by Gina LaManna
While I was awkwardly studying Matt, May’s husband rose from his chair and crossed the room. Joe gave me a firm squeeze, and I held him tight as I whispered Congratulations! in his ear. I spoke softly because I wasn’t sure the news was public, and he responded in turn with a whispered thank-you that proved my theory correct.
“It’s so good to have you back in town,” he said, stepping back and gesturing toward the table. “Do you want to sit down and have a bite to eat? Meet the guys?”
“I’ve already met one,” I said, giving a polite finger wave to Matt. “Howdy, neighbor.”
Matt laughed and gave a bigger wave back. “Take a seat—May’s food is incredible.”
“Don’t I know it,” I said. “You all are lucky—she tested the worst of her recipes on me back in the day. I recall one very specific mud pie that gave me a stomachache for weeks...”
“She lies!” May called from the kitchen. “I was born to be a chef!”
In a way, she had been born for her career. May had found her niche, opening a homey restaurant that specialized in a Puerto-Rican fusion with American food. While the restaurant served a little bit of everything, May leaned heavily into her family’s history and had soon become famous for adding a spice of Latin flavor to the middle of Minnesota.
She served specialty twists on mofongo and arroz con gandules, as well as a traditional take on asopao. For dessert, my favorites were the coquito cupcakes and arroz con dulce. The thought made my mouth water, despite my excess fullness from June’s pancakes and muffin.
I found myself wondering if I’d regret buying a size six in all my new dresses earlier this morning. I’d never be able to give up June’s baking or May’s cooking. Then again, if I gained weight, I could always buy a whole new wardrobe—and there was nothing I loved more than an excuse to shop.
“I’m stuffed actually,” I said. “I just came from June’s.”
The men groaned in agreement.
“That sounds like an excuse,” Joe teased. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”
“That is true,” I said, “however I’m here on business today.”
“Business already? You’ve barely landed,” Joe said. “Don’t you want to take a few days to recover?”
“I would, but unfortunately, it’s not in the cards,” I said. “I have to chat with May, so I’ll leave you gentlemen to it.”
“You’re here on business?” May asked while I took a seat behind the counter. “That can’t be good.”
“It might be good,” I said, digging in my pocket for the napkin on which Mrs. Beasley had written out the large dollar amount. “What do you think about making this much cash?”
“Is that a trick question?” May asked. “I can always use money.”
“Think of the baby,” I hissed. “You could buy a top of the line stroller with this.”
“What’s the catch?”
“When I tell you, just remember you fed me mud pie that made me sick for weeks,” I said, and then winced at May’s stare. “Fine. I need your help catering an event tonight. And by that, I mean—I need you to cater an event tonight, and I’ll be in your debt for the rest of my life.”
“No,” she said shortly. “There’s no way. It’s Saturday night! We are booked solid with reservations. One of my sous chefs called in sick. I have a server that I was going to fire tonight, but now I can’t because we’ll be understaffed if I do. I’m sorry, hun, I just can’t do it.”
“Can I buy all the food and cater it myself?” I asked. “Pretty please?”
“I really could use the money, so I’d do it if it was at all possible,” May said, looking genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry, Jenna—it’s just not in the cards. Why is it so important to you, anyway?”
“Long story short, Mrs. Duvet’s caterer cancelled last minute on Lana’s bachelorette party. Mrs. Beasley made a phone call and got you the job.”
“You mean, she got you the job—you just need me to do the work.”
“You can have all the money!” I waved the napkin around like a magic trick. “I’m not doing it to be paid—I just need to get inside that bachelorette party.”
“Is this about Grant’s murder?” she asked, lowering her voice. “Jenna, I think you should stay away. Cooper will catch the killer. Everyone knows it’s not you, so it’s only a matter of time before the truth comes out.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But just think of the cash. And I’ll do whatever it is you need me to do. I’ll cook, I’ll wear a tutu and serve meals, I’ll rub your shoulders so you don’t kill me with that look you’ve got in your eyes right now.”
