Chapter 5 Cindy
Main Street in Park City sparkled like a snow globe in the afternoon sun, with the brick buildings trimmed in twinkling lights and fresh garlands ribboned around the streetlights.
A gentle snow drifted through the crisp mountain air, dusting the sidewalks where bundled-up shoppers ducked in and out of boutiques, art galleries, and toasty cafés.
As Cindy navigated the hill toward Sugarfall, she inhaled the scent of roasted chestnuts mingled with woodsmoke. She threaded her way through clusters of tourists fresh off the slopes, snapping photos beside two-hundred-year-old buildings that captured the charm of a historic mining town.
It was festive but not frantic with a unique alpine magic that she loved even more during the holidays.
Pulling her jacket tighter around her waist, Cindy glanced at the shop windows filled with happy shoppers—so Park City was enjoying a good season.
It was only Snowberry Lodge that felt “light” this year. Light, but not…finished.
After her conversations with MJ and the girls, much introspection, and no small amount of calculations, she was trying to be optimistic about the future. Everyone from Benny to Dad had made it their top priority to “come up with a solution.”
In fact, Gracie had implied that’s why she wanted Cindy to come to the bakery today—for a conversation she insisted be in person. Turning onto the small side street, she paused in front of her niece’s utterly adorable—and also packed—bakery, Sugarfall.
With a smile, she pulled open the heavy glass door and stepped onto the black and white hexagon tile floor, greeted by the aroma of buttery crusts and delectable chocolate.
She never tired of this precious place, a comfy and nostalgic bakery that had become a favorite with tourists and locals alike. Under a white-painted tin ceiling, pastry cases and marble countertops beckoned anyone who had a hint of a sweet tooth.
Behind thick glass, croissants, scones, tarts, and citrus bars were on display with soft lighting that just made them all more irresistible.
Cookies, cupcakes, macaroons, and Gracie’s signature creampuffs were front and center, with an entire massive case filled with cakes decorated in holiday colors.
In the back, a revolving warming case with seasonal pies turned under soft lights, and the walls were lined with special candies, baking supplies, and trademarked souvenirs.
Along the frosted front windows, bistro tables and cane-backed chairs were nearly filled with guests enjoying coffee and delicious treats.
A single mother at twenty-five, Gracie had used her natural talent, business acumen, and a few years of formal training as a pastry chef to build a thriving business. She’d taken out a loan and purchased an existing bakery in this location, then rebranded it from top to bottom.
Now nearly as old as Benny, Sugarfall required two professional bakers, some counter staff during peak hours, and one special event manager who worked with hotels and wedding planners all over Park City and beyond.
Not as outgoing as Nicole or as optimistic as her mother, Gracie built her little empire with quiet determination and attention to detail.
Few people knew this, because Gracie was soft-spoken, but there was no doubt where Benny got his impressive intelligence.
On top of that, she was as sweet as the desserts she offered her guests.
And Cindy loved her niece as much as she loved her own daughter.
Just as Cindy unzipped her jacket, Gracie came out from the back kitchen, holding a small pink box.
“Hi Aunt Cindy!” she called, coming closer and presenting the box. “We made your favorite white chocolate raspberry amaretto cake.” She practically sang the dessert’s decadent name. “And I saved you a piece because you came to town to see me.”
“Thank you, darling.” She leaned in and air-kissed her niece, then eyed her suspiciously. “Of course I came. You made it sound intriguing.”
“I didn’t mean to be cryptic,” she said. “I just wanted you to come with an open mind. Plus, I know you’re busy.”
Cindy wasn’t that busy, to be honest, and the twenty-minute drive was a welcome break from the lodge.
“I was busy wrapping fake presents,” Cindy said with a laugh. “Nic’s idea to put the sleigh out is great, but Benny in charge of wrapping? Not so great. I helped him put real ribbons on and removed the duct tape. This was a nice escape.”
“Good.” She guided her toward a small two-top table near a window. “Can I get you a coffee? We brewed that Euro blend you love. With heavy cream and a sugar stick?”
“Of course. Do you have time to join me?”
“Someone does. Sit tight.”
What did that mean?
While Cindy took off her jacket, Gracie slipped behind the counter to the coffee station. Cindy glanced around at the happy faces of the Sugarfall clientele, not seeing anyone she knew, but that wasn’t unusual.
This was the height of tourist season and the locals who lived and worked here—people Cindy had known her whole life—were all busy serving those tourists.
