Chapter 31 #2
He moved out of the way, giving me a better view of a group of a dozen people in their sixties, most with hat-head from the visors and sunhats they’d removed from their graying hair.
“Hi, everybody,” I said with a wave.
They all waved back.
“What are you making?” one of the women asked.
I moved the tray for them to see more clearly. “S’more maple blondies.”
The people in the back of the crowd went up on their toes to get a look.
“Would anyone like to try a fresh batch?” I asked. “I just took these out of the oven. They’ll be a bit gooey since they haven’t had time to set, but…” The last part was drowned out by unanimous consent.
James smiled at me and showed the group into the room, then worked on getting some paper plates as I cut up the blondies.
The group was chatty, and I fielded questions while I worked. Since the blondies hadn’t had time to cool, the pieces weren’t neat. Mrs. Keller would be mortified if any of her products looked like the baking aisle massacre these treats resembled.
It got much quieter once everyone had their plate and could try their treat. A staggered chorus of mm’s started up, making me smile.
Like the blondies, things were messy in my life right now. But messy didn’t have to mean bad. I had to believe that things would cool and set with time.
I just didn’t know if I could wait eight more years for that to happen.
It had gotten fully dark by the time the group headed to their cars. James saw them off while I cleaned up, but he was back a few minutes later, and we were alone in the space again.
Our space.
At least, that’s how it had come to feel.
James shut the door behind him and dusted off his hands.
I was drying a mixing bowl, but he came up behind me, took it, and set it down, then did the same with the towel.
Without a word, he wrapped his arms around me.
I’d been doing pretty well for the past couple of hours, but my eyes burned. I blinked quickly as he nestled his head next to mine.
“I got a text just before going to get Mia,” I said. “Apparently, she’s not feeling well.”
I didn’t have to explain my fears or suspicions to him. He understood.
As heartbroken as I was feeling, there was a thread of joy and gratitude beneath it for James.
I let out a long breath and shut my eyes, letting myself enjoy being held by him.
“Sadie?”
“Mm?”
There was a pause.
“I hate what I’m doing to you.”
We’d been rocking gently, but I stopped and pulled away so I could turn and look at him.
His throat bobbed. “How can I possibly ask this of you? It’s too much.”
“Ryan will come around.” I had to believe that—that our bond as siblings was stronger than his hatred of James. That, in time, he’d see the evidence stacking up against his understanding of James. He’d loved James once; he’d get there again.
“And if he doesn’t?” James finally asked softly.
My body tightened.
“I want to believe he will,” James said, “but I’d hoped he’d have softened after eight years. I’m scared he won’t—and even more afraid of the hurt that would cause you. I’d understand if you started to resent me over time.”
I shook my head as an image flashed across my mind: James and me, five years from now, seeing pictures of Ryan, Lily, and Mia on social media. Watching her grow up in pictures rather than experiencing it in real life.
I hated that thought.
But would I resent James for it?
“James,” I said, “for once, I’m choosing what I actually want. Who I want. I’m not going to resent you for that.”
His gaze held mine as the door opened.
May appeared, smiling. “Not answerin’ your phones, are you? Dinner time.” She put up a hand when I opened my mouth. “Don’t waste your breath, darlin’. I made food for you, and I expect you to eat it.”
I laughed weakly. “Yes, Ma’am.”
She smiled again. “That’s better.”
I grabbed James’s hand, and we followed her up to the house in silence. Despite the work she’d done at the festival, her limp was less pronounced than it had been a week ago.
When the door to the house opened and I smelled dinner, I wasn’t upset she’d forced me to stay.
I thought back on my first meal here at the farm and how much had happened since.
This place had come to feel more like home to me than my apartment.
May was someone I’d come to love—a second mother, of sorts. And James?
I watched him set plates on the table and noticed the moment he scooted the two chairs we’d be sitting in a smidge closer together.
How could Ryan hate him?
He didn’t.
Some people worshipped false gods; some hated false demons.
