Chapter 3
Ninety-eight minutes later, as the spirited discussion came to a close, Penny thanked the group for participating and turned her attention to folding up and stacking the chairs.
The meeting had run a bit long but otherwise had gone well, with everyone contributing, everyone listening politely without fidgeting, no one talking too much, and no one leaving upset.
As expected, Hettie Mae had initiated a lively discussion about the role of women a century ago, and Donald, who was something of a history buff, had weighed in with a sprinkling of relevant facts about the era.
As she stacked the last of the chairs, Penny heard her name and turned to see her friend Holly, the owner of the Heartsprings Valley Cafe, smiling at her.
An attractive woman a few years older than her with shoulder-length brown hair and a warm smile, Holly was carrying something very familiar and very welcome: a small cardboard box imprinted with her cafe’s logo.
“Hey,” Penny said. “My favorite baker. What brings you here?”
Holly handed her the box. “For you and your team.”
“For us? For real?” Penny opened the lid and smiled at the sight of the four muffins — blueberry, apple, cranberry, and chocolate — within. Leaning closer, she breathed in the amazing aromas.
“I know you and your team are working hard,” Holly said. “So I thought….”
“This is wonderful,” Penny said as she inhaled again. Two unexpected gifts on the same day — was the universe attempting to make amends for the leaky roof? “You shouldn’t have.”
“I caught the tail end of the book discussion — sounds like a great group.”
“They’re a good bunch.”
“Was the book you were talking about written by Daniel Bedford?”
“That’s right. Have you read his books?”
“Not his latest, but I read his first one and thought it was great.”
Penny shut the box lid and eyed her friend curiously.
At this time of day, almost without fail, Holly was found in her cafe across the square, either behind the counter serving customers or in her kitchen whipping up yet another batch of her signature scones.
Her patterns were like clockwork — regular, steady, reliably fixed. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“How’s little Joshua?”
Holly’s face lit up — her two-year-old son was her pride and joy. “Perfect as always. Spending the day with his grandparents.”
“And Gabe?” Penny asked, referring to Holly’s husband, who owned an apple orchard on the outskirts of town.
“Good, especially now that the harvest season is over.”
“I heard someone say it was a great growing year.”
“It was. He’s really pleased.”
Penny kept her gaze on her friend. If everything was fine with Holly and her family, then what was she doing here? Something was up. The muffins, while welcome, were clearly a bribe. Her friend was here with a purpose — leading up to something but hesitant to ask.
Penny would have to prod. As Mom often said: When in doubt, ask. “So what brings you here at this hour of the day?”
“Well,” Holly said, glancing around, as if worried about being overheard. “I’m here because of Daniel, actually.”
Penny’s eyebrows rose. “Daniel Bedford? The author? What about him?”
“I’ve met him.”
“Oh? How?”
“Through Gabe. They’re friends from New York. They worked at the same company after college. We had lunch with him last year when we were down there.”
“That’s great.”
With a touch of nervousness, Holly said, “I suppose you heard about his Christmas article?”
“You mean, the one in which he said Christmas is expensive and boring and needs to be overhauled?”
Holly grimaced. “Yes, that one.”
“The group was barely able to talk about anything else. What in the world was he thinking?”
“I have no idea.”
“He really stepped in it with that essay. Like, really stepped in it.”
“I agree. Which is why I’m here.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Holly said, taking a deep breath, “I’m here to ask a favor.”
Penny went still. Whatever was coming wasn’t good. Holly’s nervousness and the box of muffins made that clear.
“Daniel has agreed, reluctantly, to take steps to repair the damage he caused.”
“Good for him.”
“He didn’t want to at first.”
“Stubborn, is he?”
Holly sighed. “He really dug in. Basically, his agent and publisher ganged up on him until he agreed to play ball.”
“Which means what, exactly?”
“Well, it means they’ve put together a plan, and they’ve persuaded him to follow it.”
“A plan?”
“Parts of which will be taking place up … here.”
Penny’s eyebrows rose. “Here? In Heartsprings Valley?”
“Yes.”
“But he’s from New York and the newspapers and TV networks are in New York and his publisher and his agent are also, I assume, in New York.”
“All correct.”
“So why here?”
“Because he and Gabe are friends and we have a spare bedroom. He’ll be staying with us at the orchard.”
Penny’s eyes narrowed. Her friend wasn’t answering her question. “That’s not what I meant. How will coming to Heartsprings Valley repair the damage he’s caused to his career?”
Holly blinked, clearly uncomfortable. “A number of … steps have been contemplated.”
Penny leaned forward. “Holly, my dear friend who I’ve known forever, my hardworking friend who understands how busy the holiday season is for us small business owners, my forthright friend who’s terrible at evasion, my goodhearted friend who clearly feels guilty about whatever it is she came here to ask — you need to spill. Pronto.”
Holly exhaled. “You’re going to be getting a call from his publisher.”
Penny blinked, surprised. “His publisher is going to call me? Why?”
At that very moment, Penny’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out and stared at the screen. “It’s a New York number.”
“That’s them.”
“Why are they calling me?”
“They have a proposition for you. A business proposition. A deal. An offer. He’s a huge best-seller for them. They’re desperate to fix the mess he made.”
Penny stared at her buzzing phone. She had a choice to make.
She could either answer the call — or not.
The simpler option, without question, would be to put her phone back in her pocket and tell her friend sorry, no way, no how, not a chance.
Regardless of what the publisher’s “offer” might be, what she really needed right now, for the sake of her sanity in the midst of the frenetic holiday season, was to forget all about that misguided author and his ridiculous ideas about Christmas and stay focused on the million things she already had on her plate.
As she prepared to do just that, she caught the plea in her friend’s eyes.
“Just listen to them,” Holly said. “That’s all I’m asking. They want to make it worth your while.”
Penny sighed. “Holly….”
“Please?”
Penny glanced again at the insistent phone. “All I have to do is listen?”
“That’s all.”
“So when I tell them no, you won’t be upset?”
“Promise.”
“And I get to keep the muffins?”
“All yours.”
With a sigh, Penny brought the phone to her ear and, in a tone she managed to keep courteous despite the irritation surging through her, said, “Hello, this is Penny.”