If they were lucky enough to have that business, she thought glumly.
Her niece came back holding a steaming cup finished with a tall stirring stick laden with sugar crystals that melted into the drink. One thing Gracie never skimped on—sugar.
Placing the cup in front of Cindy, she dropped into the other chair and gave her an expectant look.
Cindy blew on the hot drink but didn’t sip. “All right. You’ve got my full attention. And gratitude for this coffee and cake.”
Gracie’s smile was tight and weirdly nervous. “Remember how on Thanksgiving we all decided we’d, you know, ‘put on our thinking caps’ to solve the problems at Snowberry?”
Cindy nodded. “You want to open a second Sugarfall in the lodge? ’Cause I’d say yes.”
“Not a bad plan, but no. However, I do talk to a lot of people,” she said, brushing the bakery’s logo on the front of her flour-dusted apron, once again sounding apprehensive. “And I met someone who might be able to help.”
Cindy finally sipped her coffee, lifting a brow. “I’m all ears,” she said after swallowing.
“It’s a slightly…different approach,” she said. “But I think it has potential.”
Cindy studied her lovely niece, waiting for more.
“There’s a man who comes in here once in a while,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “He owns several properties throughout the West and has invested in a few boutique hotels around Utah. We were talking and I mentioned Snowberry and told him a little about our history and…our issues.”
“You told a stranger?”
“An advisor,” she corrected. “He wasn’t surprised, honestly, and really knows the market and property values. Everything. I think he might help with an investment.”
Cindy shot a brow up. “An investor? Would it be like a loan? I don’t want to saddle us—or you, in the future—with debt and interest.” And she didn’t need another bill to pay.
“I know and I appreciate that,” Gracie said. “I only just finished paying off my bank loan and it was a bear. But this man has real estate and hospitality experience, not like a bank lender. He’d be more of a partner.”
“A partner?”
“Well, think of him like one of those Shark Tank guys, only for property instead of products. He said he would—”
“I can’t wait any longer.”
Startled, Cindy sucked in a soft breath and looked up—way up—into the face of a man smiling down at her.
“You must be Aunt Cindy. I’m Henry.” He held out a hand to her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
As if her body had a will of its own, Cindy stood slowly, taking hold of the strong, slightly calloused hand that gripped hers.
Even standing to her full five-foot-six, she still had to look up a bit to meet a blue-gray gaze of a man about her age, with a head of salt-and-pepper hair and an even more peppery close-cropped beard.
He wore rimless glasses and a navy cable-knit sweater which all gave him kind of a professorial look. A slate-colored wool coat, about a shade darker than his eyes, hung over his arm.
“Hello…Henry,” she managed, taken aback by the sheer power of the man. “Yes, I’m Cindy Kessler.”
“Henry Lassiter.” He shook her hand, never taking his inviting gaze from hers.
“Gracie’s told me so much about you—and your lovely property.
Full disclosure, I sneaked over there yesterday, bought a pair of gloves from the shop, and took the nice young woman’s advice to stroll the property. It’s one in a million. Can we talk?”
For a moment, she just stared at him, feeling a strange weakness in her knees. And a sense of…familiarity. She didn’t know the man and certainly would have remembered meeting him had she bumped into him at Snowberry Lodge yesterday.
“May I?” he added when she didn’t answer, gesturing to the table.
“Sit right here, Henry,” Gracie said, instantly vacating her seat. “I’ll bring you a coffee and let you two get acquainted.”
Gracie whisked away and Henry folded his coat over the back of the chair.
While he did, Cindy looked past him at her reflection in the pastry case, suddenly smoothing a hand through her blond waves, wishing she’d taken a little more care with her makeup.
She had no idea she’d meet a handsome stranger today.
Her cheeks flushed at the thought—the man wanted to invest in her property, not ask her on a date. But still, he had a strong presence, and something was so familiar about him. She couldn’t pinpoint it.
“Have you been in Park City for very long?” she asked as he settled in, certain she must have met him somewhere. Maybe at a business owners networking event or even something social in town.
“I have a home in the canyons—Little Cottonwood, on the outskirts of Salt Lake. I assume you’re familiar with it?”
She nodded, knowing the very upscale suburb. “You have a home?” she laughed softly. “How many do you have?”
He chuckled. “Just two that I live in. The other is in southern California, where I go when I desperately need a beach.”