There he was – his little boy, with wide eyes full of wonder. His baby was still in there somewhere.
‘Dad, it looks like it’s out of a magazine!’ With his gaze fixed on the box of treats, Bryce reached a finger out, intent on scooping a bit of frosting off the top of one of the cakes.
‘Hey!’ Cohen chuckled. ‘What did I say about supper first?’
‘Just one taste!’ his son pleaded. ‘Just one, Dad! Please?’
The desperation in Bryce’s eyes was enough to break down Cohen’s resolve. Sometimes, battles had to be picked. It was just cake icing, after all. ‘Try the frosting on one of the cupcakes. But leave the other one untouched – that one’s for me.’
Bryce didn’t hesitate, scooping the end of his index finger into the mocha frosting. The boy’s eyes crossed and he moaned dramatically. ‘Oh, wow, Dad! That’s seriously some of the best frosting I’ve ever had. You’ve got to try it.’ He held out the box to Cohen, but Cohen held up both hands.
‘I’ve still got one more appointment, then I can sit down and have dinner with you. There’s lasagna in the crockpot. After that, we dine on chocolate fudge cake and mocha frosting. Deal?’
‘Best deal ever,’ Bryce said with a grin.
‘Good,’ Cohen replied. ‘Because you’ve got homework first while you wait for me.’
‘But, Dad, I wanted to walk down to the bakery and look inside.’
Cohen halted his footsteps. ‘Not today. I’ve got one more appointment scheduled, and you need to get your homework done.’
‘I will, but the bakery’s only open for another half an hour and—’
‘I can’t take you today, Bryce. I’m still working, I’m sorry.’ Cohen felt a familiar ache, painfully aware of how often his son heard those words – ‘I have to work’ – come from his mouth. It pained him every time he had to deny his son any activity or outing he wanted to attend because of it.
It might have been eight years since Stacey passed away, but it felt like only yesterday in many ways to Cohen. He knew Bryce didn’t really remember his mother, having been only two years old at the time. That didn’t mean the boy didn’t acknowledge the void of a mother figure’s presence, though.
‘I could go alone, Dad,’ Bryce insisted. ‘It’s only up the street.’
He couldn’t fault his son for his logic. The veterinary clinic was on the corner of Clinton Street and Main Street. There was a vacant lot beside it where the first in the row of downtown shops had once begun, but the first shop had burned down two decades ago and was never rebuilt. In its place, a park had been built across both lots, with picnic tables and a variety of different children’s playground structures. Beside that was the Portside Coffeehouse, owned by Allison Kent. And besides that, Paige Henley’s new bakery.
Any other day, Cohen probably would have caved in and let Bryce meander over to the bakery on his own. But he prevented himself from giving in to his son once again during this conversation, and not just because he didn’t want to seem like a pushover.
He selfishly also wanted an excuse to go back again. To see Paige again.
She seemed friendly enough, and kind-hearted. Such a drastic contrast from the slew of rumors that whirled around town for the months preceding her bakery’s grand opening. No one had really seen her or been formally introduced until today, but that hadn’t been enough to stop the public opinion from forming that the bakery’s new owner was an uppity city slicker who undoubtedly believed she was better than the residents of little ole’ Port Landon.
But, boy, had she proved the gossipmongers wrong today. Paige was anything but arrogant, and her gentle demeanor emanated from her like a warm embrace.
Her pretty blue eyes didn’t go unnoticed, either.
He knew exactly what Sonya Ritter had been hinting at earlier. The old woman was notorious for trying to set him up with every single woman that crossed the Port Landon town limits. She had been hell-bent on playing matchmaker since the year after Stacey’s passing. Very unsuccessfully, to Sonya’s dismay. Cohen, however, hadn’t cared one way or the other, and that told him everything he needed to know. Either the woman Sonya was trying to pair him up with wasn’t the right one, or Cohen just wasn’t ready. He put his bets on the latter.