Ryan fell into the latter camp, and it wasn’t even totally his fault he hated James.
We sat down, and James served all three of us while May chatted about the results of the festival—a big spike in tour bookings, an increase in kindness from Autumn Ridge, and calls from towns near and far asking to stock Carver maple syrup and baked goods.
The discussion brought something to mind that had fallen to the wayside after babysitting fell through.
When May paused to take a drink, I launched into it. “Morgan Keller offered me her mom’s position.”
May’s drink paused at her lips, and James’s hands went still on his fork.
“Not her exact position,” I clarified, “but something like it. Morgan plans to handle the business side of things, but she wants me to take over daily operations when Mrs. Keller steps down after Christmas.”
“That’s incredible.” James grabbed my hand. “It’s about time they appreciated you.”
“I’ll say!” May beamed at me. “It’s no wonder, either. You’d put them out of business with your success.”
“Oh gosh,” I said, laughing uncomfortably. “I hope not! Mrs. Keller taught me everything I know.”
May cocked a brow as she poured herself more tea. “I think you’re giving her quite a bit of credit, darlin’. You could be successful all on your own. You’ve proven that beyond a doubt.”
“So, you’ve accepted?” James asked.
“Morgan told me to think about it, but, I mean…she basically said I’d be earning double what I make now. Can’t really argue with that.”
“Sure you could.” May said it so matter-of-factly.
I looked at James beside me, and he smiled like he agreed with his mom.
“Do you want to run Keller’s Bakehouse?” he asked.
I faltered. “I’d never really thought of it as an option until now. The whole lack-of-Keller-blood had been such an impossible hurdle, you know? It’s a huge compliment. Running the show there, selling my products, and having creative liberty to adjust the menu? It sounds pretty ideal. Doesn’t it?”
“Only you can decide that,” James said.
His response caught me off guard. The offer was objectively good.
Wasn’t it?
Was turning it down honestly an option? It seemed insane. This was everything I’d ever wanted.
No, it was better; it was something I hadn’t even thought possible.
The conversation moved on, but May’s words repeated in my head like an LED banner.
You could be successful all on your own. You’ve proven that.
An image fluttered next to the words, like a delicate, free-spirited butterfly with colorful, glittering wings: a box of s’more maple blondies with my name on it.
Not the Keller name. Not the Carver name.
My logo.
I shoved the image aside.
Why would I choose risk over the prestige and security of what Morgan was offering?
Butterflies were exquisite, but they were fragile. Even touching one’s wings could hurt it.
Keller’s Bakehouse was established. Known. Respected. It had proven its longevity.
In an ideal world of rainbows and unicorns, maybe I could be the butterfly, but I lived in a world of rent and insurance and car repairs. I needed to make the smart decision here—one that kept a roof over my head.
Maybe once I’d learned enough about running a business and had proven I could handle this opportunity, I’d have the money saved to go out on my own.
“You have a lot on your mind,” May said, cutting through my thoughts. “How are things with your brother?”
“Not great,” I said with an attempt at a smile.
James put a hand on my leg.
“I’m just not sure what to do, you know?” I said. “Give him space?”
May considered me for a moment. “I’ve been angry with your brother for a long time, Sadie.
But seein’ you and James come together”—her eyes and smile grew soft—“has reminded me of somethin’ I’d let myself forget: love has a way of solvin’ things, of untanglin’ even the nastiest of knots.
There’s nothin’ on earth it can’t solve if we give it the chance.
Now, you can’t force Ryan to do anythin’—but you two can make sure he knows he’s got a soft spot to land when he’s good and ready.
So I say, don’t give him space. Give him love. ”
May was like a living Chicken Soup for the Soul—with a touch of spice to keep things interesting. She was so right, though.
I understood why Ryan was angry, even if that anger was built on a flawed foundation. I might not be able to force him to believe the truth, but by loving him even in his misdirected fury, maybe he’d decide he didn’t want to live his life on the unyielding ground of anger.
I could only hope.