Gingerbread Wishes

by Linda Carroll-Bradd

-Chapter Four-

  “Thanks for coming in early today, Annabelle.”

  “No problem, Tora. School vacation, remember?”

  She glanced around the bakery, noting Annabelle’s bicycle leaning against the window by the door. The early morning rush was over and the trays had been restocked. “I’ve got a couple deliveries on the west end of town, and I need to stop by the department store for last-minute shopping.”

  Annabelle glanced up from tapping on the screen of her phone. “Today’s Christmas Eve, most people are with families. I can handle this. Get out in the fresh air for a couple hours.”

  A glance at the clock confirmed she could accomplish her errands and be back for the final three hours of the business day. Practiced moves pulled her shoulder-length hair into a plastic clip and she gave it a pat. “Okay, bye.”

  “See ya later. Don’t worry, I have your number in case of fire.”

  With a gasp, Tora jerked up her head and glared.

  Annabelle grinned. “Just checking to see if you were listening.”

  With a wave, she walked out the back door to her car, still planning her delivery schedule. After she delivered all the orders, she’d grab a bite to eat and head over to the town square for the children’s choral performance. Another jam-packed day. As she backed out of the tiny back parking lot, she heard her phone ring with a marimba beat. She turned off the engine and punched her phone screen. “Hey, Mama, how’re you doing? How’s Gram?”

  “Your grandmother is thriving here in Arizona. She’s like a lizard and loves to be on the patio in the sun.” Her mom’s trill of a laugh sounded. “How’s business? Did you handle all the special orders?”

  “Great.” She thought of Jordan’s spreadsheet and how much time she’d saved. “Headed out to make the last deliveries right now.”

  “Oh. No problems, huh?”

  Was that disappointment in Mama’s voice? “No, I’ve been adding to Annabelle’s duties and she’s stepping up to the responsibility.” She glanced at the gray clouds forming in the blue sky. Hope there’s no rain for tonight’s performance.

  “…the oddest thing.”

  What had she missed? “Sorry, say again.”

  “Gram and I were just talking about the oddest thing. We’ve been getting messages on both our email accounts from people in Dorado. Do you think everyone getting nostalgic at this time of year would account for all these notes of thanks and appreciation?”

  “Weird. I’m getting them too. I figured people had seen the For Sale sign.” She tapped a finger on the steering wheel and watched a bicyclist steer down the alley. Hanging from his back rack was a pink flyer. Her gaze was drawn to the big print. “Save Our” was written in all capital letters. The bike turned the corner, and she couldn’t read the rest of the message. “But, you know, I’ve gotten messages from people I haven’t seen inside the bakery for months.”

  “Strange, isn’t it? Well, Gram’s calling me for something. Talk to you later.”

  All of a sudden, the thought hit that this would be the very first year she’d be alone for Christmas. The backs of her eyes burned and she sniffed.

  “Oh baby, you’re not crying, are you?”

  The compassion in her mom’s voice almost did her in. “No, just a bit sad about you and Gram being so far away.”

  “I just assumed you’d spend the day with Krissy and Tim.”

  She considered explaining her arrangements with Jordan but didn’t want to give her mother ideas about a real relationship. “They invited me but you know, this is their first Christmas together—”

  “You’re right. When you wake up tomorrow, go into Gram’s closet. I know we all agreed no big presents this year, but yours are in the old trunk.”

  “When did you do that?” Now tears brimmed in her eyes. “Oh, Mama. Thank you.”

  “I tucked a few little things away right before we left. Love you, sweetie. Gram is yelling now.”

  “Love you, too.” Tora touched the screen and then held the phone against her chest. She was an adult and shouldn’t get all misty-eyed over a few gifts. But her mom’s thoughtfulness made her feel loved and less alone. Swiping fingertips under her eyes, she turned on the engine and backed out.

  An hour later, Tora steered onto Gable Street and headed for the mall. This was the area where Harve mentioned Jordan was building his new store. At the end of the block, she spotted a construction fence. What in the world? She blinked and eased the car closer. Plastered along the length of the fence were bright pink flyers stating “Save Our Bakery” in all capital letters. She jumped from the car, ran to the fence, and read the text urging people to let the Sugar & Spice owners know how much the bakery has meant in their lives.

