Chapter 28
MAE
“You are absolutely letting us pay you for this,” I said to Thayle as we walked into the cottage. “I know for a fact this is the best property. And how much it goes for.”
Not only was it a four-bedroom lakefront property, but this was the only one with an outdoor hot tub too. Pia, Delaney and Jules oohed and ahhed as we brought our overnight bags in. On the kitchen counter? Two champagne bottles on ice with glasses surrounding them.
“And what is that?” Pia asked as she and Jules gravitated to the counter.
“You’re not paying a dime, it was a cancellation. And that’s a welcome from the owners,” Thayle said. “The one on the left is for you.”
Pia pulled it out and laughed. “Non-alcoholic. This is awesome. Ish. I’d prefer that one.” She pointed to its partner that Delaney lifted from the ice.
“So would I but”—Thayle smiled—“I’m only pouring for the others. I’ll be partaking in yours.”
Everyone froze, took in that information, and offered a round of congratulations. They all knew Thayle had been to Grado Valley Vineyards throughout the years, but I was closest to her and gave her the biggest squeeze.
“Congratulations. That’s amazing. When are you due?”
We popped open the bubbly, and the non-alcoholic one, celebrating Thayle’s announcement.
She and Pia got to talking all things baby prep and headed out on the deck while the three of us went about unpacking the charcuterie goodies we’d brought for a light lunch.
The event was due to start up at the main winery building at four with plenty of food, but in the meantime, I was starving.
We talked about the huge order Delaney had gotten thanks to a feature of her custom-made jewelry in a well-circulated Finger Lakes lifestyle magazine. We talked about Jules’s dating life for a bit too.
When both of them looked at me, I tried to avoid the topic I knew they were curious about. One too complicated to put into words sufficiently. “I really have to remember not to skip breakfast so I don’t eat everything in sight by noon,” I said, reaching for my fourth serving of cheese and crackers.
“Speaking of cheese and crackers.” Jules took a sip of bubbly. “What’s the Beck status?”
“The Beck status, besides him buying the bar, is no status.”
“Guess you’re gonna pretend he didn’t escort”—Delaney said that last word with more than a hint of suggestion in her tone—“you to your room the other night.”
“I stayed at the inn,” I explained to Jules. “After being strong-armed into drinking wine even though I was supposed to be drying out this week.”
She nodded to my champagne glass. “You’re doing a great job.”
Delaney cleared her throat.
“Nothing happened,” I said. “We talked a little. I fell asleep. He covered me and left.”
And left a bottle of water by the nightstand which reminded me of the first time I drank too much.
It was after a football game senior year of high school.
Not only had Beck walked me home and covered for me by talking to my parents while I slunk off to my room, but he showed up at the window, courtesy of the tree right outside my bedroom, climbed in, and held my hair when I lost the contents of my stomach.
That was before he lectured me about why I shouldn’t be hanging out with Curtis Daniels, the football quarterback, and his friends.
According to Beck, they were bad news. As if he and his buddies were angels.
“Well, that’s just about the most boring report ever.” Jules made a pretend sound of disgust.
“I feel like him buying the bar is something, right?” Delaney asked. “Maybe he really is turning a corner.”
“You mean, becoming an adult?” Jules reached for a chocolate-covered raisin.
“Exactly,” Delaney said.
“If being an adult means you have your act together, I’m not quite there yet. But I have been mulling around an idea.”
“Oooh, do tell.” Delaney rubbed her hands together eagerly.
“I spoke with Ellie, from that B&B last weekend, and she wants to move forward with an order. So I also talked to Pia a little yesterday morning, and she thought it was a great idea.”
“It?” Jules drew her full eyebrows, one of her most striking features, together.
“The possibility of expanding the idea, to serve other inns, restaurants, whatever. Like the B&B. Could I get enough customers to make it a business?” I could tell the ladies were as excited as me about the possibility, and that meant the world to me.
“It’s all very willy-nilly. But between the festival success, and then Beck had the idea of putting the tarte tatin on the menu as a special…
things like that. Could it be viable, without serving customers directly? ”
“So you don’t want a bakery or anything like that?”
“No,” I said. “I had so much fun tailoring the perfect desserts. I want to experiment with recipes and bake.”
“You could hire someone to handle customers,” Jules suggested.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I envision more of a small-batch artisan dessert thing. But I have no idea if that’s sustainable.”
The ladies appeared thoughtful.
“Sort of a catering, but for desserts,” Delaney said. “Yeah, that’s definitely unique. What’s the risk to try? Could you do it out of your house?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted. “There’s more questions than answers at this point. But it’s a thought.”
“So,” Delaney ventured. “You’re wanting to stay in Cedar Falls?”
“Yes!”
That from Pia, who was just walking inside.
“She wants to be the most sought-after pastry chef in the Finger Lakes, her creations so in-demand that I’ve already put in a long-standing order.
Then we’ve got her for taco nights and Wine Wednesdays, when I can drink again,” she said, eliciting a nod from Thayle.
“And not to mention making a man out of Beck.”
“Have this all planned out for her, huh?” Delaney popped a piece of pepperoni into her mouth.
“In all seriousness,” Pia said, her hand moving, probably unconsciously, to her stomach. “Did you not see them together the other night?”
“I did. And agree it’s a different Beck since she came home. But this is Beck we’re talking about.”
“And you know as well as I do half, if not more, of his schtick is a front. He has a heart of gold underneath the jokes—”
“And womanizing?”
I watched Pia and Delaney like they were a ping pong match, wondering if they remembered I was in the room.
“That too.”
“Um…” I raised my hand. “Hello?”
Thayle laughed. “You don’t get a say,” she teased. “But I will say this. We have a reformed playboy in our family too. When they fall, they fall hard. With the right woman, it’s possible.”
Jules reached for a cracker. “Really wish we had some popcorn. This is highly entertaining.”
My pocket buzzed. Not wanting to attract more attention by taking it out, I excused myself. “While you guys analyze my love life, I’m hitting the ladies’ room. Be right back.”
Sitting on the toilet lid, I took out my phone and smiled.
How’s it going?
Aware I was smiling at my phone, and what that meant, I fired back:
Just got here, so far so good.
You?
I watched as Beck typed.
All good. Working on something…
What the heck did that mean?
Something?
Yep.
It wasn’t like Beck to be so mysterious.
So coy today.
Intrigued? (wink emoji)
Lol, always.
Crap. Text sparring with him came so naturally, I hadn’t even thought about how that sounded until I pressed send.
Good to know (wink emoji)
Friends. I was quite literally flirting with him. So much for the grand plan. It was just so easy with Beck, and even though it should be awkward, this limbo we were in, in a lot of ways, it was perfectly natural too.
I texted:
TTYL
Couldn’t stay locked up in the bathroom all day.
Thankfully, when I made my way back out to the kitchen, no one commented on how long I’d been gone.
I could have just as easily texted Beck in front of them, but they’d sniff that out in no time.
And I couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation in my own head, never mind trying to explain it to them.
I was just about to put my phone back in my jeans pocket when it buzzed again.
As long as you promise to think about me later.
I froze. A tingle of excitement ran through me, one that had no business making me feel as if the combination of an overnight with the girls, coupled with his flirty texts, was quite literally the perfect night.
“What is it?” Jules asked.
I looked up as all four faces stared expectantly at me.
Only one way to describe the situation.
“Ladies. I’m in trouble.”