Emmie’s smile faded. Now she looked worried. “What do you mean, you’re working on it? You were supposed to be getting here soon.”
“I know, and I’m sorry, Em, but it’s going to be later than that.”
Emmie, disappointed, sat down on a bench trying to digest the news. “How much later?”
Silence.
“Grant?”
“Sorry,” Grant said. “My boss is calling me.”
“Grant, you’re still at work? When are you leaving? I have everything scheduled. I need to know so I can plan.”
“I’ll get there as soon as I can,” Grant said. “I’ll call you later when I know more. I have to go.”
Grant hung up before Emmie could say anything else. She sat back against the bench, not even caring that it was freezing cold. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at her phone.
Sam walked over. “Is everything okay?” he asked, looking concerned.
“No,” Emmie said. She didn’t even have the energy to pretend it was. “Grant isn’t almost here.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “He hasn’t even left the city.”
Sam gave her a sympathetic look. “Is he okay? Did something happen?”
“Oh, he’s okay. The same thing happened that always happens. Work. I know he’s crazy busy right now, and so am I with Christmas coming, but we promised each other we’d make time for this mini-vacation.”
“But he’s still coming, right?” Sam asked. “He’s just late.”
Emmie nodded but still looked miserable. She shivered when a gust of wind hit her.
Sam sat down next to her and wrapped her scarf closer around her neck.
Emmie gave him a grateful look. “Thank you.”
Sam smiled back at her, and for a few seconds they sat there together in silence. Until the referee whistle on her app went off again.
Emmie, frustrated, quickly turned it off.
“What is it this time?” Sam asked.
Emmie sighed. “My next activity. It starts at noon. I’d hoped Grant was going to make it in time. I’ve scheduled a whole day of activities for us, but now obviously that’s not going to happen.”
Sam stood up. “Why not?”
“Because Grant’s not here.”
“What’s the next activity on your list?”
Emmie checked her phone. “A Christmas-cookie-making class.”
Sam grinned back at her. “Well then, you’re in luck!”
Emmie looked confused. “I am?”
“Yes, because I’m great at making cookies.”
Emmie couldn’t help but laugh. “Seriously?”
Sam’s eyes danced with humor. “Okay, maybe I’m just great at eating cookies, but I’m game to try the class. Let’s go!”
When Emmie hesitated for a moment, Sam gave her a look. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to let down your app, would you? You just got done telling me how important it was to . . . track yourself.”
“Stay on track,” Emmie corrected him.
“Then we better get going,” Sam said. “You don’t want to miss anything.”
“Are you using my own argument against me?” Emmie asked.
Sam laughed. “I’d say what I’m doing right now is winning.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her up off the bench. “Come on. Let’s go! The cookies are waiting.”
As Sam, excited, pulled her along, she practically had to run to keep up with him. She figured she might as well stay busy while she waited for Grant. This way she could see what activities she thought Grant would enjoy the most and reschedule for when he got here. She picked up her pace again to keep up with Sam.
“Slow down. I’m coming!”
Sam smiled back at her. “Just trying to keep you on track.”
“Oh, now you remember the name,” Emmie said. “When it works for you.”
Sam smiled and winked at her. “You’re catching on, kid. Let’s go.”
Chapter Seventeen
When Emmie and Sam arrived outside Betty’s Bakery with two minutes to spare, Emmie was still catching her breath.
“We made it!” Sam said victoriously. “Right on time. Happy?”
Emmie laughed at his enthusiasm. “Are you sure you don’t want to get my On Track app for yourself? If I refer you, we both get a ten-dollar credit.”
“Uh, no thanks.” Sam laughed. “I’m good. It’s all up here . . .” He tapped his head and then pointed at the sign on the door that read: Gingerbread-Making Class at 12:00 P.M. “I’m guessing this is us?” When Sam held the door open for her, some little bells on the door jingled.
