Chapter 3
Archie’s mouth went dry as dust as he stood in the lane looking through the window of the bakery. It was an unusually warm autumn day, but that wasn’t why he was sweating. Twenty years was a very long time to not speak to the woman you loved.
What did she look like now? Would she even remember him?
He shook his head as if clearing cobwebs.
None of those questions mattered. She was married; had been married for twenty years.
His heart twanged in his chest. It wasn’t the stabbing pain he’d known when he was younger, fresh from the news of losing her.
But it still hurt. And the pain in turn angered him anew and had him fisting his hands.
A woman passed him, giving him a polite nod and a smile.
Archie sighed. He couldn’t stand outside the bakery forever, no matter how nervous he was.
He’d need to open the door and face Gertie at some point.
After all, he was moving back to his old hometown to take up the headmaster’s position.
He was eventually going to see her again, whether he wished it or not.
Rivenhall hadn’t grown so large that one could entirely avoid another person forever.
Taking a deep breath, he drew his shoulders back, unfisted his hands, and stepped toward the door of the shop.
It was time to confront his past.
A bell tinkled lightly as he stepped through the door.
Immediately, the smell of freshly baked bread and warm yeast wafted past his nose.
The delicious scents made his stomach rumble.
That and the fact he’d skipped breakfast, unable to stomach the bland porridge served at the boarding house he was staying in for the moment.
The old headmaster was still occupying the cottage which came with the position, the cottage which would be his when the running of the school became Archie’s responsibility next month.
By the new year, he would be the headmaster of Rivenhall’s school.
The sound of a pan clattering to the floor startled him back into the moment.
“Mum, are you all right?” A male voice followed the loud crash.
A feminine squeak sounded and then a soft curse that was all too familiar. “Bloody hell!”
“Mum!” The boy—or man, really—sounded shocked.
Archie couldn’t hear her reply, so he stepped closer to the counter the two were currently crouched behind and cleared his throat. “She’s always cursed like a sailor.”
The young man popped up, clearly affronted on his mother’s behalf. “Excuse me, sir, this is none of your concern.”
Archie stared, but all he could see was Gertie. The man had dark hair, brown eyes, and an intensity that was all her. “My…my apologies for intruding. I’ve known your mother for many years.”
The man looked at him in confusion. “How could you know my mother? I’ve never seen you before.”
He heard Gertie groan from where she remained crouched behind the counter. Finally, she rose to her full height—all five foot, eight inches of her. She’d been a tall woman, though not taller than he was. “Sam, stop being rude to a customer.”
“Mum! He was rude first.” The young man crossed his arms over his chest and glared in Archie’s direction.
“Sam, I mean it. Now go run that bread to the Johnsons. They’ll be expecting it before lunch.” She pointed to the basket sitting on a nearby counter.
Was that flour on her face or had she paled at seeing him? He hadn’t changed so much she might not recognize him, had he?
Sam stared at Archie for a moment longer but begrudgingly turned to do as his mother had asked.
“Thank you, dear.” Gertie smiled at her son and then shooed him out of the bakery. “Go on, now. And don’t forget to stop by the Powels for payment on their last order.”
Archie waited impatiently as she managed her son out the back door. He was torn between kissing her and yelling at her.
“Yes, Mum.” He heard Sam reply just before he disappeared through the back door of the shop.
Then Gertie turned to face him, her face a mask of calm. “It has been a long time, Archie.”
He repressed the urge to snort. “It certainly has. You seem to have landed on your feet, Gertie.” He attempted to match her calm demeanor, despite the seething cauldron of emotion that roiled inside him.
Was she feeling something similar? Possibly guilt or shame for how things ended between them? Maybe even regrets?
“I’ve survived, despite life’s best efforts.” She shrugged one shoulder, seemingly undisturbed by his presence. “What are you doing here, Archie?”
“I’ve moved back to town, Gertie. I thought it was best we get this inevitable meeting over with.” He tried to appear as nonchalant as she seemed, though he doubted he was succeeding.
She inhaled sharply, her grey eyes growing wide in surprise. “You have?”
Aha! She was not as unaffected by him as he thought, then. Archie held his head high as he replied, “Indeed. I am going to be taking over as headmaster of the school.” He watched her warily, but also with a long-held yearning that was hard to ignore.
He’d always wanted this woman. Would always want her, even now she belonged to someone else.
She swallowed, a visible movement punctuated by the soft tick-tick-tick of the second hand of the clock that hung on the wall nearby. “I…see. Well then, I suppose we shall be seeing each other on occasion.”
“I should think so. Rivenhall is too small to expect otherwise.” He hesitated for a moment. “Gertie, I know you are married now, but I’d like to understand what happened all those years ago.”
Her grey eyes widened—in surprise or annoyance, he couldn’t be sure which.
“I’m a widow, Archie. My husband passed five years ago now.
” She looked around the space as though she’d lost something, grabbed a small, round loaf of bread and wrapped it.
“Regardless, I don’t believe any good can come of—”
The bell on the door behind Archie tinkled merrily, interrupting whatever Gertie had been about to say. A woman sailed into the shop.
“Good day, Mrs. Sutton!” The woman was clad in lemon yellow from head-to-toe.
Archie winced and had to avert his gaze, the woman’s dress was so bright.
“I hope now is a good time to discuss next week’s Christmas order.
With all the guests I am expecting, I’d like to make sure you can provide what I shall need. ”
“Of course, Mrs. Appleton.” Gertie smiled serenely at the woman. “Here you are, Mr. Goodman. Thank you for stopping by the bakery.”
