Chapter 16 #2
“Yes to all of it,” Tom told her. “I’ve noticed it all.” His jaw clenched for an instant. “I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”
Lila’s eyes met his. Not with judgment but with understanding.
“I completely understand,” she said, her voice soft and filled with compassion. “I wandered around a huge house by myself for two years because I couldn’t let Kenny go.”
His eyes fell on the book in front of her, and his brow lifted in surprise when he saw the small, careful pencil drawings of the bakery’s front room with the new layout she was proposing.
The cabinet was gone, and in its place were the two extra-small tables with the small linen squares on them, each sporting a condiment basket.
There was also a sketch of the proposed new sign, in clean, handwritten letters, with a small spray of wheat along the bottom edge.
Tom blinked. “Lila.” Tom pointed to the drawings. “Did you draw these?”
“Yes.” Lila nodded.
“You can draw?” Tom’s eyes widened in surprise.
“A little,” Lila admitted, her cheeks going pink again. “Art’s always been my second love, behind baking. I keep a sketchbook with me most of the time. I love to curl up in my bay window overlooking the bay and sketch on the weekends.”
“These drawings are beautiful,” Tom praised her work.
“Thank you,” Lila gave a shy laugh.
Tom looked at the small, careful sketch in front of her. The cream walls. The two extra tables. The bakery looked exactly like itself, only fresher. Eleanor’s chairs were still in their place, but restored. Eleanor’s tables were still in their place, just dressed differently.
It struck him, sitting there looking at her book, that Lila had not asked him to let go of Eleanor at all. She’d lovingly restored and gently modernized what Eleanor had created, keeping her legacy shining.
Eleanor had been gone for five years. Tom had spent every one of those years standing in front of the bakery’s front window and watching the lettering fade by a quarter of a shade.
He’d told himself the faded sign was a way of keeping his late wife close.
The truth was, he’d simply been afraid that the moment he picked up a paintbrush, he would somehow lose what he had left of her as she painted away what they had built together.
But Lila had quietly sat and restored Eleanor’s work, respecting the woman who had helped him bring his family’s failing bakery back to life. Lila was once again taking it off life support and breathing life back into it so it wouldn’t collapse again, while paying homage to Eleanor.
Tom couldn’t speak for a few moments as he battled with the barrage of emotions that had hit him in that moment. Instead, he lifted his glass and took a big sip of the club soda in order to regain some semblance of order over himself.
Luckily, their server came back with their food, distracting them as she placed the dishes in front of them.
“Enjoy your meals,” the server said. “If you need anything, just look for me.”
“Thank you,” Tom and Lila said in unison. The young woman smiled and then slipped away.
“This looks delicious,” Lila said, picking up her cutlery.
“Yes, it does,” Tom agreed as he tucked into his meal. It was delicious.
They were halfway through and had been discussing the day’s crowd when Lila suddenly remembered something.
“Eve Saunders, the festival organizer, stopped by this morning while you were at the hospital,” Lila told him. “I meant to mention it, but things just got so hectic.”
“What did Eve want?” Tom asked curiously.
“She told me that they still had one open booth,” Lila told him. “Apparently, they keep it open each year.”
Tom nodded. He knew where she was going with this.
“Yes,” he replied with a tight smile. “She’s talking about the bakery booth. Eleanor and I used to run it every year. I did for two years after she passed away, but then stopped as it just got too much for me to handle.”
“That’s understandable,” Lila said. “But…” She paused and wiped her mouth on a napkin. “Tom, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take the booth. I know it’s going to mean extra work for you at the bakery, but maybe we could get Jade to come in a week earlier for the summer?”
Jade was the student who had worked in the bakery every summer since she was sixteen. She was now in college but still worked there each summer when she came home for vacation.
“Yes, I think that’s a great idea,” Tom agreed. “You heard the customers today. Grumbling that it would be easier if we had a booth at the festival.” He grinned, then frowned. “But, I’m not sure whether we have enough baked goods to stock the booth and the bakery, as we haven’t prepared for it.”
“Now it’s time for me to confess something.” Lila looked a little sheepish. “I’ve been baking for the last two nights.”
“Oh?” Tom looked at her in surprise.
