Chapter 25
25
Knock, knock .
Sending a glum look toward the door, Bren slumped deeper into the cushions on the couch and clutched the throw pillow tighter against her chest.
It had to be Fred. Who else could it be? Noah was back in St. Louis by now, after his early departure this morning, and no one else had ever come to call at her temporary digs.
Her spirits dropped another notch.
No way was she up to company. She’d have to pretend she wasn’t home and run over later to see what Fred—
“Open up, dear girl. I know you’re in there.”
Bren jolted upright.
Bev was here?
Tossing the pillow aside, she vaulted to her feet and hurried across the room. Pulled the door open. “What’s up? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Bev gave her ratty comfort clothes that should have been tossed into the trash or consigned to the rag pile long ago a slow perusal. “You, on the other hand, don’t look too hot.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“I’m nothing if not honest, as you know. What’s going on?”
No sense pretending with Bev. Her friend knew her too well.
“Noah left today, and I’m bummed.”
“I thought that might be the problem. Fred told me he was gone when I delivered my casserole a few minutes ago. He also said the two of them stopped by The Perfect Blend this morning, and that you weren’t your usual friendly self. He wondered if you could be sick.”
“Only at heart.” Bren motioned behind her. “You want to come in?”
“Do you have to ask?”
Bren pulled the door wide, and Bev entered in a swirl of jasmine. But instead of claiming a seat in the living room, she waited until the door was closed, then pulled her into a hug.
As the soothing floral scent engulfed her, Bren clung to the older woman whose nurturing presence, cheerful demeanor, and unconditional friendship had enriched her life beyond measure since the bookstore owner had taken up residence in Hope Harbor.
Pressure built behind her eyes, and Bren sniffed. Eased back as she swiped at her lashes. “Sorry.”
“Never apologize for having deep feelings, dear girl. They’re what add zest to life.”
“They can also add heartache.”
“Sad but true. Especially if we care about someone who doesn’t care about us in return.” Bev took her hand and led her back to the couch. Tugged her down, until they sat side by side. “Is that what happened with Noah?” Her eyes radiated empathy.
“No. He cares. But it’s too soon for either of us to have such strong feelings.”
“Love isn’t bound by clocks or calendars.”
“I don’t believe in love at first sight.” Bren twisted her fingers together in her lap.
“Did you love him the first time you saw him?”
The night she’d sprayed him with pepper gel?
Hardly.
“No, but I started to get interested not long after that.”
“Because you began to learn about him. To appreciate his admirable qualities. That’s not love at first sight.”
“It’s close. I only met him two weeks ago, Bev.”
“It doesn’t take long to spot a gem among stones. Or wheat among chaff, if you prefer a biblical analogy.”
“Sometimes it can. My father fooled people who’d known him for years. Most never saw past the illusion he created.”
“Are you putting Noah in the same category as your father?”
“Absolutely not. I think he’s the real deal. It’s just ... this is happening too fast.”
Bev gave a soft snort. “God’s timetable doesn’t always mesh with ours—and that’s the voice of experience speaking, trust me. But beyond timing, do you still think you two have nothing in common?”
A tougher question.
“We’re different in many ways, but from what I’ve learned so far, I think we’re on the same page in terms of most fundamentals.”
“That’s a solid start.”
“Not in this case.” Bren leaned closer, the taut muscles in her shoulders kinking. “Starting something you can’t finish is foolish. He has a career in St. Louis, and my life is in Hope Harbor. This is my home. I’ve put down roots here, and I can’t imagine ever leaving after the long road I traveled to find this place.”
Bev gave a slow nod. “That’s a major dilemma, no question about it.”
“What would you do in my situation?”
“Oh, dear girl, I swore off giving advice long ago. My no-holds-barred opining led to a rocky road with my daughter for many years. Thankfully I’ve learned to stifle my natural inclination to pontificate and to recognize that my way isn’t always the right way for everyone else. The only counsel I’ll offer is to suggest you listen for direction from the source of all wisdom.” She pointed toward the heavens. “But I’m willing to be a sounding board if you want to bounce ideas around.”
Bren flopped back against the couch and stared at the ceiling. “I can’t ask Noah to give up the career he’s worked hard to establish. Especially at this early stage of our relationship. And I don’t want to pick up and move again after all the wandering I’ve done. I love Hope Harbor. I love the life I’ve created here. The thought of living in a big city has zero appeal. Besides, what if one of us makes a major lifestyle change and the relationship goes nowhere?”
“A long-distance courtship while you test the waters might be a possibility.”
Bren twisted her head and squinted at her friend. “I don’t know if that’s realistic.”
“Why not? It worked in the old days, and all they had back then were letters. Between videoconferencing and FaceTime and email and texts, I’d say a modern long-distance courtship has distinct advantages over letters—though I wouldn’t rule those out, either. Handwritten notes could have a huge impact in our day and age, since they’re such a rarity. That sort of courtship would give you time to get to know each other.”
“It still doesn’t solve the problem of geography. One of us would have to relocate if we got serious. Unless you’re suggesting a permanent long-distance arrangement.”
