Chapter 22
22
“That’s a wrap for today, Emma. Great job.”
As Joe sent her a smile while he put away the last of the clean baking sheets, warmth spread through her. “Thank you. You’ve been very kind and patient these past two days.”
“No one learns the routine of a new operation overnight, but you’ve picked it up fast. And if this works out, Alice will be close at hand, so you wouldn’t be totally on your own here.”
“That’s right. I’m always a holler away.” The older woman pushed through from the front of the shop and lifted her cell. “Surgeon’s office is on the line. They said they tried to call you, but your phone must be on silent.”
Joe pulled out his cell and peered at it. “Yep. That switch has a mind of its own. What do they want?”
“They had a cancellation and can fit you in on Wednesday. Yea or nay?”
He propped his hands on his hips. “Did you ever reach the baker Emma worked for?”
“Just got off the phone with him before the surgeon’s office called. He gave her a glowing report.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Joe swiveled toward her. “You ready to take the helm, Emma?”
After only three days working with the resident baker—assuming Joe was even planning to work on Tuesday?
A flutter of panic nipped at her confidence.
And what about the idea she’d hoped to propose if Joe was comfortable with her skills?
“No worries if you don’t feel ready, Emma. I’ve lived with the issue for years. Another six weeks won’t hurt me.” Joe patted her arm. “But we’ll have all day Tuesday to go over any questions you have, and from what I’ve seen these past two days, I have no doubts about your abilities and your readiness to take this on.”
That made one of them.
But she had more or less run the show near the end of her tenure at the bakery in her stepfather’s grocery chain while her boss was on vacation. Plus, she had four years of experience in a much larger operation than Sweet Dreams.
She ought to be able to do this.
No. That sounded too uncertain.
She could do this.
Besides, the sooner Joe had the surgery, the sooner she could move on to a permanent job. A crucial step in her plan to petition for guardianship.
Squaring her shoulders, she gave a definitive nod. “I think you should go ahead and take the cancellation.”
Joe turned toward Alice. “You heard the lady. It’s a yea.”
As the female member of management put the phone back to her ear, she gave them a thumbs-up and returned to the front of the shop.
“Anything else we should talk about before we shut down for the day?” Joe took off his apron.
“Um ...”
He glanced over at her. “If there’s something on your mind, I’m all ears. And I don’t bite. Alice will vouch for that.” He pulled off his baker’s cap.
Go ahead and throw the idea out there, Emma. All he can do is shoot it down. It’s not like your job is on the line here.
She inhaled. Crimped her fingers together. “I was wondering if it would be okay for me to add a few other pastries to the case while I’m here. Time permitting, of course—and nothing to compete with your cinnamon rolls and brownies. I just thought it would be fun to offer a treat of the day. Like a special.”
“Treat of the day.” Joe cocked his head. “I never considered doing anything like that, but I can see the appeal. The cinnamon rolls and brownies are our staples, but adding a bit of variety to my usual cookies and cupcakes and coffee cakes isn’t a bad idea. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I did learn how to make French pastries at my other job, and I have a killer baklava recipe from my mother’s side of the family that your patrons might enjoy. I was thinking along the lines of fruit tarts on Tuesday, baklava on Wednesday, eclairs on Thursday. That kind of rotation.”
He pursed his lips. “I like the concept, but French pastries are out of my league. After you leave, customers who’ve gotten to like the fancier fare may be disappointed.”
She couldn’t argue with his rationale.
Maybe at her next job, she’d have an opportunity to put her more advanced skills to use.
“That’s true.” She removed her apron and called up a smile. “Forget I brought it up.”
He studied her for a moment. “I’ll tell you what. Let me talk it over with Alice tonight, get her input. She’s always been the brains behind the operation.” He grinned.
“I don’t want to cause waves. I probably shouldn’t have broached the idea this soon.”
“Don’t apologize for offering suggestions. I’ve been following the same routine so long I may have fallen into a rut. I’ll discuss it with Alice and give you a call with the verdict. And keep a list of any questions that come to mind over the next couple of days.”
“I’ll do that. Enjoy your days off.”
“That’s a given, now that I know I’ll be leaving the shop in such capable hands.”
“Thank you.” Emma pushed through to the front of the shop, waved goodbye to Alice as the older woman waited on a customer, and exited into a gloriously sunny day.
Next on her agenda? A visit to Sea Breeze Apartments. Bren’s friend at the Book Nook had come through with the contact information, and the manager had been more than happy to set up a tour of the available units for this afternoon.
But first, a call to Justin.