Emmie nodded as she walked inside and was instantly enchanted with the quaint decor and the scents of cinnamon and nutmeg lingering in the air. The glass counter had layered rows of cookies, cakes, pastries, and pies, and on top of the counter, there were different styles of adorable gingerbread houses.
“Welcome to Betty’s Bakery,” a cheerful woman said as she came out from around the counter, holding up two red aprons. She smiled at Emmie. “I’m Betty. You must be Emmie. We spoke on the phone.”
“That’s right.” Emmie smiled back at her.
Betty turned her attention to Sam. “And this must be your boyfriend, Grant, you told me about.” She handed Sam an apron.
“Oh no, this isn’t my boyfriend,” Emmie rushed to correct her. “This isn’t Grant.”
Sam waved. “Hi, I’m Sam.”
Betty looked confused.
Emmie rushed on. “I signed up for this class, but my boyfriend is still in the city.”
“I’m just the guy who showed up,” Sam said.
Betty laughed. “Well, the guy who shows up is the one who gets to have the fun. So welcome, Sam.”
Sam laughed, too. “Thank you. I’m happy to be here.” He sniffed the air. “It smells great in here.”
“Do you bake?” Betty asked.
Sam laughed and patted his tummy. “No, but I’m great at eating cookies. You could say I’m a pro.”
When Emmie rolled her eyes, Betty laughed. “Well then, Sam, you’re in the right place,” Betty said. “Follow me.”
When they got into the kitchen, Emmie looked around surprised. “Where is everyone else?” The kitchen was larger than she’d expected, with butcher-block countertops, stainless steel mixers, and a wall of huge professional ovens. They were the only ones there.
“We had another couple scheduled, but they had to cancel,” Betty said. “Our other classes usually have more people. If you’d rather come back then—”
“No,” Emmie said quickly as she started putting on her apron. “No thank you. I have the whole weekend scheduled, so this time is perfect, as long as it’s okay with you that it’s just the two of us?”
“Of course,” Betty said. “I have everything ready to go. Who’s ready to make some gingerbread men?”
Sam’s hand shot up enthusiastically.
Emmie laughed looking at him and then got in the spirit and put her hand up, too.
Betty smiled back at them. “Then let’s make some cookies!”
AN HOUR AND a half later, with Emmie’s and Sam’s aprons covered with the telltale signs of cookie making, which included patches of flour and little pieces of dough, the two of them stood back and admired their work.
On the counter, lined up perfectly, were three dozen gingerbread men.
Sam looked like he was in heaven as he gobbled down one of the cookies.
“These are amazing!” he said as he took another big bite.
Betty looked pleased. “I’m glad you like them. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Everyone in town seems to really enjoy them, and visitors do, too.”
Sam studied his cookie. “There’s something in here I can’t pinpoint . . . that I haven’t tasted before, but give me a second, and I’ll figure it out.”
Emmie laughed. “What? Are you the gingerbread cookie expert now? We just made them. You should already know the ingredients.”
Sam gave her a serious look. “No, there’s som
ething in here we didn’t add. I’m telling you, I know my cookies.”
Betty looked impressed. “Actually, Sam’s right.”
“He is?” Emmie asked.
Sam laughed. “Don’t look so shocked.” He turned to Betty. “So you have a secret ingredient, don’t you?”
Betty smiled slyly as she nodded her head. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
Emmie looked surprised.
“Told ya,” Sam said.
“I put it in when you weren’t looking,” Betty said.
Sam gave Betty a shrewd teasing look. “I see how you are. So it looks like we have a cookie mystery on our hands. Did I mention mysteries just happen to be my specialty?”
Emmie laughed and rolled her eyes. “Oh boy, here we go. So are you telling us you’re going to figure out this secret ingredient?”
Sam gave Emmie a confident look. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Betty, smiling, shook her head. “I’ll believe it when I see it, or taste it.”
When Sam reached for another cookie, Emmie batted his hand away. “Stop eating all our hard work.”
“But . . .” Sam started.
