by Olivia Miles
“You okay there?” They were standing face to face now, and in the golden hour of waning sunlight, she could see the softness of his eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“I’m okay,” she said, a little breathlessly.
His hand was still on her arm, warm and strong, and his gaze was so intense that she didn’t think she could tear her eyes away if she tried. Her heart was beating so loudly, she was sure that he could hear it, and she wasn’t so sure that she could blame it on her stumble.
Cole’s gaze dropped to her mouth, and ever so slowly, he leaned in. Maddie pulled in a breath, her heart positively pounding now, and started to close her eyes.
But Cole dropped her arm and cleared his throat, and jutted his chin over to the barn. “Candy’s over there.”
“What?” Maddie’s eyes flicked right to the woman doing a poor job of spying from behind the red barn. Her big blond curls were a dead giveaway.
Cole let out a laugh, low and steady, and despite what could have been an awkward moment—that was now lost—she joined him.
“I should probably get going anyway,” he said.
Maddie wanted to encourage him to stay, to join in the rest of the festival activities, but she decided not to press. The man had almost kissed her. She needed some time to think about that.
“Well, I’ll, uh…see you Monday. At the bakery.”
She nodded, swallowing back the things she wanted to say, the urge to reach out, hold his arm, just a little bit longer.
“See you then,” she said, giving him a little wave as he walked toward the parking lot and she made her way back to the festival. “And thanks.”
“It was my pleasure,” he replied.
No, Maddie thought, sucking in a breath that went straight to her giddy heart. It was hers.
10
Maddie awoke the next morning to the sun filtering through her linen curtains, the heater pushing out warmth, and a sense of hope that she hadn’t felt in a very long time, not even when she’d worked up the nerve to open her own bakery.
Without even stepping outside, she knew that it was the perfect fall day. Sunny and crisp outside, and warm and cozy inside. Growing up, these kinds of days had been her favorite, marked by the start of school, and a sense of anticipation for a new year and all that was to come. It was also the kind of day where she enjoyed helping her mother in the kitchen after school or on weekends, with the sunlight pouring in through the windows, and the kitchen so warm and comforting and smelling so rich and inviting that she could truly understand the meaning of the word home.
Without needing to give it much consideration, Maddie decided to bake. There was no market at the orchard today, because of the ongoing harvesting activities that were separate from the festival. The staff would be occupied pressing the grapes, preparing them for the wine. And she always dropped off a double batch of cinnamon rolls on Saturday for Amelia, so that Sundays she didn’t have to worry about it.
Technically, she had a day off. But baking was in her blood, it was what she did.
It was who she was.
Her recipe box was in the small kitchen of her apartment, on the little shelf over the range. It was a modest kitchen, even vintage by today’s standards, and certainly nowhere near as sleek as the gorgeous one she now had at the bakery, but this was her home, and while the kitchen was small, it was familiar and wonderful and she loved every inch of it, from the painted, Shaker-style cabinets, to the butcher board counters, to the little timer that was shaped like a rooster that had been with her for so long that she didn’t even remember when or how it had first come into her possession. But she could guess. One of her sisters had given it to her, for Christmas or her birthday. Most of her most cherished possessions were given to her by her sisters. But their wisdom…that was really the greatest gift of all.
They’d imparted so much. Shared so much. And now it was her turn to show that it had not all been in vain. That she had been listening, watching, admiring. And respecting.
She tied on her home apron (a gift from Cora three years ago, even though it was covered in a print of gingerbread men holding candy canes) took a mixing bowl from the cabinet over the range, and reached for her canisters. Many happy times had been spent in this small room, trying new recipes, or just enjoying the routine of following one of her mother’s tried and true recipes. This kitchen was also where she did her own taste testing, mixing ingredients and jotting down notes, dreaming up new ideas, and then watching, and waiting, and seeing if they were as good as she had hoped or needed tweaking.
Today she wasn’t going to bother with any experiments. She was going to make one of her favorite recipes from childhood—one that her mother used to make with her on those first days of fall. It was an apple cider cookie, something she planned to offer at the bakery, but today she wasn’t making it for any customers. Today, she was making something for Cole.
As a thank you. To show her gratitude. After all, he had not only done amazing work at the bakery, and helped with her business cards and labels, and come to the Harvest Fest yesterday, but he’d also challenged her, listened to her, and made her almost feel less alone in this daunting process.
And of course, there was the fact that he’d almost kissed her.
And as Candy always liked point out, there was a sure way to a man’s heart…
Her own heart skipped a beat as she measured out the flour. Even though she had the recipe card in front of her, she didn’t really need to refer to it. There were some things that were just ingrained in you, a part of you, and this cookie, and the memories it held, was one of those.
She worked the batter up quickly while the oven preheated and then slid the cookie sheets into the oven, careful to set the timer. She used the time to shower and dress, and when she emerged back into the kitchen with seconds to spare, she smiled at the scent. Yes, it was officially fall. Harvest weekend. Apple cider cookies.
What could top that?