As she walked toward her car, she pulled out her cell and scrolled through her recents. Tapped on his name.
Two rings in, he answered. “Hey, Sis. I’ve been thinking about you. How’s the trial run on the job going?”
“It’s not a trial run anymore. They just hired me.”
“Awesome!”
“So how are you doing?”
“Hanging in.”
“Bill giving you any trouble?”
“Nah. He’s too busy with his new girlfriend.”
She swallowed past her disgust. “What happened to Paula?”
“He must have gotten tired of her. Like he got tired of Mom.” Bitterness scored his words.
Stomach clenching, Emma jabbed at her autolock button as she approached her car.
She had to get Justin out of there. Living in the same house with someone like Bill could make a person jaded. Especially a young, impressionable, and vulnerable teen. Bottom line, their stepfather was a bad influence.
And if Bill decided to drag his feet on the guardianship issue for some strange reason, she’d tell that to the court. Not that he was likely to object to her petition. If he had a new woman in his life, chances were he’d be happy to be rid of the responsibility for Mom’s remaining offspring.
“Hey. You still there?”
At Justin’s prompt, she refocused. “Yes. I’m sorry I can’t get you out of there faster, but I do have another piece of positive news to share. I’m visiting an apartment complex today that sounds promising. If it pans out, I may soon have a permanent address. That’s a major step toward my court petition.”
“So do you think you may be able to pull this off sooner than December?”
At the hope in his voice, she bit her lip.
While making promises she might not be able to honor wouldn’t be fair, it was important to keep hope alive.
She slid behind the wheel, stuck the key in the ignition, and composed her response with care. “I’ll try to speed up the process if I can. But I want to be sure I have all my ducks in a row. I don’t want to sabotage myself before I have everything in place that the court will expect.”
“Couldn’t I come out for an extended visit until all the paperwork goes through? I bet Bill would sign off on that.”
“What about school? I don’t think I can enroll you until I have guardianship and this is your permanent address.”
“I could drop out. Take a year off and pick up again next fall.”
Bad idea. Not only was that illegal in most states, as far as she knew, but a lot of dropouts never returned to school. That’s why she’d hung in until she’d gotten her diploma.
But try telling that to a desperate sixteen-year-old who’d lost his mother and was stuck with a stepfather who didn’t really want him.
“I don’t think that’s the best choice, even if it happens to be legal here—which I doubt. Can you try to hang in until the end of the first semester? Stick with our plan to get this done by Christmas?”
A sigh came over the line. “I guess. Sorry to put pressure on you. I know you’re doing everything you can. I just ... I miss you and I hate it here.”
Her throat pinched. “I wish I could wave a magic wand and make this happen sooner. But I’ll touch base every day. And you can call me anytime. Promise me you’ll keep hanging in.”
“I promise. I’m counting the days until I’m out of here, though.”
“I am too.” She started the engine. “I’ve gotta run or I’ll miss my appointment at the apartment complex. If I find a unit I like, I’ll text you photos.”
“That would be awesome. Love you, Sis.”
“Love you back.”
She ended the call, put the car in gear—and crossed her fingers.
Hopefully an apartment she could afford would be available and wouldn’t require a huge deposit.
But if it did, she had Bren’s offer of a short-term loan in her back pocket.
Taking any further advantage of the generous women who’d already gone above and beyond for her wasn’t her preference, but if that’s what it took to help secure Justin’s future, she’d bite the bullet and do it.
And she’d also pray that her brother would keep his promise and continue to stick with the plan while she did everything she could on her end to honor her promise to him .
That had not gone well.
Gritting his teeth, Noah jabbed at his cell to end the call with his boss.
After all the hours he’d put in on company business during his so-called vacation, asking for a week of official remote work shouldn’t have been such a big deal.
But apparently it was.
Per his boss, he was expected back in the office Wednesday morning for a nine o’clock meeting. Meaning he’d have to be out of here tomorrow morning, as originally scheduled.
Giving him twenty-four hours to sort things out with Bren and plan next steps.
He propped his hands on his hips and stared through his bedroom window at the cottage across the backyard.
It didn’t help that she’d be at work all morning.
Maybe he could swing by The Perfect Blend, at least say hi. Let her know she was on his mind. Vent a bit about his boss. He could also set up a time for them to get together this afternoon to continue the discussion about where they should go from here—and perhaps share another one of those toe-curling kisses that had kept him tossing until—
At a soft knock on his door, he swiveled around. “Come in.”
Dad peeked in. “Morning, Son. I thought I heard you talking, so I assumed you were up. Am I interrupting?” He motioned to the cell.
