Chapter 21
twenty-one
WHITNEY LISTENED for the front door as she packed up the handful of spices and empty fruit trays left in the inn’s kitchen. She wanted to rush through, erasing any evidence that she’d even been there. If she could get out before Aretha came by, maybe she could avoid an ugly confrontation.
And hide in her home for the next few years?
Or worse, end up with a very public dressing down?
She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed the lump lodged in her throat. It was better to be yelled at within the privacy of the inn—while Seth and Marie and their kids were still out. She’d heard Ruby and Daniel both charge into the inn, gather their things, and flee the scene. And she’d hidden in the mudroom like the coward she was. Any apology now would be far too little, much too late. So she’d huddled inside her parka on a step stool, hugging her knees to her chin and trying to hold back the storm that threatened to burst inside her.
Now she scurried about the kitchen, wiping down every counter and leaving it just as spotless as Caden would. But she’d wait for Aretha. She may hate every second of being scolded—made worse because she knew she deserved it. But she’d take the less painful option where they were alone and she could go home after, curl up in bed, and stay there for a very long time.
Aretha didn’t keep her waiting long. As soon as the front door opened, she called out, “Whitney? Are you here?”
“In the—in the kitchen.” She pulled out a stool and leaned on it, then shoved it back under the island counter. She’d need something more stable if she was going to withstand the storm surge. In the end, she bolstered herself in the corner of the counter between the stove and the sink.
A moment later, Aretha sailed through the swinging door, her long coat open and the tassels on the end of her scarf dancing. “Well, I really mucked that up, didn’t I?” she huffed.
Ears already ringing, Whitney thought she’d misheard her. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” Aretha looked down her nose, and Whitney shrank under the weight of it. “My dear girl, I’m the old fool here. Not you.”
“You—no—it’s—what?” Her bottom lip refused to stop trembling, and she couldn’t stop blinking against the fire at the backs of her eyes.
“You look like you think I’m going to eat you for dinner.”
She nodded slowly.
In a day that had been full of surprises, Aretha’s laughter ranked at the very top—one of the sweetest sounds. “Come on.” She held out her gloved hand. “Let’s sit down and get comfortable.”
Whitney reached for her outstretched fingers, then dropped her arm back to her side. But she followed Aretha through the dining room and into the parlor, where they shrugged out of their jackets. She slid into the corner of the sofa, letting the cushions swallow her. Hoping Aretha would sit on the opposite side.
She didn’t. She chose the middle seat, angling her knees in and resting her hands on her lap. With a deep breath, Aretha offered a sad smile. “I’ve been reminded by no less than three people I love what an absolute clown I’ve been.”
“Three?” Did that many people know about her involvement?
“Daniel, Marie, and my Jack.”
She cringed. Marie had promised to keep it to herself, but the truth was clearly public knowledge now.
Whitney tucked her legs under her and wrapped her arms around her stomach, wishing she’d never taken off her jacket. At least that afforded her a modicum of protection. Even if it was imaginary.
“I got so caught up in my plan for Daniel that I failed to see what was happening right under my nose.” Aretha smiled conspiratorially. “He fell in love with you.”
“No. It wasn’t like that. We were just—”
“Oh, don’t try to lie to me again.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry. I feel so awful. I swear that I didn’t mean to come between him and Ruby. I didn’t have any of those feelings for him at the beginning, when you first suggested it. I mean, I thought he was handsome, but that was it. It’s just that...” She pinched her eyes closed and tried not to picture Daniel’s smile or the barely-there dimple that showed up when he thought something was really funny. “He bought this ridiculous turkey hat at the farmers’ market in Summerside, and then he wore it. And I knew there was more to him than he wanted to reveal, but maybe he’d show me some of who he really was.”
Aretha stifled a chuckle. “How could you not fall in love with a turkey hat?”
“I didn’t fall—” But she couldn’t get the lie past her lips without releasing a flood of tears that choked her throat and rained down her cheeks.
Aretha patted her hand. “It’s all right. You don’t have to apologize for loving Daniel. Or pretend you don’t. I love that boy like we’re blood—even though I’m only related to him through my ex-husband. Daniel has always been one of my favorite parts of the Franklin family. Even as a boy, he was special. He wasn’t like his cousins, but he tried harder than anyone I know to demonstrate love. He’d come hug me, and I’d hear him counting in my ear to ten. Once I asked him why to ten, and he told me it was so I’d know he wanted to be there.”