He hadn’t put much effort into looking for love, anyway. Okay, more accurately, he hadn’t put forth any effort. His main priority was Bryce, and Bryce alone. While he knew his son needed a mother figure, he had been content to raise him on his own without a second thought, for no other reason than the fear of losing someone else and his son getting hurt in the process. He couldn’t take that chance. Losing Stacey had almost wrecked him. He couldn’t let his son witness that kind of pain again.
Despite everything, Bryce had grown up well-rounded, he thought. He was a smart kid, did well in school – save for history and English, but those had once been the bane of Cohen’s existence, too – and he was polite and well-liked in the community. He helped their neighbors rake their leaves in the autumn and knew enough to hold the door open for other people and use his manners. Cohen thought he’d done pretty well, all things considered, and there were no words to describe how proud he was of Bryce and the boy he’d become. They were content just as they were; Cohen, Bryce, Norman the black cat – who despised Jazz – and Jazz, the brindle boxer, who loved everyone, Norman included.
Sonya Ritter was another story. She couldn’t and wouldn’t believe Cohen was truly content until there was a woman on his arm who’d taken his last name.
‘I know you could go yourself, pal,’ he advised his son. ‘But not today, okay? How about this: If you can go feed Jazz and finish up your homework, that should give me time to get through my last appointment for the day. Then, we can head home, sit down, and eat lasagna. After that, we’ll take Jazz for a walk down to the pier and let her drink from that oversized water bowl we call a lake. Sound good?’
Bryce’s jaw worked as he mulled over his father’s proposition. ‘I thought we were going to eat cake?’
The corner of Cohen’s mouth twitched upward. ‘We’ll take two forks with us. That cake isn’t going to eat itself.’
Chapter 3
Paige
The second official day of The Cakery being open was just as busy as the first. Maybe even busier, but Paige had lost count of the customers she’d served despite her unsuccessful efforts to keep track. Late into the afternoon, she received a well-deserved moment to herself, her first since she’d unlocked the door at nine o’clock that morning. After tackling the previous day with her witty, nothing-fazes-me cousin by her side, Paige was acutely aware of the void Allison’s absence left. She knew she couldn’t expect her to abandon her own thriving business every day to help her out, but it had been nice to have the support and camaraderie that came from taking on the world together yesterday, even if it was just in the name of a good old-fashioned sugar fix.
The two of them had been thick as thieves in high school. Inseparable. They were family, but they were best friends, too. Had been for as long as Paige could remember. Even when Paige boldly fled their hometown of Grand Rapids after graduation and set off for New York, while Allison chose to test out her entrepreneurial skills with the Portside Coffeehouse in Port Landon – a little town Paige had only heard of before moving there – the only distance it created between them was in the tangible sense. Thanks to decent long-distance cellphone plans and the aid of Skype, the two women took on their new roles together, despite the eight hundred miles between them.
Both had excelled, but as the years wore on, each one passing by quicker than the last, it had been only Allison that carried the same excitement and contentment in her choice of career. Paige would never in a million years call her life spent in New York City a mistake, and those years would never be something she regretted.
But she was glad she’d listened to Allison’s not-so-subtle hints, suggesting she should stop talking about leaving her hectic marketing and design position in New York ‘some
day’ and come back to her home state of Michigan to fulfill her dream of owning her own bakery.
At first, Paige had balked at the idea. She’d thought, Surely I couldn’t do such a thing?
But, as time wore on and Allison’s suggestions became less veiled and more detailed, transforming from hints into full-fledged daydreams, she began to listen to her cousin’s ideas of what it would be like to live in the little town of Port Landon. And when Wilhelmina Morrison put her well-known and well-loved bakery up for sale, citing that seventy-nine was as good an age as any to retire and start doing the adventurous things she’d always dreamed of, like taking road-trips and quite possibly skydiving, Allison’s incessant prodding became unabashed nagging.
