Chapter Thirty
BIRDIE FLEW OUT of her car at her parents’ house forty-five minutes late for pie baking.
It was only Wednesday, and she’d already had a hell of a week.
She and Crew were so busy, they hadn’t seen each other since Sunday evening.
While she loved their text messages and phone conversations, she was having Ragnar withdrawals.
She missed hugging him and seeing him without screens between them.
She burst through her parents’ kitchen door in a flurry of swinging tote bags and jangling keys. “Sorry I’m late,” she hollered above the music and conversation.
The counters were littered with bowls, mixers, and a variety of ingredients.
Billie and Simone were peeling apples, Sully and Juliette were elbow-deep in mixing bowls, Sasha was crimping the edges of a crust, wiggling her hips to the beat of the music, and her mother and Aunt Marie were rolling dough.
“There she is!” Marie cheered, with the same exuberance Birdie carried in her bones, her auburn hair sliced into a sharp side part, jagged layers nearly brushing the collar of her colorful shirt.
“About time you got here,” Sasha said. “We were about to send out a search party.”
“Sorry,” Birdie said. “I was busy doing smart-girl shit. I’m doing two people’s jobs, remember?”
“Smart-girl shit.” Billie snort-laughed, her dark ponytail swinging.
“Birdie’s always doing smart-girl shit,” Simone said.
Sully looked up from her mixing bowl with a dash of white powder on her cheek, “You’re doing accounting, right?”
“Yup. I’m all about numbers these days.” And starting to see them in my sleep, which is really annoying because I’d much rather have my Viking taking up my brain space at night.
“I’d rather wrestle a bear,” Juliette said.
Birdie hefted her tote bags onto the table. “I hear ya, but somebody has to keep the shop from burning down now that Carly is off finding treasures and preparing for one of the world’s cutest babies to arrive.”
“I offered to help with the accounting while I’m in town,” Marie chimed in.
“And I love you for it, Auntie,” Birdie said.
“But our customers love seeing you when you’re in town.
I would never rip them off like that. Besides, I’ve got it under control.
” Sort of. She might understand accounting well enough to do the basics, but it was sucking the joy out of her life.
It seemed like she was always rushed now, fitting in social media for the shop on the fly instead of planning things out and letting her creativity flow.
Work was feeling more like a chore and less like the job she’d loved.
“We’re all very proud of you, honey,” her mother said, pulling her into a hug.
“Very proud,” Sasha said.
Everyone called out in agreement, their love washing over Birdie.
She took off her coat and hung it by the door.
“You should be proud of me. Not only am I killing it at work, but I’m also about to make your evening with some awesome goodies!
” She dug into one of her totes, holding up items as she announced them and emptied the bag.
“I brought no-mess mud masks, collagen under-eye patches, and everyone’s favorite shade of nail polish, because we deserve spa treatment after all this baking. ”
“Are we baking or opening a salon?” Billie asked.
“You act surprised every year,” Birdie said. “Haven’t you learned that self-care and sugar go hand in hand?”
“My girl takes good care of us,” Marie said, putting an arm around Birdie and giving her a squeeze.
“Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks,” Sully said. “I love our girl time.”
“Me too,” Simone said.
Marie reached into the second tote, pulling out a tub of ricotta cheese. “What’s the ricotta for?”
“I thought I’d spice things up this Thanksgiving. I was looking at winter pies and found a recipe for an orange chocolate ricotta pie. It sounds delicious, and the reviews raved about it.”
Sasha wrinkled her nose. “Orange and chocolate sounds okay, but with cheese?”
“It’s not cheese-cheese,” Birdie protested. “It’s ricotta. It’s sweet. Very European. I’m making it with a lattice crust, which I know you love.”
“I can’t wait to taste it,” Marie said.
Birdie beamed and rolled up her sleeves.
Marie caught her wrist and said, “That is a stunning bracelet.”
Birdie’s heart fluttered as everyone hurried over to get a peek. She wanted to spill all the details of their glorious night away, gush about how Crew had surprised her with the bracelet, tell them how special the sunflowers were, and show them what he’d had inscribed on the hidden silver charm.
Instead, she said, “Isn’t it pretty? I love it.”
“Sunflowers,” her mother said, eyeing her curiously.
“They make me happy,” Birdie said. “They remind me of the sunflower festival.”
“We haven’t missed one yet,” her mother said, holding Birdie’s gaze.
The secrets they’d shared in that sunflower field over the years would forever link them together in their own special way. Birdie wanted to sneak into one of the sacred rooms now and confide in her mother with the promise that her secret would stay between them.