Archie blinked in confusion at the parcel Gertie held out to him.
“Mr. Goodman?” She thrust the package toward him again.
“Oh, um, right. What do I owe you?” Archie shook off his confusion and took the package.
“Consider it a ‘welcome to town’ gift,” Gertie said and turned toward Mrs. Appleton, dismissing him seemingly without a care as the two women launched into a deep discussion of the woman’s order.
At a loss, Archie tucked the loaf under his arm and left the shop. Remaining there would only make an already awkward reunion even more so.
Gertie spent nearly twenty minutes discussing fresh breads and pastries with Mrs. Appleton.
When the woman finally walked out of her shop, she closed her eyes for a moment, needing to give her eyes a break after that atrocious yellow gown.
That, and she needed to stop and think about everything that had happened, starting with Archie walking back into her life.
She exhaled loudly into the silence of the bakery. “Bloody hell!”
“Mum!” Sam’s voice came from behind her, catching her unawares.
“Oh! Sam!” Damn it all to hell! She turned to face her son. Archie’s son. “When did you return?”
He looked at her pointedly. “Just in time to hear you cursing once more.”
She chuckled nervously. “That Mrs. Appleton truly tries a woman’s patience.”
Sam looked at her skeptically. “She’s never bothered you so much before.”
Gertie huffed a breath and set about making a fresh batch of dough.
With all the additions to Mrs. Appleton’s usual order for her Christmas guests, Gertie was going to need to start baking now to get ahead of all her regular orders.
“Yes, well, she isn’t normally so demanding.
She’s hosting a small house party next week.
” After combining all her dry ingredients into one bowl and her wet into another, she combined the two, stirring slowly.
“The way she’s going on about things, you’d think she was going to be hosting the Queen herself. ”
“Really? Who is visiting her?” Sam asked as he carefully pulled a fresh set of loaves from the oven.
“Some uppity cousin. But she’s quite worked up about it.
” Gertie dumped the dough onto the counter and kneaded it fiercely—perhaps more vigorously than was required.
She cast a sidelong glance at her son to see if her conversation had distracted him.
He appeared occupied with setting the loaves out to cool and shifting the existing stock forward in the bins to make room for the fresh bread.
“Hhhmmm.” Her boy—a man, now—moved with intent as he continued shifting things about as they always did to rotate the stock they had available for walk-in customers.
Gertie held her breath as she waited for him to say more, but then the bell over the door tinkled and Miss. Caroline Ramsey walked in looking fresh as a flower in her soft pink day dress and a white linen apron.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sutton.”
“Good morning, Miss. Ramsey.” Gertie replied as she continued kneading the dough, though she could see Sam’s cheeks turning red as he waited to be acknowledged.
“Good morning, Mr. Sutton.” The young woman looked at Sam and smiled as brightly as Mrs. Appleton’s gown had been.
“Good morning, Miss Ramsey.” Sam hesitated. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Caroline preened. “Mother sent me to pick up two loaves of bread today.”
He helped her select two options and then sent her on her way.
One day, Gertie hoped her son would work up the nerve to call formally on Miss Caroline Ramsey.
She was so clearly interested in him—and why shouldn’t she be?
He had a bright future with the bakery, and he was a handsome young man with his dark hair and brown eyes, even if he had to wear spectacles to correct his vision.
As the shop door closed, she felt Sam’s focus return to her as he cleared his throat. “Mother, if you don’t stop kneading that dough soon, it will be chewy when it bakes.”
“Oh, you’re right. I was distracted by Miss Ramsey’s visit.” Gertie smiled as she collected the dough and turned away from Archie to set it into a bowl on the back counter with a tea towel laid over the top while it rose.
“Were you, now? It seems you’ve been distracted since that man came into the shop this morning.” Sam’s gaze rested on her back as she fiddled with the towel, not wanting to turn and face her son.
Sam couldn’t know the truth. He’d always believed her husband, Thomas, was his father, despite the fact that Thomas had bright golden blonde hair and dark blue eyes—none of which Samuel had inherited, for obvious reasons.
“I don’t know what you are talking about. Mr. Goodman was an old acquaintance. He used to live with Reverend Goodman and was raised by him as his own son. We grew up together, is all.”
Sam grunted. “I see. Just old friends.”
Was that a note of disbelief in his voice?
Her gut twisted. The last thing she needed was for Sam to start asking questions about Archie.
“Indeed. It was simply a shock to see him today. I never thought we’d see him back in Rivenhall after the Reverend passed a few years ago.
” She turned to smile softly at Sam. “I am sorry for my language before, I’ve just been out of sorts all morning.
But I am right as rain now. Did you collect from the Powells while you were out? ”
Sam eyed her, with more questions in his eyes than she wanted to see. But he finally seemed to relent. “I did. I’ll go enter it into the ledger now.”
“Excellent. I’ll get to work on the next batch of dough.” Gertie nodded and turned away from Sam, leaving him to wander into the small back room they used as an office.
With her son distracted, she breathed a sigh of relief, though her worries were not nearly put to rest. If Archie and Sam spent too much time around each other, they would eventually notice some similarities.
It was so stark to her, as she pictured a bespectacled Archie alongside Sam.
It wasn’t so dramatic as looking into a looking glass—thank heavens!
—but if anyone studied the pair of them side-by-side for any length of time, similarities would surely be noted.
The question was, how could she keep the pair of them away from each other?