‘You always said you wanted to own your own bakery and make pretty cakes and decadent cookies and cupcakes to your heart’s content!’ she’d reminded her, again and again. ‘Here’s your chance! Besides, the bake shop building is right beside my coffee shop, Paige. It’s perfect!’
That was what scared Paige the most – it did sound perfect. And despite the fact she had been thinking seriously about Allison’s proposition, she was petrified to leave the safety net of her executive job in a breakneck-speed city like New York and start over in a small town of only a few thousand people. It was what she knew, her comfort zone. She’d attended college there and built the only adult life she’d ever known.
Until now. Fifteen years after that wide-eyed teenager moved to one of the biggest, busiest cities in the United States, Paige Henley did the unthinkable.
She left.
Paige took her cousin’s advice. And in the end, it wasn’t because of Allison, or because of her job, or even her own grown-up decision.
It was because of a homemade cake given to a man she could have – no, should have – fallen for.
Her final official board meeting with Livingston Designs was never meant to be her last. It was a meeting like any other, all digital screens and laser pointers and long rectangular tables. Her boss, Alex Livingston, sat to her left, as he always did, and the same team of enthusiastic go-getters surrounded her. The only difference was that the coffee and sweets usually brought in for them was from a new place that had just opened up. Paige couldn’t remember the name of the place, but it had been something as light, fluffy, and delectable as the mini cakes that accompanied the coffee.
The coffee was good, but the cakes were downright mouth-watering.
‘Oh my gosh!’ she’d exclaimed, her eyes fluttering as the sugary explosion burst on her tongue. ‘Whoever baked this deserves a medal!’
Alex had merely scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. ‘It’s a cake,’ he replied absently, under his breath. ‘Not exactly worthy of awards in my books.’
Mouth still half full, Paige stopped mid-movement. She’d never walked on eggshells before with Alex, but Paige had known better than to bring up something so menial. She knew the pressure he was under to secure the marketing deal they were working on, and it was bringing out his curt side. Still, she couldn’t contain her urge to argue. ‘You haven’t even tried it, Alex.’
He dropped his pen, letting it clatter onto the desk, an indication of how silly he thought this entire conversation was, especially since they were about to discuss a million-dollar advertising campaign proposal. That was the only kind of thing worthy of medals in the eyes of Alex Livingston. ‘I don’t have to try it to know it doesn’t deserve a medal, Paige. It’s a cake, nothing more. Besides, anyone who wants to live their lives baking up a storm isn’t exactly looking to become award-winning. That’s what I’m assuming, anyway. And who would want to live like that?’
The answer hit Paige instantly. Me.
Alex meant a great deal to her. They were colleagues in the office and something akin to friends outside it. For fifteen years, Paige had built her relationship with him and with the company, excelling in her career and earning her managerial title. She was acutely aware that Alex felt more for her than just friendship, but Paige had yet to pull the tether and let her heart open up to him. She didn’t know why she couldn’t seem to do it – they got along well and there was no denying he was an attractive man. She didn’t understand why Alex put up with her wishy-washy responses each time he asked her out.
But in that moment, after Alex’s thoughtless outburst fueled by stress, Paige suddenly couldn’t imagine loving a man who didn’t appreciate the little things in life. Who didn’t see the value in creating something with your hands even if it didn’t result in an exorbitant amount of money or critical acclaim? Wanting to love someone and actually finding love with them were two very different things. And so the sad, vicious cycle continued.
Paige saw things differently, she realized that now. It took his dismissal of someone’s gourmet creations for her to realize she didn’t care about anything as much as she did her childhood dream. She heard Allison’s encouragement, saw the real estate listing in her mind for the rundown bakery her cousin had sent her as clear as if it was sitting in front of her, and felt her blood burn a little hotter in her veins with the physical need she felt to prove Alex wrong.
Me, she thought again. I want to live like that. She’d spent the last months teetering on the edge of a precipice, unwilling to make a concrete decision. Now, she felt like the decision was made for her. Paige’s heart spoke up, loud and clear, and it told her mind the plan: Paige wasn’t going to sit another day idle, wondering what if. She wanted that bakery. Her heart wanted that bakery.
