CHAPTER 3
MEADOW
I should be testing out the new brown sugar icing recipe I’ve been having dreams about, to see if it’ll be better than the one that I used last fall for the apple crisps.
They were a hit last year and I have to bring them back this fall but make them better.
Some people will doubt my abilities, but I have a plan.
The problem is I need Rook to fully put my plan in motion. But he just buried his grandfather less than a week ago. I can’t call him and tell him to get back to work.
That would be cruel.
And I’m not cruel.
I saw how wrecked he was at the service. He looked like he was barely holding it together; people came up and gave him their condolences while expecting him to stand tall. Or maybe those were his own expectations.
A sigh slips from my lips as I make myself stand up and I wave my hands around as if to clear away all my thoughts about Rook. It doesn’t work. I can still see his face in my mind and the sadness in his brown eyes.
“You look like you’re battling the fairies,” I hear from behind me, the words filled with amusement.
“Fairies would be an ideal battle opponent,” I sass Gemma as I turn toward where she’s slunk into the kitchen.
I’m not surprised; she’s always here looking for something to snack on. And my girl loves a treat. I’m more than happy to share with her.
And, of course, it’s for work. At least, that’s what we say.
Since Gemma is in charge of our event space, both in planning activities and helping to organize and set-up for when people rent the space, we work together when my baked goods are going to be served.
There’s nothing quite like dropping in on a Puff and Paint night to find people enjoying a treat and laughing with their friends while trying their hand at painting.
Not all of their work deserves to find a place on a wall. Still, they have a lot of fun, which counts for a hell of a lot.
There isn’t enough fun once you hit a certain age. Maybe it’s because I still spend time with women who knew me as a girl, who have seen me during my worst years and who keep cheering me on during my best. But we find the fun, and Gemma is the queen of it.
“You’re not making anything,” Gemma eyes me, suspicion written all over her face. “You’re always making something.”
I let out a weary sigh and lean onto the stainless-steel counter, plopping my chin into my hand because laying myself completely over the counter wouldn’t be a good look. Gemma would probably laugh at me, and I’m feeling less than amused.
I’m downright sad.
Rook’s grandfather was a nice man. He was always a little standoffish when I came around, but he wasn’t rude.
I got the feeling he was curious about the business Rook is building while being unsure about how to reconcile his entire life with something he would have never considered. Not until a lot of laws changed.
His grandfather might have experienced a lot of changes, but I imagine Rook’s vision of the future was difficult to picture as a possibility.
It was never my business to get involved in. Though, I have to wonder what is going to happen now. Hopefully, the man had a will.
“I should be making some brown sugar icing,” I admit and her eyes light up. As if she’s not predictable.
After giving herself a little shake, she refocuses and I find one side of my mouth lifting slightly. “But you’re not making anything,” she points out. Again.
Even though it’s obvious.
“You’re moping,” she gasps and points an accusing finger in my direction.
“I’m not,” I scoff. She just stares at me, the look on her face knowing. Far too knowing. “Fine,” I draw the word out, “I’m moping.”
Her voice goes soft, “Is this about Rook? You said he looked devastated when you saw him.” She pauses and her face screws up slightly. “We should have all gone to the funeral.”
“I don’t think he would have noticed,” I admit. I look away, not really seeing my kitchen, even though it’s my favorite place. “He looked so lost,” I whisper, admitting the part that’s been haunting me.
“And you want to fly in with the fairies and save him, and bring back the light to his darkest days,” she teases me.
The thing is…it’s exactly what I want to do.
I look at Gemma and she smirks at me. “You should do it,” she whispers like the devil on my shoulder.
“You’re a bad influence on me,” I try to deflect her words. But they’ve already wormed their way in.
“I’m just giving you permission to do what you already want to do. That’s not being a bad influence,” she insists, “it’s enabling.”
“You’re basically saying you’re the human embodiment of intrusive thoughts and letting them win,” I admonish her while trying to not laugh.
“Never in a bad way,” she deadpans.
She steps closer as I nibble on my bottom lip, the memory of Rook’s face flashing in my mind. Again.
I don’t like it. I’ve never seen that kind of pain on his face before. It was devastating in a way I could feel reverberate through me.
“If it was one of us, you would have already shown up with a bottle of alcohol and enough baked goods to keep us going for days.” Curiosity fills her voice, “Why not with him?”
“It’s different.” I wave my hand in her direction, and then off in the distance. “You all are you, but Rook is, well,” I huff out a frustrated breath, “Rook.”
“That makes no sense.” The look she shoots me is unamused, at best.
“What do you think I should do? I can’t just show up at his place with alcohol and pastry. That wouldn’t be appropriate. We’re not friends,” I try to explain.
“I think you’re just making excuses.”
My mouth drops open for a moment before I snap it closed.
“I am not,” I gasp. “I’m being serious. He’s someone I work with, someone who is very important to the business because he’s willing to indulge my specific asks with the scale to deliver the quality I need.
Like the blueberry farm and how I won’t use anyone else’s berries. ”
“I get what you’re saying,” she concedes.
“What I think you need to do is look at it from a different angle, because right now this,” she points to my face and makes a circular motion, “isn’t working for me.
You’re pitiful. No one eats your little treat experiments when you’re like this.