“No.” Bev shook her head, her tone definitive. “There are couples who do that, but it doesn’t seem ideal. You’d each have your own separate lives for extended periods, with a limited life together. In my opinion, if you love someone, the life together part should predominate. But take that with a grain of salt. As a free spirit who’s never had a long-term romantic relationship, what do I know?”
“More than most people, if you ask me. That steady stream of people coming through your shop isn’t generated just by free cookies. You could hang out a shingle.”
Bev waved the compliment aside. “It’s kind of you to say that, but all I offer is common sense.”
“Which can be in short supply when it comes to relationships.” Bren blew out a breath and hugged the pillow against her chest again.
“Not in your case. You have a sensible head on your shoulders and reliable instincts. From what I saw of Noah, I’d say the same is true for him.”
“He wasn’t feeling too sensible or levelheaded yesterday. He claimed he was tempted to forget all about his career ambitions and leave the corporate world behind.”
“What did you say to that?”
“I told him I thought it was a bad idea.”
“Smart. People can regret decisions made in the throes of strong emotions.”
Bren sighed. “I agree with you in principle, but it feels more lonely than smart in hindsight.”
“Distance can offer perspective, though. It will give you a chance to see how you feel after a week—or several.”
“I guess.” After all, hadn’t she told Noah that very thing? She ought to try to take her own advice. “Besides, what choice do I have?”
“There are always choices, dear girl.” Bev patted her hand. “But for now, this strikes me as a prudent one. It can often be easier to see the big picture more clearly from a distance than up close.”
“I suppose I’ll find out if that’s true.”
“You’ll keep me in the loop, right?”
“Goes without saying. You’ll be tired of me bending your ear before this is over.”
“Never.” Bev stood. “And if I don’t hear from you, you’ll hear from me.”
Pressure built in Bren’s throat as she rose too. “What would I do without you?”
“Carry on. From what I’ve gathered, you were doing fine before I came to town.”
“I thought I was. But I didn’t know what I was missing until we connected.” She shoved her hands into the muff pocket on the front of her sweatshirt. “Kind of like how I feel about Noah.”
“See if that feeling lasts.” Bev pulled out her car keys. “I expect to hear from you soon.”
“You will.”
Bren walked her to the door, waved her off ... and grimaced at the envelopes for the Virginia wedding invitations waiting to be addressed.
But she’d dragged her feet on that job as long as she could. They had to be mailed back to the bride in two days.
Resigning herself to the task at hand, she wandered over to the table. Adjusted her light. Fitted a pen with the appropriate nib.
And tried not to let someone else’s happily ever after turn her case of the blues even bluer.
Everything was going great.
Smiling, Emma took off her apron at noon on Thursday and hung it on a hook at Sweet Dreams.
As far as she knew, none of the usual patrons had noticed so much as a blip in Joe’s absence. There’d been zero complaints about any of the baked goods she’d prepared based on his recipes—or none that she’d heard. The college student who’d filled in yesterday up front had kept everything running smoothly while Alice stayed with Joe during surgery, and the co-owner was back on duty today with an encouraging report from the surgeon.
Life was good—and getting better every day.
The door from the front of the shop swung open, and Alice peeked in. “Just checking to make sure you were getting ready to leave. I heard you stayed until closing yesterday.”
“I thought I should, with both you and Joe gone. I was also working on a list of ingredients I need to order from your supplier for the treat-of-the-day items we’re introducing next week.”
“Which are creating quite a bit of excitement, thanks to that fancy sign Bren made showing the daily specials. What a wonderful promotional idea.”
“She gets all the credit for that. When she asked me about the lineup over the weekend, I assumed she was being polite. Then she showed up at my apartment with the sign. I was blown away.”
“I can see why. It’s very classy. I knew she did calligraphy, but that’s almost a piece of art.”
“I agree.” Emma pulled off her cap. “So what have customers been saying about the daily special?” She tried not to sound too eager, but creating those pastries was going to be the highlight of her temporary gig here.
“Mostly they discussed which ones they wanted to try. I’d say the baklava and eclairs are running neck and neck. But the macarons and fruit tarts aren’t far behind. And I got a ton of questions about the opera cakes.”
“I hope your customers will like everything.”
“I think that’s a given. This was an inspired idea, Emma. Like I told Joe, even if we only get a temporary boost in sales while you’re here, it will be fun to offer something new and different to our customers for a few weeks.”
Alice’s praise jacked up the heat level on her already warm-from-the-ovens cheeks. “And I’m thrilled to have a chance to keep my skills fresh. It’s a win-win all around.”
“I wish we had the budget to hire you permanently.” Alice planted her hands on her hips. “Joe’s not getting any younger, and those early mornings seem earlier every year. Plus, after standing on his feet all day for decades, his back gives him almost as much trouble as the carpal tunnel syndrome. But small businesses don’t have the budget for extra full-time employees.”
“I understand.” The truth was, no matter how much additional business her pastries generated in the short term, there was lim ited space in the cramped back room. It would be hard to bake and sell them in a quantity sufficient to justify the expense of an additional employee.
“Oh, well, it is what it is. You go on home. There’s no staying late on my watch.” Alice shooed her toward the front of the shop.
