Chapter 8
Eight
Clem showed up to work in a daze. She stood in the doorway to her office and flicked the light on, then stared at the bland gray walls, which offered no respite from the dreary day visible through the single small window above her plasterboard desk.
Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, but things seemed leeched of color today.
She sighed, then jumped when Lily spoke behind her.
“Hey, Clem! Wait until you hear about my night. And I need to hear about yours!” There was expectation and excitement in her voice. Clem turned and Lily drew back, her enthusiasm dampened by her friend’s expression. “Whoa, you okay , Clem?”
“Yeah, totally.” It was an obvious lie, but she barreled through Lily’s attempt to call her on it. “Now, you clearly had a good night after leaving my place last night … yeah?”
Lily hesitated, then nodded. She took Clem’s cue to talk about her own experience. She started slowly, but then picked up speed, gushing about the man who visited her after she arrived home. Clem didn’t take much of it in. Her mind was full of thoughts of Hazel, and a deep need for sleep.
Clem had no idea if she filed documents in the correct places, or if the email marketing campaigns she sent out were sent to the appropriate recipients.
The only moments she wasn’t in a daze was when she was adding to her notes, building out her fictional world.
The emotional turmoil left her with no appetite, and so she skipped a lunch break so she could leave early.
Whether it was technically allowed or not, she was out the door as soon as 4:00 PM hit.
On her way to the parking lot she passed Tanzy McGregor, who looked at her wordlessly, then winked.
Clem stumbled, then laughed in amazement.
Someday she would need to ask Tanzy what, exactly, the older woman knew about that sugar canister she had gifted Clem.
The drive home passed in a blur. Somewhere along the way the fog she’d been stuck in all day burned off. Hope seared it away. Clem decided to believe that she would see Hazel tonight.
She parked her car mostly in her spot, then sprinted up all three flights to her apartment, almost bowling over her neighbor in her rush. “Sorry!” she called over her shoulder. She just didn’t have it in her to check on her neighbor, who sent a weak “no problem,” in her wake.
Clem’s hands shook so hard that she struggled to fit her key in the lock. After too many failed attempts, she stopped, and sucked in a deep breath. “Come on, Clementine. Get it together.”
Once inside she dropped her bag on the floor and sprinted to the kitchen.
“Where is that recipe?” Thank goodness she hadn’t had a chance to put everything away that morning.
After flipping through each of the cookie books that were still out on the counter she finally landed on the cookie recipe from the night before.
In a flurry, she pulled all the ingredients out, her eagerness verging into a painful desperation. It took tripping on her own feet and almost dropping the carton of eggs to make her pause.
“Clem. Stop.” She drew in another calming breath. “Slow down.”
She needed to follow the recipe exactly as she had the previous night.
With that in mind, she poured herself a glass of wine and turned on Christmas music.
She moved to the music, letting her hips sway to memories of last night as she danced through her task.
When it came time to add sugar, she held the canister close to her heart and paused.
“Hazelnut Frostington, please come join me tonight. I —” her voice broke, and she swallowed hard.
“Seeing you again would be the truest pleasure. I am desperate for you.”
When the cookies were in the oven she took herself off to shower.
If this worked out to plan, Clem wanted to make herself presentable.
Moving as quickly as she could, she scrubbed and buffed and shaved.
The timer on the oven dinged right as she stepped out of the shower.
She rushed to the kitchen to pull the cookies from the oven.
This was not the time to let them burn. After setting them on the range top to cool a bit, she went back into her room and carefully selected her outfit: a short, black knit skirt and a cropped red and green Christmas sweater.
If nothing else, at least she would feel cute.
She looked at the time on her phone. How long would it take for her to get her answer? Should she stay away from the kitchen so she didn’t getting the way of the magic? Yes, that was probably the answer.
Clem sat on her bed and stared at the wall.
Right. This was fine. She just needed to stay out of the way so whatever was in that sugar canister could do its work.
Barely forty seconds passed before she was up and moving once more. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t stay away from those cookies. Not right now. If nothing else, she could get started on decorating them.
She stepped back into the kitchen just as light filled the room. The smell of orange, cardamom, and vanilla swirled around her. Her face could not contain the smile that grew when she heard the familiar voice.
“Boy, am I glad there’s no one else here, Clementine Baker.”
Eager and filled with delight, Clem crossed the room to greet Hazel with a kiss.