Whitney’s tears increased at the idea of young Daniel doing everything in his power to love and be loved—even if it looked like checking off a list of requirements. And adult Daniel trying so hard to understand Lauren but never being able to. Because she had never loved the real him. She’d never seen he was worthy of her love.
But oh, how he was. Worthy of every ounce that Lauren—or anyone else—had to offer.
Her lips trembled too much to respond, and Aretha pulled her into a warm embrace. “Oh, honey. It’s all right,” she whispered.
“I ruined your plan and your—”
Aretha released her and leaned back to look directly into her face. “You get that out of your head right now. My plan was always and only for Daniel to be happy.”
“Like I said,” she garbled through a watery laugh. “I ruined the plan.”
“Well ... he may not be happy at the moment, but my prayer for him has always been for the long term.”
Right. He’d be happy again because he’d find joy again. He’d gotten over Lauren. He’d certainly get over her. And some lucky girl would recognize how special he was.
She stared toward the ceiling and blew into her eyes to keep the tears at a minimum.
“Are you going to go to Charlottetown after the New Year?” Aretha asked.
Whitney shook her head. “I didn’t make enough for tuition, and they won’t save my spot.”
Aretha sat up straight, her neck like steel. “You held up your part of our agreement. I’ll give you whatever you need to cover your tuition.”
“You can’t do that.”
Aretha looked offended. “I beg your pardon. I just sold my store for a very fair price, and I can do whatever I so choose with that money. And if I choose to give some of it to a worthy student, then that’s my choice. No one can tell me otherwise.”
Whitney’s own chuckle surprised her. “I’m not going to go. I’d already decided. It’s not ... it’s not only the money.”
Aretha leaned forward, eyes intense. “What is it then?”
“It’s something Daniel said. He has me thinking about my dream.”
“And what is that?”
Whitney chewed on her thumbnail as she stared beyond Aretha’s shoulder. “I’m not sure yet. But I’m going to figure it out.”
“What are you going to do about Daniel?”
The back of her throat convulsed, and she thought she was going to be sick. “What can I do except try to forget him?” The question tasted like rotten eggs.
Aretha gave a very unladylike snort. “Oh, no. That’ll never do. When you love someone, you give them a little time to cool down. Then you go after them, and you show them how much joy you bring to their life. Because you did that for Daniel. He’s hurt. He feels the sting right now, but in a few days, he’s going to realize how dark his world is without you in it.”
With a squeeze of her hand, Aretha grinned. “So, are you going to be in it?”
Whitney needed a dream.
Simple. No problem. Just a lifelong goal. No pressure.
Something she could pursue without fear. Something worthwhile. Something that wasn’t liable to nearly kill her.
Because she wanted to be brave. But she didn’t need to be stupid.
Okay. No problem. Dream.
On her own sofa, she tucked her crossed legs beneath her. The simple string of white Christmas lights around her window burned even against her closed eyes. But the mini bulbs didn’t illuminate any brilliant ideas.
Maybe it was too quiet. Yes. That was definitely the problem.
She hopped up and turned her phone to a Christmas playlist. Jingling bells and all that. Certainly that would inspire an idea.
Ten minutes later, she wasn’t convinced. Maybe walking would help.
She popped up and paced the tiny perimeter of her bungalow’s living room.
In high school, one of her friends had put together a vision board—pictures clipped from magazines and pasted to a big board of dreams. Angie’s had looked like a “where in the world are celebrities taking holiday this week?” Infinity pools and crystal-clear water. White beaches and white stucco homes built into Greek hills. Even ten years later, Angie still talked about the exotic places she wanted to vacation. Though her destinations were more informed by her favorite travel personality on TikTok now—Cruising with Cretia or something like that.
Whitney didn’t dream about far-flung travels or exotic anything.
So what did she dream about? What would she put on her vision board?
The white poster board in her mind’s eye remained blank. Except for one face.
Daniel’s.
Nope. She’d screwed that up way too much for him to come within a hundred kilometers of her dream board.