You know how I feel about your delicious little morsels that you need my opinion on. ”
I can’t help but laugh at the eager, pleading look on her face.
“So, really this is about you and your need for treats?” I stick my tongue out at her, my voice not even a little bit serious as I accuse her, “That’s kind of selfish.”
“If the shoe fits,” she singsongs without a hint of shame.
At least I’m smiling, even if the memory of how lost Rook looked still looms on the edges of my consciousness.
“What worries me,” her face turns serious, “is that you normally bake when you’re happy, sad, and every feeling in between. But you’re not baking now,” she says it again, as if it weren’t obvious.
“I just keep thinking about him. I wanted to wrap him up in my arms and hug him, comfort him. But I didn’t. Now I’m regretting it,” I admit.
“Then it’s time to put your big girl panties on and do what needs to be done.” The look she gives me is pointed. “You know what you want to do. I think you’re just waiting for permission.”
I stand up straight and narrow my eyes at one of my best friends. “I’m not waiting for permission,” I insist. “And, anyway, maybe you’re not one to talk.”
Gemma blushes and looks away while swallowing hard. She’s never been able to hide her crush on her brother’s best friend, Keaton. We’ve all seen it. At this point, I’m fairly sure the only two people who aren’t aware are her brother, Gary, and Keaton.
I usually don’t give her shit about her crush since I have my own, but since she’s putting my feelings for Rook out there front and center, she deserves to get a little taste of how it feels.
“We’re not talking about me right now,” she insists, her voice going haughty.
“Maybe we should be,” I fire the words back at her.
“You won’t deter me,” she declares. From the look she gives me, I don’t push it further. “Now, get your shit together and call him. You won’t be able to get any work done until you do.” Her voice softens slightly as she advises me, “At least to check on him and put your mind at ease.”
I gnaw on my bottom lip for a moment, but I know she’s right. I’ve been debating with myself about calling him for days.
Before I can think too hard about it, I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up his contact. I put it on speaker just as the phone starts to ring, and furtively glance at Gemma who is grinning from ear to ear. She makes a zipping motion across her lips and then tosses the key over her shoulder.
It’s silly and fucking perfect, since I feel my shoulders relax slightly.
“Hello? Meadow?” Rook’s voice is rough when he answers and Gemma’s mouth tips down as her eyes fill with concern as she looks at my phone.
“Hi, Rook,” my voice is bright; probably too bright.
He clears his throat, but I can still hear sadness in his voice when he asks, “What can I do for you?”
It’s the same question he’s always asked when I’ve called him to set up a meeting to talk about my needs for the bakery. And it always sends a shiver down my spine.
There’s a lot he could do for me, but nothing I’ve ever had the guts to ask for. I don’t ask now either; it would be highly inappropriate if I did.
I think.
Maybe.
“I was just calling to check on you,” my voice goes soft and I almost cringe because I don’t want him to think I’m fake.
“I’m,” Rook pauses as if he’s collecting himself, or preparing himself to give me some bullshit brush off, “not great. I really miss Grandpa,” he admits quietly.
“I’m sure you do,” I match his tone. “I’m sorry you’re in pain.”
Silence stretches between us and I hate it. The longer it goes on, the more I have the need to fill the void.
I clear my throat, before my words come out quickly, “I’m going to give you two choices.
First, I can come by the farm and put you to work.
Hopefully, it gives you some sort of purpose and helps to give you something to focus on beyond your grief.
” I pause for a moment, letting those words sink in before I power on.
“Or I could come by and bring a bottle of vodka and pizza. Up to you.”
Rook lets out a soft laugh that doesn’t sound strained. “I don’t see why I have to choose. How about you come by, and you tell me what you need.” His voice turns thoughtful, “You’re probably planning the fall menu, huh?”
“I am,” my voice is hesitant, “but I can put that off a little while longer if you’re not ready.”
I can almost picture him running his fingers through his hair. “I could use the distraction,” he admits even though it sounds like it costs him something. “Work is a great distraction.”
“So are vodka and pizza,” I tease him.
“Yeah,” he chuckles, “which is why I’m thinking you should bring them too.”
My heart does a little flutter in my chest. Every time I’ve spent time around him, we’ve kept it professional. And we’ve certainly never shared food or drank together.
Seems like today is the day for new things.
“Okay,” I breathe out and try to get my racing heart under control. “Tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” he mutters, “tomorrow is good.” There’s a wistfulness in his voice and I almost ask if he wants me to come over right now, but I hold myself back. Barely.
“See you then.” I hang up quickly and my eyes snap to Gemma who is bouncing on her toes and clapping silently.
The moment she notices me looking at her, she puts her hand up and, not wanting to leave her hanging, I give her a high-five. The whole thing has me cackling.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” my voice is filled with disbelief.
“I’m so proud of you,” she gushes. “Tomorrow you’ll get your man,” she says breezily while heading out of my kitchen without looking back.
Because she knows I would have glared at her for it if she had stuck around.
Tomorrow.
I don’t know if it’ll end up helping him with his grief, but I hope so. Either way, I get to spend some time with him which feels precious in a way I’m not sure how to process.
As I look around my kitchen, I know it’s time to get moving and actually get some work done. I should make something special for Rook. Don’t cookies solve just about every problem?
I can only hope.