Chapter 14
14
T he next day, I was bundled up against the biting morning wind as I made my way back to the bakery. Of course, trepidation had me keeping my head down, despite my reassurances to myself the night before. I didn’t want to know if I was wrong. Maybe Jingle Junction had abandoned me and my business for the new shiny attraction that was The Sweet Shoppe.
I’d just delivered a fresh batch of several types of muffins to my sister, Star, at her bed-and-breakfast, and enjoyed a short chat and a warm hug before leaving. Her popular inn was at the end of the same street as my bakery, and she’d been buying bagels, muffins, and other goodies from me since the first day she’d owned the place. I’d taken comfort from her embrace, and buoyed by her love and kindness, I squared myself for what was to come.
I was a Bell, and I would be all right.
My breath formed little clouds in the frigid air as I walked briskly, eager to get back to the warmth of my bakery. The streets of Jingle Junction were fairly quiet, with just a few people coming and going from cars and shops, and the festival lights were still twinkling, despite the chill.
As I got close to the art gallery, I spotted two familiar figures up ahead. Deke, my dear friend, was carrying a large paper-wrapped package and grinning from ear to ear. Beside him was my mom, Marigold, wrapped in an oversized puffy coat and wearing a flowing multicolored skirt that fluttered around her fuzzy boots. Her bright, free-spirited aura seemed to defy the cold that bit through my coat and made me shiver.
“Deke! Mom!” I called out, waving as I approached.
They turned to me, their smiles widening.
“Hey, Ivy!” Deke exclaimed. “Give me some sugar!”
I laughed and gave him a peck on the cheek. “What are you two doing, out walking around like this?”
Deke’s grin was so big, I was afraid his face would split in two. “Look what I’m taking to Connor MacDowell! It’s the plate I showed you, the one with the leaves!”
“Hey, sweetheart,” Marigold added, her eyes twinkling as she hugged me. “Isn’t it wonderful? Deke sold his latest creation to a new friend.”
I raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Connor MacDowell? The owner of The Sweet Shoppe?”
The gut wrench was epic, I admit it.
Deke nodded enthusiastically, holding up the package with pride. “Yes! I made this platter, and Connor came to the art gallery, and he bought it, and he says he loves it.”
I blinked, trying to process this new information. “You met Connor at the art gallery?”
Marigold nodded, her colorful earrings dancing with the movement. “Yes, darling. Connor was browsing the gallery, just looking at some pieces and doing a bit of exploring. When he saw Deke’s platter, he was really impressed. He bought it, and then when Deke walked in, Connor got to meet the artist himself.” She smiled as she put her arm around Deke’s shoulders. “They struck up a conversation, and when Connor found out that Deke was the one who had made the platter, he invited him to deliver it in person.”
“Yeah! Connor said I could get a treat from the candy shop when I bring the platter,” Deke added, his smile growing even wider. “He says my plate will display candy in it. Isn’t that great?” He patted my mother’s arm. “And tonight, Marigold is taking me to see a movie at the theater.” He looked puzzled for a moment. “What’s it called?”
“ Shrek , dear,” she said with a smile. “I’ve seen it before, but I think you’ll like it.” She glanced over at me. “They’re doing a special showing, re-releasing it for a few theaters.”
“Hey, maybe Connor wants to go to the movies, too!” Deke said, his eyes lighting up. “I can ask him!”
I felt a mix of emotions—pleased for Deke, curiosity about what had happened with Connor in the art gallery, and a definite irritation at the thought of Connor interacting directly with Mom and Deke. The idea of that cranky man eating popcorn and watching a movie with Deke was almost too much to take.
My family, my friend.
Maybe it was weird to be so protective about the people I cared about, or maybe I still wasn’t sure if Connor being in Deke’s life was a good thing or not. My family had pretty much adopted Deke as one of our clan, and anyone who messed with him messed with all of the rest of us.
“That’s wonderful, Deke,” I said, smiling at him. “I hope you like the movie, and I’m sure Connor will love the platter.”
“Thanks, Ivy,” he replied, his eyes shining with happiness. “I can’t wait to give it to him. He said he had peanut brittle at his store, and he’ll give me a bagful. That’s my favorite.”
We walked together toward the bakery, chatting about the gallery and Deke’s ceramics. Mom’s enthusiasm was infectious, and it was clear how much she valued Deke not just as a friend but as a fellow creator of beautiful things. With a last hug and a wave at Deke, I watched as they crossed the street and disappeared into The Sweet Shoppe.
And I silently swore an oath to end my across-the-street competitor if he ever did anything to make Deke unhappy in any way. I’d dip him headfirst into his own vat of boiling hot chocolate, if I had to.
And that thought kept me smiling all the way back to the bakery.