“No. I finished the call. What’s up?”
“Could you do the button on this sleeve?” He entered and held up his arm. “I can’t manage it.”
“Sure.” Noah crossed to him and took care of the chore with a deft flick of his fingers. “You’re all set.”
“A little accident can really make a person appreciate the blessings of a body with all the parts in working order. And the blessing of a son who cares enough to offer a hand when one of those parts isn’t working.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not going to be able to offer a hand after tomorrow.”
His dad’s eyebrows arched. “Your boss didn’t approve your request for a week of remote work?”
“No. He expects me back in the office Wednesday for an important client meeting.”
“Hmph. Seems kind of unreasonable to me, given how hard you’ve worked while you’ve been here. Not to mention all your years of dedicated service. You don’t even use most of your vacation, unless you’ve been taking trips to Tahiti you haven’t told me about.”
“No trips to Tahiti.” Or many long-weekend getaways, for that matter.
Hard as he tried to suppress his resentment over his boss’s hard-nosed stance, it bubbled up to the surface, leaving a bad taste in his mouth.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about me after you leave. I’ll be fine. I’ll call and activate the help checklist today. But I feel bad for you. Other than your daily runs, an occasional beach walk, and sharing meals and a few excursions with your doting dad, this hasn’t been much of a vacation for you.”
That was true.
Not that vacation had been top of mind for this trip. He’d come for one reason—to convince his dad to move back to St. Louis. Once it had become apparent his goal was not only a lost cause but that his worries about his father’s welfare were meritless, however, he’d have gone home early if a broken wrist hadn’t interfered.
Yet that injury wasn’t what was keeping him here now.
He was dragging his feet about going home because of the barista in Dad’s backyard.
And with only a day to figure out what he was supposed to do about the woman who’d managed to infiltrate his heart and wreak havoc on the carefully laid plans he’d made for his life, a major case of panic was setting in.
“May I offer a suggestion?”
At his dad’s question, Noah slid his phone back into his pocket and tried to tamp down his escalating anxiety. “Of course.”
“Why don’t you stop in at The Perfect Blend? Get a fancy coffee and chill for a while. The atmosphere there is always relaxing.”
“We’re on the same wavelength. You want to come along?”
“I appreciate the invitation, but it may be best if you have space this morning to do some thinking. I’ll take a rain check, though. I can’t think of anything more pleasant than sharing a morning coffee at The Perfect Blend with my favorite son before he heads home tomorrow.”
“Plan on it. You want me to fix breakfast for you?”
“No, thanks. I’m in the mood for cereal today, and I can manage that fine on my own. Now you go on or the crowd will descend and there won’t be a seat to be had.”
He didn’t need further urging. A cup of fresh-brewed java and a piece of that cranberry nut cake were calling to him.
But the icing on his cake would be seeing Bren.
Less than five minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot near The Perfect Blend, set the brake, and strode down the sidewalk.
As he approached the entrance, he scanned the saying of the day on the A-frame dry-erase board in front.
There’s a very fine line between a groove and a rut.
His step slowed.
A week ago, he’d have seen the humor in that pithy adage. Cracked a smile as he strolled past.
Today it didn’t seem all that funny.
Because it somehow felt applicable to him.
Frowning, he jammed his hands into his pockets.
All these years, as he’d toiled as a CPA with an eye toward a partnership, he’d been certain he’d found his groove and was on course to reach his destination.
But this visit to Hope Harbor had chipped away at his conviction that he was on the right track.
Was it possible he was in a rut instead of a groove?
He blew out a breath.
One more conundrum to add to his growing list.
Picking up his pace, he continued toward the entrance of the shop. Pushed through the door. Searched the area behind the counter for Bren.
Zach was there, waiting on a customer, and a fit-looking sixtysomething man was manning the espresso machine. But there was no sign of Bren.
He walked over to the counter. “Morning, Zach.”
“Back at you.” Zach grinned. “You’re becoming a regular here.”
“What can I say? You brew amazing coffee.”
“We aim to please. Would you like your usual?”
The Perfect Blend crew already had his usual pegged?
Was he that predictable?
Probably. He gave the exact same order on every visit to his coffee shop at home too.
“Um ...” He skimmed the menu.
A voice spoke from over his shoulder. “I can recommend the café de olla, if you’re in the mood to mix things up.”
He angled sideways to find Charley waiting in line behind him. “I’ve never had one of those.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. Zach makes the finest Mexican coffee this side of the border. I recommended it to your dad not long ago. A hint of cinnamon, a generous dash of piloncillo—” He kissed his fingertips. “Perfection in a cup.”