Emmie held up her hand to stop him from saying more. “At this point, with you eating everything, we’re not going to have anything left to decorate.”
Betty laughed. “Emmie’s right, and decorating is the best part. I have everything set up over here.”
As Emmie and Sam followed Betty to another corner of the kitchen, Sam whispered in Emmie’s ear, “Who says decorating is the best part?” Sam put the rest of his cookie in his mouth and gave her a smug look.
Emmie laughed. He was impossible. But she had to admit, she was having a great time. She told herself it wasn’t because of Sam, but because they were making Christmas cookies, one of her favorite holiday things to do.
While they were baking, Betty had put on Christmas music and given them hot chocolate. Sam had even gotten her to dance and sing to one of his favorite Christmas songs, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”
She admired the way Sam gave one hundred percent of his attention to whatever he was doing and his ability to laugh at himself. His upbeat, positive mood was infectious, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed so hard.
“So you should have everything you two need here,” Betty said as they stood in front of a counter filled with decorating materials—different colors of frosting, sprinkles, and crushed candy.
“I need to go and get an order ready for a Christmas party. Are you two good here?” Betty asked.
Sam picked up a bowl of red frosting and dove his knife into it and tasted it. “We’re great.”
Betty laughed and looked over at Emmie, who was trying to take the frosting bowl away from Sam. “You better keep an eye on him,” she said.
Emmie laughed. “Oh, I plan to. I’ll make sure these decorations go on the cookies, not into Sam’s stomach.”
When Sam pretended to look hurt, both women laughed.
“Good luck,” Betty said as she left, still laughing.
Sam picked up a gingerbread man and waved it at Emmie. “Are you ready?”
Emmie picked up her own cookie. “Oh, I was born ready when it comes to decorating cookies.”
“Really?” Sam asked. “You’re sounding pretty confident there.”
Emmie picked up a container of red sprinkles. “Oh, I am. I’ve got mad decorating skills.”
Sam studied her carefully. “Then how about a little wager?”
Emmie’s eyes lit up. “A bet? What are we betting on?”
“Let’s call it more of a competition,” Sam said. “After we decorate the cookies, we both pick our favorite and let Betty decide which one is best.”
Emmie gave him a confident look. “Oh, you’re so on. I got this.”
“But wait,” Sam said. “There’s more.”
Emmie laughed. “Of course there is.”
“Whoever wins gets to pick another activity to do that the other one has to go along with.”
“Well, that’s easy,” Emmie said. “But I already have all the activities here scheduled.”
“That’s not on the schedule,” Sam continued.
Emmie gave him a look. “Oh, I see what you’re trying to do. You’re trying to get me off track. Why do I feel like either way you win?”
Sam laughed. “So are we on?” Sam held out his cookie.
Emmie looked into his eyes and met Sam’s challenging stare as she clinked her cookie to his. “We’re on!”
AN HOUR LATER when Betty came back into the kitchen to check on them, she looked impressed as she surveyed their work.
“You both have done a wonderful job,” Betty said.
“Thank you,” Sam said as he used his finger to swipe some frosting off a knife and ate it.
Emmie laughed. “Yes, Sam has gotten great at eating all the ingredients.”
Sam smiled back at her. “We all have our skills.”
Betty laughed.
Sam walked over to Betty and put his arm around her and smiled his most charming smile. “But we need your help with something.”
“Hey, not fair,” Emmie said. “Stop trying to butter up the judge.”
“The judge?” Betty asked.
“That’s right,” Sam said. “Because we know you’re the very best at what you do.”
Emmie rushed over and put her arm around Betty’s other shoulder. “That’s right. Because we know you’re the expert.”
“With impeccable taste,” Sam added.
Emmie jumped back in. “So we thought you could help us out with a little competition we’re having.”
Betty’s eyes lit up with interest. She looked from Emmie to Sam. “A competition?”
“About who can decorate better,” Sam said, still smiling his irresistible smile. “Because we know you’re a wise woman who will take into consideration the importance of being creative and thinking outside of the box.”