“Yes. I’ve been wanting to try four new recipes for months.
” She bit her lip. “I had been thinking of going to the festival to find someone who would be willing to sell them for me.” She gave him a small smile.
“My fridge is full of pies, tarts, cupcakes, and cookies.” She held up a small hand.
“But we still have a lot of baking to do. But don’t worry, I had the kitchen in my apartment fitted out properly when I moved here to accommodate my baking hobby.
So I’ll whip up more tonight and early tomorrow morning. ”
Tom laughed. He couldn’t help it.
“You are amazing,” he said, sobering. “Eleanor also used the festival as her testing ground for new baking recipes. She’d spend the weeks before working up three or four new recipes she wanted to try.
Then she’d take them to the booth for the weekend.
The festival crowd was the most honest crowd she had ever met.
If something didn’t fly there, it didn’t fly anywhere.
If something did fly there, it went onto the bakery menu the following Monday.
” He leaned forward. “I know you’ve been wanting to add to the menu.
Let’s do the same thing Eleanor used to do and test your recipes there. Then put the best sellers on the menu.”
Lila’s eyes went huge with disbelief. “Are you sure?”
“It’s time, Lila,” Tom admitted. “Time for change.”
“Thank you, Tom, that means a lot,” Lila replied, a big smile on her face. “Now I’m so glad I made them.” She met his eyes. “Truthfully, I’ve been trying to approach you the whole week with my idea for the festival.”
“Can I ask what some of the recipes are?” Tom finished his club soda and went back to his food.
“A lemon and lavender shortbread,” Lila listed. “A small almond and orange blossom cake, in single-serve sizes. A savory pastry, sun-dried tomato, and goat cheese in a flaky butter pastry. And a brown sugar peach crumble bar, with the peaches fresh from the Petersens’ orchard.”
Tom listened to her describe each one with the small, precise pleasure of a baker who knew exactly what was in every layer of her work, and he felt a piece of his heart settle that had been tilted askew for half a decade.
“They sound delicious,” Tom meant what he said. “And if they fly with the festival crowd, they’re going on the menu Monday morning.”
“Well, I hope they fly off the booth shelf,” Lila told him and went back to her food.
They finished their meal while discussing arrangements for the booth.
What they would need, as it was going to be a complete rush.
The waiter took their plates, and they ordered coffee, which came within a few minutes.
They continued to discuss the booth, and Lila took notes.
Finally, their evening drew to a close, and Tom found he didn’t want it to end.
Tom paid the bill. The waiter brought back the receipt and the small folded check holder, and Tom slipped a generous tip onto the table the way he always did. He stood and offered Lila his hand. She took it, and they walked together out of The Driftwood and back to the truck.
“Tom.” Lila turned to him as they pulled into the small drive behind the bakery. “We’re going to have to start even earlier each morning during the festival. While my kitchen is adequate, it would really help to be able to use the bakery kitchen as well.”
“Whatever you need,” Tom promised. “I’ll help you with the baking for the booth as well.” He smiled as he stopped the truck. “You’ll just have to guide me through it.”
“Great,” Lila beamed as she opened the door and slid out.
“So we’ll meet in the kitchen at Five tomorrow morning?” Tom looked at her enquiringly.
“Yes, I can do that,” Lila confirmed.
Tom frowned. “I think I’ll call Gill as well.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “The temp that comes in when we need her to. That will give us more time to concentrate on the booth.”
“That sounds like a great plan,” Lila agreed, then looked at her wristwatch. “As we need to be up so early, I should get home.”
“Right,” Tom nodded.
They walked the short path to the small set of wooden stairs that led up to her front door.
It was a soft, warm night. The live oak’s wide branches across the path stood quiet and dark against the stars. Tom could hear the soft hum of cicadas in the long summer grass at the edge of the path.
They were three steps away from the small staircase when a streak of black and white shot out from behind the porch column right in front of Lila. She pitched sideways with a small gasp.
Tom reached out with lightning speed and caught her with both hands, one at her waist and one at her elbow, then pulled her into him before she fell to the ground. Lila landed flat against his chest. Her face came up just below his.
For one suspended moment, neither of them moved.
Her eyes lifted to his.
Tom’s heart pounded, and his pulse raced.
