.
Our family was never loud, especially not compared to Simon’s, who could fill a room with laughter and conversation, but there was always warmth in the Sterling household.
Always people. Always light. Always someone to ask how you’re doing and actually care about the answer.
Maybe I should get a dog. A big one, with droopy ears and jowls I could squish and love.
I would name him Alfred, and he would welcome me home with snuggles and affection.
The thought makes me chuckle as I wander into the living room and drop onto the couch, kicking my feet up on the coffee table while I schedule social media posts—one showing the pastry cases full this morning, and another showing them empty by this afternoon.
We were so busy, those are the only shots I managed to grab, though I hope to get more tomorrow.
Maybe even some of a happy customer or two.
I could tag them, make them feel part of the Sterling’s family—
The doorbell rings, and I jump out of my skin.
No one comes to the door anymore.
I mean, right?
Who just shows up, out of the blue?
It’s probably someone trying to sell me something, I tell myself, but my mind waves the anxiety flag, releasing a stream of horrible possibilities.
What’s waiting for me on the other side of the door?
Maybe the bakery flooded.
Maybe I forgot to lock the door and someone broke in.
Or, oh my gosh, did I actually manage to set it on fire? I turned off the ovens, right?
The doorbell rings again and I take a deep breath, pushing the thoughts away as Nora’s concern about my anxiety comes back to me.
It’s not that bad, I tell myself. Everyone worries about something.
But my heart’s pounding and my stomach’s twisting, and I stride to the door and throw it open, bracing for whatever waits on the other side.
Only, nothing could have prepared me for what I find, because standing there—hands shoved in his pockets, dark hair falling into blue eyes, shoulders hunched, face turned toward mine with the setting sun blazing behind him—is none other than Simon Holiday.
“What are you doing here?” I blurt before I can stop myself.
Simon flashes me his best smile.
And let me tell you, it is the best smile.
When that man looks at you, it’s like all your worries fade away, the sun breaks through the clouds, and you’re safe and warm and protected.
“Hello to you too, Violet.”
“Well, yes, I mean, hello, hi, how are you?” I cross my arms and lean against the door frame. “Except I haven’t seen you in years, and now three times in two days? I’m sure you can understand my surprise.”
“Any chance I could come in?”
There’s that smile again.
I consider telling him I’m too busy, but the silence coming from inside the house is deafening. Before I know what’s happening, I step aside and let Simon in.
He’s still wearing the same cologne he wore when we were together. Nostalgia hits hard and sharp, a bittersweet reminder of what we used to be but aren’t any longer.
“Seems dark in here.”
It also seems very, very crowded with him standing so close to me. I move farther into the house, creating some much needed space between us.
“I hadn’t noticed.”
Total lie. I very much had noticed. Everything about this place feels dim, like someone turned down the light.
“There isn’t a single Christmas decoration to be seen.” Simon turns to me, total shock on his face. “Violet Sterling! Your mother would never let such a thing happen.”
I flinch at the mention of her, and he instantly looks stricken. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay. Really. You’re right. When Mom was around, this house would’ve been decked out in full Christmas glory the day after Thanksgiving.”
I just haven’t had the desire to do it, especially since it’s only for me. Nora and her family will be back closer to Christmas, and without a doubt I’ll have everything up, especially for little Nash. Until then… I’m just not feeling it.
Simon shoves his hands into his pockets, peering deeper into the house. “Did Robbie and Nora leave?”
“Yeah. Robbie has to go back to work; Nash has school. They just flew in for the re-opening and had to get on with their lives. They’ll be here for Christmas, though,” I offer lamely.
Until then, it’s just me. All by my lonesome.
I smile so he doesn’t see how sad that makes me and Simon gives me a look I can’t unravel. Sympathy? Concern? Confusion? Maybe all the above.
“Will you decorate before then?” he asks.
What, in the history of weird things happening, is actually happening right now?
Simon Holiday, standing in my foyer after being a total ghost, and he’s grilling me about my house not being decorated appropriately for the season?
“What is it with you and the decorations?” I ask. “You were never the Christmasy one. You were always more… utilitarian about things.”
“I don’t know. I just… it’s weird—”
“Tell me about it,” I mutter and he rolls his eyes in a very familiar way. He never did like it when I interrupted him.
“I hate thinking of you here, all by yourself, in a house that’s too big and empty. I’m worried about you, I guess.”
Let’s just stack surreal on top of absurd and call it a Friday.
“I’m fine,” I say, “thank you for your concern. But surely, that’s not why you’re here.”
Simon looks at me like he’s suddenly terrified, his hands still buried in his pockets. I realize we’ve been standing in the foyer this whole time, just gazing around my dark, quiet house.
“Do you want to come all the way in?” I gesture toward the living room. “We can actually sit down while you tell me whatever you came to tell me.”
“No, no, it’s okay. Thank you. I just—” He trails off, brows furrowed, chewing on his bottom lip.
It’s the look he gets when he’s working something over in his mind, weighing pros and cons.
Another dose of bittersweet nostalgia hits my heart.
Simon Holiday was always a think before you speak kind of guy.
Something about it made me feel safe. Like everything was going to be okay.
He was the perfect counterpart to Robbie, who’s more leap before you look.
I think that’s why the four of us always had so much fun together.
We balanced each other out.
Simon swallows hard and gives me another look I can’t quite make sense of. “Have you had dinner?”
My jaw hits the floor and my eyes go so wide it almost hurts. “Are you for really real asking me to dinner?”
“No. Not really. Not like that, anyway.” He holds out his hands as if to ward off the shock and awe he heard in my voice.
“What if… and just roll with me here, not to make it weird or anything, but my entire family is crammed into my parents’ house.
All of them. And you know exactly how big and loud they can be. ”
He tilts his head in a question, and I nod. The Holiday gatherings are still some of my favorite memories, everyone laughing, talking, arguing, not a dark corner or quiet moment to be seen anywhere.
“Something about you being here by yourself doesn’t sit right with me,” Simon continues. “Would you want to come have dinner at my parents’?”
He looks like he wishes he could shove the words back into his mouth even as he says them. And honestly, I wish he could too.
Simon and his family are part of my past. Something I used to love dearly but lost when our relationship ended. I grieved for them all when we broke up. Letting them back into my life only to lose them again… I don’t really have the bandwidth for that.
Besides, I’m tired.
I have to get up early.
I spent all day surrounded by people and don’t have the energy for more.
Except, the thought of seeing Simon’s parents, Nana Holiday, his jolly Aunt Millie is hard to pass up. And the chaos, laughter, and conversation sounds oddly alluring.
“Yeah. Uh, sure,” I say, for no real reason I can explain.
And there it is again, Simon’s perfect smile.
The one that feels like everything is gonna be okay, like sunlight after a storm, like strong arms wrapped around me, holding me up when things are hard. Seeing it does something strange to my heart, this odd nudge of hope I don’t know what to do with, so I do the only thing that makes sense.
Ignore it.