by Denise Carbo
Sally shakes her head and sniffles. “I was stupid.”
“You were grieving and from what Mrs. Roberts has told me, he was good at manipulating people to get what he wanted.”
“Yes, he was, but I still should have known better and I should have asked questions.” She turns to look at me. “I swear I had no idea he was married. In hindsight, I should have. Perhaps I didn’t want to know.”
I give her a quick hug. “We all make mistakes and it’s usually only when we look back that we can see the signs.”
She nods. “I’m glad we had this talk, Franny. It’s been bothering me something fierce.”
“I’m glad too. I’m learning it’s not a good practice to keep everything bottled up. Sometimes we have to take the first step and have the uncomfortable conversation.”
She climbs into her car. “That’s sound advice. I’ll see you tomorrow.” I close her door for her and wave.
It’s good advice. Unfortunately, I haven’t been following it myself. It’s time Mitch and I talked about my building.
And about our past.
And maybe the future too.
Chapter Sixteen
“You’ve been smiling for the past hour. Did you win the lottery or something?”
Laughing at Sally, I carry a tray of cookies to the front and put them in the case. “No, I’m just in a good mood I guess.” I’m wearing one of my new outfits, a gray frilly skirt which ends just above my knees and a lavender wrap blouse. I keep twirling around the kitchen to make it swish against my legs. I have the beginnings of a social life and my life plan is back on track, albeit with some minor adjustments.
My head snaps up when the front door jingles, but it’s not Mitch. Sally moves forward to help them and I return to the kitchen to continue baking.
A discreet knock at the back door spins me around. The familiar dark head sends a surge of pleasure through me.
One I’ll have to analyze more closely. Later.
When I open the door, he leans on the doorjamb and smiles down at me.
“Any chance I can come in the kitchen to have coffee? I’m beat and not up to braving the front and the possible hordes.”
His usual jogging clothes are absent. In their place are jeans and a black hoodie.
“Of course.” I step back and he saunters in to lean against one of the counters.
“It always smells so incredible in here. It’s like inhaling a piece of heaven.”
I grin and head for the front to grab him a coffee. Sure enough the women are gathering and lingering hoping to catch his attention. They must have spotted his truck the same way I did. A few stand near the outside tables I have set up. There’s only enough room to fit four black wrought-iron tables between the building and the sidewalk, but it provides a place for those who prefer to sit and enjoy a treat rather than dash in and out. I added a couple of potted plants to brighten up the space.
I spot Vanessa striding down the sidewalk so I grab a danish for him, cram the top on his cup of coffee, and hightail it back to the kitchen.
“You are a goddess.” He takes the coffee and inhales deeply before taking a bite out of the danish. “Truly a goddess.”
Chuckling, I shake my head while inside I’m beaming.
“So, tell me about your meeting. Was it successful?”
He blows on the coffee before attempting a sip.
“Yeah, they offered me the job. Although I haven’t decided if I will do it or not. It’s a great script and I find it interesting, but I don’t know if I want to take on a new project right now.”
“That’s terrific! That you got the job.”
He shrugs and takes another bite of danish.
“It’s given me something to think about.”
“What’s it about? Would you have to go back to L.A. right away?”
“Actually, they will probably shoot most of it on location in New York. It’s about a New York City cop and his descent into corruption.”
New York is a hell of a lot closer than Los Angeles, but still not exactly a commutable distance.
“Sounds a bit dark.”
“A large part of it is, but there are his relationships with his family and other members of the police force that intrigue me.”
“Then you should do it. If they want you to direct it then they’ll accommodate your schedule, won’t they?”
His mouth lifts in a half smile. “They hinted as much, but I’m not completely sold yet.”
He finishes the pastry and sips at his coffee while I roll out the crust for a pie.
“What about your parents? Did you have time to visit?”
“Briefly. Turns out they are taking a cruise down the coast to Mexico. It was poor timing on my part, which is why I’m back sooner than I thought.”
“At least you saw them for a little while though, right?”
“Yeah, they were very excited about their trip. I’m glad, they deserve it.”
Mitch wanders around the kitchen sipping his coffee.
“What’s been going on here while I was away? Anything interesting? Your friend Brian been around?”
I am beginning to wonder if he keeps getting Bobby’s name wrong on purpose or if he truly can’t remember. Either way I’m not going to remind him in case he ever runs into him.
“No. I went shopping with Olivia and had a good time, much to my surprise.”
“Why surprise?”
“Because I hate shopping, normally, but going with a friend made it kind of fun.”
He moves behind me and my skin tingles.
“What are you making?”
His voice rumbles over my shoulder. His breath caresses the nape of my neck.
I swallow hard and clear my throat. “Pie. I’m making blueberry pies.”
“Yum, I’ll have to buy one when they’re done. Speaking of which, I owe you for the coffee and danish.”
“No, you don’t. You’ve bought me dinner twice. Not to mention my clientele has multiplied because of your fan club.”
“Well then, I’ll make a point to go in the front more often to drive up sales.”
Glancing up to find him peering over my shoulder, the smile freezes on my face and my hands stop rolling the crust.