She could think of one thing…
She pulled the cookies from the oven and carefully set each one on the wire cooling rack. By her estimation she had just enough time to dry her hair…and apply a little lipstick. With that finished, she boxed up her cookies, slid her feet into her best leather boots, grabbed her favorite soft and wooly scarf, and checked her reflection in the mirror near her door for good measure.
The leaves rustled as she walked through town, toward Cole’s house. If he wasn’t home she would just stop by her father’s house instead. He’d be happy for the cookies, and by her calculation, Candy should be safely tucked away at the café by now. It might be nice to have a little one-on-one time with her dad, she mused. Maybe, that’s really how she should be spending the day.
But that was the chicken’s way out, wasn’t it? And she’d been taking the easy path for far too long. She hadn’t come this far without seeing it all through. The bakery.
And her heart.
Cole’s house was near the cross street, whereas her own childhood home was right on the waterfront. His home was also smaller, but then, few families in town were as large as the Conways. Growing up, the McCarthy house had been the house to avoid. With shame she remembered that she and her sisters used to skip it on Halloween, afraid of a prank that Cole might play, or other years, when there was no light on, welcoming children to ring the bell.
But it was a sweet house, charming really, and Maddie looked at it with new appreciation. She could see now that there were rose bushes and hydrangea shrubs and even a window box nearest the front door. The summer flowers had long lost their bloom, but there were mums under the small awning and curtains pulled from the upstairs windows. Had these little touches always been there?
Back when they were kids, this house had felt sad, and neglected, and made them quicken their pace as they pedaled by it. Now, she saw that the front door had a wreath hanging from a metal hook, and there was a charming red mailbox hung beside it.
She knew that Cole had work
ed on the house in recent years, but had it always looked this way, she wondered? Or had something changed?
But she knew the answer to that deep down. Something had changed. And it was something inside her.
With a big breath for courage, she walked purposefully to the front door and knocked three times. When no one answered, her heart rate eventually resumed normal speed as she considered what to do. Perhaps Cole was around the back, enjoying this beautiful day on the patio or tending to the yard?
She glanced at the driveway, where his truck was parked. Surely, he was home.
She was still deciding between whether knocking again was bordering on stalker territory or just giving up and walking away, when there was a turning of the locks and the door swung open.
Maddie dropped her gaze in surprise to see Cole’s mother standing in the hallway. She hadn’t seen Mrs. McCarthy in…years, she realized. Like Cole, his mother rarely came into town, and never frequented the café. There were rumors, of course…about a troubled marriage, about money problems. Everyone knew the McCarthys wouldn’t join in the annual block party and eventually people stopped inviting them.
But now Maddie saw a woman with an upturned face, thin in the cheeks, with bright eyes as dark as her sons. She was slight of build, enough to make Maddie pause, but her expression was kind, and not at all unwelcoming.
“Oh. Hello. I’m—”
“You’re Maddie Conway!” Mrs. McCarthy smiled warmly at her. “I recognized you right away. I see you coming to your father’s house through my window every once in a while.”
Maddie felt a rush of guilt. “Not as often as I’d like,” she admitted.
“Life gets busy. That’s how it should be for you young people. I’m always telling my Cole, get out, go! Don’t sit around here with me!”
Maddie swallowed hard as she considered her next move. “Is Cole…here by any chance, Mrs. McCarthy?”
“Miriam, please.” Cole’s mother shook her head. “Cole went next door to help my neighbor with her sink. Leaky faucet. But he’ll be back soon if you’d like to wait?”
Maddie nodded as she crossed the threshold into the hallway. She left her boots near the door and handed over the box of cookies. “I made these this morning.”
“From your bakery?” Miriam took the box.
“No, um, from my kitchen.” Maddie shrugged, but from the way Miriam’s eyes lit up, she knew that the implication had been clear. She’d made them especially for Cole.
“Cole tells me that he’s been working at your bakery.” She smiled. “He said you’re quite talented and have excellent taste.”
Maddie felt her cheeks flush and she couldn’t fight off a smile. “I try.”
“Well, come with me to the kitchen. We still have some coffee warming on the burner if you’d like a cup.”
It wasn’t until Maddie was in the sunlit kitchen at the back of the house that she saw how pale Cole’s mother looked. There were dark circles under her eyes and her hands seemed to shake as she reached for a mug.
“I can help,” Maddie said eagerly. She slid another glance at Miriam as she backed away, not even putting up a protest.
Unease stirred in Maddie’s gut, and memories of a time in her life that she didn’t like to remember came to the surface. Cole’s mother was not well. And she of all people knew how that felt.
She made two mugs of coffee and sat down at the table with Miriam. Her eyes drifted around the room, searching for something that wouldn’t bring up such difficult and worrisome thoughts, and landed on the framed photos on the baker’s rack in the corner.
Miriam saw her admiring the photos and commented, “My neighbor says that I have a shrine to my son, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being a proud mother.”
“None at all!” Maddie smiled. Idly, she wondered if Miriam knew about all the trouble Cole had caused at school. About the reputation that Cole had even admitted to.
Instead, she said, “I like the one of him holding the fish. Did he catch that?”