  Anger fisted her hands and stiffened her legs as she stomped back to the car. She squealed the tires as she U-turned and headed straight to the instigator’s house. Without thinking about what she might say, she climbed the wooden steps flanked by a wide concrete balustrade topped with pineapple sculptures. “Jordan!” She pounded on the heavy wooden door with the heel of her fist. “Jordan Dawson, I want to—”

  The door opened and his tall form filled the doorway. Dark brows winged up his forehead. “Tora? What’s wrong?”

  Her hands jammed onto her hips. “Are you behind this, this…flyer?” She circled a hand in the air. When she got mad, she lost her train of thought. The habit was so infuriating.

  “Come in and we’ll talk.”

  “Here is just fine.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she shook her head and glared into his somber expression. “Did you post those pink signs?”

  “Post them?” He glanced behind him, stepped out onto the porch, and eased the door closed. “Not exactly.”

  “Then what exactly did you do? Because yesterday morning was when this craziness all started.” She paced to the end of the porch and back. “The emails and then people stopping at our table in the restaurant.”

  “What was wrong with that? Those were nice and heartfelt statements of appreciation for the Hammond tradition.”

  The phrases rang in her head. The same as from many of the emails, the same ones she’d just read on the pink flyer.

  Realization hit hard and pinched her chest. “You told them what to say.” She squared off opposite him, hands jammed on her hips. Harsh breaths rasped from her throat.

  He pulled a hand over his face, stared at the porch for a few seconds, and then met her gaze. “I may have planted a strategic seed here or there.”

  “Can it, Dawson. I don’t want to hear your spiel.” She chopped a hand through the air. “A week ago, I had a plan. Sell the bakery, get out from under a really tough schedule, and do something for myself.” Her voice caught but she forced out the words. “I missed out on the college experience, didn’t get the chance to live by myself in an apartment on a tree-lined campus.”

  He opened his mouth, ready to respond.

  But she shook a finger in his face. “Just listen. You made a choice to come back to Dorado to raise Jenna. And that’s great. For you.” Her finger jabbed in the middle of his chest, barely registered the feel of solid muscle. “I’ve never been given the choice. Now’s my chance to do something for me. To see the world, travel, study new things, work in a different career, find an adventure.” Her open hand slapped her chest and she choked. “Something just for me.”

  With a swipe at her wet eyes, she blinked away the other tears. “We’ve known each other less than a week. How could you mess with my business plans?” Her gaze searched his face. “What right do you have to make people try to change my mind?”

  “But that’s not what I did.” He shook his head, and his eyes darkened. “I never told a soul to try to sway you.” His hand stretching her way, he stepped closer.

  With a gasp, she immediately backed up. Her anger had waned and she knew she was susceptible to his deep cajoling voice and caring dark eyes. Maybe he hadn’t said the exact words, but people had taken his meaning from the words on the
flyer. Each recollection they’d shared had tugged at her heart as the memories flooded in. Now she felt only confusion about her plans.

  Was getting away from the only place she’d ever lived what she still really wanted?

  “You know, Mama and Gram in Arizona are getting messages too.” She ran a hand through her hair, pulling strands free of the banana clip. “They don’t know what to think about the whole thing.”

  “But what do you think? That’s all I care about, Tora. All I wanted was a little more time for us to get to know each other. To delay the sale of the bakery.” He grasped her hand and held tight. “You’re chilled to the bone. Come inside.”

  “No.” She yanked away her hand and stepped back. “I can’t be with you. You’re confusing me.” A movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention, and she glanced at the front window.

  Jenna stood, with a little hand pressed flat on the windowpane, and a piece of the gingerbread house in the other. Tears swam in her eyes as she looked between Tora and her father.

  Oh my god, what did the child hear? With a hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her emerging sobs, Tora ran down the stairs, ignoring Jordan calling her name. Her heart ached for the trouble she’d brought to poor Jenna.