Before he could stop himself, his head bent slowly.
Lila’s eyes closed.
Tom’s mouth closed over hers, and she leaned into him as the world fell away.
The small, distant hum of the cicadas faded.
The marina lights faded. The soft creak of the bakery sign faded.
There was only the small warm sweetness of Lila’s mouth against his, the soft catch of her breath, the warmth of her fingers against his shirtfront as she let herself melt into him.
Then something warm pressed against his shin.
Tom drew back slowly, his mouth lingering on hers a half second longer than it needed to.
He looked down.
Harold was winding himself in a slow figure eight around Tom’s left leg and Lila’s right one, his black-and-white body weaving the two of them together, his tail lifted high in unmistakable pride.
Tom laughed. He couldn’t help it.
The cat finished his loop, hopped up onto the small wooden post at the top of the staircase, settled himself on the railing with absolute contentment, and proceeded to wash his front paw with the air of a creature who had just successfully carried out his mission.
“If I didn’t know any better,” Lila chuckled, her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes shining, “I’d say Harold was trying to push us together.”
“I’m starting to get that feeling,” Tom agreed warmly.
Their eyes met again. She was still in his arms as he drew a breath.
“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you,” Tom told her softly. “I think I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”
“I don’t want you to apologize,” Lila assured him, her smile soft. “I willingly participated and admit I, too, have wanted to be kissed by you for a while now.”
“So,” Tom asked her quietly, “where do we go from here?”
“How about we take it one day at a time?” Lila suggested. “Let this grow into what it’s meant to be.”
“I can do that,” Tom said with a warm smile. “But I have one stipulation, though.”
“Oh? What’s that?” Lila looked up at him.
“That we have dinner together at least five times a week,” Tom laid out his clause in their blossoming relationship.
Lila laughed, a soft warm laugh that wrapped around him comfortingly.
“And, I can do that.” Lila conceded.
Tom kissed her again. Slower this time, with the small certainty of a man who had been given permission to take his time, and with the soft, careful gratitude of a man who had not been given anything quite like this in a long, long time.
When they drew back, Tom kept her in the easy circle of his arms. He looked down at her face in the soft porch light and tried to think of a single thing he wanted to say that was not too big for this moment.
“Oh, and Lila,” Tom’s eyes held hers.
“Mm?” Lila stared into his eyes expectantly.
“I should warn you. My family already knows about us,” Tom warned her.
Lila’s eyes widened. Her cheeks went a darker pink. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” Tom chuckled. “Apparently, they all knew before I did that I was going to ask you out.”
Lila laughed at that. “I like your family, Tom,” she admitted softly. “I never had a big one. But I’ve always wanted one.”
“Well, you have one now,” Tom assured her.
He kissed her once more, the smallest soft kiss this time, on her temple. Then he stepped back and bent down to retrieve the binder she’d dropped when Harold had decided to trip her up.
“I will see you tomorrow morning at five,” Tom reminded her.
“Yes,” Lila replied as she climbed the few steps and stopped to stroke Harold, who purred loudly, enjoying the attention. “No more trying to kill me, okay?” she told the cat, who meowed back, and Tom thought it sounded a lot like I can’t make any promises.
He waited until she was inside before turning and walking to the bakery. Harold leaped off the railing and walked beside him.
The tabby’s tail was high. He looked up at Tom every few steps. He let out a small, particular meow that was just shy of a purr.
Tom looked down at him as they walked.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were boasting about something,” Tom said to the cat.
Harold meowed again right on cue, and Tom laughed, shaking his head at talking to a cat.
Once inside his apartment, he walked through to the kitchen, and Harold sat, staring at the refrigerator, talking in cat mewls as if to say, “Don’t you think I deserve something for pushing Lila into your arms?”
“I suppose you’ve earned a treat.” Tom sighed, still feeling like he’d gone a bit insane or was high on romantic feelings.
Harold gave a pleased meow then waited patiently.
As he dished up a can of pilchards for Harold, Tom pressed his hand against his mouth which could still feel the warmth of Lila’s lips.
Tom turned off the kitchen light and headed for bed with a peaceful contentment settling around him. After five long, painful years, he was finally beginning to heal as he came alive again.