She laughed. “I can’t.”
“Crap.”
“Maybe. That’s all I can do for you, okay?” May relented, glancing at the napkin on the table. “We do need a crib, a car seat, and a stroller for starters—and the thought of shelling out for all that is making me ill.”
I pushed the figure closer. “It’s all yours. I don’t want a penny. Plus, look at it this way—everyone in that wedding party is super skinny! I bet they don’t eat anything. Mrs. Beasley said to prepare a few appetizers and a dessert. That’s it.”
“You’ll be the server, and you’re baking the cake,” she said. “I don’t do cakes.”
“You know I don’t bake,” I said. “I don’t do anything with food except eat it.”
“Well, you figure it out,” she said. “If you do the dessert, I’ll agree to cater the rest.”
“Fine,” I said with a huge sigh. “Maybe June can help with something.”
“Or maybe Matt can help,” she said, waggling her eyebrows. “Your neighbor is quite talented in the kitchen.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Might as well find out if it’s true,” she suggested with a wink. Before I could stop her, she called across the restaurant. “Matt, are you off this afternoon?”
“Just finished my shift,” he said. “Why?”
“Jenna needs help baking a cake,” she said. “Is it all right if she knocks on your door with any questions?”
“I won’t have any questions.” I spun around and shot Matt an exasperated look. “I know how to bake a cake. Obviously.”
For some reason, I didn’t want Matt to realize the extent of my undomesticated abilities. It’s not as if I was interested in him per say, but he was a strong, stable sort of guy. A real man’s man, a hard-working fellow who seemed ready to have a family. He could probably build a house and bake a cake. I could shop bargains like nobody’s business, but I didn’t know the first thing about baking.
“Sure thing,” Matt said. “Come on by if you need anything—I’ll be around.”
“There you have it,” May said with a smug smile. “I’ll get my money and you get your guy.”
“You get the money, and I get the gossip at the bachelorette party,” I said. “I don’t need help with a cake.”
“No running off to June and asking her to bake it for you.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I said, annoyed that she’d guessed my exact plan of attack. “See you tonight?”
“Meet here at six,” she said, and then gave me an indulgent wink. “Have fun, sugar.”
Chapter 9
June turned me down flat.
It was almost as if she took joy in telling me that she didn’t have time to help me with a cake. As I walked home through the storm, huddling against the cold, I couldn’t help but wonder if May had called June and told her to reject my pleas for help at all costs in order to force me into Matt’s kitchen.
I was probably being completely paranoid, but the closer I got to home, the more I wondered if May and June had been conniving behind my back. I’ll show them, I thought, kicking open my front door with additional force since it’d all but frozen shut. I’d bake the best darn cake they’d ever seen—all by my lonesome.
At least, that was the plan.
That was also how I ended up outside of Matt’s house, my shoulders slumped in defeat a
s he pulled the door open with an unsurprised grin. “Can I borrow an egg?”
“Just one?” he asked, a smile twitching his cheek upward.
“More like four,” I said, scrunching up my nose. “I’m out of eggs. I haven’t gone to the store yet—I’ve sort of been living off your grandmother’s muffins.”
Matt disappeared, then returned with a carton of eggs. “Take whatever’s left—Mrs. Marigold brings by fresh eggs every Tuesday.”
“Thank you so much,” I gushed in relief. “I swear to you though, I can normally bake a cake.”
“I wouldn’t care if you couldn’t.”
“But I can,” I insisted. “I definitely have more talents than shopping.”
“I didn’t know shopping was considered a talent.” He leaned against his doorway looking mighty handsome in his firefighter T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans. “Only because I hate doing it myself. Hence the reason I wear this sort of thing.”
I found myself studying his physique and the way the clothes hung over his body. “You look great as is,” I said, and then blushed. “I mean, you don’t need fancy clothes to decorate when your body looks like...” I stopped abruptly and cleared my throat, then raised the carton in a display of gratitude. “Thanks for the eggs.”