He smiles and kisses me on the cheek.
I freeze in place. The warmth of his kiss brands my cheek.
“What do you say about me picking you up after work today and we head out to the house so I can show you those kitchen plans?”
I blink several times trying to gather my frazzled thoughts. “That sounds great.”
The privacy of his house would provide a good backdrop for the conversation I need to have with him.
“Good, I need to finalize them with the architect so the contractors can be scheduled and the cabinets made. We need to start checking things off our summer list too. We can come up with a plan tonight.”
Right, the list.
“All right let’s start with one of the easier ones first and we can do it after I get off work one day this week.”
“We do have a few hours of daylight left. Then we’ll save the longer trips for when you’re off on a Monday or Tuesday.”
“I don’t want to interfere with your schedule. It’s just if the bakery is open, I need to be here.”
“My schedule is fairly open so we can easily accommodate yours. I’m concentrating on the house right now. If I decide to take that job, then things might change, but that won’t start for a while any way. There’s plenty of time to finish our list.”
I peek up at him watching me make the pies. I place the last shell in the dish and trim the edges.
“You ready for your reward?”
“My reward?”
“I promised you a souvenir if you didn’t run off with Butch.”
He reaches into his front pocket and pulls out a small silver wrapped box with a tiny bow on top and holds it out.
I raise my hand and then drop it. “Wait, I need to wash my hands.�
�� Jogging over to the sink I scrub my hands and dry them.
Mitch is leaning against the counter holding the gift in the palm of his hand smiling.
“You didn’t tell me what you like, so I had to guess. When I saw this, I thought of you. I hope you like it.”
“I will.”
“You haven’t seen it yet.”
I only get gifts at Christmas and on my birthday from family. No one has ever surprised me with something like this.
I gingerly lift the box from his hand. It’s light. The box is jewelry size. Could he have bought me jewelry? I don’t wear much only because I don’t have many pieces, or the money to buy them.
Flicking a fingernail under the fold of paper, I lift it.
“You’re one of those, huh?”
I glance up from the package.
“There are two types of people when it comes to unwrapping gifts, those that rip right in and those who carefully save the paper.”
Peeling the paper free, the box rocks in my hand. I set the paper down and lift the lid. Cushioned between sections of padding is a crystal cake on a stand.
“I thought you could put it in the window to catch the sunlight while you were working.”
I’m cupping the delicate creation in both hands terrified I’ll drop it.
“It’s beautiful.” Meeting his gaze, I smile. “Thank you so much. I love it.”
Carrying it to the window over the counter, I place it in the center on the windowsill and step back.
“What do you think? Will it be safe there?”
Mitch follows me over. “I’m sure it will be fine. I was going to get you a bigger one, but I didn’t think it would fit on the sill and I didn’t know if you would want to display it somewhere else.”
“Oh no, this one is perfect.”
The sunlight makes it sparkle reflecting the light.
“I’m glad you like it.”
Before I can lose my nerve, I kiss him softly on his cheek. He hasn’t shaved this morning and there is rough stubble against my bottom lip.
He gazes down at me for a moment then he smiles and walks to the door. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
I hum when the door closes. My hips sway a little to the rhythm dancing around in my head.
After I finish shaping the crusts into the pie plates, I set them in the fridge to chill while I make the filling. Mentally, I have already put one aside for him.
I freeze with my hand on the refrigerator door.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m falling for Mitch. Again.
Closing my eyes, I drop my forehead against the cold door and groan.
No! No! No!
I’m smarter than this.
I glance down at my heart. Hear me heart, we are not going down this road again.
Chapter Seventeen
My sister, Lucinda, walks into the bakery minutes before closing. Her long blonde hair cascades over one sleeveless shoulder. A form fitting pink sheath dress encases her statuesque form. She is perfect from her symmetrical face to her matching pink polished toes playing peekaboo out of her three-inch heels.
Now, I love my sister. I really do. She has never done a single nasty thing to me. But I love her in Connecticut with her perfect husband in their perfect house with their perfect jobs. Not here where everyone compares the two of us and finds me sadly lacking.
My throat thickens and I swallow hard. I hate myself for feeling this way.
“Surprise!” Lucinda throws up her arms and strikes a pose.
“What are you doing here? Do Mom and Dad know? Have you been to the house yet? Is Mark with you?”
I rattle out the slew of questions while walking over to kiss her cheek and give her a hug. As her perfume settles around me, I remember how much I love my sister and I’ve missed her. I haven’t seen her since Christmas.
“No to all of those.” She laughs as she rubs my shoulders. “It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.”.
“How late are you open?” She glances behind her to the sign posted on the door. “You’re almost done, right? I thought we could surprise Mom and Dad together.”
“Oh, I have cleaning up to do and preparations for tomorrow. Besides Mom and Dad will want you all to themselves for a bit.” I wave a hand in dismissal. “They see me every day.”
Her frown escalates my guilt.
“Okay. You’ll be home for dinner?”
I march back behind the counter. “Actually, I have plans, but we can talk after. How long are you staying, anyway?”
“A while.”