“Sold.” Noah gave the offerings in the case a quick perusal. “And I’ll try a piece of that lavender shortbread too.” If he was being adventurous, may as well go full throttle.
“Another excellent choice.” Charley nodded his approval.
“We’ll have the coffee up for you in a couple of minutes.” Zach bagged the piece of shortbread and handed it across the counter.
Noah pulled out his wallet and inserted his credit card into the machine. “Is Bren here today?”
“No. She switched with Frank.” Zach motioned to the older man.
“The owner of the pizza place?”
Zach hoisted up one side of his mouth. “Nope. Different Frank. This one is retired from the postal service. He plays golf with your dad every week. We’ll call you when your order is ready. Charley, what’ll you have today?”
“I’ll share a café de olla with Noah, if he’s willing to let me borrow a chair at his table. Space appears to be at a premium today.”
Noah surveyed the shop. Every spot was occupied, but two people at the table tucked into the corner appeared to be getting ready to leave.
Much as he would have preferred to sip his drink in solitude, refusing the request of the affable taco maker would be rude.
“I’ll save you a seat at that one.” He motioned to the corner and took off to stake a claim.
When Charley joined him a few minutes later, he had two disposable cups in hand. “I got yours while I was up there. Let me know what you think.” He sat in the facing chair and set the cups down.
Noah claimed one of them. Took a tentative taste.
Quite a change from his usual Americano, but delicious.
“I like it.”
“I thought you might.” Charley sipped his own brew. “Those cookies are delicious too. They’re one of the most popular items at the lavender farm tearoom south of town.”
Noah picked up the heart-shaped cookie. Gave it a cautious once-over. Bit in.
Huh.
For a sweet treat that contained flowers, it was darn tasty. A hint of lemon, a touch of ... was that mint? ... and another subtle taste that must be lavender. What an intriguing blend of flavors.
“I’m glad I tried these.” He took another bite.
“It’s never a bad idea to broaden our horizons.” Charley continued to sip his coffee. “You may want to try some of the other items on Zach’s menu while you’re here too.”
He exhaled. “I would if I could, but I won’t be here long enough to sample many more. My boss turned down my request for a one-week extension on my vacation.”
“That’s a shame. Hope Harbor has much to offer. You’ve barely scratched the surface.” Charley glanced toward the counter. “I wonder why Bren had to switch shifts with Frank today. I hope she’s not ill. She didn’t seem quite like herself when I ran into her yesterday morning at Sunrise Reef.”
Was she sick—or more like rattled, as he was?
“Did she have much to say? Give you any clue about what might be going on?” He took another bite of his cookie, watching Charley.
“No. Bren tends to keep her feelings to herself, except with Bev at the Book Nook. The two of them are tight.”
Nothing in Charley’s placid demeanor suggested he had any insights into why Bren hadn’t been quite herself. But his take on her was sound. She did guard her heart. She’d admitted as much the night the two of them had indulged in ice cream bars.
Yet she’d opened that door to him and invited him in.
Which made it all the harder to walk away.
But how was he supposed to fix this dilemma? Hope Harbor and Bren calling on one side, his boss demanding his return on the other. It was an impossible spot to be in.
“Everything okay, Noah?”
At Charley’s gentle question, he took a swig of coffee. “I was just thinking about how complicated life can get.”
A fan of lines creased the weathered skin beside the other man’s eyes. “I tend to agree with Confucius on that subject.”
“What did he say?” At this stage, he’d take all the guidance he could get.
“‘Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated.’ And that eminent philosopher Dr. Seuss also weighed in on the subject. According to him, sometimes complicated questions have simple answers.” Charley picked up his café de olla and stood. “And now my muse is calling. Thank you for letting me share your table on this fine morning, my friend.”
“Thank you for the coffee recommendation—and the philosophy.” He lifted his cup in salute.
“My pleasure. If I don’t see you again before you leave, I hope your journey will lead you safely home.”
As Charley strolled toward the door, greeting several patrons en route, Noah sighed. Leaned back in his chair.
A nice parting sentiment—except for the fact that he was beginning to wonder where home was.
Could that have been Charley’s point?
No.
The resident artist had no idea what was going on in his life. It had been nothing more than a gracious farewell wish.
But was it possible his muddle about home was one of those complications Dr. Seuss alleged had a simple answer?
Maybe.
If that was the case, however, it was eluding him.
Best plan?
See if he could track down Bren. Perhaps between the two of them they could hash out a solution to a dilemma that didn’t seem to have an easy answer.
No matter what Dr. Seuss claimed.