Emmie took Betty’s hand. “And that you’re someone who knows how important it is to follow tradition at Christmas and honor things that are classic and timeless.”
Betty laughed. “Okay, you two, stop campaigning. Let’s see your cookies.”
Sam picked up a gingerbread cookie and proudly showed it to Betty. “Here’s my favorite one.”
When Betty blinked several times you could tell she was fighting back a laugh. Still, she studied Sam’s gingerbread cookie carefully. The gingerbread man Sam had decorated was wearing a bathing suit and sunglasses. “Well, this one is unique,” Betty said, “and out of the box, like you said.”
Sam gave Emmie a silly smug look and turned back to Betty. “I call it a Gingerbread Beach Boy.”
Betty nodded and gave the cookie another look. Now she looked like she was really getting into it and taking the competition seriously. “That’s a great name. What is your inspiration behind this cookie?”
“I used to live in L.A.,” Sam said. “So I combined that memory of going to the beach with my favorite cookie, and voilà, the Gingerbread Beach Boy was created.”
Emmie laughed. Sam was really laying it on thick. Once again, he was going for it.
Betty turned to Emmie. “Well, Sam’s Gingerbread Beach Boy is going to be pretty hard to beat. Emmie, what do you have?”
Emmie carefully picked up her favorite gingerbread cookie and held it out for Betty to see. Her cookies looked like something out of a gourmet cookie magazine. It had a red and white Santa hat and a red-and-green-striped scarf and was wearing a white dress with red buttons down the middle with green and red trim that matched the scarf.
Betty’s eyes widened. “Oh my, this is really something.”
Emmie looked pleased. “I went for some girl power here, because why is it always a gingerbread boy or man? A gingerbread girl can be just as good if not better.”
Sam shook his head and laughed. “Oh boy.” He held up his hands. “Sorry—I meant, oh girl.”
&nbs
p; Everyone laughed.
But Sam’s smile faded when Emmie turned her cookie over and showed Betty how it was also decorated on the back.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Sam said. He pointed at her cookie. “We didn’t say anything about decorating both sides. You can’t get extra points for that.”
Betty gave him a look. “I thought I was the one judging this?”
Sam piped down. “Sorry.” But when Betty looked back at the cookie, he gave Emmie a look that clearly said not fair.
The more upset Sam looked, the happier Emmie felt. Even though it was just a fun friendly competition, she wanted to win, because she knew he did, too.
Still admiring the cookie, Betty gave Emmie a questioning look. “Where did you learn to decorate like this? This is really magnificent.”
When Emmie smiled, it wasn’t a smug smile. It was a genuine heartfelt smile.
“My mom and I made gingerbread cookies together when I was growing up,” Emmie said. “She was the real artist. She taught me everything about decorating cookies. It was one of my favorite things we did together. I couldn’t wait for it to be Christmas so we could start decorating again, and every year she would come up with a new design. This was one of her favorites. I haven’t made it in years, so I’m a little rusty.”
Betty held out her hand for the cookie. “May I?”
“Of course,” Emmie said and handed her the cookie.
Betty studied it even closer. “It’s perfection. You better be careful, or I’ll recruit you to work here with me.”
Emmie blushed. “That’s quite the compliment. Thank you.”
“And what about me?” Sam asked, sounding like he was ten.
Betty patted him on his cheek. “I also love your Gingerbread Beach Boy, but—”
“But?” Sam asked.
“But if I hired you, I’m afraid you would just eat all my profit, and I wouldn’t have any cookies to sell.”
Emmie laughed.
Sam tried to pretend to look hurt, but even he ended up laughing.
“So who wins?” Emmie asked.
Betty picked up Sam’s cookie and held it next to Emmie’s. After a few seconds, she smiled slowly.
“Both of you were inspired by a Christmas memory and made your cookies with love, so you both win. Congratulations.” She handed them each back their cookies.
Finding Christmas Page 12