Most of all, Paige wanted to be able to say she’d tried.
It wasn’t any one thing that she wanted to run from, more like a series of many things she wanted to run to.
She’d learned so much in New York, about her strengths and about herself. For that reason, she cherished what she’d left behind there, and always would. But because of that moment, that off-the-cuff comment by a businessman she was loyal to and whom she trusted unfailingly, Paige Henley gave a month’s notice to him – a move Alex made known he didn’t understand but respected. Paige found herself back in Michigan, in the small town of Port Landon, and she was just as eager to see what she could learn about herself there.
This was her new beginning. She didn’t see it as starting over so much as switching gears. She’d spent fifteen years doing what she had to do – and she had done her job well, judging by the praise and letter of recommendation from Alex, should she ever need it – but now it was time to do what she wanted.
For better or for worse, Paige had made her decision. Though it wouldn’t be easy, she was bound and determined to give it all she had.
And today, she was giving it all she had without the aid of her trusty sidekick, Allison. But being busy had never evoked fear in Paige before. Busy meant there was something to do, something to keep her hands and her mind distracted. It was easier to deal with the loneliness that seemed to creep in now and then, reminding her that those distractions were all she had to keep her company.
Fifteen years of living to work had flown by in a New York minute, but the last five years of hearing about Allison’s fun days at the coffee shop and her romantic dates with her boyfriend, Christopher, made Paige open her eyes and realize what her life had become.
Paige wasn’t living; she was merely existing.
It was another thing in the long line of things that prompted the move to Port Landon, along with the hefty down payment on Wilhelmina Morrison’s old bakery. She wasn’t just looking for a new career. She was looking for a new life. A real one. One that included people she cared about, and people who cared about her. One that left her tired in the evenings, but content and happy with the efforts she put forth toward her goals.
And, so far, that was what she had found in the little town of Port Landon. Now, if she could just find someone to share it all with.
The shrill tolling of the bell above the front door broke Paige from her thoughts, and Allison came bounding in as though thinking about her had somehow conjured her cousin up from thin air.<
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‘Paige!’ she shrieked. As though it was an afterthought, she glanced around the room, confirming no one else was in the shop. ‘Paige, you’re not going to believe this!’
The excitement coursing through Allison’s veins was infectious, and Paige steeled herself for something huge. ‘What’s going on?’
Allison stretched her arm out across the front counter, waving her left hand in front of Paige’s face. ‘I’m getting married, Paige!’
It took a moment for the words to register, and for Paige to get a look at the shiny diamond on her cousin’s ring finger, before both women turned into the squealing high school best friends they’d been so many years ago, holding hands and bouncing up and down like children. Paige’s eyes were wide and wet with tears, her joy for her cousin spilling down her cheeks.
‘Oh my God, Allison, that’s incredible!’
‘He finally did it!’ Allison laughed, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. ‘Chris proposed … and I didn’t even see it coming, Paige. At all!’
If that was true, then Paige figured she was the only one blindsided by it. The whole town had probably seen it coming. After five years of dating, even Paige had been waiting with bated breath for Allison to announce her upcoming marriage every time they talked on the phone or had a Skype call. Allison was the most patient person she’d ever known, and from everything they’d ever discussed while Paige was in New York, she and Chris had a good relationship. A solid one.
This wasn’t the first time Paige was a teensy bit envious of Allison, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to cry happy tears and jump at the chance to celebrate her big news.
They were best friends. They were family. And family was something that meant the world to Paige.
‘I’m so happy for you, Allison.’ Paige pulled her cousin into a warm embrace, squeezing her tightly. ‘So, so happy.’
‘I just can’t freaking believe it,’ Allison sobbed, letting go of Paige to stretch her arm out in front of her and admire her bejeweled ring finger again. ‘I’ve got a fiancé! A freaking fiancé!’
The Forget-Me-Not Bakery Page 3