Matt laughed easily, the sound a nice sort of warmth from the frigid snowfall. “Anytime.”
I hurried down his front path in my borrowed boots, careful not to slip and fall this time around. Scurrying back inside my Gran’s house, I pulled up a Google recipe titled Child-proof Vanilla Cake. I quickly scanned the list of ingredients and began pulling them from the cupboards.
I found flour and sugar. My mother appeared to have stocked a few necessities, but that’s where she’d stopped. She had probably remembered how little I actually cooked and therefore left most of the cupboards bare. I couldn’t blame her, seeing as reading some of these recipes was like trying to decipher a Russian textbook.
“Mix on low,” I murmured aloud to my phone. “What does that mean? With a spoon? A fork? Can I substitute an electric mixer for a whisk?”
I dug around under the cupboards and found a mixer, but I determined just seconds later that I was missing butter and powdered sugar. I wasn’t sure where to look for baking powder. (Or was it baking soda? Was there really a difference?)
This cake was going to be a disaster.
There was no way I was making it to the store, seeing as the snow was drifting and swirling white in every direction. I’d be able to borrow my mother’s truck when she got home from work to get to the bachelorette party, but until then, I was stranded.
I was just preparing to crumple in front of the fire and let loose a stream of tears when a knock sounded on the door. Thinking it was my mother here to deliver the car keys early, I whooshed a sigh of relief and stood. I could still possibly make it to the store and back, and somehow manage to whip up white-cake-for-dummies before it was time to leave.
“Thanks, mom—you’re a lifesaver,” I said, pulling the door open. “I love—”
Matt stood on my front steps, snow dotting his dirty-blond hair with flecks of white. “I brought you something.”
I tore my eyes away from his face and found a grocery bag filled with supplies in his arms. Inching onto my tiptoes, I peeked inside and quickly read a few labels. Sugar, baking powder (or soda?), and the silvery glint of a pan. Something I hadn’t even considered yet.
“What is this?” I asked. “You didn’t have to come over here—really, I can do it myself. It’s a simple cake.”
“May I come inside?” He gave a lopsided smile. “It’s chilly on your porch. If you don’t want me to stay, I’ll head home. I thought you could use some additional ingredients. No getting to the store without a big ol’ truck in this weather.”
“Oh, um—yes, come inside.”
Matt slipped off his boots on the front mat and marched into the kitchen. He dropped the bag gently on the counter and began pulling out a few supplies. Once he had everything organized on the counter, he neatly folded the grocery bag and tucked it under his arm.
“Well, I’ll be going now—keep the pan as long as you’d like, and I don’t need any of the ingredients back.” He smiled in my direction. “If you need additional help, you know where to find me.”
“Matt—I don’t know what to say.” My hands came up and clasped my cheeks of their own accord as I studied the perfectly laid out ingredients. “This is amazing. It’s too much.”
“Just neighborly assistance,” he said, looking uncomfortable at my gratitude. “It’s what we do around here. Your grandma would’ve done the same thing for me.”
“That’s really sweet,” I said. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a cup of coffee? It’s freezing out there.”
“I was going to offer my hand in baking, but you seem like you’re not too keen on having help.” He stood in the kitchen doorway making no move either in or out. “But if you’d like a few tips I picked up from June, I’m available.”
“I’m sorry—you probably think I’m the worst neighbor. If you’re not busy, I would love some help if you’re willing to give it,” I said with a wince. “I just didn’t want you to think I expected it. May sort of foisted me on you earlier, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured into giving up your time this afternoon.”
“May didn’t foist anything on me,” he said, stepping further into the kitchen. “I’m here because I want to be. Believe it or not, I’m a big boy—I can say no. Shall we get started?”