“What’s that?” Miriam squinted across the room at the photograph that Maddie was referring to, and then seemed to smile at the memory. “His dad used to take him fishing. Cole was especially proud of that catch.”
Maddie frowned in surprise, unsure of what to stay. “I’m sorry, I…Cole never mentioned his father,” she finally said.
Miriam nodded slowly as she wrapped her hands around her mug, seeming to have more interest in using the coffee to warm herself than to drink it. “His father left when he was only ten. It was a rough age for a boy to be without a father. Cole never got over it, I’m afraid.” She sighed. “These things happen, of course, but Cole took it to heart. He and his father were close, you see. His father was a contractor, used to take Cole along on all his jobs. Made him his apprentice of sorts.”
Maddie considered this information. The work that Cole had done at the bakery. The way he had denied ever learning anything from his father.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said softly, and she was. Sorry to hear that Cole was still in such pain that even now, all these years later, he wanted to deny those memories rather than hold onto them. Sorry that she had misjudged him, and that the entire town seemed to do the same. That all they saw was an angry boy, intent to hurt. Not a boy who was very much hurting himself.
“Time goes by. Wounds heal,” Miriam said, but Maddie wasn’t so sure about that. Even now, more than fourteen years after her mother had left her life, her heart still felt heavy when she thought of how much she missed her, and how much her mother had missed.
“They do,” she said. “We learn to move on. But there are some things we carry with us.”
Miriam lightly rested her hand on Maddie’s for a moment, before pulling it away. “I remember your mother. She was very kind.”
“She was,” Maddie said, feeling her heart tug. “I…I didn’t realize you knew her.”
“Oh! Of course! Back when your oldest sister was still a baby, a group of us ladies used to get together once a week. We’d take turns, at each other’s homes.” Miriam’s smile turned a little sad as she reached for her coffee and took a tentative sip. “When things in my life turned a little difficult, I found an excuse to leave the club, you see. Life in this house was…unpredictable. If I couldn’t host, I couldn’t impose.”
Maddie stared at Miriam, realizing now how different reality had been from the perception. “My mother would have welcomed you any day!”
“Oh, I see that now. Now that I’m older and wiser. But back then….” Miriam shook her head. “Well, it’s too late now. And Cole, well, he’s just the same really. I try to tell him to learn from my mistakes, but maybe it’s just in our nature to retreat when times get tough rather than reach out.”
Maddie thought of that silent, sullen boy at the bus stop, and the grown man she now knew who went quiet, who had upped and left the pub last weekend without a word or explanation. She tried to think of something to say in response that wouldn’t be too prying, when there was a scuffling sound at the front door, and Miriam perked up a bit in her chair.
“That will be Cole.”
Maddie turned, waiting, as she heard Cole open a creaky door and close it—the closet—and then there he was. She smiled up at him but he looked away, his eyebrows pulling.
“Maddie made us some delicious cookies,” Miriam said. She stood to fetch another mug for Cole but he frowned deeply.
“I’ll get it. You…sit,” he finished. He glanced in Maddie’s direction, but away again before he had time to catch her smile.
Sensing that her timing was off, Maddie pushed back her chair. “I was just stopping by on my way to visit my father, so I should probably get along now.”
Cole’s back was to her, big and strong, and she saw him hesitate for a moment, but he didn’t turn around, didn’t ask her to stay, or try to change her mind.
He was retreating again. Shutting down.
Miriam got to her feet, and Cole
hurried toward her to help. Maddie pretended not to notice that anything was amiss, when it clearly was. She wanted to offer to help, to do something, but Cole was a private person, and this was something he had chosen not to share with her.
“It was lovely to see you, Mrs. McCarthy,” she said with a little smile when she reached the front door. She almost wasn’t sure she should even say anything to Cole, but when she shrugged on her coat, and turned around, it didn’t exactly matter. He’d gone back to the kitchen.
Miriam reached out and clasped one of Maddie’s hands in hers. They shook a little.
“Cole has a kind heart,” she emphasized. “And I can see that you do, too. Just like your mother.”
Just like her mother.
Maddie held onto those words as she stepped back out into the chilly autumn air, no longer feeling so energized by the snap of leaves under her feet.
She wasn’t sure what touched her more. That she was just like her mother, or that Cole was a lot more like her than she’d ever known. Or maybe, tried to know.
*
Maddie was relieved to see her father sitting on the front porch when she arrived, a steaming mug in his hand that was no doubt his third or fourth cup of coffee of the day.
“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he remarked as she made her way up to the creaking steps.
“I was in the area.” She blinked rapidly as she sank down onto the old swing that creaked under her weight from years of use. Her father passed her a blanket from his lap but she motioned it away. “I love the chill in the area. It makes everything seem fresh and…alive.”
“You sound just like your mother,” Dennis said with a wistful smile. “That woman loved nothing more than the change of seasons. She would declare each to be her favorite.”
Maddie thought about that for a moment. “It’s true; she always loved the start of summer.”
“But then she loved the winter. The more snow, the better.” Dennis shook his head. “I hadn’t even thought about that until now.”