But his words drifted through her mind. “You don’t give up on people.” He’d said that when she’d told him about sitting in Caden’s kitchen and soaking up whatever Caden could teach her. Whitney may not know what she wanted to do , but she knew the kind of person she wanted to be . Brave and kind and willing to try.
Caden had embodied that as long as she’d known her. She’d gone from being an assistant in her dad’s bakery to being the inn’s chef to launching an after-school cooking program for teenagers in Toronto with the Cooking Network star Jerome Gale.
Whitney didn’t need to have the same journey. But maybe Caden could inspire something more than a dream of travel. Something more like investing in a younger generation. After all, that was what Caden had done for her.
Before Whitney could come up with a reason not to or let herself focus on the challenges, she snatched up her phone and pressed the screen to connect her call.
Caden answered on the second ring. “Whitney? What a pleasant surprise!”
A baby wailed on the other end to say he was much less pleased.
“Sorry. Hang on.” Caden dropped her voice to coo at her little one. “Hush now, AJ. Here you go. Drink your bottle.”
Whitney drummed her fingers on the leg of her flannel pajama pants. This was probably a terrible idea. Caden was clearly busy.
But you’ve helped everyone else this season. Why can’t you be a help to Caden too?
The voice in her head sounded an awful lot like Daniel. So instead of apologizing to Caden for calling and then hanging up like her old voice would tell her to do, she took a deep breath and waited.
“Sorry. Adam Jr. gets cranky when his feeding schedule gets off. He’s a lot like his dad in that way.” Caden chuckled at her own joke.
From the far side of the phone, Adam hollered, “Do not,” which only made Caden laugh harder.
“Whitney,” she said. “It’s great to hear from you. What have you been up to?”
“Baking pies mostly. Selling them at farmers’ markets.”
“I bet you’ve been a hit across the island.”
Whitney made a noncommittal sound but let the compliment wash over her anyway. “So, I’ve been ... I’m not sure what I’m going to do next.”
“Really? What do you want to do?”
“Work with you?” It came out as more of a question than she’d meant it, so she cleared her throat and said it again. “I want to work with you.”
Caden’s laughter pealed through the phone, and Whitney cringed. She’d said something wrong, and this was where she threw in her shin guards or violin bow and ran for cover. This was when she turned around at the edge of the pool, picked up her towel, and sat back down in the bleachers.
But not today.
“You have no idea what an answer to prayer you are,” Caden said. “I mean, you’re pretty much a Christmas miracle. I’ve only told one other person that we need to hire help.”
“Wh-what?”
“Jerome wants to expand the program, and I haven’t told him yet, but I’m pregnant again.” Caden’s smile came through loud and clear.
“Again?”
“I told him I needed to find some full-time help. Are you looking for full-time work? It doesn’t matter. I’ll make it work. I just—I need someone I can trust implicitly.”
“But I’m not that good of a cook.”
With a laugh that brushed all concerns aside, Caden said, “Yes, you are. Marie told me if I ever decided not to come back to the inn for the summer season, she was going to snap you up.”
Whitney couldn’t form words as warmth wrapped around her, better than the softest throw.
“Now, I’m coming back, mind you. But I could sure use your help. It’s a lot of administration and lesson planning and teaching and simply encouraging these kids to keep trying. Can you do that?”
Because of Daniel, she nodded. She didn’t give up on people. “I can.”
“Oh, but the job has to be in Toronto. Are you looking to move?”
She couldn’t get the word out fast enough. “Yes.”
Thirty minutes later, Whitney sat on her sofa in stunned silence, her cheeks hurting from the breadth of her smile. She didn’t exactly have a dream. But she absolutely had a plan. She had a confirmed job offer, temporary housing, and the chance to work with two of the best chefs she’d ever met.
She wasn’t afraid that she’d jump ship or fail to live up to anyone’s expectations. Like Daniel had said, she didn’t give up on her friends. Caden trusted her to do this job, the same way Marie and Seth had trusted her with their kids.
She could be Caden’s Christmas miracle—and Caden could be hers too.
If Christmas miracles were being passed around, she sent up a prayer for one more. Taking a deep breath, she asked for the words to explain, words that would touch his heart. Then she began her text.