Half an hour later, my kitchen was a disaster. Largely due in part to my inability to correctly work a mixer. My new dress was covered in my own handprints, and Matt’s shirt was a poor excuse for clean clothes.
“Look at you,” I said, reaching over to brush a handprint from his shoulder. “I’ll wash your things. If that’s not weird. I just meant, well, I’m sorry I made such a mess of you.”
“Stop apologizing.” Matt watched as I brushed the handprint away. “I had a great time today.”
“Me too.” I grinned, meaning it. We’d worked like a team in the kitchen—or, more like a mentor and a clumsy rookie. “I wouldn’t have been able to do this without you.”
“We don’t know if we’ve done it yet.” Matt reached for the bowl of batter and pulled it close to him. “Ready for June’s final test?”
“Test? I hate tests.”
“You might like this one.” Matt dipped a clean spoon into the cake batter and raised it to his lips. He tasted it with his tongue. A slow grin spread across his face, a delightful little smile. “I’d call it a raging success.”
“I want to test,” I said, looking for a spoon. “I think I can pass a test like this.”
Matt had already secured a second spoon and dipped it into the bowl. He extended it to me with a second hand hovering underneath to guard the floor against drips. “Go on, Jenna.”
I leaned in, my heart beating faster at the sheer proximity of us. I closed my lips around the spoon. My eyes shut at the brilliant taste of creamy sweet, and I gave a sigh of pleasure.
“Wow,” I said. “We made that?”
“We didn’t make that,” he confirmed. “You did.”
I rocked with laughter. “Yeah, right. I’d have replaced milk with melted snow and eggs with—I don’t even know what. Thank you, Matt. You really are a lifesaver.”
“Last step is to pour this in the pan we pre-greased and pop it in the oven. It’s already pre-heated, and I’ll set the timer before I head out. Just don’t fall asleep or leave the house, and it’ll be fool proof.”
“Nothing is fool proof when I’m involved,” I confessed. “Knowing me, you’ll be back here to put out a fire before you’ve taken your boots off.”
“It’d be my pleasure.” He stopped, crooked an eyebrow. “I mean, don’t set anything on fire. If you need a hand, I’d like to help before your kitchen goes up in flames.”
I laughed again, enjoying the lightness of my afternoon with Mat
t, especially after the heaviness of murder that’d clouded my time in Blueberry Lake. Between Cooper’s accusations and the airline mishap with my bags, I’d been more stressed than I’d let myself believe.
Add in my lack of income and my rapidly depleting savings account, and I’d become a bundle of nerves. My afternoon in the kitchen with Matt had been refreshing—filled with laughter and sugar and warmth while the snow plunked lightly down outside.
“I think I could get used to having you as a neighbor,” I said as I walked Matt to the door. “Thanks again for everything.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” he said with a wink, “because I don’t plan on going anywhere. For what it’s worth, if I had any idea Gran’s granddaughter would be as...” he hesitated. “As fun, and kind, and as beautiful as you, I would’ve asked for an introduction a long time ago.”
“Gee whiz, I don’t know what to say.”
“I have two questions for you,” Matt said as he slipped into his boots. “May I?”
“Shoot.”
“Do you always wear a dress out in a blizzard?”
I glanced down at the red frilly dress I’d picked up at my mother’s thrift shop. “Nope, but the airline ate my bags, so I had to buy replacement items.”
“And you went with a dress? Don’t get me wrong, you look stunning, but...” He glanced over his shoulder. “Brr.”
“I’m still on California time. And temperature,” I admitted. “And attire. In fact, June told me that spring is just around the corner, so I’m being optimistic.”
“June is never wrong about the change in seasons.”
“So I’ve heard. What’s your second question?”
“What’s the cake for? I mean, I had a blast making it, but I’m sensing some urgency with it. Are you celebrating something?”
“Sort of,” I admitted. “I’m helping May with a catering job later tonight.”
“It wouldn’t be the bachelorette party, would it?”
“How do you know about that?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Will you be there?”