But she wasn’t a naive little girl anymore. She knew this secret had serious consequences.
“You should probably take your bracelet off and put it in the bowl with our jewelry and phones before it ends up dipped in pumpkin,” Juliette suggested.
Birdie hadn’t taken it off since Crew had given it to her, and she didn’t want to take it off now.
She also wasn’t about to put her phone where anyone else could rifle through it.
“It’s okay. I don’t mind if it gets a little dirty.
” She carried the ricotta and the rest of the ingredients over to the counter and said, “So, what did I miss?”
“Marie was telling us about her trip to Portugal,” Juliette said.
“Should I add it to my bucket list?” Birdie asked as she washed her hands.
“Only if you like friendly people, old-world cities that are dripping in history, stunning beaches, and delicious food. Luis and I found this little street where every window had a candle in it, and…”
For the next few hours, the kitchen became a whirlwind of chatter, laughter, and flour-dusted hands.
Pecans were chopped, dough was rolled, and ingredients were mixed.
They danced around each other, passing measuring cups, stealing pieces of fruit, chocolate, and nuts, and peeling apple skins into curling ribbons that piled up like streamers.
By the time the last of the pies were put in the ovens, the counters looked like a disaster zone, and the kitchen smelled heavenly from the pies that had already baked. They loaded the dishwasher, put all the ingredients away, and wiped down the counters.
When they were done, Birdie said, “Mask time! Everybody, go wash your face, and then come back and pick a partner, so we can do each other.”
“Don’t tell my husband I’m doing someone else tonight,” Billie said as they headed for the bathrooms.
“You never know. It might turn him on,” Sasha said.
“I do not want to know if it does,” her mother called out.
Everyone laughed, but Birdie knew Dare would never share Billie with anyone else, male or female. He was as possessive of Billie as Crew was of Birdie.
Birdie’s phone chimed with a text. Her heart skipped, hoping it was Crew. She was careful to shield it from the others as she checked.
Quinn: Are you still at your mom’s? If so, mind if I stop by?
Birdie: I’m still here. Come over! We’re doing face masks. Use the kitchen door.
“Quinn’s going to stop by,” she said, pocketing her phone. “It’s a good thing I brought extra masks.”
Twenty minutes later they were sitting around the living room, wearing their ghostly masks with only their eyes, nostrils, and lips showing.
“We look like we belong in a cheap horror movie,” Sully said.
“The Brides of Michael Myers,” Simone added, and they laughed with the straightest faces they could manage, so their masks wouldn’t peel off.
“Speak for yourself,” Birdie said. “I look like a cute, moisturizing paper doll.”
“Or a torn condom face,” Billie said, and they all cracked up, but quickly struggled to stop smiling, which only made them laugh harder.
The oven timer sounded from the kitchen.
“Pies are ready,” her mother said.
They shuffled back into the kitchen and leaned against the island or sat at the table, while her mother and Marie pulled the golden-crusted pies from the oven.
“Birdie, your orange chocolate ricotta pie smells delicious.” Her mother set it on a cooling rack.
Happiness bubbled up inside her. She couldn’t wait to see Crew’s face when she brought it out at dinner tomorrow night.
Someone’s phone chimed from the bowl on the counter.
“That’s my phone. Billie, can you check it for me in case it’s Ezra?” Sasha asked from the table where she was sitting with Juliette and Sully.
Billie picked up Sasha’s phone. “It’s an appointment confirmation for—” Shooting a curious look at Sasha, she said, “Girl, you’ve got some explaining to do. It’s for an ultrasound.”
There was a collective gasp.
Sasha’s eyes widened like she’d been caught with her hand down Ezra’s pants.
“Sasha, honey, are you pregnant?” her mother asked.
“Would you believe me if I said it was for gallstones?” Sasha asked.
“No!” they all said at once.
“Okay, yes, I’m pregnant,” Sasha said. “But we were waiting until twelve weeks to tell everyone.”
Squeals and congratulations rang out, and Birdie was the first to throw her arms around her. “I’m so happy for you!”
“Thanks, Bird,” Sasha said, hugging her tight before she was pulled away for another hug and passed from one person to the next as they peppered her with questions.
“How far along are you?” Simone asked.
“Ten weeks,” Sasha said. “I’m due at the end of June.”
“A summer baby!” Sully exclaimed as she drew her into a hug.
“Hopefully you’ll be next,” Sasha said.
Sully blushed. “We’re just talking about it.”