Emma didn’t argue. Satisfying as the past two days had been, there had also been a fair amount of stress. A nap was high on her priority list for this afternoon—after a detour to Charley’s for tacos. Now that she had a job, she could afford to indulge in a treat once in a while.
A couple of minutes later, she took her place in the queue at his stand, stomach rumbling as the line inched forward. She was going to have to bring more than fruit and yogurt in the future for her midmorning snack. The challenge, though, would be squeezing in a few minutes to eat it. A one-baker shop didn’t leave the baker with much free time.
When it was finally her turn to order, Charley greeted her with his usual welcoming smile. “If it isn’t Sweet Dreams’s new French pastry artist.”
“Artist may be too generous a term.”
“If I can call myself a taco artist, you can call yourself a French pastry artist. One order today?”
“Yes. But I can’t wait to introduce my brother to your tacos as soon as he joins me. I guarantee he’ll be a regular here.”
“More customers are always welcome.” He opened the cooler and pulled out a couple of fish fillets. Set them on the grill. “How’s it going at Sweet Dreams?”
“So far, so good.” She gave him a brief recap of her first two solo days. “And we’ve placed the order for the ingredients I need for next week’s treats of the day.”
“The town is all abuzz about the prospect of fancy desserts close at hand. A dozen or more people have mentioned it to me.” He finished chopping some red onion and tossed it onto the griddle.
“I hope they’re not disappointed.” She motioned toward the onions as he stirred them. “Until I came here, I don’t think I ever had tacos with anything on them that was cooked except the meat or fish.”
“One of my little secrets. I like to give the red onions a touch of caramelization. But I don’t want them to lose their crunch. Timing is everything, as with so much in life. I believe you’re the first person ever to comment on my technique.”
She shrugged. “I enjoy cooking as well as baking. Not as much for one, but it will be different after Justin gets here. Once I find a permanent job.”
“The experience at Sweet Dreams should help with that. I expect Alice and Joe will give you a glowing recommendation.”
“I hope so.” She rummaged in her purse for her wallet. “But to be honest, I wish I could stay there. I’d enjoy working with them on a permanent basis. It’s a shame the back room isn’t bigger and the display space limited. The shop can’t handle enough volume to support a third employee.”
“The place is on the small side. I’m guessing it’s provided Joe and Alice with a modest income, but I doubt it’s made them rich. Not that wealth was ever their goal. I think they’re pleased to have created a town institution. Hope Harbor wouldn’t be the same without Sweet Dreams’s cinnamon rolls.”
“I didn’t mean my comments about the size in a negative sense.” It was important to make that crystal clear. If Charley mentioned this conversation to someone and Alice or Joe heard about it, they might think she was criticizing their business.
“I didn’t take them that way.” Charley’s demeanor remained pleasant as he turned the fillets and gave them a liberal sprinkle of seasoning from the can on the shelf beside him. “But I bet you have a few ideas about what you’d do if you were in charge there.”
She gaped at him.
How could he know she’d been thinking about that very thing? Was the man a mind reader?
“Why do you say that?” She angled sideways to see if anyone was tuned in to their exchange, but apparently she’d been the end of the line.
Charley set three corn tortillas on the grill and grinned. “You introduced the idea of fancy pastries and a treat of the day after being an employee for a handful of days. That would suggest you have a knack for seeing potential and imagining the possibilities in a situation.”
“I do have an active imagination.” One of the reasons she’d been able to envision a life free of Bill and lay plans to make that happen.
But she didn’t see how that was going to help her at Sweet Dreams, beyond her treat-of-the-day idea. She wouldn’t be there long enough to even suggest any of the fanciful ideas her brain had conjured up for spiffing up the front part of the shop and perhaps eventually expanding to an adjacent storefront if it became available.
Maybe the management wherever she landed would be receptive to new ideas and encourage her to be creative, though.
“Imagination can carry a person far in life.” Charley pulled a bottle of sauce off the shelf and set it beside him.
“Or compel a person to get carried away. People have to be realistic in their expectations.”
“True—as long as they don’t set the bar too low. I’m a firm believer in dreaming big. And look at the result.” He beamed her another smile as he began assembling her meal. “I was a taco maker who loved to paint, and I ended up finding a creative outlet for both passions. Bren’s another example. Not only is she an extraordinary barista, she’s built a very successful calligraphy business with customers from around the country clamoring for her services. This beautiful world is full of opportunities for people who keep their eyes open.”
It was hard not to be encouraged by Charley’s infectious optimism.
“I’ll definitely be looking for opportunities in the weeks ahead.”
“Those who seek typically find.” With a wave, he acknowledged a couple approaching the stand, finished wrapping her tacos in white paper, and slid them into a brown bag.
She handed over several bills.
After counting out her change, he passed it to her across the counter. “Enjoy the tacos. And remember to dream big.” He gave her a thumbs-up before shifting his attention to the next customers.
As Emma wandered over to claim a bench on the harbor, her mouth curved up.
Tacos with a side of philosophy.
Not a bad deal for the price.
And it would be smart to keep Charley’s advice about dreams and opportunities in mind—just in case this little town where serendipity had brought her had a few more surprises in store.