Looking up from the display case I am straightening, I study her face. She’s smiling, but it appears a little strained.
What does a while mean? There’s an expression on her face I should explore, but the clock is ticking. Olivia finishes up with the last customer of the day and flips the sign to closed after escorting them out. I introduce them, but Lucinda reminds me they’ve met before. Of course they have, it’s not like this is the first time my sister has come home for a visit and stopped in my bakery.
“I guess I’ll see you at home then?”
I nod as I guide her to the door. “We’ll have a nice long chat after Mom and Dad fawn over you a bit.”
Her disappointment is clear, and I try not to cringe as I’m sure I’m in the running for the worst sister ever award. I lock the door behind her and rest my hand on the knob. Sighing, I turn around.
Shame tinges my heated cheeks as I meet Olivia’s questioning gaze. “You can head on home to your boys. I’m all set here.”
“Everything all right?”
A nod is all I can manage as I head into the back. The guilt settles over me like a bag of cement on my shoulders weighing me down. The right thing to do is cancel my night with Mitch and go home to participate in my sister’s visit. Who knows how long she’s here for? She is obviously here for a reason. It’s not like her to pop up out of the blue with no notice.
Oh Lord! Is she pregnant? Is that the news? Her and Mark have been married for a few years. They met in college, at Yale. Yes, she’s smart too. In fact, both she and Mark are lawyers. Has she been promoted or something? Would that warrant a trip home?
She would look happier, though, if any of those things happened, wouldn’t she?
There’s nothing for me to do in the kitchen. I’ve already cleaned up and prepared for tomorrow, but because I told Lucinda I had more to do as an excuse not to have her waiting around, I wipe down the already clean sink and counters. I make a grocery list for supplies I’m running low on. Basically, I kill time while debating whether my guilty conscious will overpower my need to have a candid conversation with Mitch.
The knock on the back door ends the debate. I have to cancel.
Opening the door, Mitch’s blue eyes are shining as he smiles down at me. His periwinkle blue shirt looks soft enough to touch.
A few hours won’t make a difference, will they?
“Ready?”
Nibbling on my bottom lip, I nod, and then grab my purse and slip the strap over my head. It’s only big enough to hold my phone, keys, identification, and debit card. When I walk to and from work, I can just slip the long strap across my chest and not worry.
I lock the door and pause once again. I’ll make it up to her somehow, I swear.
I follow him to his truck in silence. He pulls away from the curb and makes a U-turn to head towards his house on the opposite side of town from my parents’ house.
“You’re very quiet. Everything okay?”
Tearing my gaze from the scene outside the window I’ve barely seen, I glance at his handsome profile. If I confess I’m feeling guilty about disappointing my sister, he might insist I go and take me to my parents’ house. The guilt is ruining the evening anyway, perhaps I should go.
Ugh! No damn it! A few hours aren’t too much to ask. I doubt I’ll be missed. Seriously, I would be just sitting on the couch while my parents fawn over her, anyway.
“Sorry, my mind was having an internal battle, but it’s all done now. I’m excited to see the plans for the house and kitchen.” I inhale sharply, then sigh. “I forgot the pie I put aside for you.”
Mitch smiles. “That’s okay, I picked up a few things earlier so we can have dinner at the house. We can save the pie for another time.”
My heart latches onto the “another time” and melts a little over the prediction we will spend more time together.
Oh Lord! I need to rein in my emotions.
The wall surrounding this side of the estate is tall enough to keep prying eyes out but allow glimpses of the grounds contained within as we meander its length to the metal gate marking the driveway. Giant evergreens dominate the grounds sprinkled with clumps of white birch trees. The drive circles around to the house. The sight of the majestic house never fails to leave me enchanted.
As I step over the threshold into the house, Mitch speaks from behind me, “I set up a place in the dining room for us to eat. It’s nothing fancy, but the walls haven’t been torn down in there yet so there’s no construction dust or anything to worry about.”
When he opens the doors to the dining room, my mouth drops open. A table is in the middle of the room with a blue tablecloth and place settings. I’m not sure what I expected, but not for him to go to any trouble for me. He slips past me to set the box he carried in from the truck on a small folding table by the window and opens a cooler next to it. I recognize the logo on the boxes, they are from the Rosewood Bed & Breakfast. The owner is known for the picnic baskets she supplies to her guests and other patrons.
Mitch places the food on the table and holds out a bottle of wine. “I wasn’t sure what you prefer, but this one is a favorite of mine.”
I’m not telling him I don’t like the taste of wine or any alcohol.
If ever there was a time to partake in a glass of wine, tonight is it. Perhaps it will lighten me up and help me relax.
Please don’t let it make me sick.
“It looks fantastic! I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”
“It wasn’t any trouble.” He pours us each a glass and then holds out a chair for me to sit.
Crap!
I tend to panic at this moment when a waiter holds the chair for me in a restaurant. How do you not rest all your weight on the chair so the chair can still be pushed in and not be left sitting there several feet away from the table as the waiter shoves with all his might to get the chair to the table or you’re not hovering over it so that your legs get knocked out from beneath you?
